Fires Above

by Pish

Chapter 3

Rockland was void of all life. The overwhelming smell of smoke and death would choke the air out of anypony. It was a place of ruin now, the fires burning brightly even after the last life was snuffed out.

Flood didn't want to think about that. Searching for survivors was the last thing on his mind. He ran back down Mane Street, past the decrepit buildings and raging fires. There might be more of them around, he thought. I've got to get out of here.

He flew down the stairs and through the tunnel connecting the cart station and Rockland. He was almost through the tunnel when a steampipe blew open, sending metal and hot, hissing steam into the section of tunnel in front of him. Flood fell forward in surprise, landing on something fleshy and rotten-smelling.

"What in the world," he coughed, as he lit up the ground underneath him. His eyes widened in shock.

Flood had landed on the dead stallion from earlier. The smell had intensified into something even more unbearable. He gagged at the sight, his stomach churning violently. He scrambled back onto his hooves, running through the dense steam cloud forming in the tunnel, towards the cart station.

Leaping into the cart, Flood flung the lever for the engine in reverse. Nothing happened. Panicking, he began to violently push the lever up and down. "Come on! GO!"

He vaguely recalled a time when the carts had broken down before: he was late for work one morning when the entire south cart tunnel of Mantle City had been shut down. A diamond dog had mistakenly dug straight through, sending rocks and dirt everywhere, and causing the tracks to collapse. Flood and a dozen other ponies had to walk to work.

Flood looked up from the cart controls and out into the dark abyss that was the cart tunnel. None of the lights were working, and in his state of distress, the unicorn could only manage a weak glow that lit up only a small circle of earth below him.

He stepped back out of the cart and onto the tracks. Without a moment's hesitation, he continued his escape from the horrors of Rockville.

The tunnel went on for miles. Already exhausted from racing through the city streets, Flood felt as though his muscles were ripping apart as he galloped the stretch of track. He had no idea when he might come across an operational cart station. The route from Mantle City to Rockland was about two hours by cart, but by hoof, it would take him almost four times as long. With little light and miles to go, the way ahead looked bleak.

After a solid half hour of galloping down the track, Flood's ragged breathing and aching sides got the best of him. He slowed to a trot, and then a full stop. His head hung low as he stood to catch his breath. His ears perked up at a slight wooshing sound. He looked up.

A light was coming from down the end of the tunnel. For a moment, Flood thought he had finally found civilization. But that hope was quickly struck from his mind. It wasn't bright a second ago, he thought. Wait...that sound... He began to put the pieces together. No...no no no... The light was growing even brighter now. The sound was getting louder.

It's a cart. It's coming this way.

Flood frantically looked around the tunnel. Both sides were solid, packed dirt. There was nowhere to squeeze in to avoid the oncoming cart.

This is how I'm gonna die...turned into a bloody paste by a mine cart.

The light and noise grew even more intense. As Flood squeezed his eyes tight, bracing for the impending impact, he thought he could hear a faint, high-pitched whistling noise.

The insides of Flood's eyelids turned bright as the light drew closer. Collision was imminent.

Then he was knocked head over heels into the air. He went tumbling along the shaft, cart tracks battering his already fatigued body. The whistling noise had stopped, and the light that was previously headed straight towards Flood was now rapidly casting a powerful beam all around the tunnel. He noticed something odd, too: another set of hooves entangled with his own.

"Ow," groaned a voice. A mare's voice. "What just..."

The light shined right into Flood's face. "Hey, what are you doing down here? Who are you?" The mare sniffed. "You smell like smoke."

Flood, still breathing heavily, couldn't believe he was still alive. He had expected to be a red, pulpy smear on the front of a cart by now, not having a conversation.

"Rockland," he wheezed. "Totally destroyed. Nopony's alive." He squinted at the source of the voice behind the light. "Who..."

The voice was quiet for a beat. "Did you come from there?" it asked.

"Was making...a delivery," Flood breathed. His mind still hadn't fully caught up yet.

"Somepony set off the alert for an emergency in Rockland, back at the Mantle City center...I had friends in Rockland," the voice said. "I thought I'd come lend a hoof, but..." She trailed off. "You're lucky I found you, kid. It's at least another two and a half hours to Mantle City by hoof. Only half an hour if you've got wings, though."

She rose to her feet. The mare seemed fine. Flood, however, stood shakily. He was almost at his limit.

"Can't go on," he managed. And he fell to his knees, forelegs barely keeping him upright.

"Whoa there, stay with me," the mare cried. She held a hoof under Flood's chest, to catch him in case he started to fall. "You're in pretty bad shape. We gotta get you to Fluttershy's."

"Huh...?"

The mare started to move around behind Flood, hooking her hooves around his midsection. "Hang on, kid!"

Flood felt himself lift up off the ground. Gusts of wind blew all around him as he felt himself slowly ascend upward. The mare was a pegasus.

They suddenly launched forward with a woosh. Flood's eyes began to water from the stinging wind as they flew along the tunnel. The pegasus had hooked her hindlegs under his flank, holding him beneath her.

"Horsefeathers, you weigh a ton!"

She began to pick up speed. As Flood's body lurched from the acceleration, he felt a sensation of vertigo. He was past his breaking point. His eyelids began to fall. A moment passed, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

---

"Come on, Flood, you can do it!"

Flood sat at a counter, along with a few other unicorn foals. He turned to his mother, grinning at her words of encouragement. He was at the carnival, about to play one of the many games his father had shelled out a few bits for. It was the game where somepony would shoot a jet of water at a bullseye, causing a plastic phoenix to rise. Once it reached the wooden cutout of a sun at the top, a bell would ring. Whoever did it first won the prize: a giant, stuffed, purple Ursa Minor. It hung next to a stallion behind the counter, wearing a red and white striped hat, with a red vest. There were countless other prizes around him.

"Alright fillies and gentlecolts," the stallion behind the counter called. "Get ready..."

Flood peered over at the red and white bullseye, under a plastic phoenix, on the opposite end of the booth. His target.

"Get set..."

He held the squirter aloft with magic, right in front of him.

"Go!"

Everypony fired the squirters in tandem. Five jets of water flew at five different bullseyes, spray from the water going every which way. Flood and a foal next to him were right on the mark.

The foal looked over at Flood, then to his phoenix. It was rising, but not as fast as Flood's. The foal struck out at him with a hoof, sending his squirter flying through the air and into the middle of the booth.

Flood's mother gasped as the foal snickered, evidently pleased with himself as he returned his full attention to the bullseye. "What a cheater!" his father exclaimed.

Flood glared at the foal, then at the phoenix that had stopped ascending. He was mad, and he wanted that stuffed bear. He looked at the little filly next to him, struggling to keep her aim at her bullseye. He looked back at his own, gritted his teeth, and closed his eyes. I was so close, all I had to do was blast it with a little more...

He felt magic well up in his horn. More magic than he had ever felt before. The energy coalesced into the tip as a great, powerful jet of water burst forth, slamming into the bullseye. The phoenix shuddered as it flew up and into the wooden sun. A ringing bell sounded. Flood had won the game.

"You did it sweetheart!" his mother called. His father was laughing.

Flood was beaming from ear to ear. Then he felt a strange tingling sensation on his flanks. He looked behind himself, and saw a shimmering light on his left flank. After a few seconds, the light cleared to show a picture of a great wave of water. Flood was ecstatic.

"Mom! Dad! My cutie mark! I GOT IT!" He turned to his parents. But they had terrified looks on their faces as they stared straight past him. He turned back around.

A great flame had replaced the booth. A giant mass of stone stood on two legs, with a great gaping mouth and rows of razor sharp, metallic teeth. It roared. Flood fell backwards off of his stool at the counter.

He turned around to shout to his parents for help, only to see that they, too, had turned into giant stone things. He looked all around him, seeing more and more monsters. They were all bearing down on him.

One of them opened its gaping maw to swallow him up as everything went dark.

---

Flood sat bolt upright in bed, shaken from his nightmare as his lungs gasped for air. He was tangled up in a bedsheet.

Wait, a bed? Where am I? he wondered in a daze. He racked his brain. I was making a delivery, and Ditzy was there...and there was fire everywhere. A pounding headache was clouding his memory.

Oh hayseed, where's Ditzy? Flood looked around the room. He sat on a pony sized hospital bed in a clean room full of other beds. Some were occupied by resting ponies, a few of them with bandages wrapped on a hoof or two. He gathered that he must have been in one of the underground's free clinics. He didn't see Ditzy anywhere.

She must be at the Delivery Company...maybe somepony there has seen her.

He pulled himself over to the edge of the bed, peering at the floor below. He could feel the blood pumping in his head. It felt like a drum beating behind his eyes. Did I hit my head? He rubbed the back of his head with a hoof, and set off to a door at the other side of the room. Open up, he thought, as he approached the door. He smacked headfirst into it, his forehead making a thunk against the wood. Flood's headache was interfering with his magic.

"Geez," he muttered, momentarily rubbing his forehead.

He pushed the door open, revealing a short hallway leading to the right. Walking to the end, he came to a pair of doors on either side of the hallway. Looking through one, Flood saw a smallish waiting room, lined with chairs. Beyond that, he saw a doorway leading to the Commerce Thoroughfare.

Finally, a landmark. Flood stepped out of the hallway and into the waiting room.

He looked over at a desk where a yellow pegasus had her head under a desk. He thought he could hear her rummaging around, saying, "Oh dear...where did I put it?" A little white rabbit sat on top of the desk, watching her. It noticed Flood leaving the waiting room for the bustling street of the Thoroughfare, and began tugging on the pegasus' wing. A brief moment passed.

"Just a minute, Angel," she said softly. Flood had exited the clinic and turned onto the street as Angel tugged on her wing once more. She looked up and around the empty room. "Oh Angel, you mustn't play tricks, I'm very busy."

The rabbit gave her a displeased look.

---

The walk to the Delivery Company from the clinic wasn't very far, but in Flood's state, it felt like miles. He came to the doorway of the Delivery Company, walked inside, and entered the mailroom. It was getting late, and only a small group of workers were present, sorting out packages and letters that weren't delivered that day for whatever reason. "Has anypony," he began to ask, but a shrill voice cut him off.

"And just where have you been?"

Flood turned to the source of the voice: Trixie. She stomped over to him. "And where is your mailbag? Trixie expects her property back in its proper place by the end of each day."

"Must've forgot it," Flood said. He squinted his eyes shut, trying to block out the headache that had now grown more intense thanks to Trixie's volume. It was no use. "Where's Di-"

"And where is the gray one? Trixie sent both of you for important deliveries to Rockland today!"

And then it all came rushing back. The cart breaking down, the dead pony in the tunnel, the golem, the destroyed mining town...and Ditzy Doo, the mare that saved his life, now laying lifeless next to a pile of rubble.

Flood started to tremble where he stood. His eyes slowly drifted to the floor. They lost focus.

"She's gone," he whispered.

"What? Speak up," Trixie demanded.

"Ditzy is gone," he repeated a little louder.

"Well she better hurry back, or she won't be getting any wages from-"

"She's dead, Trixie! Ditzy was killed!" he roared. Trixie stood in shocked silence. "And all you can think about is your own damn self!"

The entire mailroom was at a standstill as Flood stood fuming. "You didn't even know her name!"

All Trixie could do was stand in shock, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly. "I..." was all she could manage.

Flood glared at her, then took a look around the mailroom. All eyes were on him. He stormed over to his locker, flinging it open with his teeth. He pulled out his saddlebag, struggling to pull it over his head with his mouth. He eventually got it to fall around his neck.

He strode back over to Trixie, meeting her face to face. "You never cared about her," he growled. "Or me. Or any of us." And he stormed out of the mailroom, through the reception room, and back out into the street.

Trixie was still only able to stand in stunned silence.

---

Flood ignored the consistent buzz of activity among the shops and stalls as he walked briskly down the Thoroughfare.

She's dead, a voice at the back of his head said.

No, she can't be...

Ditzy's gone, it spoke again.

She can't be...

Flood came up to the cart station, boarding the first one that presented itself. He didn't know where it was going, and he didn't care. He only wanted to be moving. He wanted to try and lose the dark thoughts creeping into his mind.

The cart sped along the tunnels, stopping to let off passengers at various Housing Quarter levels. It came to a stop as the conductor turned his head to address the remaining passengers.

"Level four," he droned.

Ditzy's level... he thought. The clock above the station office read 9:47. Flood gasped.

"Oh no," he breathed. "It's almost ten. Dinky's been home alone all this time."

He leapt up from his seat and out of the cart, rushing through the station and along the wide path that ran along the Housing Quarter. Trotting past door after door, he counted to himself. "Six, seven...eight. Here it is." The placard next to the door read "Ms. Ditzy Doo, Housing Quarter Level 4, Block 8, Mantle City."

Flood knocked on the door, waiting for an answer that never came. He pounded on the door, and again, there was no response from within. He wondered if she wasn't even home, if she had left to go look for her mother, or if someone had already come by. Then he remembered. Ditzy always said for her to never answer the door for strangers...

Shoving his face into his saddlebag, Flood began to fish around inside it for something. He pulled out of it a moment afterwards, holding a small metal key between his teeth. He lowered his face to the door, pushing the key inside, and rotated his head, turning the key in the lock. It clicked, and he nosed open the door.

The house was almost identical to his own. All the houses in the Quarter were the same basic structure, with a few rooms added on when needed. The home was completely dark, save for a light from the kitchen, dimly illuminating the living room. As Flood walked in, a light purple filly peeked out from the kitchen. "Mommy?" it called out into the dim light.

Flood started to tremble again. "No...just me, Dinky."

"Flood!" she squealed. "Are you gonna cook for us tonight? And look what I drew!" Dinky darted back into the kitchen, and returned with a shimmering sheet of paper fluttering alongside her. Flood had taught her that, how to make objects levitate.

It was a picture of dozens of multicolored stick ponies, some with wings, some with smaller sticks on their heads; horns. They all seemed gathered around a statue: a pony with both a horn and a brilliant set of wings, rearing up on its hind legs. "It's the Thoroughfare! And look, me and you and mommy are at the Square eating cookies from Pinkie's store!"

Sure enough, Flood saw three ponies on the paper, all next to each other, beneath the statue: one gray, one purple, and one a faded, stony blue.

"Where's mommy, Flood? Did Trixie say she had to work at the mail place again?"

He stood in the hallway, trembling even more now. "She..." he choked. Dinky stepped a little closer, the paper falling to the floor. She sniffed the air.

"Flood? Why do you smell like smoke?"

His eyes began to water. The rush of emotion he had felt back at the Delivery Company began to return.

"Your mom is...in Rockland."

"Is she working?" Dinky inquired.

"No, Dinky," Flood said in a hushed tone. He was trying to mentally brace himself for the inevitable. "Your mom..."

Dinky was looking up at him, but Flood wouldn't meet her gaze. She had walked right up under him now, looking up into his blue eyes. "Did something happen?" she asked, her voice cracking a little. "Flood, where's mommy?" Ditzy's voice was worried now, she was getting anxious. "Where is she?"

"She died," he whispered.

Dinky's eyes began to shimmer as tears formed in them. "W-what?" she stammered. "That's not funny, Flood."

"Dinky, I'm not trying to trick you." Flood could feel tears of his own start to well up in his eyes. "Something...really bad happened in Rockland tonight. Your mom and I were there, and..." He trailed off. He couldn't tell Dinky about the horrible things he saw that night. "A big accident happened, and your mom," he said. "She was trying to help, but there was a...a fire. And she got burned really bad."

Tears were falling down Dinky's face and onto the floor. "Why," she sobbed.

Flood stood staring at the floor, dead silent. "Because..." he tried to continue. "...Because your mom was brave," he choked.

"No! I don't want her to go!" she yelled as she ran into Flood's chest, weeping into his now tear-soaked coat. "I want her back!"

Flood hung his head low to embrace Dinky as she cried. "I know," he muttered. He led her over to the couch in the living room, the two of them sitting with their legs folded underneath, Flood holding a leg around Dinky. Her face was buried into his side as she cried her heart out for her lost mother.

---

For about an hour, all Dinky could do was cry. And it was all Flood could do to sit with her and try to manage tears of his own.

When Dinky's tears seemed to ebb, Flood asked if she had eaten anything. She responded with a weak 'no.' Flood got up and walked into the kitchen. After a few minutes of halfhearted searching through cupboards, he found a box of macaroni noodles and some sauce mix. In fifteen minutes, he had a pot of it ready to serve.

They ate in silence. Dinky had stopped a few times to put her fork down and wipe away newly forming tears. Each time, Flood would rise from his seat and move to comfort her, holding a hoof over her shoulder, and whisper "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

After they finished eating, the two left the rest of the macaroni and dishes in the kitchen. Flood brought Dinky back into the living room and helped her onto the couch, taking his place beside her. She leaned her head against his side, stifled sobs punctuating the everlasting silence. It wasn't until half an hour later that the sobs subsided. Flood looked down at Dinky. She must have been completely exhausted, and it was nearly midnight.

Carefully getting up from the couch so as to not disturb Dinky, Flood made his way to one of the bedrooms of the house. He pulled a white pillow and stitched lavender quilt off of the bed; Dinky's bed. He returned to the living room and, with great care, lifted Dinky's head off the couch and slipped the pillow under it. He laid the blanket over her as she slept.

Flood, however, felt restless. His body ached, but his brain refused to accept sleep. He didn't want to sleep, either, for fear of what nightmares might await him. He wandered quietly into the kitchen, looking around aimlessly. His attention fell on a small cupboard just slightly out of reach, above the coldbox. He opened it up with magic.

It was completely bare save for a tall glass bottle. Flood levitated it over in front of his face. Sweet Apple Hard Cider, he mentally read. He stared at the bottle for a moment. Then, he popped off the top with his teeth, pressed the mouth of the bottle to his lips, and tipped his head back, along with the bottle. The liquid bubbled and prickled as it went down his throat. He held that position for a second or two, then moved his head back upright. The cider sloshed around in the bottle before settling down. This should help, Flood thought.

He sat down at the table, both hooves resting on top, taking a mouthful of cider as he sat in the quiet kitchen.

It's because of you, he said in his mind. That's why she's dead.

Flood let his head slide along his foreleg and onto the table, chin resting on top.

You froze up because of a little danger, like a foal, and the grownups had to step in to save your flank.

He moved the bottle back to his lips, eyes watering as he did so.

And now look what's happened. You've orphaned a completely innocent filly, all because you're too pathetic to take care of yourself.

The bottle shimmered and turned it self upside down as more of the liquid poured into Flood's mouth and went into his stomach. He closed his eyes hard as he moved the bottle away, tears cascading down his cheeks and onto the table.

Hard to believe that somepony could get worse as they got older. You're no better than that scared colt you were back when Fillydelphia burned to the ground. Hiding in a cave, that's all you're good at. Pathetic.

His face pressed into the table. The bottle dropped back onto the table with a soft thunk.

Knock, knock, knock.

Flood heard a knocking sound, and looked to the bottle. It was motionless. He laid his head back on the table.

Knock, knock, knock.

The knocking sound returned. Flood raised his head and looked through the kitchen doorway into the living room. It was coming from the front door. He got up and moved through the kitchen, into the living room.

Nopony goes around knocking on doors in the middle of the night. Who the hay could that be this late?

Knock, knock, knock.

Flood crept along the length of the living room, cautiously approaching the door. He stood to the left as the lock clicked open at the touch of his magic. He opened the door wide enough to look out into the tunnel.

On the other side stood three imposing unicorns. Their black, metallic uniforms and booted hooves were intimidating. They looked at Flood through the cracked door.

"Are you Flood?" one of them asked in a low, almost accusatory tone.

"Yeah," Flood responded, slightly shying away from the door. "Who are you?"

"You're coming with us," the second demanded.

Flood glared at the unicorn. "We're going through a loss at the moment," he said begrudgingly. "There's a filly inside that lost her mother, and I'm not about to abandon her."

The second unicorn turned to the first. "There wasn't any mention of a filly," he said, no hint of emotion on his face.

The first turned to the third. "Stay here until we find out what to do with the orphan."

Flood was taken aback. "Who said you were allowed to do any of this? Who are you?"

"Take him in," said the second.

Flood backed away from the door, slightly. "I told you," he said, through gritted teeth, "I'm not going anywhere." He summoned up magic in his horn, lowering his head to point it at the three unicorns.

"The hard way, then."

The third's horn glowed as Flood felt a pressure around his head. He felt a fuzziness begin to envelop his thoughts, and the magic in his horn died away. His head swayed.

The first unicorn turned to the third again. "Wait outside, and don't let anyone in or out. And try not to wake the filly up."

Flood fell to the ground, vision going dark.

"If she does, just make something up."

For the second time that night, Flood slipped into unconsciousness.

~