Bad Apples

by Lidocaine Varnish

A Gun for AJ

Bad Apples

A Gun for AJ

NOTICE: It’s about to get violent. Just sayin’.

Applejack and Apple Bloom were beginning to get their lives back into some semblance of order.

It was a normal enough evening, just like any other…as normal as they could be, anymore. Applejack had hustled to get her chores done early, so she could get into town and purchase some supplies at Dry Goods’ store. The sun set early this time of year, and it was near full dark before she even got to the store. Thankfully, there was light in the windows, and Dry Goods was still doing business.

She walked in the door, and her blood ran cold.

At the counter, arguing with Dry Goods, was a Pegasus in Solar Army livery.

Just at the sight, her chest tightened. Something behind her eyes popped.

She could smell wood smoke…she could feel the flames all around her, the heat soaking into her as the building burned down. It wasn’t Dry Goods’ place that was burning, though.

She could hear Apple Bloom screaming in the next room, although some distant, silent part of her knew that Apple Bloom was safe back at their new “home.”

She could feel and smell the disgusting slime all over her body….

Could a pony be in more than one place at once? she’d ask herself later. She was in Dry Goods’ store, but also inside the Apple homestead on that other cold night, inside it as it burned down.

She was looking through a tunnel at the Pegasus. She could hear them talking, but it seemed far away.

More than anything, she felt rage.

She’d been rendered helpless, then.

This time, it was different—her eyes weren’t swollen shut. She was standing up strongly on her own four hooves—not crawling pathetically on the floor.

She wasn’t helpless now.

Between the tunnel, and the exploding, shimmering white stars that filled her field of vision, it was difficult to see…but she could see the Pegasus well enough.

She was also somewhere else…somewhere off to the right, beside the wall, watching herself. Without a thought, her hunting knife was looped and lashed to her hoof from its scabbard.

What’s she going to do with that knife? she wondered dully, watching herself from a distance.

She was quiet on her hooves as she approached the counter.

Dry Goods’ eyes met hers. They darted down to the knife in her hoof, and looked back into hers. His expression never changed; he never acknowledged her approach, although his eyes looked straight into hers. The look that met her eye was a knowing one.

Possibly a corner of his mouth raised a little.

She threw her left foreleg around the soldier’s neck, holding fast, and stabbing him at the base of the throat. She felt him tighten in shock. She pulled, trying to cut. Warm fluid was spilling out all over her hoof and foreleg, but the knife seemed to have run into something it couldn’t cleave.

She pulled it out, stabbing again in the chest, and all hell broke loose.

The soldier’s wings unfurled in a panic, flapping desperately to get away, to fight her off. He lifted off the floor. Hindered by her weight, he veered in her direction with what would otherwise have been a mighty takeoff.

They careened into the wall, Applejack bearing the brunt of the collision. The Pegasus was kicking wildly in a blind panic. He wasn’t striking Applejack with his hooves, but being lifted off her hooves and thrown into a wall made holding on enough of a challenge.

She was glad the knife was firmly lashed to her hoof…but as his next flap took them jarringly to the ceiling, striking her head and shoulder again, she had to concentrate on preventing the pummeling from driving the knife accidentally into part of HER.

The second blow, her head to the ceiling, dimmed her vision. Her shoulder throbbed, and her grip loosened. She hoped she wouldn’t fall too far, or too awkwardly, when she blacked out.

The calm self of her, resting against the wall, wondered if there wasn’t a better way to have done all of this.

There seemed to be blood and feathers everywhere, hanging nearly still in the air.

Then the Pegasus began to scream.

Applejack was tight and silent, emitting the occasional grunt as her body was thrown against something. She was holding on as tightly as she could, and being smashed against anything the Pegasus could blunder into. She wondered if she could stay latched to him through a blackout…and whether the wounds she’d already dealt him would kill him before he could beat her to death against the store’s four walls.

A hideous gurgling, braying, shrieking was coming out of the Pegasus’ throat…a higher note than Apple Bloom had struck that night, she thought grimly. He seemed to be giving voice to the outrage that Applejack was feeling at that moment, the shock and surprise Applejack had felt that night.

That was a rib, Applejack thought as she felt something snap in her side. They’d fallen from the ceiling, her crushed between him and the awkward edge of a shelf they’d knocked down earlier.

She buried the knife in his chest again, now using it as a hoofhold. His struggles worked against him, injuring him further, and he was dragging her more and more feebly with every beat of his wings or kick of his legs.

Panting in a ghastly wheeze, he weakened. He could only lift himself barely off the floor, dragged down by Applejack’s embrace. Finally, he was just twitching on the floor beside her when his blood stopped flowing.

Stunned by the pummeling she’d received, she stared into space, seeing nothing. The world was distant, her pain irrelevant and unfelt.

On her hooves again, Dry Goods was talking to her. She couldn’t hear him; her ears were ringing, or else the braying of the Pegasus was still echoing in them. She didn’t really unravel what he’d said until later.

He clapped her briskly on the shoulders, and shoved a mason jar into her hooves as he led her to the door.

His voice warbled, “Don’t you worry about anything, little lady—

—I’ll just have the boy bring your stuff by the farm tomorrow.”

Applejack gave a start as a jolt of pain hit her face.

“—okay, sis?” Apple Bloom was biting her lower lip with concern, a bloody washcloth in her hoof.

She was back in their crude dugout. Apple Bloom had lit the extra lamps, shedding as much light as they had.

Steam rose from the washcloth, and from the kettle on the floor beside them. Applejack must’ve been home a while, for Apple Bloom to have drawn and heated the water already.

With a shaky hoof, Applejack brought the mason jar to her lips. Liquid fire ran down her throat, and even the effort of keeping herself from coughing felt like a knife sinking into her chest.

She brought the jar back down, eyes watering and fluid running out of her nose.

It had to be the Ferrys’ apple brandy—top-shelf stuff. Nopony else in the hollow could brew it as well as they did. Without thinking, she offered the jar to Apple Bloom.

“Thanks, sis…” Apple Bloom smiled. “But a mare in my condition—“

“Oh, yah,” Applejack mumbled. “’course.”

Apple Bloom’s brow knit with concern. “What in the buck happened to you?”

“Sich language,” Applejack slurred, beginning a chuckle that turned into a cough and then a gasp and a wince. “Think I broke a rib,” she managed to hiss through her clenched teeth.

Frowning, Apple Bloom rinsed the cloth in the kettle and pressed the excess water out of it. Applejack tried to hold still as Apple Bloom continued cleaning out her wounds. The warm cloth felt good, even if the countless little cuts and scrapes didn’t.

The jar on the nightstand was two-thirds empty. Sun was coming in through their tiny window.

Applejack sat up quickly, but the knife in her head and the knife in her chest threw her back to the bed.

“Dammnit…half the day wasted,” she grumbled. She let out a long wheeze as her weight dropping to the mattress triggered another spasm of pain. She could smell her own breath reeking of rotten apples, and began to wonder what had led to her current situation.

She was really beginning to like the black, dreamless sleeps she’d been having lately. In a way, it was like starting the day completely fresh.

Except for the hangover. And the broken ribs.

And the cotton mouth. And the dry, gritty eyes that felt like they were rasping about inside their sockets.

Beside the jar was a pitcher of water that Apple Bloom had left for her. She drained it, and let the mattress claim her again. Lowering herself slowly made her ribs hurt, too; she pondered which hurt more, easing herself down slowly or dropping. Easing was less pain, but for a longer period of time than simply dropping. They seemed to come out at about a draw.

It wasn’t too bad if she could keep the light out of her eyes, and not move. She pulled a pillow over her face.

Applejack drifted toward consciousness, listening to Apple Bloom clattering about the corner of the room that served as the kitchen. She was trying to be quiet, but there was only so much you could do in a one-room dugout.

Soon the aromas of coffee and oatmeal were filling the place, and Applejack noticed that the empty pain in her stomach was vying with the pain in her ribs for attention.

They ate in silence. Applejack was glad that her sister had taken over all the work that day…but felt at a loss as to what she should do with herself without any chores.

It was nearly dusk when a hoof on their door made them both jump. It was the Goods’ boy, pulling a light cart with their order—hay, oats, some flour, a couple of blankets. Urchin unhooked himself from the cart, insisting on unloading the cart for them and carrying the stuff in.

Applejack was up and around, her head frankly giving her a little more trouble than her ribs.

“What’s this?” she asked. Something folded up in the blanket was oddly heavy.

Unwrapping it from the blanket, she saw that it was a cavalry pistol.

Apple Bloom paused from putting away their foodstuffs in the cupboard, looking at her sister questioningly. Applejack was examining the pistol in the dim light.

“Mr. Goods said you left it last night when you went home,” Urchin mumbled.

Investigating further, Applejack found a wallet with a couple hundred bits’ worth of Solar Army scrip in it. Her hooves began to shake again. She’d been able to keep it out of her thoughts until then.

“I can’t take this—“ Applejack protested.

Urchin looked confused. “Mr. Goods said it was yours…he promised me a whuppin’ if I brung it back,” he said sullenly. “Same’s ‘iss,” he added, unwrapping a jar of apple brandy from another blanket and offering it to her.

“I din’t order that—“

“Mr. Goods sent it…he said to me to tell you he hopes you feel better. Ma’am.”

Applejack worked her jaw in thought. “Tell him…thanks,” she said quietly.

“Another gun, sis?” Apple Bloom asked quietly after Urchin had left.

“Seems so,” Applejack said. “You said you wanted a gun of your own…you take paw’s.”

“You sure, sis? I know how much it means to you….”

Applejack smiled. “I got his hat.”

Applejack looked at the pistol in her hoof. “You take paw’s pistol,” she repeated. More quietly, she added, “Looks like this un’s found its way to ME.”

The Solar Command made numerous inquiries as to the whereabouts of their missing soldier. Nopony was coming forward with any information. Nopony in the clannish mountain hollow knew anything about it, despite repeated questioning. By all accounts, the Pegasus had never made it to Dry Goods’ store—hadn’t been seen by anypony since he’d left the barracks.

Speculation was that the lone soldier had been ambushed by thieves.

The remains were found late the following summer, at the bottom of Augustus’ Ravine.

Foul play was apparent, but there was nothing there to shed any light on the nature of the attack.