Home Field Advantage
NOVEMBER 1, 2015
"You look silly with that on, you know."
Kate, perched on the driver's seat of the truck, waved a hoof dismissively at Max. "Can't be a trucker without a trucker hat."
"I think it looks fine," Duncan said from the passenger seat.
Kate turned her head to grin at him, showing off the 'The Hottest Girls Come From Lethbridge, Alberta' ball cap. "Thank you!" she grinned.
Max decided to let her have the moment, even though he'd already been kind to her once by letting her drive. He turned to face Angela and Sean, who were lying behind him in the sleeper bunk, one on each side. "Got enough room back there?"
"I'm good," Angela said brightly.
"I'm okay," Sean nodded. "We'd better come up with something if we plan to pick anyone else up, though."
"Yeah," Max nodded. The truck cab was now completely full, unless a smallish pony - a unicorn or pegasus - rode in the footwell on the passenger side, below Duncan's seat, and that would be a boring trip.
The rescue trailer had been emptied out quite a bit, with most of the cargo that had been in it put in large plastic bins which were stacked on pallets and tied down on the flatbed trailer. There was no communication between the rescue trailer and the cab, though, and no seats, let alone seat belts.
"We don't even use seat belts up here," he murmured.
"What's that?" Duncan asked.
"Nothing. Never mind," Max replied.
"What's the route once we cross the border?" Kate wanted to know.
"Just keep going down the 15 until Great Falls," Duncan said, pointing at the GPS. "We'll probably want to stretch our legs by then."
Max turned to face Sean. "How you feeling?"
The crimson pony shrugged. "Fine, all things considered."
"Anything hurting? Itching?" Max grimaced, realizing his question would probably make the wounded pony think of such things right away.
"Yeah, actually, but I've been through worse," Sean said.
"Really?"
Sean pondered it for a moment, then shrugged again. "All right. I've never been burnt this bad, but I've been burnt before. Just takes some time to heal."
"You were out for a good while," Angela pointed out. "He just wants to make sure you're OK. We don't know if ponies react the same way to injury that humans do."
"I'm not trying to be tough, or hide things from you," Sean said. "I'm just not having that bad of a time." He offered a smile. "Maybe that's a testament to your skill?"
"I'm not that good," Max scoffed. "I can't heal burns with gauze and cream."
"Let me take a look when we stop," Duncan suggested. "I'm no medical doctor, but if you're doing markedly better, we should take note of it."
Sean chewed on his lip a little, unseen by the others. "Fine," he eventually agreed.
The truck thundered across the borderline at Sweet Grass, Montana, without stopping. Neither it nor the partner village of Coutts on the Alberta side showed any signs of life.
"Welcome to the United States of America," Duncan declared. "Montana, Big Sky Country."
"Sure is," Kate agreed, her head on a swivel, taking the scenery in.
"Just as flat as home," Angela observed.
"Oh crap, is this as flat as Saskatchewan?" Kate asked, feigning panic.
"Don't worry," Sean piped up. "We'll keep you awake."
"Saskatchewan," Angela explained to the Americans. "Hard to spell, easy to draw." She mimed a tall, narrow rectangle with her forehooves.
"Sounds like Wyoming," Duncan smirked. "You know, they say it doesn't really exist."
"What?" Kate laughed.
"Who would live in a state that square? It's just the empty space left over," Duncan explained.
Max had to smile and join in. "Have you ever met anyone from Wyoming? What's its biggest claim to fame?"
"Yellowstone Park?" Sean said with an upraised eyebrow.
"A fable," Duncan said, waving a hoof.
"I hope you guys see what you've gotten into," Kate called back to the two new ponies in the back of the cab.
About ninety minutes down the road, Max was interrupted from a conversation with Sean and Angela by a call back from Kate.
"Hey, Max, where are the wipers on this thing?"
He wanted to shoot back, on the windshield, fool!, but when he turned around to face forward, he saw specks of moisture all over the window, and realized she meant the controls. "Down by your right kn... hind leg,"
"Oh, thanks," she said, and after a moment's fiddling, the wipers began flicking back and forth, wiping the melted snowflakes aside.
Max looked beyond the windshield to the skies, and saw light snow falling. It was melting when it landed on the road, making the surface wet. "What's the temperature say?" he asked, nodding towards the dash.
"Twenty-seven," Duncan said.
"What's that in Canadian dollars?" Kate quipped.
"A little below freezing," Duncan clarified. "Minus two or something. Careful on bridge decks."
"Gotcha," she answered.
"You okay to drive?" Max queried.
"Pssh," Kate waved a hoof. "This's nothing. I'll wake you if it gets icy."
Max reached forward to touch a switch. "Let me just turn off the-"
Kate swatted at him. "Hooves off, backseat driver!"
"I'm just turning off the jake brake!" he shot back. "You don't want it on when you're on slippery roads or you'll start skidding."
"Just tell me beforehand," she sniffed. "Act like you trust me."
"I was trying to explain," he muttered, then sat back down after flipping the switch.
Duncan decided to change the subject. "Where's tonight's stop?" he asked.
"Here's my plan," Max said. "Depending how this weather turns out, we may not get it all in in time. South to Great Falls, check it out for people, restock and refuel. Continue south on the 15 to Helena, same deal. Then down to Butte. That might be our stop point for tonight, then tomorrow we'll go east on I-90 towards Billings. If there's still daylight at Butte, we'll make Billings our stop. Anybody got any issues with that?"
"How do you decide when you've searched long enough in a town for survivors?" Angela wanted to know.
"Depends on the town," Max said.
"Lights and siren and air horn usually get people's attention," Duncan chimed in. "We didn't do that in your town because we were kinda preoccupied. But yeah."
"Should we maybe split up and search?" suggested Angela.
Max was about to veto the idea when he gave it some thought. There were five of them now, and it didn't take the three of them to tend to the truck's needs at a stop, let alone five. "That's probably not a bad idea," he admitted. "Maybe we should put together some plans for that kind of thing."
"I can do an aerial search," Kate volunteered.
"I'm happy to do whatever's needed," Angela said. "Even if all that ends up being is running through the streets hollering. I seem to be able to run pretty well these days."
"I can handle heavy lifting," Sean spoke up.
"Are you sure you should be exerting yourself?" Angela asked.
Sean shook his head. "It's not physical," he said. "It's this thing." He tapped his horn. "TK, or magic, or whatever you want to call it."
Duncan turned in his seat again. "So tell me, what do I need to do to light my magical pilot light?"
"I don't know if I can just tell you. Definitely not just in just casual conversation. I guess the closest you can come to describing it is you have to find your center. Do you have any meditation or martial arts training?"
"Not a lick," Duncan admitted, shaking his head.
"I wouldn't peg a farmer for being into meditation," Max smirked.
"I wasn't. Like I said, it's what I remembered from the dream."
"Right, the dream," Max nodded.
Sean seemed nonplussed. "You don't believe me."
Max held up his hooves. "Sure I do. I had a weird dream myself, pal."
"You did, huh?"
"Yeah," Max said, and then told his tale.
Sean blinked. "Sounds like you might have more to tell him about unicorns than I do," he quipped.
Slightly over three hours' drive time put them in Great Falls. The weather didn't worsen; in fact, the wet snow dissipated shortly before the truck arrived in the city. Winds on the highway were strong, but Max aided Kate in keeping the truck between the white lines.
They drove through the city and parked at the gates outside Malmstrom Air Force Base. A prolonged application of the air horn made for some annoyed ponies within the cab of the truck, but no one else came running.
"I can get over the gate," Kate offered. "Figure out how to let you in."
"If it's like Fairbanks, there'll be a switch on the guard house control panel, but it'll require power from the truck's generator," Duncan offered.
"I'll move it in position while you're going over the fence," Max said, climbing toward the driver's seat.
"Can I help?" Sean asked.
"I'd rather you just rest," Max insisted.
Sean spent a few moments contemplating it, then sighed. "If you say so," he answered.
Angela and Sean and Duncan sat in the truck, watching the other two go to work. Kate fluttered out the window, with Max idling the truck as close to the gates as possible. He then disembarked and hauled the extension cable for the generator up to the gates, which Kate then took. She dragged it the rest of the way, then signaled for the power to be turned on. A few moments later, the gates were swinging slowly open.
Max came back into the truck after reeling up the cable, and pulled it inside the gate.
"Just so you know," Sean said, "I'm good to drive. I've got... well, I had... a Super-B back at the farm."
"Noted," Max said. "When you're fully recovered, we can trade driving duties, the three of us."
They drove around the base for a short time, ultimately resigning themselves to the fact that there were no people present. And so, Max located the motor pool, intending to refuel and scavenge some spare parts; the others could check for any useful supplies, same as always.
Angela, Kate, and Duncan took off to the various buildings surrounding them, while Max parked the truck at a fuel island and began his oft-repeated trick of running the truck's generator to power up the pumps so he could fuel the truck and the generator some more.
Sean stood on the ground a short distance from the truck, watching with detached interest while Max went through his motions. "Need any DEF?" he asked.
"We're good, but if there's a jug or two of it lying around here, wouldn't be a bad idea to grab it," Max murmured, setting up the pump.
"What, you'll let me venture that far on my own?" Sean said with a smirk. He turned and headed off to the little service hut nearby without waiting for an answer.
Max shook his head, wrestling with the nozzle to get it into the truck's tank. The guy really wants to help, but I don't want him opening up any wounds. He's either really hiding the pain from those burns well, or he's got a ridiculous pain threshold, too.
The fuel started flowing, and Max idly watched the digits flick by on the pump's display. I wonder how many dollars of fuel I've taken and not paid for since this thing went down, he mused. Should've kept a log, for fun if nothing else.
Four gallon-size bottles of Diesel Exhaust Fluid floated into his field of vision, bobbing lazily in a green haze. "Where do you want to put these?" Max heard Sean ask.
He stared at the containers levitating in midair before him, then looked over to the smirking pony who was approaching from the service hut.
"Uh, there's a storage locker in the bottom of the sleep-"
"Got it," Sean said, the small access door in the side of the truck unlatching of its own accord - or at least with the aid of a greenish glow. The jugs of fluid floated inside, then the door shut itself.
"Never seen a magic user at work before?" Sean asked Max, turning to face him with a smile.
Max shook his head. "Duncan can't do that," he said simply.
Sean gave a little chuckle. "Took me a while to figure that out. I was trying to open a grain bin and stressing out pretty physically over it, and all of a sudden the lid moved on its own. Then I noticed it was glowing."
Max blinked. "Okay, you're definitely going to be a big help when you heal up."
Sean seemed exasperated. "Look. Buddy. That's what I've been trying to tell you. C'mere." Sean let Max approach closer, then magically peeled the edge off one bandage on his torso. The fur underneath was unblemished, except for the sticky mess left behind by medical tape.
Max was astounded again. "Did you heal yoursel-"
Sean shook his head, flattening the bandage down and stepping back. "If I did, I don't know how I did it. That's why I've been trying to keep it on the down-low for now."
"So you're gonna walk around all bandaged up for no reason?"
The crimson pony shrugged and nodded. "I guess, if I can't come up with a reason why third degree burns healed in a day or two."
Max scoffed. "Why bother? Did we come up with a reason why we can grip things with these?" He held up a hoof, wiggling it.
Sean levelled a flat gaze at him. "Look at it this way. You're a medic, right?"
"Firefighter-paramedic," Max said reflexively, "but yes."
"Do you think the others take greater risks, knowing you can deal with their injuries?"
"But I can only do so mu... oh," Max said, figuring it out.
Sean nodded. "I don't want them thinking I'm the pony pope, able to heal all wounds."
Max nodded again after a moment. "Okay, I get you. But maybe - at least for your comfort - we get rid of the bandages gradually, a day or so at a time, and chalk it up to quicker healing than humans?"
"I'll think about it," Sean said, then tilted his jaw toward the nozzle behind Max. "'Bout ready to spill over."
"What? Oh!" Max said, turning and seeing the diesel tank nearly full. He fumbled with the handle and got it turned off in time, holding it up in the crook of one foreleg while he tried to spin the cap closed with the other.
"Cripes' sake, let me help already," Sean grumbled, and the pump nozzle floated out of Max's grasp. "Which tank's next, the other saddle or the gennie?"
"You've been alone for the whole duration, too?" Angela said to Kate. "You poor thing," she added before the teenager could get a reply in.
"Thanks," Kate said, pinking up slightly, embarrassed to be pitied. "I managed."
"I'm sure," Angela nodded, gesturing to her. "Obviously, since you're here. It's just that, for how I felt spending all that time alone, I can't imagine what it must have been like for a ch-"
Duncan cut her off. "I'm not sure what would be worse," he said, sparing Angela Kate's wrath. "Waking up the next day like all of us did, or waking up five months later, like Max."
"What?" Angela balked.
"Yeah," Kate cut back in, the inadvertent slight against her forgotten. "Supposedly he slept through summer."
"Actually," Duncan said, "according to the pony from Illinois, he was sent forward in time."
"Right," Angela said. "Still having a hard time wrapping my head around that."
"Maybe they can sit us down one-by-one and explain it in short words so we can all get it sorted out," Kate suggested.
"How long do you figure it'll take for us to get there?" Angela asked Duncan.
He mulled it over for a few moments, while they continued to browse the warehouse they were in. "We've got about 1600 miles left to go. If we do 300 miles a day, that makes it between 5 and 6 days to get there. That's kind of low-balling it because we might stop for a break in a couple places, or need to pause for some reason."
"So this time next week," Kate said with realization. Their journey would be over and they'd be the newest immigrants to the pony settlement taking over Illinois.
"It's going to be interesting, seeing a whole community again," Duncan said with a tone of longing.
"Uh-huh," Angela agreed, saying nothing more as they kept walking and searching for goods.
"You know what we need?" Kate said brightly. "One more person we come across means we have to put somebody in the trailer. We need some creature comforts for the trailer."
"And a way to talk back and forth," Angela mentioned.
Duncan smiled. "Lead on, ladies."
Sean was looking around the motor pool for parts and components they could take along with them. In front of him floated Duncan's tablet, with the "shopping list" from the Paris ponies displayed, and the garage was being lit by the green glow from his horn.
The emerald tinge it gave everything made him smirk, and he wondered if they should liberate some night-vision goggles while they were on the base. Not like anyone else is gonna need them, he told himself.
He stopped to size up some tires and compare them to the numbers Max had declared moments before. They were too big - designed for military machines - so he moved on.
His thoughts drifted to the issue of his quick healing. He had no delusions that he'd had something to do with it, but surely some kind of outside force was at work. Granted, it was easy to throw everything out the window with the "we're ponies" excuse - meaning that no explanations made sense any more - but Sean wasn't a fan of writing things off without at least trying to figure them out - even though he was able to bypass the laws of nature with just a bit of concentration and focus.
He came across a set of cargo straps which he decided would be useful for the flatbed trailer, and telekinetically picked them up, then moved along to look for other prizes. Guess I get to see how many things I can control at once, he mused.
Mentally, he listed a few other things he thought might be handy. Plastic crates to carry random stuff in, rather than trying to strap loose stuff down on the flatbed. An air compressor - wait, did the rescue truck have that? Maybe some extra air lines. Chains - tire chains for as many of the wheels as he could carry. Hopefully they wouldn't encounter too many wintry conditions on the drive to Illinois, but it was better to be prepared than not. Oil and lube products and accessories, of course. Spare lights, duct tape and poly plastic in case a window broke, some tarps...
Sean shook his head. You're getting into stuff that won't be here in the motor pool, he chastised himself. Maybe when he was done here, he could join the others in looking through the supply warehouses and general storage on the base.
His ears twitched and involuntarily rotated towards the open hangar-style doors, where he could still hear the generator on the truck droning on, running the fuel pumps a few dozen feet out on the tarmac. Something sounded different, though. The generator was making a more labored sound, and then a rapid metallic knocking became obvious, growing louder with each heartbeat.
Sean, a long time user of industrial machinery, knew a failing motor when he heard it. He wondered if the fireman recognized it too.
He'd turned and made it halfway to the hangar door when the motor failed in a loud clatter and WHUMP, accompanied by a curse from Max.
Breaking into a gallop, he hurried outside to see Max leaping down from the side of the trailer as the generator compartment had smoke and flames pouring from within. The fire pony shut off the fuel pump (needlessly; it'd quit when the generator stopped producing power), dropping the hose to the ground in the process. Unfortunately, the burning trailer was between him and the large wheeled fire extinguisher parked at the end of the fuel ramp.
Sean dropped everything he was carrying, letting it clatter to the asphalt behind him, and dashed over to the extinguisher, ripping the safety pins out magically and levitating the rubber hose and nozzle. Depressing the trigger, he was surprised to get just a puff of powder and nothing else.
"Shit!" Max yelled. "Grab a fire blanket!"
Sean glanced back to the extinguisher and saw a metal sleeve bolted to the post beside it, with EMERGENCY stencilled down its side. From the bottom he pulled out a thick blanket and pushed it against the sides of the generator, through the fire, smothering it.
Tendrils of smoke wafted out of the compartment as the two men tentatively peeled back the heavy cover. The fire was out, but it had done some damage; the motor side of the generator was blackened and dripping with coarse liquids that certainly didn't belong on the outside of the engine block.
"Is everyone okay?!" came Duncan's voice as he galloped hard onto the fuel ramp, chased by the ladies.
"We're fine, but we're screwed," Max said with disgust, peering into the ruined engine. "Something blew on the motor for the gennie."
"What I don't get is why the extinguisher failed-" Sean began, but Max shook his head and cut him off.
"Powder extinguishers solidify if they're not moved every now and then," the fire pony said. "That thing's probably been sitting there for the best part of half a year. Not surprising it's useless."
"Is there much damage?" Angela asked.
"Oh yeah," Max nodded. "Lots."
"Let me see," Sean insisted, leaning in. He then whistled as he surveyed the carnage.
"But nobody's hurt," Kate said, looking for confirmation.
"We're all fine," Max replied.
"Can we get another generator?" Angela wanted to know.
"Sure," Max said. "But it'll take up space on the flatbed, and we'll have to find some extra extension cords, because we won't be able to use the ree-"
"I can probably fix this," Sean's muffled voice came from within the compartment.
"Say what?"
He pulled back his head, coughing a little from the soot and fumes. "We can just pull out this motor and put another in. If we're lucky, we can probably find a generator of the same brand and get a similar motor."
"That'll take time," Max protested.
"Probably about the same amount of time as finding a big enough gennie, putting it on the trailer, and getting all the power cords and such," Sean countered, fixing Max with a stare. "I know you want to get back on the road, but let's do this right so we're not wasting space with a duplicate gennie on the trailer. I have some ideas for loading it up a little better anyway. The other three can keep hunting for supplies, and you help me. I figure we can be back on the way shortly after supper, or morning if you'd rather not drive at night. Okay?"
Max looked at the others with a frown on his face. They were all looking back at him to see what he would say.
"Fine," he acquiesced. "I guess that makes sense."
"We can do with a little extra time," Kate nodded. "We'll check back in a few hours."
"Do you need anything from us?" Duncan asked the other two men.
"Have you seen where they keep any of the big generators on base?" Sean asked. "That's step 1."
A quarter of an hour later, the quintet were standing amongst a collection of generators of various sizes, not far from the motor pool. In fact, many of the generators were on either carts or trailers.
"Yeah," Max said, looking around one in particular. "I think this'll do. What do you think?"
Sean was assessing it as well and gave an approving nod. "Let's pull it out of line so we can get at the access panels, and we'll find out."
Both men moved to the yoke of the cart, but Angela cleared her throat at that moment. "Step aside, boys," she smiled, and strode up to the cart, taking the handle in her teeth, and backing up. Slowly, but steadily, the cart slid out of the neat arrangement with its brethren, into the aisle.
"Not bad," Duncan nodded appreciably. Kate high-hoofed the earth pony in congratulation.
"Yeah," Max said, then quipped, "and that was with the parking brake on." He was joking, of course, as he kicked the lever near the front wheels to set the brake back on.
Sean already had the side panels off of the machine and was barrel-deep in one side. "Perfect," his muffled voice came from within the enclosure. "Same motor and everything. We'll need a tool kit, though."
"I'll take care of that," Max offered.
"You guys may as well go back to scavenging," Sean said to the other three. "This'll be a while."
Max opened a compartment on the rescue trailer and sought out the smallest of the multiple tool boxes carried on the rig. Closing the compartment door again, he sighed around the handle of the toolbox, carried in his mouth. Once again they were holding back from moving forward. It was like the harder they pushed to get to Paris, the harder the world pushed back at them.
If they were going to be down for this repair, Max decided he'd make the most of it. He'd let Sean work on swapping out the motor while he did another good check over the whole rig. He hadn't done a stem-to-stern assessment of the machine since they entered northern Canada - a million years ago, or what felt like it. Every component needed to be inspected and repaired or replaced if need be. He wanted to have zero downtime after leaving the base, between there and Paris. The only stops would be for food, fuel, rest, and scouting for 'survivors'.
Let's get this done, he told himself as he headed back to Sean.
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I'll have you know that we Wyomingites do indeed exist. We're only slightly rarer than Alaskans.
I am curious if you plan to go through Wyoming or have them cut across Montana and North Dakota on their way east.
So, I wonder did the firefighter-paramedic get a talent that made him particularly good at healing burns, or does he have a more general healing talent, or is it Sean's own healing?
If Sean hadn't spent nearly half a year alone without much in the way of side effects, the green aura plus quick healing might have made me wonder if he was actually a changeling...
Well considering the changes we can't call it Lay on Hands, but I am sure some horrible pun will be used to coin Max's new found ability.
The next upgrade for The Pony Express needs to be a pegasus landing and takeoff zone for easy air support while moving. When the road wars start they'll be glad to have it.
Well we see another human that turn into a different creature than a pony soon?
Like a griffin or dragon?
Even if it took you a month, you're certainly back on the road with this one :)
Great chapter!
Hmm... since Max's cutiemark has nothing to do with healing whatsoever, it has to be something with Sean. You still have the place where his should be conveniently covered up in bandages I notice.
And since he doesn't want to be the 'pony pope' (brilliant), it's going to stay this way...
This be good.
6608145
40.media.tumblr.com/d848f84de6d074d094ef0f871bfcbb4a/tumblr_nxfmkxM4qf1ui23zfo1_540.jpg
Would also eliminate the risk of those surfac-to-air missiles following Kate into the cabin when she flutters in there...
6607961
You can't fool me. I saw it on TV:
(I don't know if I'm going thru Wyoming yet or not. I have two or three routes I feel are ideal, and have to pick one of them. Still working on that.)
6608125
I have always been a fan of the idea that eye color = magic color. Don't ask me to explain sunbutt in that case though.
6608145
What, you don't think Kate clambering over Max's lap while she tries to get past him out the window is ideal?
I know. The truck needs a sunroof.
6608627
I am trying to find a way to come up with an excuse that some non-pony person appears, but I don't think it'll fit into this story. I'm seriously thinking along the lines of zebras or giraffes. Once this and After the Storm are done, you might see a mid-future (LPoE universe) one from me with one of those. I had a couple ideas for that ricocheting off synapses the other night. We'll see.
6609935
I never really gave the truck a proper description. The original part is this:
i.imgur.com/1bxP77z.jpg
...with a much nicer prime mover, nobody deserves to slum around in a Freightliner... and the flatbed trailers Max
stoleappropriated in Calgary are like this, attached to the back of the fire trailer:i.imgur.com/hOedMR0.jpg
But even that may change as Sean said he has some tricks up his sleeve for the flatbeds.
Oh and there's a big scorch mark on the side of the red trailer in the compartment just ahead of the rear axles.
6611724
You know I saw that when it first aired on Saturday morning all those decades ago... god I feel old.
Considering winter is setting in, I would recommend a more southerly route simply because if there is a breakdown in the truck being in a warmer climate will help them survive.
Hah! Metric, SAE, they're nothing compared to the devilry of Safety Torx!
Man with the plan.
Easy. Watch Star Wars.
Or Star Wars. Whatever works.
But you ARE the pony pope! There's nopony else to fill the role!
Ah yes, the Wrath of Kate. Always beware the Wrath of Kate. Maybe we'll make a movie about it. Pony Trek: The Wrath of Kate.
I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure that's because literally EVERY OTHER COUNTRY ON EARTH USES METRIC! The States wanted to be a special snowflake when it came to measurement, and did it. Come on, even the name of the measurement, Imperial, is a testament to that. Sorry, Sean.
I just realized something.
The main character's name is Max, and he drives a truck.
This is a Mad Max parody.
6616379 The US uses US units, there are some minor differences /w Imperial, stuff like the definition of ounces and tons IIRC. Which is called that because it was the British Imperial standard before y'all lost your cultural confidence and let those Parisian pseudo-rationalists stampede you into their decimal superstitions.
God bless america for using a differnt system XD
6962291 imgs.xkcd.com/comics/degrees.png