The Ledger

by Vermilion and Sage

Entry One: Knock

“Hurry up, he's bleeding out!”

White lights drifted overhead and the rolling noise I could hear below coincided painfully with the vibration running through my ribcage. My ribs...oh Celestia they hurt. They hurt so much. I winced and closed my eyes again. It was going to go away soon, right?

“Around here! Set him up in this room. Cotton Swab! Run and grab me two pints from the blood reserves, O-Neg. Scalpelhoof, get the tools out NOW!”

That voice was loud and close. I opened my eyes again, and my vision was blurry. Trying to raise a foreleg to rub my eyes clear was futile, something was holding them down. There was noise all around, ponies talking, hooves clattering on a tile floor. Something was going on, and I wanted to know why I was hurting.

It took every last bit of willpower to raise my neck an inch from where I lay, furiously blinking my eyes clear as I did so. In the brief moments before somepony put a hoof on my forehead and shoved my head back down, I saw everything. Not that it made much sense. I was on one of those rolling hospital beds in a bright room, tiled and wallpapered in white. Oh...and there was red all over my chest and stomach. That didn't make much sense either. My coat was brown...not red of all colors.

“Please keep your head down sir, you're only going to hurt yourself worse.” The obnoxious voice rang again too close to my ears. Hurt? Yeah, I guess so. That would explain-

“OHMYSWEETCELESTIA WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

“He's up! Scalpel, grab the detomidine.”

I was in full freakout mode, and the fact that this Dr. Scalpelhoof just stuck a needle into my rump made me scream in a very un-stallionlike manner. The thudding in my ears grew louder as the blood rushed through the capillaries, and I begged. “Why are you doing this? What is happeningwhydoesithurtohwhy...”

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Beep. Meep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

That same sound that they play in the movies, the one that is ALWAYS in hospital rooms? Yeah, that sound was playing quietly somewhere just out of hoof’s reach. After pondering it for a few moments and collecting what I remembered, it stood to reason that it was my heart being monitored. Oh, and it sounded just fine. Nice even beeps, with no change in pace or pitch. I shoved my eyelids open to see one of the machines at my bedside just like I thought it would be, a jumpy green sinusoid playing across the front.

Yep. Still alive, and if the needle with the knob on it had anything to say, morphine was making my day even better. I couldn't see my stomach under the blanket, but if it didn't hurt that meant I was ok, right?

“Mr. Sprinkles? How are you feeling?”

Yeah. Sprinkles. That's me. Pastry decorator and volunteer at the soup kitchen. You never know when you'd meet a nice mare who was just there for a hoof up that you could keep in touch with…

“Mr. Sprinkles?” Oh yeah, right. A green earth pony was standing at the foot of my bed with a clipboard in one hoof. The way her hospital cap sat atop her blonde mane was just too adorable.

“Uhm, I feel fine. So how did I get here?”

“You had a laceration to your chest.”

“You mean my chest got ripped open.”

“Yes, that's the vulgar way to put it.” She frowned. Kind of adorable, and I might have made a comment if I wasn't feeling so tired.

“So...why did my chest get ripped open?”

“I was actually hoping you could tell me that. Nopony I've talked to since we brought you in nearly a day ago has had any information.”

I thought hard. I honestly did. It is not very easy to think with a powerful painkiller in your system. It's almost like trying to think when half-drunk. All that came back was pain, and fear. It was all blurry, and I felt that even if I could remember, I didn't want to. I gave an involuntary shiver, and the doctor sure noticed.

“Mister Sprinkles, I understand that it may be difficult to tell me, and rest assured you don't have to if you don't want to. However, if there is a pony out there hurting other ponies, your information might be able to stop him.” She was adorable when concerned, and it wasn't like I was intentionally making her act that way.

“I can't remember. Anything.” I answered honestly. I kinda wished I could help her. It would have made her at least stay longer.

“Well if you can remember, or if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to hit the button by your bedside and a nurse will come check on you. I'm Doctor Hypertonic.”

“Well thanks Doc. How long am I in for?”

“Probably two or three more days until you're stable enough to rest up at your own home. Your manager called by the way. Offered his condolences, and wanted to let you know you're on paid leave, and your insurance is covering this. So just focus on resting up and getting better.”

“Anything for a pretty face like you.” I answered with a grin. I would have blown her a kiss, but honestly, I doubted I looked good in a hospital gown, and my forelegs were feeling pretty damn heavy. She laughed and left the room.

Well...that could have gone better, but hey, a solid start. She had good news too. I had savings, perhaps even enough to pay for surgery and hospital stay, but what kind of pony wouldn't rather spend those on something else? Oh, and Rubber Stamp, my manager. I guess I didn't figure he cared enough to tell me I was missed. Another perk in life right? Anything to take away the fact that I'd just got cut up.

Cut up. That's a nice way to say 'nearly died'. I tried again to focus on what had happened. The images came back still blurry, but at least it was something. Gray skies of an overcast afternoon. A calming walk through the woods after work, going to the waterfall a few miles in...it's starting to rain, I hate the rain...running through the woods as a growl sounds behind me gotta get away IT'S AFTER ME--

I shook noticeably, enough that I could feel my chest hurt. No point in trying to dredge up those memories if I'm just gonna hurt myself. For lack of anything better to do, I stretched out one hoof to turn the morphine dial one notch, and closed my eyes.

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At some point that cute nurse came in to check on me…I think it was to check on me...said I’d gotten too much sedative...what does that mean...I’m not a jerk...I can share some with her and then we’ll both be happy...why is she looking at me funny...oh...please don’t go away...will I see you again...teheehehehee…

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I woke up slowly. It's hard to get up on the best of mornings, and here I was in a really comfy bed with drugs in my system. The lights were dimmed, and somepony had left a glass on the bedside table. Reaching over, I found it had juice in it. Orange juice...ugh. Still better than the IV though. Stupid thing never made me feel full. I closed my eyes again.

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Sometime later I awoke to the sensation of burning in a line along my chest. Trying to ignore it seemed to be pointless, as after a while I still wasn't able to go back to sleep. Opening my eyes revealed nothing more than that the room was still dark, and that nopony had taken the empty glass away. I kind of wanted more juice in spite of myself, so I hit the button for the nurse.

After a few minutes passed, there was nothing, no noise at all outside the door. The beam coming from the space under the door suggested that the hall was well lit, and I guessed it was in the middle of the night, so the hospital was probably short-staffed. I stuck my hoof on the button and waited a bit. I know it was impatient of me, but hey, I was bored, and hurting. After a few minutes I let the button go, and turned the morphine dial again. There wasn't much else to do, and I don't like being in pain if there is no reason to. After all, that stupid nerve impulse woke me up.

Twenty minutes passed according to the clock on the wall. It sure felt like longer, but those things usually don't lie. A third of an hour, and still no nurse.

That was annoying, and curious. I don't do well when I'm bored, so I decided to get up. So much easier said than done when you have an IV in each of your legs, and a wounded midsection. Sliding the covers back revealed where each of the IVs went into my legs, and a large gash across my chest. My brown coat was rent in a diagonal line stretching from my left hind leg to right about the middle of my belly. Stitches held it shut, but I knew I wasn't going to be running fast on it. That wasn't gonna be stopping me from getting up though.

I bit down on each of the needles and pulled them out. Goodbye food, water, morphine and I don't know what the tartarus the fourth one was for, but it was out now. Getting out of bed was trickier. One foreleg over the edge wasn't enough to make me slip, but if I put the second one out of bed, I'd slide out. Opting for the right fore and hind leg at once worked, but landing on the tile still hurt like crazy. My chest was throbbing, though I didn't see any blood coming from it, so I figured I was ok to walk.

With each step, my midsection twisted one way or another, and it screamed a silent protest to me. If I hadn't promised myself I'd at least make it to the door, I would have whimpered like a little filly and crawled back into bed. As it was, getting to the door took two minutes, and I did wind up whimpering something pitiful. Forcing my foreleg up, I opened the door.

It's funny how you don't pay attention to anything else when you focus so singly-mindedly on shutting out pain. Now that I could see into the hall, I noticed two things. First of all, it was empty. That figured for so late at night. The second was that the loudest sounds were my breathing and heartbeat. Everything else was still, which seemed odd. After all, don't most hospitals have a night crew taking care of things? Wheeling around stuff? Or if those darn TV shows are to believed, making out with each other in empty rooms. Celestia above I’d be pissed if I found two of them doing that.

Looking up and down the hall, I could see it was floored in the same white tile as my room, and there were plain wooden doors up and down the hall. According to a little plastic mount on the wall, I was in 323, and all the other doors started with a three as far as I could see each way. Great...all the way up here. How the hay did they get me to the third floor anyways? To the left after a few dozen lengths, I could see flights of stairs leading up and down, and to the right lay a ninety-degree turn in the hall, leaving me unable to surmise what might have been beyond. Not wanting to try my luck at the stairs, I slowly started to make my way to the right.

That bend in the hall was ten lengths away at most. Ten. It took a solid three minutes to get that far, a distance that would take me three seconds if I were well. That office better have some damned cranberry juice when I get there. By the end of the turn the pain had started to go away, or I had gotten used to it. Either way, by the time I rounded the corner, my vision was not in a total haze. That let me see...all the way down the hall. It looked just like the one now to my left, ending in what looked to be large elevator door. Why the hay anypony would build a hospital wing to look like a giant ‘L’ seemed like insanity to me.

For lack of a better option, I started toward the far end. Another five minutes of gasping and wincing, short strides and cursing in a much higher pitch than any stallion should ever make followed, but soon I was looking at the elevator door. It was as wide as the entire hall, and the label to the side proclaimed it to be a cargo elevator. One tap on the buttons at the side, and a dull humming resonated through the floor. Soon enough the doors dinged and slid open, allowing me to drag myself inside, and mash the button for the second floor.

Luck decided to favor me, or karma decided I had done enough for a little while, and the supply closest was waiting just to my right when the doors opened again, just opposite of what looked to be a break room. Score. In the first room I found everything. Really, everything-except nurses making out. While the room label declared it to be a ‘closet’, it was a whole storage room with everything from band-aids to liquid nitrogen to surgical tubing. Most importantly, there were assorted syringes, mostly things I really wanted to avoid, but a few that I really wanted right now. It took a bit of messing around with the plungers and my teeth, but soon my underbelly was feeling much better. Why the heck was that door unlocked anyways? Shouldn’t they keep narcotics out of the reach of patients? Ah well. About that juice…

The break room was every bit as clean as the rest of the hospital, thought it lacked the antiseptic smell. Three card tables and a few chairs were scattered about, but the room was still rather empty. Two brushed aluminum refrigerators sat against the far wall, and I felt almost drawn to them. A quick inspection yielded exactly what I was looking for: several sealed bottles of cranberry juice. I wasn’t really sure who's they were, but they were not labeled, so I figured I could always pay back whoever they belonged to. Speaking of which, why haven’t I seen anypony yet?

A half-pint of cranberry juice swirling around in my stomach (and not leaking out!) was more than enough to convince me set down the remaining two bottles on one of the tables, and head back out to check a few of the nearby rooms. The closest door with a light turned on inside was number 242. Between the painkillers and the juice I was feeling good enough that it really didn’t take all that much longer to march over to the door and to knock. There was no response, so I went ahead and opened the door.

Inside was a room almost identical to mine. Same off-white walls and tiling, bedside table, and patient monitor. The device was not reading anything off, for it wasn’t hooked to anypony. Instead, the contacts lay scattered on the bed and hanging to the floor. On the bed, the sheets and blanket were disturbed to suggest that they had once been slept in, but nopony had come along to make the bed. They were slightly raised in the middle, and off to one side, and the other side had been lifted back and was resting upon the bunch in the middle.

The next room was the same. And the next. And the next. Lights on, clean room, empty bed. I knew I should be feeling panic, or fear, but I wasn’t. I was altogether too numb. Each leg, my underbelly, my back, up my neck, and all my head felt like...nothing. Perhaps I had overdosed? There was no way to tell until something worse happened, and until then I was stuck, unable to feel, unable to fear, and sluggish of mind. Come on, think! Something is not right here. A hospital is always staffed, no matter what time of night, so at least the front desk should have somepony. And if something else is wrong...I can always leave.

The walk back to the cargo elevator was even quicker than the one before it. I must have hit the sweet spot in between numbing myself and knocking myself clean out. No pain, and I was almost walking as fast as I normally would...almost. The exhaustion was marking its claim upon my body; reminding me of how much blood I had to be short of right now. At least I had the few moments as the elevator hummed its way on down to the ground floor to catch my breath.

When the door opened, I was treated to a short hall that went around a corner. On the other side, I lost that breath I had gotten back in the elevator. The lobby was simple, with no windows or fancy decorations. There was an actual pattern in the tile, some random abstract piece. It was everything I expected, save for two things. The receptionists counter was empty. Nopony was behind it at all. The computer terminals were still turned on, one was even still logged in. But that wasn’t what caused me to freeze, it was the mass of chariots, market stalls and cinderblocks that been piled against the outside of the glass front doors.

The barricade went high enough that I couldn’t see the top of it, and it looked to be a solid three or four lengths deep. That would have been a lot to shift were I well, but there was no question now. It would take me several hours to move all of that, and it would make a lot of noise to do so. Just what the hell were they trying to do? Ponies need to be able to get into a hospital. They couldn’t be trying to...no. No way. At least there has to be a back door, right?

Curious, I hurried over to where the building layout maps were posted on a pillar in the center of the lobby. Three things caught my eyes: the way to the backdoor, a little note at the bottom of the top floor page which read ‘Roof contains emergency chariot landing pad, and fire escape,’ and that there was a basement level with a loading bay, bingo! Trying the basement door left me heaving my leg against a locked handle, the mechanism clunking against my efforts to get through. Heh. Looks like that one is out of the question. It was probable that the back door had been barricaded too, but certainly worth trying. I stared at the map long enough to burn the way there into my mind, and headed off that way.

My route took me through the operating rooms. I half expected to find something horrible lurking there, but they were empty. And clean. Clean enough that the smell of whatever the janitorial staff used to sterilize the rooms almost made me gag. Just past those were a number of locked storage closets, which meant I should be getting close. Rushing forward, with the very faintest dregs of excitement clutching me, I rounded the last corner.

The back door was a simple glass framed door, giving me a perfectly clear view of all the debris piled on the other side. No...no, this can’t be happening. How did everypony else get out if this building is barricaded? And why am I the only one left?! The thoughts ran through my mind as I hurried back to the lobby as fast as my exhausted and wounded body would carry me. I had to get out of here, now. Wait, can’t I just climb out a window? Perfect!

None of the operating rooms had a window, but there were a number of ground floor patient rooms which I sought out. Upon opening the first room, I found it the same way as the ones on the second floor; white tile and bare walls. The bed was messily unmade, though this one had a stain on it. That was the least of my cares, as the window was right past the bed-and it was clear of any obstructing materials. Just beyond the glass lay a lonely street of the city lit up for a solitary lamp; the most inviting deserted street I’d ever seen. The window would be a tight fit, especially with my underbelly how it was, but I needed out. The posture to deliver a double hind-kick is instinctual to all ponies, but we earth ponies always had a way with bucking the living daylights out of whatever we hit. I couldn’t imagine that it was terribly healthy for me to be doing so, but the window had no latch to open, so I saw little other way.

WHU-THINK!. That is not what shattering glass sounds like. Standing back up, the glass had two impact marks where my hooves had landed, turning slightly opaque in two nearly full circles. Confused, I hit it again, and again. The shock wave passed right back through my body, as if I were bucking a stone wall, and still the glass remained there. This can’t be. I ran to the next room. The window there was just as stubborn as the room before it, and by the time I finished failing to break it, I was exhausted. I guess there is always the roof…

The lobby was the same as I had left it, and I passed through with nary a glance and hurried to the elevator bank. I hoofed the little white button with an arrow up on it, and waited...and waited. Out of desperation, I punched the elevator button again, then leaned over and pushed one ear into the door. There should have been a hum, some sort of noise, but there was nothing. Muttering a low curse, I shakily made my way down the side hall to the cargo elevator. It was still open and waiting where I had left it, offering me a way out. There was a button labeled ‘ROOF’, probably for those emergency chariot deliveries. It lit up when I indented it, but the doors did not close. Nor did the elevator move, even after I waited, counting slowly to a minute.

An exasperated groan left my lips-I did not want to climb the stairs. I wasn’t even sure I could in this state, not all four floors to the roof. Waiting here though, did not seem like a good idea, so I found the stairs, and started to climb.

That first step was worse than getting out of bed. One leg up to land on the second step, then the next, stretching the stitches on my stomach tight, drawing a line of pain across my flesh. Third leg up, and it relaxed a bit, fourth up, and I was standing on steps one and three, not hurting anymore. This is really going to suck.

There were ten steps until the switchback, and ten more until the next floor. Eighty steps at least...damn. In the time it had taken me to figure that out, I’d climbed four. One leg up...then the next...then again...and again...my breath was going hard, and my underbelly screamed its protest at me with each stretch of my body. I should probably stop at that supply room and get more morphine...but would that be overdosing? Maybe what I got was a small dose, and I need more? Do I have the time to stop there? Such thoughts troubled me until I found myself level again, standing on the first landing. Seventy now…

Pain never gets easier, but it became a monotony; familiar enough to the mind that it was no longer a burden. It became the background to the landscape of my mind, the soundtrack of the movie of my existence, something that was there, but didn’t make or break the the climb. It was there the whole time, and stayed with me when I finally stopped at the second floor, gasping for air. The supply closet was at the far end of the hall, on the other end of the ‘L’. Arguments for and against going all the way there for a few syringes-and a bottle of juice-entered my mind, and I was bent on hashing them out when the lights went out.

Not just the lights, but the hum of the air conditioning went too, leaving me in the silence. I sat stunned for a few moments until flickering announced the emergency stair lighting coming on. The thin red light was too little help to make out anything more than the stairs, but that was all I needed to keep going. While I climbed, I tried to block out the pain and figure out why I was climbing in the dark. The city wouldn’t just shut off power to a hospital...that’s the last place they would shut off, even if the town were in trouble. So...did the equipment break? No...that stuff is always built to last...which means...somepony broke it. Oh Lady Celestia get me out of here!

It was impossible to go much faster up the stairs, but with a new determination in my mind, and fear pushing up against the chemicals in my blood, I kept going. One leg up at a time, one more echoing *thunk* in the stairwell, and it hurt. Just a little bit more. Two more switchbacks, and you’ll be at the top. Come on Sprinkles. When you get done you can get out of here and get back home, and sleep somewhere warm and cozy...and safe.

A muted *thump* from below broke through my inner monologue. It wasn’t so much that it was a loud sound as that it made me realize just how quiet it had been before that noise. I stopped to listen, and after a few seconds the same noise floated into the stairwell, a little louder. It was as if somepony were slamming against, not bucking a door. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but something made me think of the one place in the building I hadn’t been through. As the noise rang out again, I scrambled up the stairs, praying to see the top floor. It was a dismal effort in the dark, with the thumping growing louder with every short silence between. The noise came to a crescendo, with a particular *SNAP*, followed by the sound of wood splintering and falling on tile.

The moment I was on the landing, the entire stairwell shook with a *THUD*. Then another, and then another quickly. There was a ladder bolted onto the wall to my left, which I lept onto and started climbing toward the hatch above, holding on tightly as it all shook. The ragged inhale and exhale of my tired body was louder than the clang of each hoof on the metal as I pulled myself higher, toward the outside. Luck decided to throw me a carrot at the top, as the latch was spring loaded, and popped open, letting in the warm air of the night.

Throwing my forelegs through the hole, I pulled myself onto the roof. With a swift kick I shut the latch behind me. The roof around me was bare, but the moonlight shone on a large circular pad for chariot landings. Latched onto the far side of the roof was the top of the fire escape. I ran. All around me, the lights of the city gleamed, calling out to me as I threw my hooves onto the rusty metal of the fire escape.

The clanging of my running sounded the alarm of my departure down the fire escape. Each level took time away from me in running back to get to the top of the next set of stairs. Every moment not going down was a moment it caught up! The bottom was so close...oh thank the sun, the ladder! I bit down on side of the ladder, and pulled. The yank only jarred my teeth as the ladder stayed right where it was. It was rusted to the wall! The noise of the roof trapdoor springing open came from above, and the thumping steps on the roof followed.

That concrete was three lengths below, surely enough to split the fragile stitching on my stomach open. One more desperate tug on the ladder served to prove that it wasn’t going anywhere, and I would have to jump. The thumping grew louder, and I took a deep breath. Just one little jump.

I fell.

The last thing I remember was the wind in my mane. It felt warm, and slower than I would’ve expected. I didn’t know what to grasp onto at the moment, nothing seemed to be substantial enough to really take away from the experience. I knew this fall would likely kill me, but right now? Right now that was alright. At least I knew.

Author's Note:

My first shot at writing horror. I stayed up twenty-four hours before writing it, so I'd be somewhat out of my mind.

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[Vermilion and Sage]

Vermilion: For best effect, read at night, alone in the dark with some nice Halloween music playing