To Outlast

by Camolot the Creator

IV: Investigation

I steadied myself against the rotted bumper of the truck, one hand still over my mouth, eyes fixed on the barely-visible rim of the trench. It didn't look so ominous now, it could have been a normal trench dug by a roadworking crew, maintenance for pipes or fiber optics, something completely average from this point of view. But, that didn't change what I'd seen at the bottom, layer after layer of broken white bones, skulls, remains of all types coating the bottom of the trench and so densely packed that it looked like the entirety of the trench bottom had been painted a stark white.

I felt like I was going to throw up. I could feel the bile rising in the back of my throat, a burning sensation that made me want to seek a corner and void my stomach, but I swallowed it down. If this really was some terrifying reality, I would need whatever was left in my stomach. Hold it together, Matt, it's just skeletons. Don't think about what those skeletons mean, or who they might have- no, don't think about it. Don't think about it.

Standing there, hunched over, I finally got some measure of control back. My breathing slowed, and my throat stopped spasming. Carefully, I opened my eyes and stood, looking back towards the trench. It was the same as ever, a square hole with dirt piled on one side, stretching to the left and right around the entire town with the occasional bridge. Now that I looked closer, every bridge was protected by fortified gun emplacements, vehicles arranged around the entire thing, some of them torn open like tin cans. A battle? Perhaps Ponyville was a military holdout? I didn't know. I needed answers.

And there was one excellent place to look for them.

---

This had been a complete waste of time.

I had retrieved the rifle from the back just in case, loaded it with a fresh magazine, which were quite large, and chambered a round. Can't be too careful. Holding a gun brought back warm memories of my grandfather and I in a field, shooting cans.

A test fire proved that both the weapon still functioned and the ammunition was still good, which made sense, considering that it had been stored in a cool, dry environment and had been sealed quite well. I had tucked spare magazines into my bag, then set off into Ponyville, with one destination in mind: Twilight Sparkle's castle. Largest library in ponyville since Golden Oaks, and one of the largest storehouses of books and knowledge in all of Equestria.

And it most likely would have answered every question I would have cared to ask... had the doors been unlocked.

In fact, the entire castle was sealed tight. Not a single window or door was even cracked. They were there, sure enough, but all sealed with additional crystal that was a different colour from the material around it. I had hit it with rocks, salvaged a sledgehammer from a nearby shed and even shot it once or twice with the rifle, but nothing had even chipped or cracked whatever the crystal was. Figuring that it was magical crystal created from an artifact born of a magic tree that created the six Elements that had brought down uncounted threats to Equestria, past and present, I wasn't really surprised all that much. Frustrated, yes, but not surprised.

And so, here I was, with a few shattered rocks, a broken sledgehammer and a rifle not made for human hands, staring at a building that looked like it cam from the playset of a giant. The crystal spires sparkled and shone, reflecting and filtering the noon sun, casting flecks of purple light over everything in its vicinity. Beautiful, breath taking, completely impregnable to anything short of a direct hit from a nuke, and perhaps even then. It would be an excellent place to weather a siege, and it would definitely protect all that hid within from anything that tried to get to them.

Slipping the strap of the rifle over my shoulder, I stood. It wasn't doing any good sitting here and ruminating on how the limited tools I had access to had failed to gain me entry to the magical building. I might as well walk the perimeter, try and find some other way in. I knew that that wasn't exactly likely to happen, but I didn't exactly have anything better to do, so I might as well.

As I walked around to the side of the large structure, I noticed that an asphalt road split off from the main road nearby, curving around to the back of the castle. Frowning, I followed the grey material as it gently curved, noting signs of heavy wear from many tire treads over, perhaps, many years. Power poles followed the road as well, crafted of metal that didn't seem to have corroded or worn much outside of a coating of grime. The cables were relatively intact as well, as far as I could tell... how old were they? When where they put up? I traced the cables with my eyes, examining them, then started as I saw where they lead.

The road terminated at a huge concrete bunker complex that was built directly up against the back of the castle. A chain link fence ringed the entire thing, a courtyard of concrete surrounded by buildings, with watchtowers at each corner with what looked like a searchlight and a heavy machine gun in each tower. The tower in the farthest corner from me, away from the castle, had partially collapsed. What little remained of the structure was at a dangerous angle, barely supported by what was left of its base and the perimeter fence. The effect of the entire thing was like an old World War two base, or a silo from the Cold War.

Walls of sandbags blocked the main entrance, but those that hadn't moldered looked to have been torn apart and ripped open. Old bloodstains were splashed across the concrete here and there, and nearby there was a block guardhouse whose door looked to have been smashed in by something large and heavy. Gingerly, I clambered over the sandbags and barbed wire, keeping my rifle close to hand and sweeping the place with a wary eye. Something about this place felt... wrong, like something was watching from the broken windows. As I clambered over the last of the barricades, I glanced down and tensed slightly when I realized that the sand bag was rent by three long cuts, all perfectly parallel. Even thus aged, the bag still showed the damage. Taking a short, steadying breath, I gripped the rifle tighter and made my way in.

Stepping through the broken door into the guardhouse caused a swirl of dust, small motes glittering in the wan light that came through the caked windows and around me and my shouldered rifle. Just inside the door, covered with a layer of dust, lay another skeleton. The skull of this one had a beak, and wings- a griffon? Beside him or her lay a pistol, the slide locked back and indicating empty, shells scattered across the floor... they'd gone down fighting someone. Or... someTHING. Another glance around the little building didn't reveal much- a steel weapons rack that held rusted rifles similar to the one that I held, what looked to be a broken screen. It was flat, which was interesting, and seemed to be formed out of a single piece of glass or crystal that had been struck directly in the center by a bullet, which had cleaved straight through the thing and out the other side, leaving a coin-sized hole in the display and the metal back. A keyboard, broken in half and lying in the dust, a desktop sitting underneath the desk itself... but no mouse. I pressed the button on the front of the desktop, then leaped back in suprise when the thing shuddered to life- it was being fed power, from somewhere. This facility still had electricity? Out of curiosity, I flicked a light switch, then looked up as the light bulb in the center of the ceiling lit up.

I flicked the light off again and turned off the desktop. So, there was still power here. Something was running. They had computers, which meant records, which meant that... there might be something to tell me what happened here. The screen for this computer was far beyond repair, so I'd have to find another somewhere. Hopefully there was one that worked. A goal now decided upon, I stepped back through the rotten shards that were all that remained of the door, glancing about in apprehension. Nothing seemed to have changed since I had gone in, but I still couldn't shake the paranoid sensation that hovered in the back of my mind.

There were five other buildings, plus the bunker connected to the base of the castle itself. After a moment of deliberation, I decided to check the bunker before moving onto the outlying buildings- after all, it could contain an alternate route into the castle not sealed off when everything else had been.

The bunker was comprised of a gray, concrete wall, textured by erosion and stained with rust, interrupted with two large garage doors and a side door at the top of a small ramp, all made out of steel and mottled with rust where the paint had flaked off. The door itself had two handles, a normal one about halfway up the door and a latch-like one at foot height, which I suppose made sense for ponies. However, when I tried the lever, it clicked and didn't turn far- locked.

After a moment of thinking, I went back and searched among the bones of the security guard at the front gate. They had been wearing a partial uniform, the cloth aged and torn beyond recognition except for what appeared to be armored plate inserts. Among the bones was a belt, obviously supposed to go around the griffon's midriff, and clipped to it was a holster, what looked to be the remains of a smashed radio and... bingo, a set of keys. I unclipped them from the waistband, stopping as something else shifted and rattled in the dust. Carefully, I bent over and wiped the dust from the flat thing.

It was a small ID card, magnetic stripped. I flipped it over gently. On the other side was the picture of an obviously female griffon, young-looking, beaming at the camera and covered with a mottling of gray, black and white feathers. Gilded Feather, age twenty four, security guard, base zero-two. A small, faded felt sticker of a smiling sun was stuck to the card, and as I ran my finger across it, part of it came off and landed with a small puff in the dust, adhesive long worn out. I considered the tag for a moment, then gently slipped the ID into my pocket. It might come in handy, and... well... perhaps I could give her a good burial. Brave girl had stood her post, fought to the last. She deserved that at the very least. I stepped back, went to leave, then paused for a moment.

"Thank you, and... rest in peace."

I stood for a moment, but there wasn't an answer or a sign, so I went on my way. Perhaps ghosts still didn't exist, even here in the land of magical ponies, but I hoped her soul had found rest. If souls existed. If they found a rest. I was not in the mood for philosophical deliberation.

Keys now in hand, I returned to the door, slotting them in and trying them one by one. Some fit, some didn't, but it was the sixth key that- after a little jiggling- turned. A metallic click came from the mechanisms inside the door, and I pulled out the set of keys, returning them to my pocket before gripping the handle. I changed my grip twice, swallowing, not sure what I'd find behind this door... perhaps answers. I suppose that was the best I could hope for. I nodded, steeled myself, and swung the door wide open.

The opening behind the door, which I now saw was about two inches of solid steel, a thick security door set in a steel doorframe in concrete, was pitch black. The rush of air and dust that came from it smelled stale, but it wasn't cold, and some sort of humming echoed in the background. I licked my lips, nervously, and stepped through into the blackness.

Author's Note:

Let's hope I can keep this up. Big revelation is coming up soon.

Tease~

Comments

[azereath]

so not the griffins then, the castle being sealed even with no-one around either means that no one is alive in there to unseal it or that they are not alone and that the enemy is still there. Maybe they only come out at night?

[Zulu 625]

ohh man, thing are getting very interesting.