“Hey. You ever see a dead body before? Ever seen one after the dog’s been at it...”

“Burnout,” Gauge nodded, leaving it at that until he realized just who he was talking to, “Oh, right. Well, there’s worse places in the wasteland than Burnout, there’s better.”

‘Gee, with a name like that, who would’ve known it wasn’t a five star resort!?’ I mentally huffed. I kept quiet, however, as I let him continue.

“It’s run well enough and the ponies there are good folks, but you being a pegasus, well…” he trotted a ways in silence as I hovered by his side, “They won’t chain you up and make you a slave, they won’t cut you up and wear your skin, and they probably won’t kill you just for your caps...but I wouldn’t expect much in the way of a warm welcome.”

“Okay, well why ‘Burnout’?” I asked, trying to get a better feel for what we’d be walking into, “What kinda name is that for a town anyways?”

“The kinda town that some smartass names,” Gauge replied, letting out a sigh at my confused look, “It’s built up amid the ruins of a small, pre-war town, nopony remembers the pre-war name. As the story goes, back in the aftermath of the final days ponies crowded in from all over. See, Burnout—or whatever it was called back then—was in one of those lonely spots of Equestria that didn’t take any direct hits from the balefire.

“So, survivors and refugees crowd in. Of course, the ponies in charge welcome them with open hooves, back then folks were stupid like that,” he gave a distasteful snort, “Goes to figure, place runs outta supplies and power fast and with no dedicated way to get more…” Gauge shrugged as he walked, wagons raising a wavering cloud of dust as they rolled on around us, “Shit went downhill real fast. Anarchy took over and eventually some looter started a fire. No supplies means no water, no civil services means no firefighters, no firefighters or water means the fire consumes the whole place and eventually some smartass comes along, rebuilds as ponies are wont to do, and renames it ‘Burnout,’” he looked back at me, “Simple as that.”

“Wonderful,” I replied with an annoyed huff, “You’re taking me to a town that burnt down almost two centuries ago.”

“Hey, you agreed to tag along to our next stop without question, that’s on you,” he grumped back at me with a look, “And, yeah: Burnout’s no paradise, but the closest thing to a paradise down here comes at the cost of eating a bullet. You chose the hard life, deal with it or go home.”

With that, he sped up his trot, leaving me flapping along at the pace of the caravan. My womb gave a twinge at his final comment; we both knew that I had only one option. He was right, after all.

I’d chosen the hard life.

The day dragged on in what was a rather boring fashion. The now familiar landscape of rolling hills coated in the occasional straggle of deathly vegetation or rusted hulk dragged on to the horizon. There it met the sky and the impenetrable layers of menacing, grey clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Staring up as I swooped about on sore wings, I felt somehow isolated from it all. I hadn’t seen the bright, blue sky or the sun for two days now, I felt cut off, forgotten. Looking about, I couldn’t help but feel a pang for the ponies around me. They’d never seen the sun, the stars, the moon, the sky. In all reality, I doubted they ever would.

I shook away my thoughts. The government had their reasons, I reasoned. They were the government, it was their job to keep us fed, sheltered, and safe, after all! And if even a fraction of the chaos I’d seen down here was any indication, isolation from the world below was tantamount to survival. We had some crime and an occasional food shortage, but if that was a trade-off for no radiation or raiders, then so be it.

The ponies in the government knew what they were doing.

Leather Strap came by and had me check on her patients again. Autoloader was doing better; the wound was still paining him, but it had stopped bleeding. He was a little brusque with me—eyeing my wings with mistrust—and seemed more interested in getting Strap’s help, but at least he wasn’t threatening to blow my jaw off.

Flower (the mare with radiation sickness) was also faring better. Unlike Autoloader and, I felt, much to Strap’s distaste she was surprisingly happy to see the pegasus that’d supplied her medicine. She was still recovering from the havoc it had wrecked on her body, but I felt as if I’d made a friend in her.

The third pony, who I didn’t learn the name of, had been released later yesterday. He’d recovered enough from the food poisoning to function, and was back to whatever he did in the caravan.

Easy day.

I frowned as I downed the last of my water, shaking the canteen above my mouth to get the last few drops. Flapping my sore wings above the rising dust of the wagons, I stuffed the empty canteen back in my saddlebags. Two other water bottles, both empty, sat amid the few supplies I was carrying.

It wasn’t that big a deal. Along with most of our other supplies, Mist was carrying the better part of what we had. I was certain he had more water with him. With my saddlebags already opened in front of me and with nothing better to do, I ran through what I had as I swooped along. Of course I had my three water containers; the canteen had been supplied by Mist, but I’d grabbed the water bottles and a few canned goods from home.

Home...

I sighed, slumping a little as I cast my eyes skyward again. What were they all doing up there? My parents, Reuben, Pokerface...would they ever think to look below the clouds? Would they give up all hope, thinking I’d fled to my death if they did?

What would that do to them? What repercussions would come? How would mom and dad deal with the supposed loss of their daughter? How was Cloud Poker taking getting lied to and zapped by his lover? So many questions and worries were flooding my mind like a runaway fog machine filling a room.

Would they even accept me back into their lives? My parents...probably, they were family after all. But what about Cloud Poker? It was our child I was carrying, and if I managed to keep it to term down here and somehow return I had planned on having him in our lives, but…

In my mind’s eye I saw myself pull my taser on him, felt myself pull the trigger, saw that look he gave me as I fluttered out the window…

It was almost too much, I needed to distract myself so I shook my head and turned back to my saddlebags. What I knew is that I wasn’t dead and I was down here, away from them. That was all that mattered...for now.

The sleeping bag Mist had given me by far took up the most space; fortunately it wasn’t very heavy. Pressing into it with a hoof, I guessed it made use of interwoven cloud fibers along with a more solid material to cut back on weight. That made my life easier.

When I spotted my toothbrush I ran a tongue over my teeth, realizing I hadn’t brushed them since I’d touched down. In all the hubbub it had slipped my mind; I made a mental note to remember to start brushing again. While perhaps low on my current threat list, cavities were still something I wanted to avoid.

Spotting the tube of shampoo and two towels I’d grabbed reminded me of another bit of hygiene I’d been neglecting since I touched down. It made sense that my mane was a little itchy and my coat felt grimy, but a quick look and a sniff around reminded me of my chances in finding a shower around here.

In addition to the canned food were a few snack bars, also pilfered from my pantry, along with some matches I felt would be useful. I stuffed both them and the cans into my medical lunchbag, opening up some space in my saddlebags.

As I zipped up the lunchbag, another item caught my eye and a cramp ran through my underbelly. I paused when I spotted the cheeky, little grin of my pregnancy tester. My hoof hovered over it briefly. It was a disposable item, there was no real reason for me to hold on to it...yet I left it where it was.

There, too was my preening kit, the raider’s flare gun, and my taser. I frowned at the flare gun, Mist must’ve put it in there or something. Taking my taser with a hoof, I checked the charge and peeked at the batteries when it told me they were dead. I’d brought the charger for them as well, but it required an electrical outlet and that was something in rather short supply down here. I wondered if I could find or purchase more down here, if I ever ran into—I cringed as the raider mare charged into my head and died in a convulsing mess—I shoved my taser back into my saddlebags, sending the memory in with it, and zipping my bags closed.

Wanting a distraction from my newfound demons, I lifted my eyes and scanned the bleak horizon. There was still no sign of Mist or the scouting team. If only I’d thought to bring my clock, I’d know about how much longer they’d be gone.

‘Maybe…’ I thought, casting my eyes briefly upwards.

My sore wings complained as I pumped them harder, rising upwards to expand my field of view. The wasteland spilled out around me in every direction and I squinted off in the direction we were headed, but the scouts were either still out of range, or too far away for me to make out.

I released a sigh and began to descend, but a flicker of movement caught my eye. Catching myself with another hover, I stared off to the left of the caravan, squinting across the distance. There was a dark shape, two actually, that looked like wagons. Numerous smaller dots weaved around them, ponies. Were they more traders...or something more sinister?

There was only one way to find out.

I folded my wings as I fluttered back down.

Gauge frowned—unsurprisingly—when I reported what I’d seen, and sent a couple of defenders out in the direction I’d indicated. I had offered to fly back up with some binoculars, but Gauge didn’t want to risk me being spotted, as unlikely as it was.

It didn’t take long for his ponies to cross over a set of hills, waving as they guided a pair of wagons over.

“Traders, then,” Gauge grumbled, more to himself as his magic faded away from his pistols. Turning to me, he continued, “They might mingle for a while, trade news and the like. Go grab a cloak, hopefully my ponies will know to keep their traps shut about a pegasus.”

“Hopefully?” I asked.

“If they don’t wanna be kicked out in Burnout, yeah,” he growled back, jerking his head towards a wagon and trotting forth to go meet the inbound traders, “Now go, will ya.”

Even the cleanest cloak I could find smelt a little too unwashed for my own taste, but it did the job of making me a skinny earth pony all the same.

Compared to Gauge’s caravan, the newcomers were fewer and farther between. They only had two rickety carriages and the six ponies who owned them were in far worse shape than Gauge’s own. Spotting the scarred mare that I assumed owned the caravan (by the fact that it was her Gauge met with), I had a sneaking suspicion that she was one of the associates who’d have, as Gauge put it, “spent a couple bullets to get their hooves on our stuff.”

But, by far, the difference that kept drawing my gaze back again and again were the beasts pulling the other trader’s wagons.

The creatures were a few times larger than a pony, with horns and wider snouts. But that wasn’t the key feature, not by a long shot. No, the thing that kept drawing my eyes to the pack animals were the two heads sprouting from their bodies.

One of the heads of the nearest beast kept dropping low as it grazed on withered patches of crabgrass, the thin leaves crunching like twigs. The second kept looking around tiredly, ears twitching randomly as if to swat away invisible flies. Unlike the dull, animalistic orbs set in the first head’s skull, this pair brightened as it met my intense gaze.

“What?” the head asked, nearly making me jump, “Got something in my teeth?”

“Uhhh…” I said stupidly, ‘Blue above! Did that thing just talk!? Did I just hear that thing talking!? It looks like some dumb animal, how can it talk!?’

“You high or something, girl?” The head frowned at me.

“Uh, n-no, I...um, I just…” I stuttered, searching for a response, “...gotta go!” I finally exclaimed, turning and cantering off.

“Huh, drug addicts…” I heard the head mutter as I fled, “I tell ya, Steve! These ponies and their darned addictions...”

I kept away from the traders and their bizarre, mutant animals for the rough half hour that they stayed before heading off again. It would’ve been a perfect time to preen, if not for the fact that I couldn’t show my wings, so instead I took a brush to my mane.

My bedraggled features and sleepless eyes startled me after I pulled out the small hoof-mirror in my preening kit. I looked like an absolute mess! I cleaned myself up as best I could, untangling my knotty mane and styling it the way I liked: swept manageably forwards with the excess tied off behind my head.

I smiled at myself in the mirror, feeling a twinge of life in my womb. But the smile was swept away when I looked up to the cruel hellscape I had put myself in. A sigh escaped me as I repacked my preening kit and got comfy atop my sleeping bag.

Just in time for Gauge to call for us to get set up and continue onwards again.

A groan escaped me.

Me being able to discard the cloak and fly again didn’t come soon enough. The feel of the alien ground on my hooves was unsettling and scraping the sand out of them was the first thing I did after taking flight.

The second thing was to seek out my favorite ground pounder around.

High Brass wasn’t all that hard to find, being one of the defenders he was part of the living buffer between the caravan and the wasteland. He offered a quick wave and a smile as I dove in, even if the other defenders nearby gave me less than cheery looks.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked.

“I had a question about water,” I began, hovering at his side, “How exactly does it work around here? I mean, you guys do have excess water to drink, right?”

“Sure, yeah,” Brass replied with an odd look, “Cookie’s in charge of water distribution. Unless we’re really low, it’s on an as-needed basis. We usually allow for a single canteen, few gallons a day,” he paused a moment in thought, “Might be you could get more on account of the foal, just ask Cookie.”

“Thanks,” I said with a nod, flapping off towards the food cart.

“Don’t mention it!” I heard Brass call after me.

In the short time I’d been a part of the caravan, I’d only just started memorizing the twenty some wagons in Gauge’s group. The armory was easy enough to spot with its extra guards and beefier design. The medical wagon I knew from the numerous visits I’d taken to it. And, of course, Cookie’s food cart was stuck in my memory after a taste of the ground-pounder’s food...even if it didn’t sit well with my digestive tract. In fact, all I had to do was follow my nose; lunch was being cooked!

“Hey!” I called to the flap covering the food cart, “Cookie?”

There was a rattling of metal, as if someone had bumped a rack of serving spoons, and Cookie poked his head out. My lips parted to make my request for water, but a scowl crossed the unicorn’s face, “You gimme a can of rotten beans?!” Cookie snapped.

“What?” I blinked, caught off guard. What was he talking—

“Them canned beans you went an’ traded fer extra helpin’s yesterday!” He growled, horn igniting as he ducked back behind the flap briefly. When he returned, a can of opened beans was held in his magic, a happy pegasus on the label.

Now it was my turn to frown, “No. Why?” I replied, glancing to the can held up in his magic, “They should be perfectly fine, check the expiration date.”

“Well they don’t taste ‘perfectly fine’ to me!” he retorted, “Ain’t hardly got no taste!”

“They probably just taste funny because they’re cloud grown,” I reasoned, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. It was hardly my fault he didn’t like the beans! Still, I tried to err on the side of diplomacy, “Look, I’m sorry if you don’t like our cuisine, but I came here because I ran out of water. High Brass told me you were the pony to talk to to get more.”

“Yeah, I’m the pony fer water,” Cookie allowed, tone still upset.

“Okay, so can I get some?” I asked.

“Dunno,” Cookie replied, glancing to the can of beans, “Ah feel kinda cheated; these things ain’t hardly edible! Ain’t got no flavor, no taste! How the hay am I s’posed to use food like that!?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but cut myself short as I recalled Gauge’s earlier words. My sudden, cheeky smile seemed to catch him off guard as I said: “You agreed to trade me a bowl of your food for a can of mine without question,” I reigned in my smile at the clever use of Gauge’s own words, “if you don’t like it, that’s on you.”

Cookie had no immediate reply to that, glaring back at me with a little scowl. Yet when I made it clear I was sticking around until I got my water, he muttered something and begrudgingly disappeared for a few seconds. When he came back, it was with a little wood chip held in his magic.

“Here, take this to Doughy in the water cart. It’ll be the one ahead of us,” Cookie grumbled as I took the chip in my mouth.

“Fanks,” I replied past the chip, flying up and over the food cart, transferring the chip to a hoof.

The water cart looked like any of the other wagons at a first glance: wooden, tarp covered, two axles, and a pair of pullers hitched to the front. But at a second glance, it was a tad wider and was somewhat beefier, as if designed to carry a heavier-than-average load...like water.

“Doughy?” I inquired to the flaps covering the back of the cart.

“Who’s callin’?” A feminine voice called from up front.

Pumping my wings, I lifted up over the tarp and met eyes with a young unicorn mare seated up front. She was maybe a few years younger than me and looked a lot like Cookie, aside from the white color her coat took around the fetlocks.

‘Gauge and Brass, Strap and Kiddo, now Cookie and Doughy. Who else in this caravan is related?’ I silently mused, “I was told you were the mare to talk to for water.”

“Sure, got a chit?” She asked, looking me up and down. While her tone wasn’t exactly the friendliest thing around, I took it as a win that she wasn’t nearly as icy as Leather Strap...or Break Action.

I nodded, offering up the wood chip to Doughy’s magic. She tucked it into a pouch next to a shortened lever action rifle at her side and hopped onto the wagon’s tarp cover. I backed off as she moved with caution to the back and gracefully slipped down into the wagon’s covered back. A moment later her head poked out, eyes watching me expectantly.

“Well?” She asked, confusing me, “Got a canteen?”

“Oh, yeah,” I replied, ‘duh’ I mentally berated myself as I dug through my saddlebags, producing and offering Mist’s canteen, “Here.”

Doughy accepted my offering and quickly turned to fill it within the tarp-filled confines of the wagon. I flapped my wings just outside the opening until she returned and magicked me back my water. I was about to tuck it away in my saddlebags, when a sudden worry nagged its way into my head.

“Not to sound like a nag or anything, but you guys do treat your water for contaminants and stuff, right?” I asked, glancing down at my canteen, “Like...magical radiation?”

“What? You kiddin’ me?” Doughy began with a snort, eyeing me up and down like I’d sprouted tentacles, “We ponies down here drink nothin’ but the dirtiest shit and scum we can scrounge up. Hay, if it don’t set a Pipbuck screechin’ we blast it with RADS till it does!”

It didn’t take a snicker from one of the burly pullers seated up front to tell she was being sarcastic. All the same, I crossed my forehooves as I held Doughy’s gaze, “So you do treat it for magical radiation?”

“‘Course we do, missus high-and-mighty pegasus,” Doughy sassed back, pulling herself atop the wagon and making her way forwards, “So you better savor every last drop you get here, ‘cause clean water’s a luxury in this here wasteland,” she jerked her head skywards, “‘less you wanna head back up there and sip of yer fancy old cloud water!”

I let out an annoyed huff as I swooped away from the wagon, ‘Well at least she wasn’t threatening to blow my head off!’

A dark, fast-moving shape caught my eye as I tucked away the canteen, and I felt a little better as I spotted Red Mist dart up over the caravan. He scanned over the ponies below as I made to fly over to him, but he tucked his wings and dove down towards a spot near the front of the caravan. Curious, I followed and spied him come to a landing just before Dual Gauge.

“...back early,” I caught Gauge’s voice as I swooped in. He looked surprised, even tense as he eyed Mist, “What do you have to report?”

“That town...Burnout,” Mist began, his loose jaw not working for a moment, “they’re...they’re all dead! It...it was like a massacre, everypony butchered and...and shot dead!”

Had someone dropped a pin in that single moment, it would have rung like hell’s bells. Almost everypony within earshot came to a halt, heads turning and ears shooting erect. Ponies quickly began to mutter and worry, Gauge batted at one of his ears briefly.

“What?” Gauge asked. Even I wasn’t sure I’d heard Mist right. The entire town...the town we were going to had been...massacred? I’d seen insanity down here before—the mare cackled and threw her machete—but what Mist had just said required a double-take.

Mist took a breath and said it again: “They’re all dead! They were—were shot, butchered like, like griffons and their meat!” he jerked a wing back the way he’d come, “We...we got to the town, headed in, the others wanted a...a drink, wanted me to head back…” Mist trailed off, licking his lips. He looked so agitated, perturbed; his tail was snapping to and fro behind him with a mind of its own, his wings twitching, folding and unfolding at his sides, “But, my E.F.S. wasn’t getting any readings, anything from inside the town! I...” he trailed off.

Here was the pony who’d killed two raiders and didn’t flinch while I ran off and fainted. It sent tingles of ice down my spine that he was losing his cool, leaving me unable to keep my hooves still. If whatever he’d seen had spooked him this bad, what would it do to me?

Queries and cries had started to break out as ponies recovered from the initial shock. The caravan ground to a halt and more and more of the ponies within were gathering about to find out what was going on.

“So we went in,” Mist had started again, meeting Gauge’s worried eyes with his own stoic goggles, “And they were dead...all dead…”

‘All...dead?’ I stood frozen in place as what he was saying sunk in. An entire town butchered, massacred like meat? How could that—a shrill whistle cut through the rising chaos of noise around me, drawing my attention to an angry-looking Dual Gauge.

“All right, quiet! All of you!” He called out in the ensuing silence, getting almost everypony’s attention. A few directed their worried comments to him, but he waved them off and continued, “We don’t know anything for certain yet—”

“What the hell, I just told you—” Mist butted in, only for Gauge to wheel on him.

“Shut your fucking trap, birdbrain!” Gauge snarled back before addressing the caravan, “We’re not gonna sit here squabbling like a herd of inbred retards. Get back on track and let’s move, Burnout coulda been attacked and we need to get there pronto! If there’s been an attack, they’ll need our help and sitting around worrying like this isn’t gonna get us anywhere!” he let that sink in a moment, giving the ponies around him a glare, “So saddle up and get back on track, the lot of you!”

While a miasma of unease still choked the air, Gauge’s voice had shone through like a spotlight, giving everypony a direction to head in. Ponies retreated to their previous positions and soon enough the caravan was moving again, kicking up an ominous cloud of dust as the wagon wheels bumped over the coarse terrain.

“Mist!” I called out, flapping over to him. Yet Gauge put himself in Mist’s face before I could voice any of my worries.

“Next time you come here bringing info like that, you come to me, and me alone, you hear?” Gauge growled to Mist, “Unless you wanna cause a fucking scene like that again, you don’t go screaming bloody murder the second you touch down!”

“I wouldn’t call it screaming bloody mur—” Mist began.

“Whatever the hell you wanna call it, colt, be it a lack of discipline or a lack of tact, I don’t care,” Gauge cut him off, “So long as you’re in my caravan I don’t want you pulling shit like that again, got it?”

“Sure,” Mist spat back, “But you’re endangering your caravan by heading there, we need to change course! If some group of raiders or something is capable of wiping out a town—”

“I don’t wanna hear it, fall in line or fly away,” Gauge cut him off as he turned to fall in with the rest of the caravan.

Chewing my lip, I cast a wary look towards where Mist and Gauge were walking a few yards ahead of me. The caravan was moving at a faster pace now. Gauge wanted us to get to Burnout as soon as possible...but every time I cast my eyes to the bleary horizon I felt an icy weight in my guts dragging me down. We were going towards the supposed massacre? How did that make sense, the scouts could just come back...couldn’t they!?

Yet Gauge was adamant on the whole caravan continuing with all due haste; he didn’t want to split up the caravan and risk weakening us in case of an attack.

“They’re all dead!” Mist had practically ranted, tingles of fear running up my spine.

It took us a few more hours until Burnout appeared on the horizon. A couple more and Gauge had us set up a short trot from the town, atop a hill that gave a good view of the surrounding area. Gauge met with Mist and the other scouts, speaking with them in a hushed and inaudible tone. It didn’t take my ears, however, to spy the looks of terror and shock on the scouts’ faces.

I gave a jump as Strap passed by me with a snapped: “C’mon,” her previously growly tone built now on a foundation of unease. She wore a set of medical saddlebags and was flanked by the other ponies of the medical division, “We’re searching for survivors, get your flank in gear!”

‘We need to search for survivors,’ I repeated in my head, taking a breath to steady myself before following on my wings.

Strap’s team fell in behind a group of heavily armed defenders, all fully armored with weapons at the ready. Dynamite was at the front and after a nod from Strap, he and his defenders began to move towards the town.

A fog of dread smothered the party as we approached Burnout, the defenders taking the lead with weapons raised and ears erect. Despite the assessment that the town was devoid of life, Gauge looked to be taking no chances.

The silence only amplified my hammering heart as we approached the outskirts: burnt out shells and cracked concrete foundations of the buildings never rebuilt. Burnout proper appeared to be further into the burnt graveyard of times long past, a destroyed gate marking the entrance down a street.

As I scanned back and forth a wall of sorts appeared around the actual town. It was mostly mismatched slabs of wood and metal, enclosing a group of buildings further into the burnt-out graveyard. A few streams of smoke came off chimneys of some of the houses within the wall, but other than that there were no signs of life. It was quiet...too quiet.

But that wasn’t what made me stop and tuck my tail as we neared the entrance…

It was the heads…

The heads of four ponies had been mounted on tall spikes coated with the draining blood of the flesh they bore. Their eyes stared listlessly in their slack-jawed heads, watching the horizons dutifully for foes. Their faces glistened oddly and my gut lurched as I realized why: somepony had skinned their faces, leaving dark red muscle and stark white bone visible beneath. They grinned with manic pleasure with their lips removed.

My stomach rose up and my guts clenched as I gagged, somehow managing to keep from puking. I tore my gaze from the grisly sight, limbs starting to quake; forcing my eyes shut, I took controlled breaths, calming myself as best I could.

I’d—I’d seen muscle and bone before...peeled back during dissections in medical school. Every now and again a pony would donate their body to science...seeing heads with skin cut off was nothing new…

Except that I had a feeling the head’s owners hadn’t exactly been willing donors...and certainly not to science.

Before my heart could pound any louder, I cast my gaze ahead to the gate itself—or what was left of it. Three craters marred the ground where the gate had been. Those, combined with the shattered remains of a carriage and wall seemed to tell me that the attackers had blown their way in.

Strap called a halt once we got close enough and the defenders moved in first, weapons ready. After a moment, they called the all clear and the rest of us moved in.

A gasp escaped me at the sight of four headless bodies on the other side of the destroyed wall, shredded and torn as if some wild animals had been at them. Yet when I tore my gaze to the dirt, the only tracks around them were hoofprints. But how could ponies do something like that…did they really do stuff like that down here!? I shifted my gaze away, biting down hard on my lip to keep my thoughts in check. I focused on the dirt beneath me, concentrating on my breathing, casting all thought aside as I hovered onwards.

More bodies hung lifelessly from twisted lamp posts, their bellies opened and their entrails spilling out like gruesome skirts. It took effort to tear my eyes away, my brain having difficulty processing the images it was receiving. How could ponies do things like this!? It wasn’t possible! My worst nightmares were mere specks of fright compared to the demented display I was seeing down here!

My hooves shook as my wings folded uselessly to my sides, making me stumble to the ground. Closing my eyes and trying to breathe through my mouth, I gagged and retched, trying to keep down my lunch. A sob escaped me as I failed, quaking as my stomach emptied itself at my hooves.

‘I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to be here!’ I cried out in the safe confines of my skull.

“Spread out! Search for survivors!” Gauge growled out orders, drawing my teary-eyed attention as he entered the town with a second group. Even he looked shocked at the carnage about, stepping lightly with his revolvers pointed at the dirt before him, “And for Celestia’s sake, somepony cut those bodies down!”

“You’re wasting your time, there’s nopony left alive here!” Mist growled, on Gauge’s heels as the older pony moved forwards, “I went over this place twice with my E.F.S., my Eyes Forward—”

“I know what your goddess-damned E.F.S. is, colt,” Gauge snapped back, “and I don’t care! There’s gotta be survivors! There always are!”

“And I’m telling you we need to bug the fuck out before whoever did this comes back!” Mist snarled back. Their path took them around a corner and their voices faded as I stayed behind. The stench of blood and bowels, underlain with the hint of rotting bodies clogged my nostrils, making me choke for fresh air.

“Hey, you heard him!” Strap yelled at me as she headed out, “quit standing around, find survivors!” she, too disappeared as the medical ponies hoofed it in different directions.

“Search—” I choked on my words, dry heaving and spitting into the settled contents of my stomach, ‘Search for survivors,’ I repeated in my head, not confident enough to speak.

Forcing my wings from my sides, I hopped to a hover and flapped forwards, shivering as I went. There were so many bodies scattered about the ruins of the town. Some close together, others alone. There were no cries for help, no pleas for mercy, no inequine screams of pain, nothing to tell me where to start.

Just silence. A horrible, horrible silence.

As Mist had said, they were all probably dead. Could his E.F.S. be wrong? Could ponies hide from it somehow? I didn’t know, but there weren’t any signs of life as I flapped timidly through Burnout. Throughout the town I saw signs of struggle and battle. Buildings were riddled with bullet holes, windows and doors were smashed in, empty casings were strewn about, and here and there I could make out a blood trail in the dirt.

Most of them led to bodies...like that of a buck, but I could barely tell with his genitals in the mutilated mess that they were. A gaping hole had been rent in his throat, looking like a bite from some rabid beast, and his intestines had been ripped out and wrapped around him like some sick form of rope. More bites covered his body, some mere teeth marks, others with chunks of missing flesh. It was enough to make me gag and retch, but I’d already emptied my stomach so I only brought up bitter bile.

“Raiders,” I heard one pony mutter as he prodded at a corpse, “Raiders did this.”

“No, no,” a mare beside him pointed out, “Look: ghouls, dead ghouls. More than Burnout had. If there were raiders, then where are their bodies? All I see are townsfolk and ghouls! None of these are raiders! I know raiders, Raider’s got a look, got a smell! And there’s none here!”

‘Ghouls?’ I followed where her hoof had pointed. There were a few bodies, one of them heavily rotten. What did she mean by ghoul? Was it some ground-pony slang? It hardly mattered, I was looking for survivors and there were none here.

“I don’t know! I don’t fucking know!” the buck seemed on edge, chewing at the bit of his battle saddle, “But ghouls...ghouls don’t do this kinda shit! They don’t! They just eat…” the rest of their conversation faded as they moved out of my hearing.

The next pony was a mare. Unlike the first, she had what appeared to be a bullet wound in her forehead. Morbidly, I wondered if that had been a mercy. Somepony, or something had opened up her back in several large gashes, leaving gaping stripes of muscle and bone visible in her hide. Eyeing her corpse with a sick sense of morbid curiosity I noted that her tail had been removed at the base...and suddenly I knew where a part of the first buck’s sexual organs had gone.

Empty stomach or not, I still managed to puke as I tore my vision away, shivering at the grisly sight. Wanting to get away, I leapt up and swooped over to a building, shoving my way inside. A sigh escaped me when I didn’t spot any bodies. It was quiet until I settled down and the floorboards creaked under me, putting me on edge.

I stood still, listening for a moment, taking the chance to settle my nerves. Mist had said everyone was dead, and I didn’t think I was smarter than his E.F.S., but the eeriness made me hesitate. Trotting forwards after a while, I glanced about as my eyes adjusted. This place seemed to be somepony’s home, with an overturned table and smashed furniture a testament to attack. I stepped into another room, spotting a bed and—I froze as my hoof landed in something wet, copper filling my nostrils.

I froze up, feeling my heart rate rise at the smell of blood. My ears twitched involuntarily, searching, trying to find a source of danger as my eyes slowly dropped to the floor.

It was a small puddle, half coagulated and black. My eyes traced slowly towards the source, shifting left across the floor to a foal’s crib and—oh, no! No, no, no! I stumbled backwards, my butt hitting a chair as my eyes locked onto the grisly remains between the bars of the crib. Hitting the ground with a cry, I felt my breath coming in uncontrollable gasps, hooves quaking as I scooted back until I hit the wall and couldn’t retreat any further.

The bloody mess of flesh and bone was too small to be anything else...

I bolted out the door, sobbing, shaking, gagging, tail tucked and ears flat. Tripping with a startled cry, I ate dirt as I stumbled down the steps, throwing my legs under me as I spat dirt and gulped down air. Turning one way there were bodies hanging with innards splayed out beneath them, the next and it was a necrophiliac’s wet dream come true, another and there were the skinned heads of ponies staring slack-jawed into my soul. All I knew was horror, all I could do was scream as everywhere I looked I saw a living nightmare of corpses.

I cried out when one of them grabbed me, limbs black and bruised-looking, eyes wide and buggy. My hooves dug into the dirt as I tried to pull away, scrambling uselessly as the corpse held me in place, tears running rivers down my face as my throat grew scratchy from my cries.

“Skies!” the corpse yelled in my face, and suddenly it was no longer a corpse. The bruised body was armor, the eyes goggles, the corpulent red lips a familiar snout, “Skies!” Red Mist yelled in my face, holding me forcibly down to keep me from bolting or bucking him, “It’s me! It’s me!”

Not even he could hold me back as I threw my forehooves around him, body giving out as I sobbed into his armored neck.

“P-please, g-g-get me o-o-out of h-here!” I barely managed to wail into him, leaking eyes squeezed shut as I banished the world to darkness. Anything else I may have tried to say turned into a hiccupping mess of sobs and cries as I held onto him for dear life.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, the words barely registering in my head, “Here, hold on,” he grumbled as I felt him shift me onto his back. My hind legs quivered as I felt myself laid across him, hooves locked tight against his armored neck. His wings came up on either side of me, balancing me where I was.

I kept my eyes closed through it all, crying and snotting all over his armor as I felt him canter off. Other voices rang through my ears, but I didn’t understand them, I didn’t want to understand anything but my darkness and my tears as Mist carried me off to places unknown.

I jerked awake with a start, heart throttling in my chest. Gulping down air, I felt my sleeping bag around me, coated in a fine film of sweat again, but there was something else.

Something small and soft lay across my sleeping bag, nestled between my hind legs. When I lifted my eyes I met the curious pink pair of a familiar filly, spotting Kiddo staring back at me with that wild look of hers. She lay curled up in a red-coated ball, forehooves thrown over my right hind leg and head held high and erect as she watched me.

I just stared at her for a time, heart rate settling as my breathing returned to normal. Eventually she settled her head back atop her forehooves, still staring at me.

“Um...hi?” it came out more a question than an actual greeting. One of the fiery filly’s ears flicked back, but she remained otherwise still. After a few more moments her eyes closed and she went back to dozing. Calmer now, I took a moment to look at my surroundings.

I was back in the camp, amid the ring of wagons. Various pullers and defenders were scattered about, mostly outside the ring. Ice filled my innards and bile touched my tongue when I spied Burnout between two of the wagons. Visions of the bodies began to fill my head, but I let out a low moan and slammed my eyes closed. I grit my teeth as I tried to think of other things and keep my living nightmares at bay.

“Mommy doesn’t like you,” the juvenile voice helped drag me away from my spiraling thoughts. Opening my eyes and lifting my head, I spied Kiddo staring at me again, “I like you,” she patted my leg through the fabrics of my sleeping bag, “you have a nice blanket.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, mouth hanging ajar in what was probably an idiotic look before I managed a scratchy, “Thanks,” as way of reply. The word nearly made me choke and I suddenly realized how thirsty I was.

My saddlebags were off to my left. Kiddo remained where she lay as I extricated myself from my sleeping bag and trotted the few steps to them. I didn’t really mind the gritty feel of the earth, it helped distract me as I dug my canteen free and chugged away my thirst. A little bit spilled down my chin as my hooves quivered beneath me.

My preening kit drew my eye as I tucked the canteen away, my wings itching at my sides. Pulling it out, I settled at the head of the sleeping bag as I started to preen. Kiddo watched in silence, eyes wide, ears erect, and mouth flat as she took in everything around her like a sponge.

Preening helped me relax as I picked and cleaned at my feathers, “So…” I began, clearing my throat as I tried to start up a conversation, “what...what do you do for fun around here?” I asked.

Kiddo stared back at me in wide-eyed silence.

“Do…” I trailed off, searching my mind for something to converse about, “you know what you want as a cutie mark?” I tried again.

Kiddo stared back at me in wide-eyed silence.

I frowned, “You don’t talk much, do you?” I observed.

One of her ears flicked back and Kiddo stared back at me in wide-eyed silence.

“Huh,” I said.

I had mostly finished preening when I heard a faint sound on the wind. I stopped working on my wings, ears swiveling about as I listened. Kiddo perked up, head darting back and forth as her little legs grew tense. It sounded almost like a voice...coming from Burnout.

Frowning, I trained my ears in the direction of the town. The breeze carried hushed whispers of dialogue to my ears, too faint to understand. The tone was solemn, and it was distinctly a single voice, a gruff sounding one that reminded me of a particular unicorn stallion.

Something drew me to the voice, some sort of calling that got me to my hooves and pulled me towards Burnout. I chewed at my lip with worry as I passed through the wagons, fearing the terrors I might encounter all over again. A few of the ponies gave me weary glances as I left the camp, letting the gritty feel of the earth distract me.

Here and there bloodstains and bits of gore and waste dotted the ground, but the bodies in burnout were gone. The voice, very distinctly Gauge’s now, drew me towards the center of town: an intersection of gravel that had once, long ago, been asphalt.

I hesitated with a brief gasp; here were the bodies. They’d been piled in a great pyre of broken furniture and kindling, and most of the caravaners surrounded it in a loose semi-circle.

“...and many of us have called this place home, or sanctuary before,” Gauge was saying, standing by the pyre. Dynamite stood beside him, looking grim with tight lips and a faraway stare, “The ponies who lived here were good, some of them family to us…”

Spotting Mist, stood at the back and off to one side with his helmet tucked under one wing, I made my way quietly over to him. He spared me a careful glance when I stood beside him, but said nothing as Gauge continued with his eulogy.

“They were taken from this world, taken from us far too soon,” Gauge kept on, eyes gracing the crowded caravaners before him, pausing a moment or two here and there as if adding reinforcement, “They were left defiled and shamed by creatures, animals who do not deserve to be called ponies. But let us not remember them like this, let us remember them as they were in life. Let us take the remains of our abused families and friends and grant them the respect and the love that they deserve, cleanse the brutality that they were shown so that they may rest in peace in the beautiful afterlife that awaits them.”

He turned and gave a final nod to Dynamite, who turned to the pyre, dropped his horn, and lit it with a brief burst of magical flame. Both he and Gauge stepped back with the rest of us, watching as the bodies of burnout began to burn.

My tears reflected in the firelight.

Footnote: Level up!

Skills increased:

+Speech

Perk attained: Intense Training – The hardships you’ve endured in the wasteland have toughened you up! You gain a +1 to your Endurance attribute (5)!

Author's Notes:

Things begin to speed up as we near the end of the Caravan arc...