One of the Living

by Horse Voice

One of the Living

The planet Nibiru loomed low upon the horizon, the edges of its rust-red continents shimmering in the morning light. At the edge of an old road that snaked across the Canterlot Wasteland, a troop of shambling figures advanced upon an old minivan, long since abandoned and stripped.

When the man inside heard the first clang against the van's exterior, he snapped fully awake and scrambled up, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling. He had taken care to cover the windows with tarps when he made the van his temporary camp, so whatever was outside must have smelled him, or heard his breathing. Of all the things capable of doing that, not one was something that did not terrify him.

In a matter of seconds, the blows against the exterior grew more numerous and heavy. The man fumbled in the dark for his guitar, gripped it tight under one arm, found the rear double-doors’ handle, and burst into the ruddy light, narrowly missing the groping hands of two of the attackers. He bolted a few meters and turned, holding the guitar at the ready. As his eyes adjusted to the light, the features of his enemies grew apparent: red eyes, septic flesh, permanent glowing grins.

Techno-zombies.

On a good day, he might have managed to fight ten of them off. Here, he counted twenty. He considered running, but knew he would tire long before they did. And if they had his scent, there was no chance of going to ground again.

He turned the guitar all the way up, aimed it, and with his one long thumbnail, thrashed out the melody of Iron Mare's "Anatidaephobia."

The sonic blast bowled over the first line of zombies. It should have melted their faces off. The guitarist realized he had choked—flubbed the last couple of chords. The enemy were quick to recover, rising in seconds and resuming their advance. Despite the sweat breaking out on his palms, he adjusted his grip on the neck and tried to think of the heaviest riff he knew. His mind chose this moment to go blank. Thin grey arms reached out to seize him...

From the sky there came an eardrum-piercing screech, and an inhumanly large winged shape swooped down from out of the sun. It seized two of the frontmost zombies, twirled upward through the air, and dropped them into the midst of their fellows. As these struggled to reorient themselves, the shape touched down between them and the human, clapping its wings and clawing at the air with long, monstrous fingers.

"Run, puny fools!" it screeched. "Run, or I'll eat you!"

The enemy halted, paused, and as one turned and began marching away.

Techno-zombies felt no fear, but were capable, to a point, of judging the credibility of a verbal threat. The guitarist was sure their retreat had been wise.

He knew this creature. Her name was Sunset Shimmer.

She turned and approached him, and he could not help but feel small before her form—easily ten feet of red skin, black eyes, huge bat-wings, fangs, fire, and brimstone. Her clothes were an ugly mess of leather, vulcanized rubber, and metal studs. A chunk of boilerplate was riveted directly onto her rib cage, over the place where her stainless steel heart had been implanted.

She stopped before him, and there was a pregnant pause. The guitarist did not remember exactly how long ago they had last spoken, but had only been partly successful in forgetting the conversation.

"Hey," Sunset said at last.

"Hey," Flash Sentry said.

"Got a smoke?" she said.

"Got a light?" he said.

* * *

Flash was not a small man, but he found himself more than eclipsed by Sunset as they sat side by side at the broken-off edge of a ruined highway overpass. In the Wasteland, a single human could not risk staying in the open for long, and Flash could not remember the last time he had been able to properly watch a sunrise.

In this calm moment, it was easy to see the humanity behind her inhuman shape, for she sat cross-legged like a normal woman, and assumed an expression of simple contentment as she took in the last of the cosmic display. Flash's second-to-last cigarette looked almost comically tiny in her long, clawed fingers, but she held it with surprising deftness.

"Been a while," he said at last.

"Yeah," she said, almost casually enough to be disarming.

"Thanks for saving my ass."

"Well, long as I'm like this, I might as well help people."

Flash took a long drag, using it as an excuse for silence as he tried to detect any hint of an edge in her tone. To his relief, there was none.

"No progress?" he said as delicately as he could.

"No point."

"Well..." Flash chose his words one by one. "...Someday, when all this is over..."

"Yeah." Her eyes narrowed just a little. "One way or another."

Sunset looked out across the wasteland, and Flash followed her gaze. In the distance, the steep cone of Canter Peak—Flash refused to call it Mount Dazzle—marked the sirens' nearest stronghold. From this angle, he could just see the south face, where their leader had ordered her likeness carved hundreds of feet high in the solid rock. It was generally supposed that her resources for vanity projects had run out, as the incomplete image appeared to be wading waist-deep in the natural stone. In such a state, the statue's expression seemed more one of grumpiness than of cold command. Flash thought it suited her.

He began to take another drag, but saw his last cigarette was already down to the filter. He snuffed it against the bare stone, and wondered how long it would take to find more.

"How is everyone?" Flash said, mentally bracing himself.

"Pinkie's dead." There was a slight crack on the second word. "Last year."

Flash studied his feet and tried to imagine her, of all people, permanently stopping for any reason. He found he could not, and worse, did not feel as badly about it as he should. He decided that grief would arrive when reality fully sank in—at least, he hoped it would.

He should say something, but what?

"Sorry to..."

"'Sorry' is only for when something is your fault." This time, a little snappishness found its way into Sunset's voice.

"I mean, I'm sorry I never got to say goodbye," he said.

"You did say goodbye."

"It was the wrong kind." Another moment of silence followed before Flash ventured to ask, "How about the others?"

"Twilight is fine." Sunset doused the last of her cigarette. "She's holding them... holding us together."

"I knew she would. I mean, knew you would all stick by each other."

"Yeah, well, some of us prefer it to the alternative."

There it was. Despite his mental preparation, Flash cringed inwardly. He would have to rise to his own defense—a hateful necessity, given the circumstances.

"That's not fair." He tried to look her in the eyes, but these were insistently focused on the horizon. "You don't know what it's like. Their song gets into your head, and whatever they want seems like the most reasonable thing in the world. You can't consider anything else, and... you don't even want to."

"That isn't what I meant," Sunset said.

"Think I should have stuck around?" Flash hoped this did not come across as flippant. "I was pretty sure no one was going to trust me after that. Not that I blame anyone."

"You could have done something to prove your loyalty again."

Flash noticed that Sunset's cigarette had burned all the way down, leaving a long tail of ash.

"But you all suspected it," he said. "Suspected the second time they took control of me wasn't really the second time. That I was doing their work from the start, and they were just waiting for the right time to activate their sleeper agent."

"How do you know that wasn't the case?" she said.

"I didn't."

Sunset made neither sound nor sign in response. This either meant she was angry, or simply mulling things over. Flash mentally prayed for the latter.

But how long could one stay angry--at someone else, or at oneself? If Flash had been in control of himself at the Battle of the Bands, could he have somehow broken the stalemate that had escalated into a seemingly endless war and turned Canterlot into the Wasteland?

Probably not.

"Well," Sunset said at last, "for what it's worth, I'm happy you're still alive—hanging in there and everything."

"I appreciate that." And he did. "I get by, but take it from me: The road sucks. I call myself a wanderer so I don't have to say I'm a hobo."

Sunset gave a little half-suppressed chuckle. "I don't remember you being a joker."

"I like to think I've built some character over the years. Sometimes out here, your sense of humor is all that keeps you going. Sometimes I wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

"It's like..." On impulse, Flash scrambled to his feet, heedless of the sheer drop before him, and spoke aloud not only to Sunset, but to the world at large. "Is there anything worth saving in this world anymore? Any chance at redemption for anyone?"

In answer, there was only the dry wind, whistling in their ears.

"Well..." Sunset finally noticed her now-extinguished cigarette, and flicked it away. "A self-imposed exile and a she-demon are talking things over rationally for the first time in years. That's gotta mean something."

"True," Flash said. "And hey, Nibiru didn't crash into the earth like we all thought it would, so that's something else."

Sunset made a sound that was half chuckle, half derisive snort. "Summoning it was the biggest mistake the sirens ever made. Second biggest was Mount Dazzle, there."

"Canter Peak, you mean," Flash said, prudently retreating a little from the ledge. "Someday, when all this is over, I hope I'm still alive just so I can help demolish that ugly statue."

"Cool. Me too. I'll fly you up there on my back, and we can beat the rush."

This time, they both found cause to smile, if only a little.

But then Sunset's face fell. "Oh man, there I go getting my hopes up again. Hell, I'd give the statue-wrecking a miss if I could just get back in my old body and lead a quiet life, but I don't know..."

"Do you mean the human body," Flash said, "or the one with four legs, a horn, and hair all over?"

He turned to her with as serious an expression as he could make, and she stared back, expressionless. Recalling the scene later, each would claim that the other had started laughing first, but regardless, they soon found themselves doubled over and clutching at their sides. Flash only checked himself when his convulsions threatened to send him over the cliff's edge.

At last, as the giggles subsided enough for words to sneak past, Sunset said, "Actually, I've been two-legged for so long, I think I prefer it..."

No sooner had she said this than a greyish blur appeared from the corner of Flash's vision, and with a hideous screech, leapt through the air and latched itself between Sunset's shoulders.

With a scream to match that of her attacker, the demoness flung herself from the cliff and twisted through the air above, clawing in vain as the thing on her back dug its six spiny limbs deeper in. Flash recognized it as one of the sirens' hunter-killer drones—part monkey, part insect, part machine. It was only half as large as a man, but more bloodthirsty than any human being.

He scrambled back, groping for his guitar as Sunset tumbled up and down through the air, a few times missing the ground by inches. Awkwardly, he picked it up by the neck, slung the strap over his head, and aimed the small but powerful amp in the body. There was no way he could knock the monster off with finesse, but if he could stun both combatants, he knew which would better recover from the fall. He raised his hand high and brought it down on the strings with all his might. As a particularly loud, ugly power chord blasted into the air, there was a painful snapping sensation from his right thumb.

The soundwave swatted the combatants from the air, and they plummeted to earth some fifty feet from the cliff's base. Shouldering the guitar, Flash selected a place where the cliff was jagged and not so sheer, and made a scrambling descent. He leapt the last meter to the ground and sprinted to where the drone lay waving its four yet-unbroken limbs, trying to right itself. Flash stopped a yard away and took aim again, but this time only the flesh of his thumb touched the strings. He had hit the last chord improperly, and where his thumbnail-pick had been, there was now a jagged, bloody edge. There were picks in his rucksack, but that was at the cliff top.

In a choice borne of split-second panic, he gripped his beloved guitar like a battleaxe, and brought one, two, three crushing blows down on the creature's head. With the last, the guitar's body broke from the neck, yanking the strings away and twisting it from Flash's hands as it fell. The drone twitched, hissed, and fell silent. A trickle of oily green ichor oozed from its split braincase.

Panting and clutching his injured thumb, Flash stared down at the thing at his feet, disinclined to turn his back. A moan of pain reminded him of Sunset, who had now wobbled to her feet, and was holding her head in her talons. For a moment, Flash feared the soundwave had deafened her.

"You okay?" he said, hurrying over.

"Got a smoke?" she said.

"Fresh out."

"Well, shit."

Flash's relief was short-lived, for now he noticed a dribble of blood running from a gash in Sunset's side, below the armpit.

"Hey," he said, indicating the wound. "There's some bandages in my rucksack." He was too rattled to say more.

A little later, Sunset sat cross-legged on what had once been a road, holding still as Flash taped down the last crude patch. She was lucky: The drone had only been able to dig into three places, and had not touched anything vital. Her flesh was leathery, and if she felt much pain, she did not show it.

He surveyed his kit, and frowned. He was close to having to tear up shirts for bandages, and none of his were clean enough. His last roll of surgical tape had perhaps a foot remaining. He could not help reflecting that a wanderer might die—or kill—for a good supply of either.

"Alright, I think you're good," he said.

Tentatively, Sunset rose to her feet and flexed her limbs, but stopped with her wings only half spread, wincing in obvious pain. "Great," she said, folding them. "Now we gotta walk back." She surveyed the landscape a moment before choosing a direction and taking a few long strides in the manner of someone setting out on a journey. But she had only covered a few yards before turning back toward a somewhat bemused human.

"Well, come on," she said. "It's not that far. We'll start fresh, once you're fresh."

"Once I'm...?"

"You need about three showers, Flash."

Though not short-legged, Flash found himself trotting to keep up with Sunset's loping strides. Judging by landmarks and the positions of Nibiru and the sun, they were heading away from the no-man's-land that separated human and siren territory. Most people would prefer to go this way, but the farther they went, the more troubled Flash's expression grew.

"Hey," Sunset said at last. "Sorry about your guitar."

"It happens," Flash said, though he privately felt a little pang of loss. So much for another piece of the old world. "Actually, I was thinking about what I should say when we get back."

"Anything, as long as it's genuine."

"Easy for you to say. "

"It's really not. I've been there."

Yes—that was true. Flash mentally kicked himself. A few years in the Wasteland, and you started to forget others' problems.

He looked up at Sunset with an explanation in mind, but froze mid-stride and stared. Sunset was a little way ahead before she noticed she was walking alone.

"What's up?" she said, looking back.

"Nothing. Forget it." Flash hurried to catch up, avoiding her eyes. He felt rotten about telling a half-truth, but anything else would have come across as more than a little strange.

For in the corner of his eye, just for a fraction of a second, he thought he had seen Sunset's human face.

Comments

[Cynewulf]

WAIT

I remember reading this once before.

[QueenMoriarty]

Feels incredibly incomplete. Enticing, though.

[FanOfMostEverything]

Nothing says "the power of rock" like the pervasive, irrational fear that one is being watched by a duck.

In all seriousness, this was certainly interesting. I'm rather picky with my post-apocalyptic stories. There needs to be a glimmer of hope for me to leave satisfied. Here, it feels like something of a toss-up, especially given the death. Still, it does end on a largely positive note, all things considered. Thank you for it.

[Dash32]

More please!

[totallynotabrony]

Not that I read a lot of post-apocalypse, but EqG post-apocalypse seems especially rare.

Whenever I read something of yours, I'm always struck by how mixed I feel about it. There are little negatives like Pinkie's death for no apparent purpose to the plot, but tons of little gems in dialogue and setting.

But ultimately, like always, the story compelled me to stop and think about it, so clearly you're doing something right.

[swiftwriter14]

amazing start

[defunct321]

More world building, like why everyone not in the local area didn't try to stop the Dazzlings (or how they failed) would have been nice.

[Derpmind]

Love some of the imagery here. It's a cool, vibrant short, the only real flaw is that it really makes everyone want to see way more of the setting.

[Minalkra]

Reminds me of some of the odder Heavy Metal storylines but lacking in the sex those had - not that that's a bad thing, honestly. Or maybe I'm just mis-remembering a magazine for an audience far older than the age I was when I first found what little I saw ...

One of the things I never liked about classic Heavy Metal was the lack of meat to their stories. They were always vignettes. Small slices of some larger story that implied a background without expressing it but never fully realizing their potential because of that self-imposed (or perhaps editorially imposed) limitation. Or maybe I was reading the middle of an in-progress story that I didn't realize was larger than the bit I managed to catch between the slats. Regardless, just as I was getting a handle of the characters and the setting ... it was over and left me either wanting more of a glimpse into the fantastic world or wondering what exactly was said and why.

This is the feeling I'm getting here. Not only is the setting itself almost pulled directly out of a 1980's Heavy Metal magazine - what with the magical electric guitar powers and the cyberpunk techno zombies and such - but it seems almost like the middle-end of a larger serial work. And I'm not quite sure what to take away from the ending ...

For what it's worth, please consider my comparison to HM as a compliment. Despite how critical I may seem to be in the above, I've always thought the late 70's/early 80's Heavy Metal magazines to be some of the best 'strange tales' I've ever read. It may be nostalgia but you grabbed my nostalgia chain and pulled very hard here.

[Sunny]

7344563

I've never read the magazine but the movie is one of my favorites and yea. In many ways this feels straight out of that, in a good way.

[Forderz]

bleak, but not depressing,

[Horse Voice]

7343589

I wondered if anyone would get that!

For anyone confused, this is what we're referencing:

s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/4e/71/c3/4e71c3429589f46a700f728a5c2ce340.jpg

And I imagine such a song would sound a bit like this:

[Horse Voice]

7343528
7343832
7343951
7344159

Oh dear. If I had known I would get this reaction, I might have planned to write more in this setting. But In truth, all I wanted to do was A) give Flash some character by having him channel Mad Max; and B) write a story whose imagery invoked the kind of crazy crap you see on album covers. Like this one:

rymimg.com/lk/l/w/c0fd7809534095d00b498dff8e93798e/4914872.jpg

Still, if I get a good enough idea, I wouldn't be opposed to writing another one, just for fun. But I have a passion project to work on first.

7343935

This story may be my least successful yet, but feedback like this makes it worthwhile. Thank you.

7344563

Would you believe it was accidental? A lot of the aspects you mention are inspired by the game Brutal Legend, though I'm sure those were inspired by... well, you know. But I'm glad to have made such an impression, and as I say, it makes it worth the effort.

[horizon]

Gonna go with the consensus that, as much as this works on its own, it's even better as a teaser. The only thing that threw me in this as a standalone story is what's even up with Nibiru. Is that a reference to the comics or something?

7346776
I loved everything about the game Brutal Legend except the game.

[Horse Voice]

7346999

It wasn't in the comics, but it should be. I was inspired by the urban legend of the Nibiru cataclysm. Sometimes, the muse wants to be weird. I thought I might drop a few odd references and leave the rest up to people's imaginations.

Come to think of it, if this year's EqG4 gives that franchise's popularity a boost, I might just write about how it happened.

I loved everything about the game Brutal Legend except the game.

I hear that! Plus, having to listen to Angel Witch's "Angel Witch" (by Angel Witch) over and over until it gets real old.

[Zane Wolfe]

7344563
7344619

Agreed. Also, I want more of this.

[Titanium Dragon]

I reviewed this story as part of Read It Now Reviews #86.

My review can be found here.

[Soge]

7346776 Thumbs up for Thundersteel.

But really, great fic. As short as it is, I love how visually impactful you managed to make this wasteland. Also, very good job on the characters.

[Horse Voice]

7368321

Thank you! It's encouraging to know I haven't lost my touch.

[PresentPerfect]

Goddammit, this is so fucking goofy and you just ran with it and turned it into something great. :D

[Horse Voice]

7415809 shucks, I hope you're right, 'cause even I'm not sure what to make of this crazy thing.

[Lurks-no-More]

Have to agree with PresentPerfect. This is, indeed, some very goofy heavy-metal album cover stuff, and you've taken it and made an entirely good, functioning story about it that leaves the reader interested in seeing more, somewhere, somehow.

[Horse Voice]

7518799

Unfortunately, while the few who read this liked it, there just isn't much of a market for this sort of thing to begin with. But I plan on trying to get into writeoffs once my current project is done, and it may be a useful mine for story ideas then, so you never know.

[NicLove]

Before I read this, what is the Dark tag for ?
And how bad does it get ?

[Horse Voice]

8000510

Just a couple of action scenes, and mentions of tragic things happening in the past. Pretty tame, by the standards of my stories.

[Starlight Nova]

7343526 Really? Where? Can I please get a link?
Will this story have a sequel?

[Horse Voice]

8002360

Cynewulf refers to when I initially posted the rough draft in gdocs, one year before it ran here. The delay was due to my being unable to get some passages just right at the time. (Also, just FYI, it's considered bad form to respond to old posts.)

A sequel is doubtful, since I've been trying to move on to writing original fiction. But someday, if I'm bitten by the writing bug and the stars align just right, who knows?

[Norad2]

That was absolutely bonkers!

[Applejinx]

Wow. So fundamentally ridiculous, and yet it plays it just right, daring you to doubt it, and rewards you when you just give in and run with the madness.

And that's a very touching ending that's PERFECT for the story and its tone, as bizarre as the tone is. I love that you can pick something that weird and keep it tonally correct throughout, right up to a satisfying ending. It is simultaneously a weird little prank of a story, and a truly fine and gifted work.

Rarity-applause!

[Horse Voice]

9770013

Thank you, thank you! Would you believe this crazy thing came out of a bet, of sorts? Reia Hope declared that no writer in the world could make Flash Sentry appealing, and I took that as a challenge. Based on feedback like yours, I seem to have won my bet.