Chapter 3: Feeling Welcome
"Feeling Welcome"
Neighborly redefined as ‘not shooting on sight.’
‘’My ideas are limited only to the audacious and simple things I can understand.’’ Truer words have never been said. Had you told me I would be riding a couch down a frozen hall to escape a buzz saw wielding zombie pony with a penchant for murder a century and a half ago I would have called you crazy. If you said that to me right this second, I would be screaming while riding a couch down that frozen hallway I mentioned.
‘’This was the best idea you could come up with?!’’ Gangrene hadn’t liked my idea initially, and she wasn’t warming up to it either. Her mane was pasted to her face, her eyes still wide with chilled fright. Her weight was pressed back against the steel security door we were using to deflect the incoming saw blades growling through the air like rabies filled frisbees.
At some point the roving mad creature formerly known as ButterSquash had made a mad lunge for us and was now being trailed behind us. We were running out of hallway and the couch could not be slowed even if I dug into the walls rushing past us.
‘’A stowaway, huh? I know how to handle those!’’ Indeed, taking care of uninvited guests was something I inherently knew in some abstract form. Creativite solutions of the audacious extremes flew in my mind and acting quickly the couch was spun in the hallway by using the security door as a rudder against the ice slickened hall. The metal and meat kill thrall was ground into the wall and left behind when we crashed the couch out into the open air.
Memories of flight, wind whipping in my face, hair pinned back and pulled from my eyes. The screams of a terrified pony assaulting my ears, this was all very familiar. ‘’You’re crazy! You’re crazy! How was this a good idea?!’’ My companion was not liking this, but I was ecstatic. We were flying! Well, falling actually, towards the jagged ruins below. I grabbed Gangrene and leapt for the only safe spot I could see, the back end of a subway train sticking up like a landing pad.
The back door broke and fell free with a rusted squeal under our combined weight and we rode down the ramp of the snaking subway train through door after door. We went from flying to sledding through the innards of a metal snake, passing an audience of charred skeletons! The rattling applause of their destruction peppered us as we collided with some of them.
The glass at the front of the subway train cracked due to the impact of several rifle shots produced by the fast acting Gangrene, spreading a spider’s web of weakness so that it shattered when we struck it. We tumbled to a jumbled mess of limbs and broken glass with me ending up face first in a flowing river of sick. Not my best landing. The mare laying over me groaned, pressing my face into the river of thick, muddy refuse as she got up. I sincerely hoped that had been accidental.
‘’You crazy dead son of a whorse!’’ She began, rolling away from me and dragging herself to the shore on the side of the flowing...Sewer. We were in the bottom of the ravine, weren’t we? She cursed as she nursed her new injuries, gritting her teeth, ‘’How do you even come up with a plan like that?!’’
I was free of the gelatinous pool of flowing sick and grease, wiping my face off with a discarded piece of newspaper that proclaimed ‘The End is Neigh!’ on the front page and had an attention grabbing ad that accused the reader of being a wimp. ‘Wimpy Fetlocks? Get in shape with Dr. Trimm’s patented shaping shears!’ The picture of a wimpy colt with limp, long fetlocks was the before picture while the after showed a massive muscle bound stallion flexing screaming; ‘YEAAAAAHAAA.’ with sculpted and chiseled fetlocks. I kept it, putting it in my saddle bag. The ad was pretty funny. ‘’That was purely improvisation. I like to play things by ‘fear’ and let the terror in my mind produce results.’’
The mare opted to ignore me, feigning disinterest to begin treating her wounds again. She was already running low on supplies she had intended to sell for caps. When I made the point that she was still alive, she scoffed. ‘’Yeah, I guess I should be grateful. I ended up using your share of the take, so now I really do owe you.’’
I rolled my eye and spat until the taste had left my mouth, swishing some water around in it that Gangrene had offered me. ‘’No matter what we do, I keep getting covered in piss. This had better not become habit.’’
While treating her wounds the mare knickered, ‘’Yeah, well there’s worse things to be covered in, trust me.’’ She failed to elaborate further, so I assumed she meant grease or something more rancid than sewer water. I was almost as disgusting as my saddlebag now.
A half broken sign hung from the jutting wreckage to the subway-- ‘Heartstrings Express’, with a harp, defaced and dented. The sewer line was under the tracks, mangled and twisted together overhead. There was no way to continue along either direction, everything was blocked off by collapsed slabs of concrete. Fortunately, the way it all had collapsed made an impromptu ramp up to the streets level above. The sound of running raw sewage through pipes gurgled like sick song birds.
Using this time to look around, I found that the amount of bare surfaces in the sewer did not match how much graffiti was everywhere, some messages like ‘Die Die Die’ were prevalent and repeating while crude paintings of sex, violence, and drug paraphernalia took up much of the surface space. I located a rusted toolbox with a Rebreather of Dash and a syringe of an unidentifiable substance. Metal scrap and a wrench as well. There was nothing of any use in the nearby toppled trashcan, just wrappers of candies, confections, pre war foodstuffs, and old newspapers.
By the time I was done scouring the area for goods, Gangrene was back on her hooves again, slicking up her mohawk that had flopped over with a small tub of mechanic’s lubricant she had in her saddle bag. ‘’Alright, I’m not spending the night in this sewer. Lets go up top and crash in one of the store fronts.’’
With the spoil of the sewer in our saddle bags and covering me, we scaled the ramp to the gloomy, dark sky conquered by clouds. Very scant light breached the cloud cover, the sun was setting soon. We were now on that jumbled, torn street I saw from the hospital’s second floor. Looking back, I could almost making out the form of ButterSquash wailing at us from one of the gaping wounds in the building.
Trepidation filled every step down the road, passing the vacant black pits of the shops down the streets, flanked on either side by the tombs of business. A quaint cafe, its picture window shattered still had its counter attended by the cashier pony’s skeleton. The record store next door had its records melted and warped by heat, a broken radio inside was struggling to play music over coughing static. There was a few tattered and battered sidewalk kiosks along the way, a hay-burger stand near a newspaper stand with a magazine kiosk, a section of get well cards, and destroyed souvenirs included. A row of torn teddy ursas covered a shelf, I imagined they had been stocked since the hospital was so close by. A small broken refrigerator held a few bottles of sparkle cola and even some alcohol. The motif of the yellow pegasus, though faded with age was so familiar. Hadn’t there been billboards with the same likeness in Necro-Net?
‘’Here’s good...’’ Gangrene took the warm beer from the vendor fridge and slipped into the news stand booth, drinking down frothy mouthfuls of brown ‘Daft Draft.’
I put the sparkle cola into my saddle bag for safe keeping and hopped through the open front and took a seat behind that cash register. There was already a cot set up back here that Gangrene claimed as her own. She was using one of the spare teddy ursa as a pillow and looking through pictures of a magazine called ‘Stud Buds’ with a handsome stud on the cover posing with another stallion.
‘’It gets cold tonight, think you could go get a trashcan and set a fire?’’ The mare was looking tired, her mane was even drooping and she didn’t even have the energy to straighten it. Eyes that normally held a cold calculating intent now held a docile glaze of need.
Ever weak for the ‘pleading foal’ eyes, there was no arguing. I hopped back out of the newspaper stand and approached the first trash bin I saw on the nearby street corner. I reached inside to check it’s contents--Beady eyes met my own and the biggest cockroach I’d ever seen leaped out at my face. Latching on, it began to bite, screeching and buzzing in anger.
A firm tug dislodged the foul creature and it landed on his back, legs furiously skimming the air until it managed to flip itself upright. I grabbed the trash can nearby and brought it down until the insect became a fine visceral paste of chitin and twitching legs. ‘’That’s almost like an abstract art piece,’’ I commented rationally. I did mention before I was a terrible painter, my classification of a squashed bug as art was a misnomer.
Once I returned to the newsstand the trashcan was situated in the center in front. I balled up newspapers and added them to the trash can as a source of fuel until most of them were gone. I kept what magazines I wanted out of the bunch, another issue of ‘Hoofshod Hotshots’ and a copy of ‘Pugilist Ponies’ were added to my saddle bag for quick reference. Gangrene was keeping two issues of the ‘Stud Buds’ for herself and a copy of a comic issue, still in plastic sleeve ‘Mare-Do-Well #7’. The rest were duplicates that the yellow mare insisted we sell for caps or fire fuel.
Now was for the fun part, starting the fire! I had no idea how to start a fire...I just knew you rubbed two sticks together really fast. Or you could spin a stick down into some kindling until it heated up! Or there was always magic. I had forgotten about magic.
Thinking hard and staring at the trash can had no effect, and all the magic words I knew like ‘hocus pokus’ and ‘abrekedab-huh’ did nothing. Meditation didn’t help and calling the trashcan names did not incite it to erupt in flame.
‘’What are you trying to do?’’ Gangrene sat up from what she was doing, which given her tired, flustered appearance may have involved getting familiar with her own hooves. ‘’I’m trying to sleep and you’re shouting out stupid words. You’re supposed to light a fire.’’
‘’That’s what I’m trying to do. I think my horn’s busted...’’ I tweaked the nut bracing the horn to my forehead, it sparked once and went out, sending a sensation of needles along the inside of my body I would call wholly unpleasant. I bit my tongue in the panic and sick tasting ichor filled my mouth.
That was it for the mare, she growled in annoyance and slid herself out from the booth to start the fire. She poured some alcohol into the trashcan and pulled out a set of flint and steel, striking the pieces together a few times to create sparks. The fire was growing to a gentle blaze in seconds. ‘’Was that so hard? You can fly a couch but you can’t set a fire?’’
‘’I wasn’t a coltscout!’’ I justified. ‘’I guess I’ll take arsonist off my list of potential career choices then.’’ The fire was already getting low, the flames were no longer licking over the rim. Paper burned too quickly.
‘Krunch!’--the sound of me breaking apart one of the magazine stands. I had to feed the hungry fire so it wouldn’t go out anytime soon. I shifted the blazing trashcan so it was close enough to the stand that the heat would reach us and clambered back over the counter. Gangrene was rolled over attending to her...needs.
Now I considered myself a patient stallion and nowhere near prudish, but knowing what she was doing I couldn’t just sit back and watch it happen. ‘’You’ll grow fetlocks if you do that too much...’’ I chirped playfully, ‘’You mind leaving leisure loving for later? Or at least for when I’m not around?’’
That mare didn’t pause for even a moment, not even when she retorted with the bold suggestion that I should slip out and keep first watch. She was tired and needed to ‘work out a kink’ to get some good sleep. There were many ways to relieve stress, who was I to judge? Winding my way out from behind the counter I tool the sidewalk as my be and rolled my eye skyward, against the velvety black blanket or dark clouds. There wasn’t a single star in the sky.
I pulled out the obsidian box from my saddle bag. ‘’What the hell am I supposed to do with you?’’ I asked the box and got silence as its reply. It was gifted with an ominous sleek surface that spoke whispers of mystery in my ear. I pressed the box to my ear and shook it--Silence, not even a rattle.
The next morning arrived on swift winds, I had not slept at all and sat staring at the sky the entire night. I never once felt tired. Occasionally static would fill my vision and I’d be looking at a blue sky with clouds taking shapes of things like ships and pegasus in flight. A turtle was amongst the shapes I saw. Something wasn’t feeling right, it was like I was trying to remember something important just on the cusp of my understanding.
Pointing up I spoke to no one in particular, ‘’Hey, that looks like a flying turtle...’’ I was alarmed to see my leg was stark white and normal, without an augmentation. Then I heard a giggle and a deep red foreleg crossed with mine.
‘’That one looks like a bird!’’ The giggle turned to a mirthful exclamation.
I rolled on my side and propped myself up, leg locked with the red pegasus stallion at my side. He was wearing a deep smile, his amber eyes locked to mine. ‘’I’m so glad to get away from town once in awhile.’’ He said with a smile, leaning in to press a kiss onto the side of my muzzle. My heart leapt in my chest and began to thunder in my ears. His breath smelled like candy.
‘’I am too. It’s nice to just get away from it all.’’ I stated with a grin creasing my lips wide. The joy I felt was so immense I thought my heart would leap from my chest. I had no control over any of my actions, this was not interactive but more like a play.
We were on a grassy hill under a peaceful sky--then were were on a battlefield. two worlds were impacting one another and the sky darkened with static. Unease crescendoed into a rolling wave and the air was filled with ash. The stallion I was with looked at me, scratches and wounds all over him, his red fur showing through gaping holes in his flight suit. ‘’You promised me! You promised! You can’t do this!’’
He began shaking me, screaming at me to ‘snap out of it’--Then he began to turn yellow and grew a horn. The world shattered like glass.
‘’Snap out of it you crazy bastard!’’ She cracked me in the face with her hoof, growling.
My head rolled on my shoulders and she dropped me. Rubbing my jaw I looked up to her, ‘’What was that for?’’
‘’That was for trying to kiss me. You and your freaky dream talking woke me up.’’ Her mohawk was still more of a moflop, covering her face in grease smudges, the bags under her eyes were mostly gone but her attitude had not improved. The rumble of a stomach pierced the veil of anger cast on her face and she winced, licking her lips.‘’I’m going to check that hayburger stand for food...’’
I think I would have rather gargled more raw sewage than ever kiss Gangrene because as the saying goes, ‘Don’t kiss a snake, forked tongue to fangs they’re bad kissers.’ Where was I getting these sayings? They were beginning to make less sense as time went on.
The hayburger stand had a simple menu that included hayburgers, hay fries, and stuffed cucumbers on buns. It was a shame nothing could be ordered with the stand in complete disrepair. Searching the stand had proved fruitful, just not with fruit. Ketchup packets and a few bags of long expired potato crisps. With the beer and sparkle cola we had found at the newsstand we had a meager meal, mostly for her since I didn’t feel hungry. Munching on the chips noisily, she slurred between mouthfuls of beer, ‘’Mfff, you know these chips aren’t all that bad.’’
I tried one, figuring that it wouldn’t hurt--They were stale and brittle, but not wholly unpleasant. ‘’They’re palatable. Better than sewer water.’’ I popped the top off a sparkle cola, despite not being thirsty I wanted something sweet to wash the salt out of my mouth. Warm but good, carrotty!
Once she had her fill Gangrene maintained her weapon, slicking up her mane with residual grease, snorting softly she swallowed, leaving the trash where it lay. Down the street her hoof falls echoed, glancing over her shoulder she clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth and whistled, ‘’You coming?’’
The city engulfed us in it’s charred, raptured bosom, devoid of life or calls of flora or fauna. Every city block was as wrecked as the last, everything meshed into a blur of brown and grey. It was a long trek to get to Greenvale Heights near the outer city.
Idle conversation to pass the time gifted me with information that would ‘save my damn life’ in a ‘jam’ and general knowledge. What I had learned was that caps were currency, dangers were everywhere, and the region of Detrot we were in was called ‘Dead Zone’. It was the epicenter of the city, hardly anyone went due to the high mortality rate, which meant that a majority of the supplies were unmolested. This city was dangerous before the fall and now it was even worse, according to Gangrene. The further you got into the city's black heart the more dangers you would find. Those included things like ButterSquash, ghouls with cybernetic augmentations. They were called Deadmares for good reason, dead and nightmare combined into a memetic soundbite.
What could possess anyone to travel deep into the city if things like Patient 39 were roaming around? Supplies and wealth wasn’t near enough of a draw for me to consider traveling anywhere near Tomb Town ever again. The ID card around my neck was a lead weight, tying me to a name of somepony that may have had a hoof in creating those things. A new name would suit me if my real one could not be found. Maybe something like Trevor? Giggles? No, I was more sarcastic. I would figure something out.
After a few hours of walking the city began to breathe with a cross breeze and the buildings appeared less like tombstones or husks and more like trashy buildings. A majority of them had at least three walls and the floors were level. Further from the epicenter of where the mega-spell hit, the better the city was looking--Except the air was thick with smoke and smelled like death. And better was a relative term that only described the architecture. The psychology of the area was suffering from the mad whims of the most twisted festival I’d ever seen up to this point.
A large line of signs warning of dangers decorated the buildings along the next section of road we took. An entire block of dire warnings, broken barricades and marked quarantine barriers. Bodies were nailed to boards and hanging from dead trees in various states of decay. Some were twitching or writhing ghouls that were tied to hold up signs that said ‘The dead walk’, their jaws snapped and their groans called balefully from their torment. ‘Tomb Town--Danger. Do Not Enter’ said one sign decorated by a set of skulls bound together by rope threading eye sockets of pony skulls. Blood and gore painted the entire block in the most sadistically creative ways I’d ever seen. The most creative I had to admit was the vending machine for sparkle cola that had been turning into a makeshift iron maiden using railroad spikes and gruesome ingenuity.
‘’Who could be this brutal?’’ I asked, examining a hanging cage with a corpse in it. It was just a little filly! ‘’They put a little girl in this one...’’
‘’More than half the population of Detrot can be this brutal. This contribution is from the Survivors of Tomb Town. Most turned to becoming raiders after feral ghouls breached their town’s defensive wall. Their hatred of ghouls is legendary around the Dead Zone.’’ The mare mentioned it before she laughed, ‘’It’s ironic since a lot of them are ghouls themselves.’’
‘’Self hating ghouls? I guess I can relate. I don’t care for the ferals myself...’’ Still, I had respect for the dead. The Tomb Town residents didn't even have that. The corpse turned, gnashing its teeth and tried to get at me through the bars. ‘’Turbulence to Tartarus!’’ I spat out a curse and stumbled over myself to greet the road with my ass, ‘’They didn’t bother killing them at least!?’’
‘’They’d make shitty signs if they didn’t move. Not everyone can read yaknow...’’ She pointed this out, waving a hoof in the air matter of factly. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes. ‘Mareburros’, a popular brand from what I could remember. She lit her cancer stick on one of the burning bodies that had been lashed to a stake in front of and old pet store. ‘’We’re now leaving the Dead Zone. If you look close you can still see the pile of puke Curbstomp left when we came past here.’’
Yeah, there was indeed puke in large quantities...Mixed with the gore and other ‘decorations’. ‘’Remind me to fire the landscapers if I ever meet them. Out of a cannon into the sun. And what are raiders?’’
‘’Curbstomp on a bad day. Forever.’’ Gangrene explained curtly, following the winding trails through the disgusting interactive decor. We passed under a sign that spanned the entire street, the original name of this area had been covered in blood and replaced with ‘Deb Zone’ spelled out using bodies. Somehow they’d managed to misspell ‘Dead’ so they made up for this by having the rotting entrails descend like streamers and ribbons that swept back and forth in the breeze.
Ducking under these colorful streamers I continued the conversation, ‘’What about other ponies?’’ I asked curiously, ‘’Are they as homicidal as these ghouls?’’
The mare lifted the entrails up using her magic and trotted under, laughing at my question with misplaced mirth. ‘’Not all ponies are as neighborly or nice as I am. I won’t just shoot anyone on sight unless I desperately need supplies.’’ She explained Raiders to me in length, making me sincerely regret ever doubting the depth of cruelty a sentient mind could produce.
Raiders were bad, dangerous ponies that had lost their morals and kindness to survive the horrors of the wastes and according to Gangrene should not be pitied or given any mercy. She elaborated, further explaining that they were almost all guaranteed to be worse than Curbstomp. That was all I needed to know.
Behind us the warning signs vanished along with the smell of rot, burning flesh, and death. The memories of everything I saw remained. Out of sight but not out of mind. Lingering foul thoughts burdened a mind already rife with fragmentation and dissociation.
‘’From here on out we don’t need to worry about Deadmares or mutants. Now we just have to worry about Raiders, radiation, traps, environmental hazards, starvation...I’ll let you pick up where I left off.’’ Gangrene had a dour sense of humor that was as jaded as a jade statue the size of her own ego. That was at least twenty pounds of jaded. Smoke curled from her nostrils like a sleeping volcano, ever ready to explode into flaming fury.
‘’I’ll pass on that,’’ I replied crisply, swiftly adding, ‘’How much further until we get to Greenvale?’’
Gangrene drew in another breath and flicked her ashes off into a gutter, rolling her eyes and counting under her breath. ‘’About ten more blocks? Maybe eleven. Maybe another hour. Hope we don’t run into any raiders...’’
‘’I suppose we won’t have to worry about the Vipers?’’ According to Gangrene they did rob travelers and small groups when low on supplies.
‘’Nah, we hardly have shit to take. I’ve had to use most of the supply keeping myself alive during our little adventure. Can’t say it’s all bad, got some jam I can sell and spread.’’ She was optimistic at least, flicking her tail back and forth and brushing her side against mine. ‘’It’s not a financial loss when I consider the fact I came across you, pretty boy. You’re a rare breed indeed!’’
A tremor flashed through me, even if I couldn’t feel the contact the proximity was disconcerting. I leaned into her despite myself and put on a masked smile, ‘’I’m the great and endangered perforatorial doctor zombie.’’ I needed to lighten up, I was getting too tense. ‘’I think this is mutually beneficial.’’
The mare wrapped a foreleg over my shoulder giving a soft purr against my ear, ‘’You don’t know the half of it, love corpse. you’re my golden gala ticket. Nothing’s going to stop me now! The caps will just roll in after a few jobs!’’
I coughed softly, scanning for a distraction. The ruins we passed, a few corner shops and old motels sat dilapidated and ruined. A large billboard hung off the side of a leaning multi story building that was obviously at one point a mini-mall. A few scattered pockets of residential hovels lined the inner streets and an old dead orchard sat alongside a colorful daycare with playground, swings and merry-go-round creaking in the wind. Portions of the picket fence stood defiantly against time, its gate open and swaying in a gesture of waving.
‘’This is pretty sad.’’ I spoke softly, pointing to the day care. ‘’I wonder what happened to the kids...’’
‘’Dead like everything else.’’ Gangrene spoke solemnly, ‘’she pointed to a small field of planks sticking up from the ground. Parts of the picket fence had been dismantled into grave markers, ‘’At least someone buried them.’’
That’s all I needed. One small act of kindness. Even though plants refused to grow in the scorched and poisoned soil at least those children rested respectfully. ‘’Give me a second.’’ I pulled away from Gangrene and took a moment to straighten any grave markers that were leaning or had fallen over.
Gunfire rattled the sky and the air was filled with curses and threats. ‘‘Imma gonna skin your eyeballs and fuck your eye sockets!’’ and ‘’Give up and we’ll kill you quick!’’ were among those colorful threats and ultimatums. Four blocks away from Greenvale Heights we had come across a caravan under siege by raiders. A small group of caravan guards defended a set of wagons and their passengers from an attack from a baker’s dozen of well armed raiders. Slipping into a small store for cover we had yet to be spotted by either side. The store had once been a place where they sold quills and sofas, an abundance of both was still here arranged in showcase fashion in the once well-decorated interior.
‘’Great, we’ll have to wait or go around this shit...’’ Gangrene whinnied in a dull voice barren of compassion. She tossed a skeleton out from behind the counter and went straight for the register, emptying it of its pre-war currency. ‘’Jackpot.’’ How could she be looting at a time like this?
‘’Aren’t we going to help them?’’ Maybe that was naive to ask, but I felt it was the right thing to do. I was happy that the fourth thing on my list was in abundance--Chest high walls for cover! I watched the skirmish unfold through the windows of the establishment.
‘’There are about a dozen raiders and four...’’ A scream echoed the death of one of the caravan guards, so I corrected her. ‘’Okay, three caravan guards now, two wimpy merchants, and a few passengers. It sucks but adding us to the body count won’t save them.’’ She placed a hoof on my shoulder and looked me dead in the eye, ‘’It sucks, but this happens. We can wait and maybe if there aren’t many raiders left we can kill them and stop them from taking prisoners...’’ She licked her dry lips, ‘’And suppose you did get out there. Killing a pony is much different from killing a ghoul.’’
True. Everything she said was true. I didn’t know if I had it in me to kill another pony. I’d certainly feel guilty! Ending a life wasn’t a decision to take lightly. ‘’You’re right,’’ I relented and relaxed against the cover. I curled my forelegs around my haunches and dipped my head, my crimson mess of hair dipping over my brow. ‘’Why don’t they just run?’’
‘’They have to feed their families somehow. Lose the goods then you lose the bread and butter. It’s why I don’t rob caravans. Too much to carry and I’d be hurting too many ponies.’’ Her expression was grim and unhappy, she scowled softly. ‘’I feel you. I want to put a few rounds in their skulls myself but...They have guns too. Just sit tight and wait’’
Sit tight until and wait. Sit tight and wait until everyone is dead. Sit tight and...Sit and...fidget and squirm like a little worm. Cowards never die but they truly never live! Dying really wasn’t that bad when the alternative was to wait until the bad ponies could fill another graveyard. I grit my teeth so loudly that it nearly drove the gunfire from my ears. One of the passengers in the second wagon began to sing a lullaby to calm their crying foal. Just sit...And wait. Sit and wait. Maybe the raider will just decorate their building with them like Tomb Town decorated the entrance of the Dead Zone? Maybe they’d kill them quick and mercifully? How many others would suffer because the raiders made off with everything?
Dust rained down from the building’s roof, unsettled when stray rounds struck our location now and again. Gangrene had ducked behind her counter clutching to a tattered teddy ursa muttering to herself over and over again. ‘’There is nothing I can do. There is nothing I can do.’’
Fuck this. I would rather die than let this happen. I would rather die than live knowing I didn’t do something when I could have tried. An eruption, a scream of loathing and hate tore out over the gunfire and I did the only course of action at my disposal. Overhead lifting a a red lounge couch off a display stand, I turned, roaring out with vigor and rage. ‘’This is what I think about sitting around! Fuck this COUCH!’’ The couch caught air and splintered through the remaining glass on the front display of the building we were in and crashed into a pair of raiders, smearing them into the road underhoof.
Gangrene stared in disbelief, the teddy ursa falling from her clutches. ‘’They know we’re here now!’’ She said, moving to the back exit, growling. ‘’I am not dying for charity work. Go play hero if you want!’’
‘’So much for being a team.’’ I remarked, moving through the gaping window and straight towards the raiders who were now getting reorganized. I was going to take them out during their confusion--I went straight for the first raider I saw, this one had been fortunate enough to not be hit by the couch. However that fortune became misfortune when my metal knuckles slobber-knocked him so hard he tumbled head over ass leaving a bloody smears and crumpling into a stunned heap.
There were only two caravan guards left standing and five of the baker’s dozen raiders were now dealt with. Three by me and two downed by the caravan guards earlier. I’d be more happy that they were alive if I didn’t have to immediately duck behind a set of large blue barrels when they began to fire at me. ‘’Hey! What the buck! I’m on your side!’’
My poor choice in cover resulted in me coming face to face with a dingy brown stallion with two lazy eyes, both looking opposite directions. He leveled his battle saddle against my forehead and snorted, licking his teeth. ‘’I hope you taste as good as you look!’’ He knickered tauntingly. He moved to bite his firing bit--A shot rang out and I was covered in gore. The stallion’s eyes both faced forward together and he dropped, a bullet had passed through his ears.
‘’Fuck yeah!’’ Cried Gangrene from the rooftop of the store we had been huddled in earlier.
‘’I thought you left!’’ Wiping my face clean of gore a warmth filled me that I couldn’t explain. The sweet coppery taste of blood made me shiver with delight. ‘’...And this guy’s brains got in my mouth...Ew. EW!’’ I began to spit and hack, I was not a brain eating zombie damnit!
‘’Forget what I said! I call dibs on their shit!’’ Another shot rang out and a raider tumbled out of a window on a second story building just above me. If the shot hadn’t killed him the way his head was twisted backwards and facing me had probably ensured his death.
There was something strange about these raiders. They all had muffin boxes worked into their armor one way or another. The mare with the broken neck had a muffin box taped to her bandolier with duct tape. ‘Wartime Ration Cakes’ with a pastel blue pegasus mare on the front and the slogan ‘I can’t believe they’re sort of not muffins.’ Okay so they were hardcore muffin enthusiasts. What did they call themselves the Murder Muffins or something?
Gangrene was having a hay day with her rifle, popping shots off at raiders until they were too wary of her to leave their cover. ‘’CLICK CLICK!’’ She cupped a hoof to the side of her mouth and called out, ‘’Oh no! I have to reload now!’’ When a raider peeked around their cover with their weapon drawn the yellow mare popped them between the eyes, ‘’Sucker!’’
The bodies near me had weapons on them. The brown stallion had a shotgun in piss poor condition held together by nails, gum, and duct tape. The mare had a rifle that I didn’t know how to use and a bandolier with large metal apples on it. ‘’Grenades!’’ Of course they made them look like food. My temptation to paint them red in the most deadly practical joke rose. I pulled the bandolier off her corpse and put it one over my own battle saddle. ‘’I’m starting to look dangerous.’’
Now that Gangrene was covering me I had some time to take in my surroundings. I was hidden behind a set of big blue barrels acrossed the street from my friend’s position on the ‘Quills and Sofas’ franchise store. Or was it ‘Sofas and Quills’? That wasn’t important. Behind me was the caravan of two wagons, one bearing passengers and one bearing goods. Two caravaners lay dead in the street from gunshot wounds. Forward from where I was, a motel flanked me on my immediate left and a street passing it was filling with boxes and make-shift defenses in efforts to block the caravan from getting through. There were half a dozen or so raiders left to neutralize.
It was now or never. I took a deep breath and left the relative safety of one of my favorite things in the world, cover, and entered the crossfire to charge the pinned enemy only to watch them leave their cover and begin fleeing back from my advances. ‘’...Running away? I...I guess we won! Yeah that’s right! You run away and never look back! Losers!’’
Before I could celebrate they halted their retreat, one of the raider unicorns moved a few pieces of sheet metal off the road and began pulling large weapons out of the massive pothole to pass to the surviving raiders. Once several of those weapons were pointing at me I recognized them as rocket launchers. ‘’Oh...well...fuck me...with the sun...without lube...’’
Three ponies armed with rocket launchers. Why did the world suck so much? The raiders fanned out and chose locations to fire from which meant Gangrene couldn’t hit all of them and I couldn’t clear the distance before they managed to open fire. The unicorn raider that had pulled the explosive-spewing tubes out of hiding had his mad red eyes settled on the caravan directly behind me. Avoiding his aim would doom the innocent passengers to eat the rocket in my place. The raider mocked me, ‘’Think you’re so smart? You die just the same! Hahaha!’’ His voice was irritating like a rake mating with a chalkboard.
‘’Gangrene, shoot that one!’’ No sooner had I pointed at him did another one of the raiders fire on Gangrene’s position with their own rocket launcher. A whole portion of the store was leveled into a smoking mess of rubble. Gangrene was not among the debris! She must have been buried. Luna’s blessed stars please still be alive! Any reservation about killing I had vanished for this particular raider. ‘’If it’s the last thing I do I will make Tartarus seem like mercy to you.’’ My cold words held such venom that I felt maybe Gangrene had rubbed off on me. In all honesty I just wanted to look cool before I died.
The caravaners hadn’t opened fire on their positions, over my shoulder I saw the both of them hooking themselves into the passenger wagon and began backing themselves out of the street. The armored carriage had protected those inside this long but it was unlikely it could survive a direct hit from a rocket launcher.
The two intrepid earth pony stallions died in an explosion of meat and heat, splattering the carriage with their remains and terrifying those inside. One of the raiders had gotten to the top of the motel with their ordinance and had removed the carriages source of locomotion. ‘’Now you meat puppets stay tight or we’ll just kill you all now!’’ A guffaw from the raider approaching me set my hair to stand on end.
‘’Killin’ you has entertainment value but for you to actually be worth something you all need to at least be alive.’’ Snorted the snide stallion licking his black foul lips. ‘’Doesn’t mean any of you have to be comfortable none either!’’ He promised any further resistance would be met with death. Eventually. ‘’Kill the whole lot if any of them step a filthy hoof out of that carriage...’’ He ordered the other raiders with a sneer.
This unicorn raider stood out. For one he was actually wearing some form of actual combat armor, tatter, cracked, and customized with a few skulls. He had conjunctivitis in both eyes which were swollen and red with matching dark rings around his eyes. A muddy green pelt, slightly crooked horn, and sickly orange tangle of mane and tail. His cutie mark was a pile of pony blown into chunky salsa.
He eyed me with a feral hunger, laughing. ‘’Too afraid to even move now? Where’s that bravado from earlier? That fire in your belly?’’ His tone was mocking and shrill, head tilting back in a cruel laugh. ‘’You and that fucking mare put up a better fight than those caravan guards...How about you work for me?’’
‘’How about I shove that rocket launcher up your ass?’’ My counter offer was steep but I figured with a little wiggling I could easily fit at least half.
He tutted me waving his large weapon back and forth in the air slowly, ‘’Oh my, such foul manners! No appreciation for business etiquette.’’ He stopped a short distance of thirty feet away from me, centering the aim of his rocket launcher on me once again. ‘’Well they can’t say Mr. Salsa ain’t at least a little generous...Sure you won’t reconsider?’’
‘’I’d rather not...’’ Gangrene had been right, these guys had been too much for us. Now I and the wagon full of crying passengers were at their mercy. I’d probably gotten my only friend killed. ‘’This day can’t get much worse for me. Do me a favor and kill me before that actually happens.’’ Snarky to the bitter end, I may as well die delivering a performance worthy of the hero I had tried to be.
The raider leader who identified himself as Mr. Salsa nodded slowly as a cruel smile split his lips into a window showing his poor dental hygiene. ‘’It would be a pleasure!’’ He steadied his aim, put on a maniacal grin, and pulled trigger---Click! Nothing, no bang and no rocket. He’d forgotten to load the launcher or take the safety off.
This miscalculation was all I needed to close the distance between me and this bastard. All I needed to do was get too close to their leader to risk firing upon me and hope they wouldn’t fire on the passenger wagon and harm their ‘earnings’. I Pulled a grenade from my bandolier and tugged the pin with my teeth. My concerns became the forefront of worry when the ground to my right burst and I was sent tumbling into one of the walls outside the motel. They didn’t give a shit about friendly fire! My impact left a smear of red and black trailing with me as I slid down. The effects of the explosion so close to me had rattled my senses into a mess of blurry images and distant echoing sounds. It took a few moments for these feelings to pass.
The smoke cleared to reveal Mr. Salsa had escaped any serious harm by casting a shield spell. Life just wasn’t fair. ‘’Ah, that one was a close one. Fucking moron nearly hit me too!’’ He brushed off his armor with a few flourishes of his telekinetic power and raised his launcher towards me again, this time he disengaged the safety that had jammed. ‘’No more interruptions! I want to feel your juice on my face!’’
This is what I get for being an idiot. I got my friend killed and I couldn’t save anyone. I was no hero. I had no idea how to fight. Brute strength could only do so much. This was a folly of hubris. The idea of juicing on his face seemed repulsive and...inappropriate.
Was that the grenade I dropped? Why was it hovering just next to him held aloft in a force of magic? It must have been Gangrene! She had to be alive! I laughed softly, the fire in my kiln was soaked with cold air and filled me with moxy. ‘’How about you get blown first?’’ I spat the grenade pin out on the ground. He didn’t have a second to consider the meaning. The grenade tapped him on the side of the horn with a soft metallic ring before it exploded.
I indulged to see his form combust into a red mist the likeness of his own cutie mark. My bones cracked into place and injuries I sustained from the rocket strike earlier began to recover on their own. Were those healing potions I took yesterday finally kicking in? About damn time. There were two raiders still left armed with those launchers and their confusion wouldn’t last for long.
So I took Chunky Salsa’s rocket launcher off the fine red paste that was his body and leveled it at my first target--A unicorn mare who seemed to be caught between understanding what had just happened and choosing me or the carriage as her target. I had no idea how to fire this damn thing so I judged the distance and hurled the loaded rocket launcher at her. The brutal impact shattered her horn and crushed her skull. Her body rag dolled on the sidewalk and twitched, heaving a few times before falling still.
‘’One left...’’ I rasped gravely to myself, spinning to face the motel. They had yet to fire on either of us and I assumed he was considering his chances of being able to kill me. ‘’I know you’re there! I have an important fact to bring to your attention. All your friends are dead. Those hostages won’t keep you safe from me. If they die your death will become a session of stress relief that you will survive just long enough to regret!’’ Was I bluffing? I certainly hoped so. Even I was unsure of the depth of my malice.
‘Clank!’ An ammunition box tumbled out of one of the windows, breaking open as it hit the ground. Several metal apples rolled out. ‘’Oh...’’ That was quaint. I leapt over a trashcan to take cover. The air sizzled with shrapnel and dirt that obliterated the trashcan. The earth stallion raider did not emerge or continue attacking. A flurry of hooves echoes from a distant alleyway and doppled out into silence.
The passengers were now leaving the confines of the carriage as I made my approach. Some were couples hugging while others were silent in the wake of the attack. A mother and her foal were overjoyed to be in the custody of their own embrace instead of the enslavement of the raiders. I caught the ominous glance of an older pony gentleman with a handlebar mustache grey with age--Their triple-star cutie mark identified them to me as a law-stallion. I wondered why he hadn’t done anything to help defend the caravan.
Only two of the passengers approached me right away. A pony covered completely in a hole riddled brown cloak wearing a plague doctor’s mask that had a very avian appearance and a sleek opaque violet mare wearing the tattered and stitched together remains of a business suit.
‘’I’d like to formally thank you for rescuing my caravan. I was beginning to worry when the rocket launchers began to appear.’’ The mare chimed in a cold-cut manner. ‘’I’ve never seen somepony take on the Muffin Cake Raiders with furniture before.’’
‘’I have weapon proficiency with furniture I suppose?’’ I commented off-hoofedly, glancing around for my companion. ‘’Did you see where Gangrene went? She really saved my ass with that grenade trick.’’ That crazy bitch had probably slipped off the roof and had found a better position. I cupped my mechanical hand to the side of my snout and began to call out for her.
The plague doctor coughed and cleared his throat with the sound of a clogged sink being flushed of phlegm to attract my attention. He spoke in a gravelly voice, ‘’Oh, the grenade levitation was me. I was inspired to do something since our sheriff was too terrified to help you.’’
All the warmth left me and ice grew over my insides. ‘’That was...you...’’ I bleated, my eye widening slowly. ‘’Then that means...’’ If I didn’t say it then it wasn’t real. It didn’t happen and I’d never have to face the reality of this predicament. ‘’This isn’t happening!’’
Digging through the rubble, frantically hefting the objects and wall sections of the building like they had been weightless. My mind was gone in the desperate attempt to find my friend. My only friend I had. ‘’Damnit damnit damnit! You better be alive Gangrene!’’ I would never think of her as a viper ever again! I’d think of her as more of a moth or something a little more graceful.
‘’Come on, give me a hoof here!’’ I called upon the favor of the caravan I had just saved. The caravan’s leader and the plague doctor moved into action to help, trailed by the small foal. The mother scooped him up and kept him behind her forelegs.
‘’Momma! We gotta help! We gotta!’’ The child bayed entreatingly.
‘’No! I want you to stay away from that thing!’’ Her hard stare was centered on me. It wasn’t hard to tell what she was talking about. So I was just a thing? I was the thing that saved their ungrateful plots!
Things couldn’t get much worse at this point. Only two ponies were sifting through the store’s wreckage with me while the others were considering leaving now. I couldn’t blame them, I wanted to leave too but abandoning Gangrene out here was wrong.
I have found I am often wrong about how much worse a situation can get. I heard the click of a weapon and I knew that due to my horrid luck it must be leveled right at the base of my skull. ‘’Don’t you move monster...’’ The sheriff’s gruff voice sounded dark and full of loathing. ‘’What are you doing out of the Dead Zone, you monster? You should be dead after getting hit with a fucking rocket! You’re one of those things!’’
‘’I’m outside the Dead Zone so I could regret saving your ass...’’ I froze where I was as he had ordered. ‘’It’s cute that you will point a gun at someone that helped you but you won’t fire a single bullet in the defense of your own fucking caravan.’’
‘’What didja say boy?’’ The unicorn stallion sneered, grinding the barrel of the gun into the back of my head and forcing my head down with it. ‘’Say that again!’’
‘’He called you a coward, Gaoler,’’ The mare in the suit called him out while she sifted through the rubble tirelessly, ‘’And he’s right. That gun hasn’t been fired since the start of this fight. You crawled into the carriage the moment it started. to be honest I don’t care what you think he is, the fact is he and his friend saved our lives.’’
‘’He let one of them get away! They’ll bring reinforcements and kill us all!’’ Gaoler shot back with his deep and booming voice. ‘’We’re fucked either way! We can’t pull both wagons with what we’ve got left! He hasn’t made anything better!’’
‘’And shooting the pony that helped us will solve our other problems?’’ The mare rolled her eyes and moved to the sheriff, cracking him across the face with her hoof. ‘’You’re a shame to your authority. Now pony up or stand with the other passengers.’’
The exchange ended there and Gaoler slunk back to the carriage with wounded pride. He began organizing their withdrawal from this area, choosing who would be pulling the armored passenger wagon with him.
‘’I’ve found her!’’ The plague doctor called out, waving me over frantically. ‘’She’s right over here!’’
Vaulting over any obstacle in my way I reached him and helped him clear the coches off of where Gangrene laid. She had managed to curl herself under them to avoid being crushed but she had still been hurt badly. The ruddy white couch she had been pinned under was soaked with blood.
‘’Gangrene!’’ I cradled her, wincing when I heard her cough. ‘’You’re still alive!’’ Praise Celestia in heaven she was still alive!
‘’We...won, huh?’’ She croaked dryly, laughing under her breath. ‘’You reckless son of a whorse...you almost got us to buy the farm...’’ She was struggling to talk, bleeding from injuries the nature of which I did not know. ‘’I still have dibs....on their stuff...’’
‘’Yeah, I know! Their stuff is all yours...’’ I brushed the greasy black mane from her eyes and looked for her saddlebag, ‘’We need to get you some healing potions. You’ll be alright. You’re going to be okay!’’ This was all my fault. If I had listened to her she wouldn’t be hurt like this. This was all my fault!
Her saddlebag had been crushed, all of the potions and medical supplies were useless. I dumped it out to salvage something, anything! ‘’Throw me an apple here!’’ I begged some force of nature greater than my understanding and received no divine intervention.
‘’You know...’’ The yellow mare dying in my hooves continued on her stuttering epiphany, ‘’It wasn’t so bad I guess...Being a hero for once.’’ She was laughing! Why was she laughing?! This wasn’t funny!
‘’Don’t talk like that! You’re going to be fine, I promise!’’ Promises were meant to be kept, they were secret. ‘’Cross my heart hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!’’ I swore on an oath that meant something to me. A Pinkie Promise was a promise for forever! ‘’I won’t let you die.’’
‘’You have to make sure the supplies make it to G-greenvale, SteelGraft. O-or this won’t mean anything. Just make sure some of t-those supplies get to the Community Center.’’ She wasn’t making any sense, this wasn’t Gangrene at all! The greedy, cunning, smart assed mare that gave no care about anything! She was acting so damn noble. So calm and happy. ‘’Promise me that, okay?’’
‘’You’re not doing this to me. You are not dying on me. I...’’ Why couldn’t I cry? I should be crying. Maybe ghouls couldn’t cry? The dead don’t cry...Even if they have tears to shed.
The yellow mare was looking pale, losing consciousness and sparing me no more words. My jaw grit hard and I was pinned between the needs of my friend and the needs of the many.
‘’Hey, make your damn self useful and pull the supply wagon!’’ The sheriff was badgering me already to help them even when my friend was dying. ‘’We have to move now! The raiders will be back with reinforcements!’’
The plague doctor rested a hoof on my shoulder, ‘’I don’t think any health potions we have are enough. She needs immediate medical attention. If you left now you could get to Greenvale Heights within minutes.’’ he was the other side of this dynamic situation representing the other choice I could make. ‘’But it’s not the safest place for your kind. Showing up with the caravan would be safer...But I’m afraid this mare has no time for that.’’
‘’And why can’t everyone walk and you take the supplies? It’s only four blocks.’’ I said bitterly, it was hard to believe they couldn’t make it four blocks walking and defend the supplies themselves. Maybe they were tired and scared but that wasn’t my issue. ‘’Why don’t you find a solution?’’
‘’The supply wagon is too heavy for Gaoler and no one else is strong enough to pull the armored passenger wagon.’’ The caravan leader explained, ‘’I won’t fault you if you choose your friend over these supplies. You’re right, it’s not your problem but these supplies are necessary to Greenvale. We could put her into the passenger wagon and you could pull the supplies. I’d get you into Greenvale safely.’’
‘’She doesn’t have time for that!’’ I exclaimed in frustration. I was holding her in my hooves as she struggled to breath. Her injuries were more than could be treated out herewith what we had. I had to get Gangrene to Greenvale Heights in order to save her.
The wagons would slow me down, the barricades left in the way would have to be cleared. Four blocks was faster on hoof than it would be dragging a wagon behind me. I had to make a choice. What would I choose? The life of my only friend or the needs of the many at Greenvale Heights? Getting my friend mixed into this mess was my fault and I had to fix it. Why couldn't it be me? I’d be fine if it had been me that was suffering because of my own crippling stupidity!
What was I going to do? What was the right decision? With only seconds to decide there was no dwelling. There had to be action. I made my choice...
Please refer to the Character Progress Review to see the character progress of...This colorful hero moron.
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Gangrene... nuuuuuu!
I crave for more!I mean... I'll patiently wait for the next chapter.
2215202
Chapter 4 is already in the works. Expect it in a couple days.
2238571
And thankyou for your input! I'll keep delivering the good story line and good characters.
The artificial cliffhanger was purely intentional satire of novels from video games that attempt to do the same thing during the 'big choice' moment in games. Usually when you're playing a game you come to a crossroad where you choice decides to set you on the path of good or evil. In this case it's loyalty or material thinly veiled as something in a moral grey zone.
As for the brown and bloom? I'm working with a more colourful palette and there is beauty found in ruins and their serenity. I've already mocked the idea of everything being ugly by stating in the story ''It is as if some higher power asked themselves how can I make everything not nice ever? And made it so.'' I'm very aware of all the pit falls and grievances that can be committed in shock value or creating a downer atmosphere. I elect to follow in the steps of Fallout 1 and 2 with more Black Humor and tongue in cheek content that juxtaposes against the reality of horror that permeates works that visit a situation a reader can sympathize with.
Now I shall end it there before I give anything away or seem pretentious.
so far im enjoying it so far
and you know what...
K THIS COUCH
fc02.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2013/117/6/f/fo_e_second_wind___f__k_this_couch_by_stormbadger-d631mv3.png
F
I have to say, the level of detail for this version of the apocalypse is really well-thought out. Besides rubble, skeletons, and posters (along with the Chekhov's Guns and other plot devices), there are small things like the row of teddy bears near the hospital that paint a story of the pre-war world better than most fiction writers even care to think about.
Reading those paragraphs is almost reminiscent of staring at the background details in Bioshock or an Indiana Jones movie!
Ah, I have not even covered the memorable characters, dialogue, and perspective! Somebody must have pointed those out already.
My only problem may be Bullet Sink - what a terrible name indeed.