The First Train Outta Here

by The Red Parade

Chapter 3

Frowning down at the address on the scrap of paper she held, Strawberry wondered again if this was the right place. A small farmer, Gasket had said. She had been expecting a...a farmhouse, or something.

Not a barren, scrappy patch of earth by the railway tracks, surrounded on every other side by tower blocks so tall they nearly blotted out the sun. The ground was partitioned off into smaller plots with stunted fences, or in some cases just twine on sticks. The soil was well-trodden, but only a very few green things had dared to show their faces aboveground.

“Can I help you?”

Strawberry jumped guiltily and looked around wildly to find the speaker before her gaze alighted on a mare leaning against the gate, chewing idly on a piece of dead grass.

“I’m...uh…” Strawberry trailed off before catching herself and straightening her spine. You promised you would make Gasket proud. Do this right.

“I’m looking for a Miss Apple Fritter,” she said, in a tone that was glacial enough to make the ground freeze solid.

“You found her,” the green-maned mare answered with a laconic smile. “What can I do ya fer, stranger? You after a vegetable plot? They’re mighty popular with the earth ponies ‘round these parts. We charge five bits a week. Very affordable.”

For a moment, Strawberry was almost tempted. It had been a long time since she had felt good loam beneath her hooves. Since she had worked and touched the earth to bring out a living thing, crisp new leaves and ripe red berries.

But -- no. She had a job to do. And this soiled earth was hardly good loam. Farming was...it was passé, now. The new steam tractors took care of everything, and what had once taken fifty earth ponies now took only one. The family farms were a thing of the past, and the large-scale industrial farms provided all the food the city needed. That was why Strawberry had come here. That was why she had sought the opportunity she so badly needed so far from home.

No. She didn’t need a little square of dead land beside the railroad.

“Thank you,” she said politely. “But I’m actually here from Gasket and Co.”

It was like flipping a switch. The shutters came down on that open, friendly expression instantaneously, and the kind mare was transformed into a cold-eyed stranger.

“Oh,” she said, just as lazily as before, but now her hooves curled tight over the gate instead of resting atop it. “You’re with the loan sharks.”

Strawberry coughed. “We prefer debt collection agency.”

Apple Fritter gave no quarter. Not an inch of compromise. “I say it like I see it.”

There was a pause, and it stretched on far too long before Strawberry hastily stepped in to fill it. “You -- you must be aware we’ve sent you several letters over the last few months--”

“--Read the first one, put the rest in the fire,” answered Apple Fritter, and as Strawberry gasped she could have sworn she saw a hint of mirth in those pea-green eyes.

“You’ve been burning our letters?”

“Sure have.”

“But -- but why?” There was nothing like working for a debt collection agency to give a mare a crash course in financial literacy, and Strawberry knew for a fact that debt could be tackled. If you stayed on the ball, worked hard, and made your payments on time, you could dig your way out of any hole, no matter how deep.

Burning letters, though, was pretty much the equivalent of getting a shovel and digging the hole deeper all on your own.

Apple Fritter shrugged, but her eyes were hard. “Ain’t nothing else I can do.”

“You could pay what you owe.” Surely it was obvious?

“And I’m tellin’ you I can’t pay that. You know how much I owe that slug Gasket?”

Her cheeks pinking at hearing her almighty boss described like that, Strawberry reached for the file in her saddlebag. “Of course I do! I’ve got it all right here. It’s three--”

“--Three thousand bits, lil’ miss leech. And how’d’ya think a baker earnin’ less than a sixty bits a month is gonna pay that off?”

“Y-you could take another loan,” stuttered Strawberry. It was a resort only to be utilized in dire straits, but if ever there was a pony in dire straits, it was this one.

Apple Fritter scoffed. "Take a loan? And go from owin’ three thousand bits for a pile of dirt in the middle of what the rest of the Apple family called ‘the Bowels of Celestia’ to two hundred thousand owed to eight different ponies plus the three thousand, all to not have a pile of dirt in the middle of the urban wasteland?"

“Then sell!” said Strawberry triumphantly. She was no financial advisor, but surely here was a solution. “This is prime building land. You could sell it to developers. Surely that’d be enough to cover your debt.”

The other mare’s expression soured. “An’ lose the last scrap of my family’s farm? The thing I went into debt to keep? No thanks.” She pointed an indignant hoof at the shabby buildings around them. “Ya think anyone wants to live here anyway, by the train tracks? Only the poor ponies live down these parts.”

Strawberry flushed. Her flat was right by the train tracks.

Apple Fritter’s face grew more sombre. “All o’ this used to be ours. Our farm went on for miles. The Whinneapolis Apple Family. Look at us now.”

Strawberry’s ears tilted back. That was a tale she knew well. “I’m sorry that happened to your family, Fritter.”

If she was startled at this touch of equinity from a debt collector, Apple Fritter didn’t show it. She sighed and dropped back to four legs. “We were...we were the heart an’ soul of this town. At least we were till it weren’t a town no more. This lil’ old field was the only thing I could hold onto, after my Pappy’s debts were settled. And even this…” she tailed off.

“It’s...it’s a good field,” Strawberry said softly, suddenly wanting to help, even if only a little. And she wasn’t lying -- those few dusty plants were wilting and weak, but they were there. Bravely alive and green in the face of all the steel and stone surrounding them.

Apple Fritter chuckled, her good humour restored. “Well. It was. Me an’ my brother used to have a treehouse over there, in the corner.” She pointed at the railroad, expression turning wistful. “Had a swing, too. We had some real good times there.”

“I bet you did,” Strawberry echoed, watching the ghosts of two little foals galloping over the ruins just as Fritter did.

“Well,” said Apple Fritter reluctantly. “Why don’t you come on in? I’m not so far gone as I can’t offer a guest some tea, and you may as well see the place you’re gonna take away.”

Her cheeks burning with sudden guilt, the thrill of her promotion forgotten in the sympathy she felt for this stranger, Strawberry Sunrise could only nod. “That...that would be really nice. Thank you.”

---

“I’d apologize for the mess, but as my Pa used to say, it’s my mess and I might as well be proud of it.”

Strawberry chuckled, looking around the dim room. A few boxes were scattered and piled around the room, unlabeled and blank-faced. In the middle of the room was a table surrounded by chairs. Fritter approached it and pulled one out, gesturing for Strawberry to sit.

“So this is the house your father built?” Strawberry asked, running a hoof over the back edge of the chair.

Fritter laughed as she trotted towards the kitchen. “Naw, he couldn’t build worth a damn. My ma actually did most of that. Had help, of course. Back then you could muster up an army to do near anythin’. Ain’t like that no more.”

Strawberry nodded, sitting down.

“How long’ve you been here anyways?” Fritter asked as she fiddled with a kettle.

“Not too long I guess. Believe it or not I came up as a farmer too,” Strawberry explained. “I’m Strawberry by the way. Strawberry Sunrise.”

Apple Fritter brightened up. “Well I’ll be darned! Small world, I reckon.” She set down two mugs and the pot on the table. “How’d you end up saddled with Gasket?”

Strawberry sipped the tea, feeling the warmth of the cup against the tips of her hooves. Her mouth was filled with the tangy taste of apples. “Mm. I just… wanted to branch out I guess. I started struggling hard, and the farm just wasn’t growing as much as I wanted it to. My friends kept pushing me to get up and get out and… I guess I gave in.”

“Ah. Sounds awfully familiar. Lotta my friends and family don’t get why I’m holdin’ on to this place.” Fritter paused, looking carefully at Strawberry. “Do you… ever regret it? Giving it up, I mean.”

The house was quiet for a moment, only accentuated by the distant ticking of a grandfather clock.

Strawberry set her cup down. “Honestly? I’ve never really thought about it much,” she admitted. “It was just… something I did. I never really stopped to think if I had another option. It felt like the only thing to do was to change everything, so… That’s what I did.”

Fritter hummed. “Reckon I’m a bit of the opposite then. Givin’ up ain’t an option for me.”

Strawberry looked around as shadows danced across the intricate woodwork. “...I can see that,” she admitted. “Working for Gasket all these years… I promised myself things would get better. I never really stopped to wonder what would happen if they didn’t.” She turned her gaze to Apple Fritter. “Do you mind if I see your garden? It’s been so long since I’ve done any gardening… I think I miss it.”

Apple Fritter smiled, standing up. “Thought you’d never ask. Right this way.”