Zombies on Your Farm

by Skjald

Chapter 3: Feeling

Pushing the door open with my elbow, I made my way into the bedroom. In my hands, I carried a tray with two mugs brimming with warm cider and a plate of apple pancakes left from the morning. Once inside, I found Applejack lying on the bed, passing the time with her sewing. She was diligently stitching together square pieces of fabric in different colors, piecing them together into a rather simple looking quilt. Some parts of it seemed almost new, while others appeared a little worn. As soon as I entered, she paused her work and looked up at me.

"There's our modest dinner for two," I announced quietly. Placing the tray on a small table beside the bed, I added, "Bon appétit!"

"Oh, ya ain't forgotten them pancakes, have ya?" Applejack expressed a slight surprise. She had previously set aside the needle she had been holding in her mouth to perform the stitches. I always marveled at how easily these ponies managed fine motor tasks, executing actions using just their hooves and teeth, and getting along perfectly well without the flexible appendages we have as fingers.

"Forget about these? No way," I replied, taking my mug, grabbing just one pancake, and heading to the other end of the room. "I've never tasted anything better than your apple pancakes in my life."

With those words, I made my way to my chair, resting by the writing desk, and lazily slouched in it. This was the spot where I spent my time when I wasn't busy working on the farm with my partner. Nearly the entire surface of the desk was filled with small bags of seeds from various crops, pots of soil, vials of agricultural chemicals, and other things needed for raising homegrown seedlings and breeding. However, on the chair, I immediately turned towards my friend and noticed a bashful smile on her face.

"Thanks, sugarcube," she thanked me for my compliment. Yeah, she definitely appreciated hearing that, judging by the slight blush on her cheeks.

"No need to thank for the truth," I smiled back, and took a sip of cider.

I wasn't flattering her at all. Being a fantastic hostess, Applejack was an excellent cook. Indeed, I had never been fed so deliciously and heartily as on this farm. Perhaps in some sense, the food here was quite simple, but that didn't negate the fact that I always wanted seconds. Furthermore, one could invariably feel that in every dish she prepared, this blond-maned pony put her heart and soul, and perhaps that's what made her such a great home chef.

Interrupting her sewing, AJ quickly took a bite of the pancake that lay above the rest and washed it down with a sip of cider. Without a doubt, she was pleased that I had thought to warm up what was left of our breakfast along with the cider. It was getting late, and she was obviously hungry, especially considering her healthy appetite, like that of a robust stallion. The taste of her own cooking had clearly made her forget all our troubles. Oh, how I wished to see her carefree like this more often! Thinking about it, I suddenly said:

"They could've shown up here by now."

"Huh?" AJ asked, swallowing her bite and adding, "Who?"

"Anyone."

"Ya mean, somepony?"

"Yes, someone from Canterlot."

"It's been too little time," she kindly reminded. "It's only been a short spell since we lit that torch. Just give it some time, maybe a day or two, and somepony from Canterlot to come our way. We just gotta keep that fire burnin'."

"I added some more hay to it," I reported, which noticeably changed the expression on my friend's face.

"Hey, don't go hog-wild on it before it's plum disappeared," the ginger pony cautioned with a hint of disapproval. "That's our grub too, just so ya know."

"Only for you."

"And for everypony in Canterlot."

"Well, for it to be of use, like you just said, the fire has to keep burning," I replied with the same words she had used just moments ago. "It's better to use a bit more hay than to lose our last chance. If we lose that, we lose everything."

"Ah know," the farmer replied with restraint. She usually wasn't one to readily admit her mistakes, but this time, she didn't argue and simply called out, "Just make sure ya keep in mind we're gonna need that hay, okay?"

"No problem," I nodded, taking another sip of cider. Afterward I shrugged and said, "I wasn't planning on using more than we need to keep the fire burning."

"That's right," she said with satisfaction. Following that, her gaze quickly shifted to the windowsill on the left side of the bed, and after a moment's pause, she announced, "Yer funny-lookin' cabbage, by the way, has done some growin'. Looks like it's all set for plantin' in the yard."

I looked at the seedlings we had arranged on the windowsill. Trays with plants barely beginning their lives, nourished by the light from the lamps hanging above them, occupied its entire length. But that wasn't all we were growing in the house. Those adjacent rooms, where Apple Bloom and Big Mac used to sleep, were filled with such seedlings. This is how our peculiar army, guarding the farm and the harvest we collected, was prepared… as well as ourselves. Although, it's worth admitting that we felt a sharp shortage of seedlings growing here. The plants died quickly, barely having a chance to take root in the soil. If in the past, we often planted peas or sweet peppers beyond the fence, now we had to plan our defense exclusively within the yard.

The walking dead attacked us too often, ruthlessly devouring the plants we had just planted. Our situation, perhaps, became more and more hopeless. We tried to solve the problem in only two ways. AJ planned to expand the volume of seedlings by converting Granny Smith's old room for that purpose, while I sought a solution through selective breeding, hoping to give our flora better combat qualities. Sometimes, I would experiment without knowing what the result would be – for instance, not so long ago, I was working on crossing potatoes and tomatoes. It's hard to say what will come of it when it matures, and we water it with sunwater…

At that moment, my attention was drawn to the plants my partner had mentioned. It was Chinese bonk choy cabbage. I brought it from Earth as a gift for Applejack, so she could introduce a new crop into her farm, characteristic of my world. It felt like it had been ages ago! At least, that's how it seemed to me now. Well, the ginger mare was right; the bonk choy seedlings had grown enough to bolster our defenses. On the other hand, I didn't want to think about where exactly to plant them to make them most effective during the inevitable next zombie attack, at least for now.

"Alright," I replied somewhat distantly. "We'll think about where to place them tomorrow."

"It's kinda fascinatin', don't ya reckon, what they'll become when we soak 'em in sunwater?" the blonde asked with enthusiasm, always considering bonk choy a rather unusual plant, as she had never grown anything quite like it.

We exchanged brief smiles. Both of us were curious about what they would turn into. We had never used them before, and these were the first experimental seedlings designed for defensive purposes. However, that was the end of our discussion. After finishing the first pancake, Applejack resumed her sewing, and I followed suit, setting my mug on the table and taking my notebook, which lay nearby, into my hands. A pen was tucked into the spine, and inside rested a pencil, serving as a bookmark. I picked it up, absentmindedly twirling it in my fingers, and focused on the open pages.

In this little book, I kept something of a diary where I briefly described each zombie attack, some events from the past days, and kept a record of my breeding experiments. As for the first part, my notes revealed that our farm had been attacked twenty-three times. Quite a lot for five weeks of being here. Additionally, sometimes I made sketches among my notes of the plants I had managed to develop through breeding. I couldn't be called an artist, but I was fairly good at drawing, and, most importantly, I enjoyed it. So now, the pencil in my hand seemed to fall onto a blank right page all by itself, and I started drawing lines, making a sketch – this time without a specific purpose, just for the sake of it.

Meanwhile, I occasionally glanced thoughtfully at Applejack as she diligently sewed the quilt. She told me that her grandmother had started making it when she was a very young filly. Since then, the Apples had continued working on it during every family reunion, which occurred once every hundred moons, and it had become their tradition. The quilt was never meant to be finished, but it symbolized a collective effort made by the whole family. However, it seemed that now the ginger mare intended to finish it.

It seemed that, internally, AJ no longer harbored hope for another family reunion where they could continue sewing the quilt together. Nevertheless, working on it must have brought back pleasant memories that continued to comfort her during these gloomy days. That's why she worked on it at a leisurely pace during late evenings. Spontaneously, my gaze drifted up directly to the top of the bed, where her hat hung. She mentioned that she inherited this rustic headpiece from her father. I knew her parents had long passed away in tragic circumstances, and in the orchard grew a peculiar intertwining of apple and pear trees that they had planted on the day of their wedding.

My partner often came to this tree, especially on the day after another zombie attack. And although she definitely wanted to be alone in those moments, she always asked me to keep her company. We never dared to lose sight of each other, understanding that we always had to stick together. Even at night, we slept together in the same bed because we simply couldn't fall asleep otherwise. Now, we needed mutual support more than ever. But I never ceased to be amazed by her strength of spirit. She kept all her sorrows inside, and only her visits to the parents' tree revealed her very strong emotions. She told me more than once that the apple trees were strong because of their roots.

Roots, origins… I remembered very well how I ended up in this world, as if it were yesterday. The connection between our worlds was established relatively recently when I received my advanced agronomy education. Learning about the exchange program, I was intrigued by the idea of exploring a new, uncharted world and getting to know its flora. And even though many things here were similar to our world, I never regretted my choice. Nowhere on Earth would I have encountered such captivating exoticism as in Equestria.

Under the mentioned program aimed at mutual world cultural exchange and knowledge, I enrolled in Canterlot Agricultural Academy. Housing costs in the capital were quite high, so in order to make ends meet, I had to take on a part-time job at a pastry shop owned by a unicorn named Donut Joe. I was responsible for making home deliveries of orders. It was always amusing for me to see the reaction of the city ponies when a creature from another world knocked on their doors. It was the only thing that brightened up my challenging daily routine. Although I was exhausted from juggling work and studies, I found it interesting to learn about this world and its inhabitants.

However, luck smiled upon me when a young princess from Ponyville, known for her extraordinary curiosity and, as a result, a keen interest in my presence, found out about me. I was part of the first wave of the exchange, which meant that there weren't many of us humans in this world. Therefore, Princess Twilight Sparkle's interest in me had no bounds. Consequently, she suggested that I move here to Ponyville, where I met her friends. Finally, in that fateful moment when she wanted to show me the orchards of Sweet Apple Acres as an agronomist, I met her for the first time – Applejack.

As a result of our meeting, this lovely farmer warmly offered me a roof over my head precisely because, in her homestead, I could learn more about agriculture in Central Equestria than anywhere else. I couldn't reject her offer even if I wanted to or felt embarrassed by such hospitality. From the very first glance, I felt that something about this pony was drawing me to her. That laid the foundation for my friendship with her and her family. I was grateful to her for taking me in her home… even though I had to commute for my studies from another town since then.

Amid these thoughts, it's as if I didn't notice how my pencil portrayed her on the paper. The sketch depicted AJ peacefully napping right under the apple tree's trunk. Her hat, pushed down to her forehead, covered her eyes, and she held a straw in her mouth. I often saw her like that, especially when she got a little tired from work and, during the midday heat, peacefully dozed off somewhere in her orchard. However, my spontaneous drawing needed something more to emphasize its message and the conveyed emotions. Something that went beyond mere artwork.

By the way, I once developed an interest in Japanese poetry. Some considered it strange, and many didn't understand it, and I was among them until I grasped its underlying essence. Eventually, I came to see that haiku is a unique verbal snapshot of a moment that will never recur, meant to capture feelings that are bound never to return. In the intervals between sips of cider, I crafted three lines to the best of my ability to convey my inner sensations and recorded them beneath the sketch. As soon as I put the period, I silently recited the words to myself:

"Oh, how beautiful!

Lift your hat, my dear, so I

May gaze at your grace."

Of course, I found her beautiful and graceful, strange as it might be, given our differences. All ponies were very charming, but in this ginger mare with a blond mane, emerald eyes, and those cute freckles on her cheeks, there was something special, utterly unique. Even though we were friends, I couldn't deny that I saw something more in her, even if I never mentioned it to her and didn't realize it fully at first. But the following days spent on this farm brought out that feeling in me more and more, especially with the onset of the current nightmare. Once again, as I gazed at my drawing and reread the poem beneath it, I couldn't help but hummed.

"What are ya scribblin' there, sugarcube?" a curious voice suddenly came from the bed, instantly pulling me out of my reverie.

Her question left me somewhat embarrassed. It felt as if her eyes could see right through me. Nevertheless, I attempted to evade the topic, casually replying:

"Nothing much."

"Aw, come on now, ya know Ah can sniff out a fib from a mile off," Applejack reminded me without reproach. "Ya were so wrapped up in it, ya plumb forgot 'bout the cider, huh? Or is that a secret?"

A quiet breath escaped my lips. Naturally, I knew that hiding anything from her was pointless. While her lie detection wasn't always precise, this time she hit the mark. So, I obediently turned my notebook in her direction, thus revealing my sketch. Upon seeing it, she appeared visibly puzzled, and her cheeks flushed slightly from embarrassment.

"Hmm, not bad," she mumbled, which eased my anxiety. However, her face quickly returned to a playful smile, and her eyes squinted mischievously. "How'd ya figure it's alright to draw me?"

Something inside me clicked, and I decided to change tactics. Since the secret was out, there was no need to conceal it any longer. I set my diary on the table, stood up from my chair, and leisurely walked toward her.

"When an artist sees something beautiful, they sketch it right away without asking for permission," I replied, and I could already sense her confusion.

"What?"

I silently chuckled. This ginger pony was quite practical and had her own kind of wisdom, but when it came to certain things, she was remarkably innocent. Sitting down beside her at the edge of the bed, I looked into her eyes and, almost in a whispered, ironic tone, said while shaking my head:

"You're so far from poetry."

"Better keep them poetic nonsense for Rarity or, at least, for Twilight," the farmer mare grinned. "They'd likely find it more appealin', and Ah'm just a simple pony, y'know."

"In simplicity lies beauty," I stated. Then I placed my hand on top of her head and began to gently stroke her mane with smooth motions.

AJ immediately froze at my touch, and she didn't say anything more. Oh, I definitely knew her weakness! Stroking her mane, gently scratching behind her ear… no pony could resist that. As I had already found out, they were very sensitive to all of this, as if human hands also worked magic through contact with their soft coat. And the effect was mutual. These creatures seemed like living plush toys. Touching them was very pleasant, incredibly delightful.

Well, Applejack was by no means an exception to the rule, despite her rather tough character. She closed her eyes and surrendered completely to the pleasant sensations that engulfed her entirely and clearly exceeded even my enjoyment of feeling her incredibly soft and silky mane. And it pleased me even more that, thanks to me, she experienced greater bliss than I did. When my hand slipped behind her ear, she even flinched slightly and tilted her head a little toward me, as if wanting to be as close as possible to these caresses.

I buried my fingers in her hair and gently traced them with the tips at the base of her ear, repeating these movements again and again, and at some point, it even seemed to me that she was purring ever so softly, like a cat. Of course, all ponies are especially fond of caresses in this spot! Having confirmed this fact once again, especially with a mare like Applejack, who was quite distant from such endearments, I couldn't help but stifle a silent chuckle. This made my friend open her eyes slightly and look at me. Despite the fact that in her eyes one could read how all her being seemed to be engulfed in these sensations, she still didn't change her character and, with a smile, said:

"Ya don't reckon ya can wrangle me like a spirited mustang with them scratches, do ya?"

"Relax, rest, and don't think about anything," I whispered, continuing the caress. "If you want to finish the harvest in two days, you need to gather your strength for it."

"Don't ya fret, we'll take care of it," she replied, almost as quietly as my voice sounded, to which I spontaneously retorted:

"Unless our plans are changed by you-know-who."

Unintentionally, it seemed that my statement had dampened her spirits a bit. Sometimes, I can be extremely careless. It was as if she, ignoring the sensations of my touch, cast her gaze downward and fell into deep contemplation.

"Yup, if they attack again before this month's through, we could be outta luck. Apple buckin' season might just have to wait if we're stuck replantin' seedlin's and fixin' up them fences like usual," the blonde mare said with evident discouragement. My fingers moved to her nape, burying themselves in her mane, and froze there. After a pause, she expressed her wish, "If only we had Apple Bloom here, let alone Big Mac! She'd sure make it easier for us to finish up on time."

"Of course, more help wouldn't hurt," I agreed, thinking it was best to support the conversation.

"She could lend a hoof with them plants and chores," Applejack added with even deeper contemplation. Her emotions were clearly visible, something she had tried to keep in check before. Her eyes were slightly trembling, and she drooped her ears before letting out a heavy sigh, "Oh, Apple Bloom… How's she faring out yonder? Ah recollect bein' plumb scared to leave her alone on the farm, not even for a day. But now, it's been over a month since Ah last laid eyes on her. And… Ah mean, Ah'm sure she's fine, just like Big Mac and Granny Smith, but Ah can't help but fret 'bout 'em, 'specially her."

"I understand, you miss her," I nodded sympathetically. I don't think I've ever met sisters like these two apple ponies, so tightly bonded together. Naturally, her feelings about being apart from Apple Bloom were perfectly clear to me. "But believe me, you'll see her again. And your entire family, along with your friends."

"Yer right," she agreed with a hint of sadness. After a brief silence, she couldn't contain herself any longer and shared what was weighing on her, "Ya know, Ah'm plum worn out with this life. Sick of waitin' for somepony to show up, for them little sprouts to grow, for those zombies to come back. We're doin' all we can to wrap this up fast, we even set up that there torch. Ah reckon its light will seen, and help will come our way, but… Ah don't rightly know, truth be told, it's just so doggone tough."

Quite dryly expressing her emotions, Applejack stared at the pots of seedlings on the windowsill and lost herself in thoughts. Because of this, she even flinched a bit in surprise when I embraced her. My hands firmly gripped her shoulders and pressed her against my chest, as if I wanted to instill in her a sense of protection from all the troubles she had listed. Well, that's exactly what I intended to do, and right now, she needed something like that more than ever. Honestly, in the days when I moved in with her on the farm, I never imagined that I would need to comfort her in this way.

"Is this better?" I finally asked, breaking the brief silence. Her response was a slight shift in her posture, and her hooves reciprocally embraced me in an equally warm hug.

"Better," she admitted. "And me too," flashed in my mind as if in response. I must say, her strong hooves held me rather tightly. We warmed each other with our mutual embrace, trying to distance ourselves from what filled our hearts with cold in these bleak times. But at some point, my friend let out a languid sigh and continued to pour her heart out to me, "More than anythin' in the world, Ah'd give anythin' to lay eyes on 'em again, even if it's just a glimpse. Ah know our work's mighty important, and Ah ain't afeard to keep at it right here. But Ah can't shake the naggin' fear that somethin' bad might've happened to 'em. If only Ah could know they're safe and still countin' on our harvest, well… Ah'd be prepared to protect it, no matter the odds."

"Don't worry, everything will become clear," I reassured her, not letting go of her. "You said it yourself, we just need to wait. Our idea about the torch will work, and you'll see them again. Everything will be fine – don't fret. I promise, everything will be okay. Everything will work out…"

I continued whispering words of comfort in her ear, hoping that it would give her even a drop of solace and assurance of something better. At least, personally, it always lightened my heart when she said something like that to me. It was as if her natural inability to lie made such words the most accurate prediction. However, after about half a minute, she suddenly moved away from me slightly. I didn't try to keep her in my embrace, and as a result, we looked into each other's eyes again. But my right hand still rested on her shoulder, where her mane fell down. My fingers still felt its enchanting softness.

To my mild surprise, I noticed tears welling up in Applejack's eyes. They spoke not so much of sorrow as they did gratitude, which was evident in her gaze. She wasn't exactly the teary or overly emotional type of pony, but in that moment, her strong heart gave way to her feelings.

"Ah couldn't have made it through all this without ya," she suddenly said with a faint but incredibly tender smile. Then she repeated what she had told me while gazing at the torch's flames, "Honestly, thanks fer standin' by me through all these tough times. Ah don't even wanna imagine what it'd be like if Ah was all on my lonesome. Ah'm still kickin' thanks to ya."

"Just as I am thanks to you," I echoed her sentiments. "We're in the same boat. Could we do anything but look out for each other?"

"That's the whole point," Applejack continued, placing a hoof on my chest – right where my heart beat. "Ya stuck around with me when ya could've trotted off to Canterlot with everypony else. And yer still right here beside me. Thanks, sugarcube, for everythin'."

I felt deeply touched by her message, words couldn't express it. But at the same time, I was a little surprised. I never thought I had a choice between staying in Ponyville or running to Canterlot. It all happened somewhat naturally. Nevertheless, Applejack saw my action in this light, and it was incredibly pleasing to know that she thought that way. After all, there was a grain of truth in it. How could I leave her alone on the farm, knowing how dangerous it was? It was entirely impossible for me.

Neither of us said anything more, but nothing was needed. I felt strong emotions welling up inside me, and I saw their reflection in her slightly trembling emerald eyes. Everything we had gone through together couldn't help but elevate them. At that moment, our feelings completely consumed us, leaving no room for anything else. Guided by them, Applejack slowly tilted her head to the side, and, captivated, I followed suit. We drew closer at a leisurely pace, as if we wanted to savor that sweet moment, the dreams of which had been breaking through from the depths of our subconscious, which were probably unknown to us until now.

The world around us ceased to exist, and all my thoughts converged on her alone. I could sense the scent of her slightly languid breath. There was no more than a single millimeter separating us, seemingly insignificant, when suddenly it felt like lightning struck our souls. We both tensely froze and listened. From somewhere outside the house, clearly from a distance, mournful cries and ominous moans echoed. For the moment, it didn't mean anything specific, but a few seconds later, Winona's sharp barking resounded in the yard, and within both of us, everything came to a halt.

"Is this what Ah reckon it is?" the ginger pony whispered tensely. We remained frozen in the same position, and at some point, it even seemed to me that her lips barely touched mine.

"I doubt she's wrong," I succinctly replied, meaning the dog. Giving an error after being entirely right twenty-three times in a row? It's possible, of course, but to me, it seems unlikely.

In the blink of an eye, the sensual mood that had blossomed between us disappeared. Somewhere deep inside, I felt greatly disappointed by this cruel turn of events. I had been just a millimeter and a second away from my happiness. Of all times, why did these zombies have to show up now? Nevertheless, my subconscious could think and feel anything, but my conscious mind was solely focused on the re-emerging life-threatening problem. So, I got out of bed and hurried to the landing. Applejack, grabbing her hat, followed me, equally concerned, as Winona barked frantically. She appeared as serious as usual, as if nothing had happened between us just a quarter of a minute ago…

In the landing, there were two more doors leading to what used to be Apple Bloom's and Big Mac's rooms. They were now filled with homegrown sprouts. Additionally, there was a staircase connecting the second floor to the first. But at its far end, there was a window that provided a view of the entire front yard. Rushing to it, I opened it and could hear Winona's barking more clearly. Following that, from the direction of the Everfree Forest, the chilling howls resounded again, drowning out both the dog's voice and Applejack's approaching hoofsteps. Indeed, the approach of the zombies was already confirmed by a more obvious sign – lights were flickering among the trees in the darkness.

Yes, some of the zombies were using torches to burn plants and any obstacles in their path. Their monstrous species, if that term can be applied at all, actively employed a variety of makeshift devices aimed at storming our farm. Strangely enough, their empty heads managed to don some form of improvised protective gear or even arm themselves with simple clubs. Nevertheless, the majority of them charged with bare hands, and in close encounters, this fact didn't make them significantly less dangerous.

Approaching the window, Applejack propped her front hooves on the bottom of its frame and peered into the darkness. Finding her beloved dog right beneath the farm's walls, she then gazed into the distance, just as I did. Judging by the expanse covered by the torchlights in the darkness among the trees, a massive horde was approaching us. I instinctively shifted my gaze from the dark southern garden to the ginger mare and noticed that her melancholy and sentimentality, which had briefly surfaced in the bedroom, had vanished. She had regained all her determination to defend the family farm to her last breath, which drove her during every such attack.

"Well, come on, y'all! Who's yer momma?" Applejack shouted at the approaching crowds, then yelled out in a cowboy-like manner, "Yippee-ki-yay, ya scums!"

She was undoubtedly geared up for action. However, we needed to act more resolutely and methodically rather than aggressively and impulsively. In any case, time was running short, so I immediately called her:

"Stay focused, AJ. Don't give in to anger. We simply need to protect the food supply for Canterlot, nothing more."

"Yer right," she didn't argue, leaping back on all fours. "Well, Ah'll fetch that bag with the seedlin's and ropes, and ya, go on and put Winona inside the home for now and make sure everythin's set, – let's roll!"

After these words, the pony in the hat swiftly headed into her younger sister's room, where she stored her saddlebag containing planting supplies and explosive apples. I briefly watched her and then turned my attention to my overcoat, hanging on the hook near the stairs. Along with it, there was a longbow with a quiver and arrows that I had crafted specifically for skirmishes with zombies. Well, to be exact, Applejack made the bow for me, as she was quite experienced in carpentry, though the arrows were my own handiwork. I couldn't help but hope once again that I wouldn't have to let go of it and resort to using an axe.

I quickly put on the overcoat, leaving it unbuttoned as usual, slung the quiver over my shoulder, and, holding the bow, headed for the stairs, but I halted right away. Involuntarily, my gaze shifted to the door of our bedroom. Bonk choy… hmm, why not? This battle could be a suitable test for plant reinforcements in our arsenal. But whatever I decided to do, I needed to hurry.

The zombies are coming!..

Comments

[SeventhBrony]

11732886
So. At least I wasn't the only one to think of this