Chapter 2: Ghoul City

“We don’t go to Ravenho-“

The huge, several ton cog-shaped steel door of Stable 57 slid closed with the finality of a funeral dirge. I could only look on as the last sight of my friends was shut away behind that immutable barrier. There was no way of knowing if even at that moment they lived or died for no sound could escape something designed to weather the apocalypse. Cinder shook with gentle sobs in my arms. For a moment all I could do was lay where I had thrown myself in our bid to escape the closing door, and now we were beyond the immediate reach of Stricture and his ponies.

We were free.

So why did I feel so hollow?

My mother was out here somewhere beyond Stable 57, but Soot had been left behind. The cold bastard Stricture had executed my father without a second thought, like he was trash. Tightness constricted my chest and I tried to be strong. I tried to be strong for Cinder, feeling the dam within me crack and strain. Trying to shut out the raging sea within I rested my head back against the ground. It faintly occurred to me how soft dirt was compared to metal, not like the grass back in hydroponics but still soft relatively.

A rotting stench in the air filtered slowly as the last of the Stable air dissipated from the opening of the door. It grew stronger and stronger, soon becoming an overpowering aroma of decaying meat. The tunnel was made of rock and a dull light filtered through a simple slatted wood door at the very far end of the passage. In the dim illumination I looked up and saw bones.

Everywhere were bones, bones, more bones, and more besides, enough to account for hundreds of ponies if not more. They had collected in great drifts of age blackened ivory along the walls of the tunnel. Grim though it may have been this alone would not have unnerved me. But there weren’t just bones.

Some of the bodies were… fresh. Flesh in chunks, scraps, severed limbs, and different viscera lay strewn about in varying stages of decay. I was staring right into the face of a severed pony head as it stared back with bulging eyes and a bloated tongue. Maggots were crawling into and out of the skin, making the surface of the head writhe with sub dermal life. My mind flashed to an image of my father with a bullet hole in his forehead going through the same process of deterioration.

Oh goddess I couldn’t slow my breathing. My mouth filled with saliva and my abdominal muscles seized in rebellion. I tried to shove the feeling back down my throat but it was no use as I felt what was left of my breakfast come burbling up. With enough presence of mind to turn my head to the side I vomited on the ground.

I shuddered as a few more convulsions made me light-headed my insides squirm with a life of their own. After a few deep gulping breaths my stomach was once again under control. Cinder nuzzled me in concern as I had kind of squeezed her during my purge, but did not speak, could not speak just yet.

“H-h-hey little Cinder, could you do… something f… for me?” my voice felt unstable and unreliable and I had to take breaths between words. Fresh tears welled up again in Cinder’s eyes. After a long pause she nodded. It was cruel to ask something of her so soon but we couldn’t stay there, however faint, there was a chance that the Stable door might open and disgorge pony hunters to drag us back.

“It’s nothing hard I promise. I just need you to close your eyes and stay on my back until we’re out of here okay?” I tried to sound confident for my sister. She was young, although clever and had probably already guessed at the putrid odor but was too weak to argue. I wasn’t going to expose her to something like that if I could help it. I waited until she had her eyes firmly shut, tears staining her feathers, to roll to my feet and lifted her carefully onto my back.

Off down the tunnel I marched, step by step, old bones cracking along the way. I kept my gaze focused on the path before me. Onward I went, quashing the lingering queasiness in my gut and persevering toward the wooden portal, not letting my view drift. Cinder just curled up on her big brother’s back, crying out all the hurt. And just like that we were at the exit.

Trying not to breathe too deeply, I pushed the door open with a nudge of my head and we two Stable griffins emerged into hell.

The outside world was a blasted wasteland of broken ground and tortured sky. The stable exit lay on a small mountain overlooking a city on fire. Smoke hung in a thick haze everywhere. Yawning chasms pockmarked the city full of a strange red flame that burned lazily. The sky that was visible roiled and churned with storm clouds and crackles of discharge.

If I hadn’t already emptied everything in my stomach, I definitely would have lost it then as I felt an intense vertigo clench me as the sky opened overhead. I had to sit, close my eyes, and pressed my face into the dirt to avoid falling over as my senses overloaded. It was so much. Cinder just whimpered and clung on harder.

A fine layer of something soft and powdery coated the ground. I had read about snow and winter in some old textbooks in the Stable system but never imagined being able to see it. I peeked. Wasn’t snow supposed to be cold? I stared down at my namesake in horror. Everywhere was ash. It rained from the sky in a never-ending drift of carbon waste. Everything appeared muted and fuzzy through the clouds of precipitating grey. Everything but the fires.

Several dozen pits full of fire were scattered through the broken buildings I could see. The whole scene spoke of a soul-crushing level of annihilation that had visited itself upon the world. Shattered windows, sagging slabs of concrete and piles of rubble spread across broken pavement were everywhere.

My PipBuck blinked softly and I tabbed over to the map function, grateful for the small distraction. It placed my marker just outside Stable 57 and flashed with a new location. Apparently I stood at the Ghoul City Memorial Overlook. How my PipBuck knew these things were beyond me but I wasn’t about to question the small boon of having a name for this place and something solid to sink my talons into.

Feeling slightly less dizzy, I gazed downward at Ghoul City and felt those crumbling steel facades and burning hellfires staring back at me, into me, challenging my resolves and laughing at my pitiful attempts at survival. I shook my head vigorously to clear it of the phantoms and focused on getting a good look at my surroundings. The smog and smoke made the air thick, and blurred things in the distance. Something large and stone was immediate and apparent.

It was a statue standing well over fifteen feet tall. It was simple, a pony and griffin stood side by side gazing off into the distance. The carpet of ash padded my steps as I walked to the raised stone pedestal. A bronze plaque sat slightly skewed but some parts remained legible and I read it aloud.

“For all equestrians, great and small.”

I was impressed that the statue had withstood the test of time relatively intact. Cracks ran up one of the pony statues leg but did not look ready to give way for a long time. It struck me with great irony that through all the achievements the ponies had made, the grand technologies, the industrial revolution, all that remained were statues to stand vigil over a broken world.

A path wound its way down toward the city and that’s where I headed.

The desire to use the key Elder Grimm had given me surged within, yet a primal fear demanded that I find a safer place to strip and be vulnerable to rid myself of the cumbersome harness chafing my feathers under the Stable jumpsuit. So forward I went, down the path to find refuge in Ghoul City. Exhaustion was starting to weigh heavily on my shoulders. I had not slept since before my last work shift, then the fight with the Overmare and on to the escape. The more I thought about it, the more tired I became.

My tail dragged on the ground and my shoulders slumped gradually. Only an innate nimbleness kept my stumbles from turning into faceplants because of rocks hidden in the fallen ash. Cinder just kept holding on, solemnly quiet, enduring the roughness of the ride stoically. Her voice was a hoarse, crackled thing.

“Ashes? Where are we going?” Her tone was low, despairing.

“We’re going to find a safe place to rest and figure out what to do. Then we can get these stupid harnesses off. How’s that sound?” I tried to make my voice positive for her sake.

“Don’t we have to find momma too?”

“Yeah, she must have come through here so we’ll look for clues. Don’t worry, if there’s anything to find, we’ll find it.” I sounded more hopeful, more cheerful than I felt. It had been years. Who knew what we would find? She somehow perked up a little at my words, having more faith than I did. The ground had slowly evened out during the descent and we were now at street level, pre-war buildings rising all around.

“Is that someone over there? Maybe they would know?” A quadruped figure lurched through the drifts of ash down the street. Before I could stop her, Cinder jumped off my back and started walking towards it.

“Hey, mister!” She sounded overjoyed to see something else alive in the outside. The thing stopped and turned towards her. Something was wrong in the way it walked. Cinder halted, uncertain, head low in sudden fear.

“Cinder!” I carefully padded after her, wanting to call her back but kept my eyes locked on the stranger. She stood paralyzed, wavering. The thing drew close enough for me to make it out somewhat and the sight froze me too. It was a pony, but everything about it was wrong. A red line appeared on my almost forgotten E.F.S.

Desiccated flesh hung in tatters from its sides and flank and most of its hair from body, mane, and tail were missing. Muscle and even bone was visible through holes in the hide. It was impossible to guess what color it had been. One eye was missing while the other bulged and lolled blindly in an engorged socket. Cinder screamed and the thing whipped its head up at the sound and with impossible speed, charged towards her.

I was in shock at the sight of the thing while Cinder could only stand and scream. The grotesque pony lunged forward with jagged yellow teeth. I shook myself out of inaction but was too far away to do anything but curse and run. She flinched back so that instead of her throat, the ghastly pony took a chunk out of her shoulder. It ripped through her clothing like it wasn’t even there, taking meat, cloth and even a leather strap from her bindings in one bite.

What the fuck kind of place had the world, our beloved Equestria that we had longed so fiercely to see become?

With all my will I ran but the horror charged the young one, bowling her over. She tried to claw at its eyes but the ghastly pony bit down hard on one of her outstretched eagle claws with a sickening crack. Its front hooves kicked and thrashed, striking her chest and stomach, trying to tear her limb off. I had never moved so quickly in my life. In just a moment I was there, trying to beat the rotting pony off my sibling. My claws left shallow scratches in the leathery hide which oozed a thick black fluid that the ghoul pony simply ignored. I remembered my training and brought down my fists and pummeled away relentlessly.

My knuckles split and bloodied against the things wretched skull but each blow loosened the ghoul’s grip until it finally was knocked loose, stunned senseless and moaning it fell over.

With frantic, shaking talons I pulled one of our two healing potions and nearly fumbled it twice before getting the stopper off. I cradled Cinder’s head and brought her lips to the cool liquid.

“C’mon sis, c’mon, you gotta drink this. You gotta, it’ll take the pain away I promise, I promise.” With my encouragement she sipped, then gulped down the thick solution. The bleeding in her shoulder and foreleg stopped and most of the flesh in her shoulder filled back in but the horrible rending bite to the muscle of her arm required the second potion. I silently wished for some magically enchanted bandages and then wished for more than basic first-aid knowledge to tell if Cinder had any broken bones. This was followed by wishing for a doctor, then wishing that the war had never happened, and finished with me simply wanting our mother, or for our father not to be dead.

The ghoul, still moving, started to shriek. My scrutiny fixed on the thing in shock at the piercing cry but then I looked around in a panic, feeling very exposed in the middle of the street. The impulse to find a wall to press my back against was almost overwhelming. In a rush I drew a pistol, unfamiliar in my claw and pressed it to zombie head. Blind though it may have been it felt the touch and snapped at me, kicking and whinnying. Panicked, I pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was loud, startling. I almost dropped the 10mm as the echo bounced away and blessed silence fell. The ash on the ground muffled the shell, and the macabre precipitation quieted all else. I ran black to Cinder and checked her wounds again. She had curled up, clutching her broken forelimb. As I held her close in relief, a shiver ran down my spine, my hair, and feathers stood on end. I could feel something coming. Paranoia spiked. All the buildings took on a sinister cast; the windows looked down on us, hostile and resentful.

Faintly, I heard a howl. It keened in the distance, making my hide want to crawl off my bones. It went on for a solid minute and petered off. We huddled together in that lonely street as the hush fell again. Then, another howl broke the quiet, and another, and then another, closer, and closer. The volume grew. Fuck, it was all around us!

I saw another zombie pony round a corner further on and raised the gun. My claw was shaking as I fired twice. And missed. Shit, do better! The sound drew the thing’s attention and it charged. In the Stable, I had always enjoyed the recounted war stories from which I had gleaned many different techniques for both warfare and marksmanship. Though I had no formal training in ballistics, I had read plenty about it.

Taking a deep breath I kneeled, braced the gun in both hands and squeezed carefully. Straight down the pistol sights I watched the puff of the bullets impact high on the pony’s chest. It was staggered for a moment by the shot but recovered and continued its charge. Three more shots to center mass dropped the wretched thing. It fell and slid to a stop not four paces from where I held my stance.

Smoke curled lazily from the end of my gun. Another ghoul materialized from down the street. The firearm barked, recoiling in my talons like a thing alive, spitting death and hot lead, ejecting spinning brass. I let it come naturally as I allowed my mind to go blank and focused not on the gun, but on the shot, the trajectory and supersonic path the bullet carved through the air. It became an extension of myself, and imagined it as a reach of my arm, my wrist, my talons fused into the smooth grip of the blocky pistol, guiding me as I killed the unnatural affront to life.

Then two more appeared. I slew one but the other got close enough to get within leaping distance, its jaws open. Fuck they were fast! S.A.T.S. froze time. Yellow teeth, jagged and broken were ready to sink into my neck. Frantically I toggled the remainder of my clip and released the spell along with three mid caliber chunks of metal which sped through the skull of the pony. Gore splattered me as the rotten flesh and bone exploded from the neck up. Warm ichor and what could only be brain matter splashed my hide, feeling sticky and matted in my fur and feathers. I was glad my beak hadn’t been open.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Sweet ever fucking Celestia’s horn! Okay maybe my mind wasn’t completely blank. With a click the empty clip dropped free and my talons slid a fresh one home.

Maybe that was all… Nope. Five more ran into view and by the sound, more were on the way. I drew my other pistol and fired. Using both hands dropped my accuracy, but increased my rate of fire. Two dozen rounds later the ghouls were down, another pair of spent clips joined the brass in the false snow. As I reloaded I glanced to Cinder and was shocked to see my sibling not just standing on her three still working legs, but looking right at me. The pain was bright in her eyes.

“Cinder…” I was at a loss, stunned by her pain threshold.

“The monsters are gonna get us if we stay here.” Too often I forgot that my little sister wasn’t so little any more. I crouched down on my knees.

“Get on, and hold tight.” The howling had grown to an unceasing encirclement of sound. I looked around fearfully. “Hurry, little spark.” she climbed on my back and held fast to my jumpsuit, which reminded me of the straps beneath.

Aw skull-fuck me with a wrench I am not a clever griffin! If I had just taken the time to get our harnesses off I could have flown us out of there! So stupid! Of course after seeing that these creatures had a taste for flesh I concluded that some probably dragged their kills to the Stable tunnel to feed and so it was a wise decision to leave with the alacrity that we had but that didn’t stop me from mentally tormenting myself with better alternatives.

Red bars started appearing with disturbing density on my E.F.S.

Cinder hugged me tightly around the neck with her good forelimb and dug her paws in as I ran on my back legs to keep my talons and pistols free. I shot at another trio that had appeared behind us but my aim was lousy on the move without S.A.T.S. I turned to go down an alley only to redirect past it as another pair lunged at me out of the dark. Feebly glowing street lamps flickered among the flecks of falling grey flakes, still clinging onto life from either a still live power grid or internal spark batteries.

Up ahead the street ended with a wall of buildings. Ghouls were only a little ways behind us. Terror gripped my heart. I could imagine tumbling, being ripped apart, eaten alive, my guts steaming in the open air, and somehow spurned myself forward as fast as my leggy gait allowed. First instinct guided me right and I was stopped short by a writhing throng of ghouls driving dead-on at us so I reversed course again and went opposite and was met by another group blocking the street there too! The horde began closing in around us. I backed towards the buildings and slammed my shoulder into a closed door at the top of a stoop but it held firm, grinding my teeth in frustration I fired repeatedly into the wave of death crashing in around.

My E.F.S. was practically solid with red bars.

I cast about for anything, any escape route, any unseen alley. Something! Merciful Luna please don’t let me die here! Don’t let my sister die here! Not so soon after escaping, not after gaining our freedom in blood, tears, and precious lives only to be torn apart by this world of death and the dead!

Two more clips of ammo were ejected from my guns, staving off the ghouls but it would only be a moment before they reached my position. The only reason I had not run out bullets being that Rigid had carried an excessive amount with him back in the Stable.

Fuck! It wasn’t fair!

A, hairless fleshy pony snapped at my paws and got a kick to the chin for its trouble while another wrapped around my neck with its hooves. I pistol whipped it in the temple, nearly dragging me with it down the steps as it fell, and reloaded again. Now there was no way to miss, but my paltry fusillade could not hold them back and the tide of raving hunger crashed against me. I punched, kicked, shot, and even pecked, to keep myself between the roaring horde and Cinder.

I was drowning, falling beneath that crush of bodies and something caught my eye.

Maybe…

With the last of my will I reached up and grabbed a drain pipe on the side of the building and hauled with everything I had and lifted free. I managed to scramble up high enough to get beyond the leaping reach of the ghouls bellow. Somehow I had had the presence of mind to holster my pistols. Up, up, up to the third story where a window lay just within reach, the pane long shattered. Cinder had kept hold of me, yeah, definitely not a baby anymore. I swung through the open window into an old apartment.

Dingy, paint peeling, trash scattered all around, it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. I felt the urge to kneel down and kiss the cracked kitchen tile but settled with just catching my breath. At least until the pegasus ghoul flew in through the window.

Can I get one fucking break?

It reached to take off my face with its dental work so I punched it square in the snout. The combined velocity and momentum of its own charge, arrested by my hit caused its neck to snap with an audible crack! Tumbling like a broken doll, it smashed into some cupboards with the sound of splintering wood. I shook my hand in pain as my knuckles throbbed. That was going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow. Bottles fell from the broken cabinets and I walked over in inquisitiveness even with the shit-storm outside.

Vodka! A dozen bottles at least! Somepony had liked their drink a little much. They had good tastes though as I took a second to admire the lewdly posed purple pony with her grape cutie mark on the faded label. Incessant hammering echoed downstairs and the horde of zombie ponies did not sound as though they liked being cheated of a fresh meal and were besieging the door. So, I did what any sensible individual would do.

First I emptied or smashed every bottle of alcohol I could lay my talons on all over the floor and even an old overstuffed chair forgotten in the corner. Oh yeah, I was going to enjoy this. Out in the hall by the stairs I popped open my loving lighter and with a stupid grin touched it to the soaked boards. The flame jumped, spreading in a wonderful pattern of ignition as the high proof of the stashed booze worked as a rapid accelerant. In seconds the interior was fully ablaze and quickly reached where I stood. Maybe a little excessive, but there was no such thing as overkill right?

As it began to lick at my paws there was a resounding crash where the door had no doubt once stood. Time to go. Heat washed over my back and I took the stairs three at a time and careened through the final level to the roof and turned to shout back down, my claw cupped around my beak.

“Choke on that you fuckers!” Cinder gently thumped me on the head.

“Hush, you pyro.” She admonished.

The joy that split my face refused to be denied. I leapt to the next roof over with preposterous ease as the fire began to consume the building behind us. Battered, sore, bitten and bleeding in more than a few places, I was pleased with the thought of the fire burning up a few ghouls and throwing them off the hunt. The pegasus ghoul worried me but no more jumped out as I threaded the many rooftops. Over chimney stacks, up ladders, and past ledges until all sound was lost again. The way was lit by the street lamps down below, casting strange shadows, but the closeness was somehow comforting.

I began to slow, instead of flight, looking for a good place to hole up and rest, the rooftops just a little too exposed for my taste. After growing up in a Stable I’m not sure I would ever get used the hugeness of the outside. Straight across the road stood a solid looking building, four stories tall, and still mostly intact except for its top windows. It looked as good as any and I shimmied down to street level. At the apex of a few concrete steps a set of solid looking doors stood slightly ajar. Bronze lettering hung beside the door proclaimed it to be the Office of Utility Administration.

Caution made my every step light and careful as I glanced down the road in either direction and checked my E.F.S. No red bars were lurking behind the door. I stepped inside and shut the portal after me. The darkness was difficult to penetrate so I flicked on my PipBuck light. Immediately revealed was half of a ghoul pony lying right at my feet. I halted, looking as far as the moderate pool of illumination would allow.

A large blast had occurred where the ghoul’s other half sat shredded. Small red lights sat on the ground all around the lobby. Slowly, I approached one until the pool of light hit the edge of a thick metal disk lying innocuously on the ground. Now where had I seen something like this before? Then it hit me. I recognized the thing from a copy of The Patriot Pony’s Cookbook I had snuck a look at back in Stable 57. Some psycho pony had left half a dozen landmines lying on the ground in front of me!

At least the status of the anti-personal munitions told me that there were no ghouls in the building, otherwise there wouldn’t be any left undetonated.

From the book I knew I had three options. To try and avoid them, disarm them, or set them off remotely. The lobby only had a simple wooden reception desk, a few blocked off doorways, and a staircase leading up. The only clear way was up and two mines sat guarding the base step practically overlapping one another.

I could probably set them off by hurling the ghoul pony remains at them but that might just bring more of the bloodthirsty things. So, down off my back went Cinder, whose eyes were glazed in a catatonic shock, and off came my bags. I went back to the first mine and examined the laughably simple disarming mechanism. The bright red light on top signified the armed nature of the explosive and also doubled as its off button. As quickly as I dared which was hardly a crawl, I crept on the inanimate object like it was a giant snake rearing and ready to strike, which in a way it was.

A loud BEEP! Suddenly sounded, and I threw himself forward and slapped the button. A second BE- sounded before being cut off.

Then a third BEEP broadcasted!

The mines had been placed too close together! I had a disturbing image flash of the ghoul pony blown in half and scrambled forward to slap the next one only to have the proceeding explosive begin to arm itself as well. I could not help but scream a little as this repeated itself twice more, the last one being deactivated midway through its third and final tone. In just a few seconds I had hopped across the whole lobby. Right before me lay the mated pair. I held my breath, not daring to even blink, listening for the telltale sound the fragmentation mines emitted. The staring contest could have gone on forever but eventually I let my lungs relax, blowing dust across the floor, and the thudding of my heart sounded like thunder in my head.

“Holy fuck.” I said lamely as I ran a claw back through my crest. Nervous habit. That simple motion was enough.

BE-BEEP! The two beeps were so close they overlapped.

“Holy fuck!” I lunged again.

BE-BEEP! My claw came down on one and sent the other skittering and bouncing away.

“Holy fucking shit!”

BEEP!

It was too far away for me to reach. Everything slowed down as it rolled. I threw my arms over my head, gritted my teeth, and shut my eyelids in anticipation of the blast, imploring physical law that shrapnel didn’t turn me into griffin paste. A pop and a fizzle sounded and smoke leaked from the mine’s housing and I looked on, disbelieving as the red light died… I laughed then whimpered a little at the closeness of my death. My claws shook as I rolled onto my back and breathed deeply until my hammering heart started to slow and my rushing blood ebbed to a steadier rate.

Gingerly I picked myself up off the floor and examined the dud. Faulty wiring poked out of the casing, frayed and blackened. I quickly gathered up the rest of the disarmed munitions and went back to where Cinder had propped herself up against a wall, cradling her injured limb and looking pale. Despite everything she giggled and looked at me.

“You swore.” I cracked a faint smile.

“You’re one to talk miss ‘The Overmare sucks griffin cock!’” We both smiled fondly at the memory. Being the Stable’s painter had allowed Cinder access to acrylic, watercolor, oil, and most importantly aerosol spray paints. She had supplied the paint, and distracted Stable security while I had gone to one of the main hallways and sprayed the messages in bold white letters so her own distinctive painting style would not be recognized. We had done this numerous times, Cinder always supplying the more vulgar prose. I had a feeling that Soot always suspected us but had never been able to prove it.

“It’s not my fault that it was the truth! I was just helping her get over her denial.” She retorted weakly. I stuffed the mines into my bags and picked her up, being mindful of her injury. Together, we went to the stairs. Little puffs of dust swirled around my feet and I was about to take the last one when my PipBuck light flashed off something shiny. I stopped. Panning the light slowly, I spotted it.

A metal wire ran a few inches high all the way across the top of the staircase. I followed it, seeing it threaded through to the wall and up to the ceiling where a net sack of grenades hung. Holding my PipBuck up I saw the wire looped through the arming pins. If I had tripped the wire, all the pins would have been pulled and the sack dropped on my head full of live little eggs of death. I licked my beak in greed. Out of my bags came a pair of cutters that snipped through the wire. I carefully lowered the sack of grenades and cut the string tying all the pins together and slipped each of the five bombs into my pack.

Sweet, sweet explosives.

At the top of the stairs a hallway ran in either direction. To the left was a door and further on the sign for the male and female bathrooms. To the right the hall went a little way before opening up into an office space full of desks and filing cabinets. First I went left to the door, checking all the while for little red lights and wires but it seemed the trapper had run out of materials after rigging the whole lower level like a hornets nest. I jiggled the door handle and was surprised to find it locked, and on closer examination found a broken bobby pin sticking out.

I harrumphed in aggravation and put my fist through the one of the thin glass panels, and reached down to unlock the door from the other side, carefully avoiding cutting myself. I wondered why the infiltrator had not simply done as I had and chocked it up to pony thinking. With disappointment I looked around the meager janitorial closet. Several empty shelves lined the walls and an industrial vacuum sat broken in the corner. A toolbox yielded a bottle of wonderglue and a roll of duct tape.

With the tape at least I was able to set Cinder down and stretch out her leg for a basic splint of two pieces of wood from a broken shelf and a few careful wrappings of the silver tape. It wasn’t great, but it would help her not injure it further. I was careful not to make it too tight lest the circulation be cut off. At least from the look and feel of her limb it was not too badly broken. No lumps stuck out, just a general swelling of the bruised flesh. There was no way to know for sure though.

Back onto my back she went despite how quickly it was tiring me out. She was getting a little too heavy to be hauled around like a hatchling.

I knew from the Stable that oftentimes bathrooms held medical boxes so that’s where I went next. My claws clacked softly on the checkered tile. Next to a sign that read ‘Employees must wash hooves before returning to work’ sat a square medical box. A trio of chipped butterflies adorned its surface. The latch clicked and the box opened.

Inside was another health potion, a roll of basic gauze and two single use syringes of med-x.

“Praise the goddesses.” I breathed in relief and made Cinder drink the potion while I injected one of the high strength pain killers into the elbow of her crippled limb. After a moment or two she looked less flushed and her breathing was less labored. Giving thanks to whatever good forces remained in such a twisted world I scooped up the other painkiller and bandages for later. We headed over to the other bathroom and I was disappointed to find the aid box only contained a large injection pack with various colored fluid that his inventory labeled as something called Stampede.

The side bore a simple description. ‘Let none stand before our Stampede. Part Rage, part med-x, all Awesome.’ Stampede I had never heard of, but Rage, the combat enhancer and med-x were familiar to me. I could only conclude that it was a potent chemical cocktail meant for battlefield injury. Into my pack it went.

We continued on down the hall and through the office area. I rummaged hopefully through desk drawers and filing cabinets but found nothing but meaningless papers, empty bottles, and coffee mugs. I stepped carefully around piles of crumbled masonry and tumbled metal filing cabinets. At the back was a small kitchenette with an empty fridge and a tall red and black… thing. The front had a small opening at the bottom and odd buttons along the side. Lit from behind in large stylized lettering it proclaimed the glory of something called Sparkle-Cola.

“What’s this?” I vaguely remembered some of the ponies from our Stable having collected old bottles branded Sparkle-Cola, all of it having been drunk by the ponies long ago. Cinder fished something out of her pack and held the gleaming coin out to me.

“It has a slot, see?” She gestured to the side of the machine above the buttons. Sure enough it did. I smiled at my little sister and took the coin. As I fed the denomination into the slot I was almost sure of it being trapped or hostile, ready to kill us as everything else on the surface world so far had been. But it only took the money and gave a mechanical churning sound and a ka-chunk as a bottle dropped into the bottom slot. I reached in and was shocked to find it ice-cold. Already the bottle was collecting a little condensation from the dry air.

With a little effort the cap popped off and I handed it back to my sister. It had been her coin after all. With her uninjured claw she put it to her beak and tipped the bottle back. She gave a little squeal of delight and gulped down half.

“Ahhh! Oh my goddess you have to try this, Ashes!” Her small joy was my light in the wasteland and I beamed. I took it and sipped carefully before chugging the rest of the bottle myself. The flavors were unlike anything I had ever had before. It was fizzy too! It was sweet, oh so Celestia sweet, and tasted of the most luscious carrots any pony or griffin had ever dreamed. Eagerly I fished out my own few bits from old Caravan games and fed them into the slot. Only three more bottles came out before the vending machine would give no more and refused coin.

But that was three more Sparkle-colas than Cinder or I had expected to experience in our lives. I popped another cola open for my sister and tossed the cap casually away, not caring if I added to the mess. I checked my E.F.S. again before continuing past the little kitchen break room to the next flight of stairs.

The third floor had several doors, all leading to individual offices that either held junk or had collapsed. One had a faded poster of a cotton candy colored pony declaring ‘Pinkie Is Watching’ who’s bright glare thoroughly disturbed me and I shut the door quickly. The higher level bathrooms sadly held no first aid boxes and so I progressed on to the fourth floor.

Sometime ago the ceiling had collapsed a good third of the upper floor, leaving it open to the sky.

Did I mention that I was an idiot? I could have avoided the stupid traps downstairs if I had bothered to fly up and check for a fucking roof access! Sure it hadn’t been visible from my angle but still! Ugh, I would learn or I would die, but if I died where would that leave Cinder? So I steeled my resolve to do better.

One door still remained though. Lulled by harmless rooms I pushed heedlessly against the stained wood. Only the faint creek of another tripwire warned me. Fortunately, I was starting to catch on and immediately threw myself backwards. I was just quick enough to get a shoulder grazed by buckshot and not a chest full. Oh yeah, I’m assuredly a featherbrain.

The crack of the twenty gauge shotgun sounded loud in the small space. The Stable jumpsuit proved again to be pathetic protection against the dangers of the wasteland.

Cinder just barely hung on as I reeled back in pain. I hissed and gripped my arm. Damn but did that sting! I hugged the wall and pushed the door the rest of the way open, expecting more traps but it seemed the rigged shotgun had been the last one. But that had seemed the case before so I stepped carefully and entered the executive office. It was easily three times larger than the others and was dominated by a massive, curved desk. On the desk was the shotgun in question.

I examined the pitiful single shot weapon. The final discharge had broken the rusting thing into pieces. On the desk was also a glowing terminal, past it an old mattress that had really seen better days and in the corner sat the bones of a unicorn pony in tattered clothing. Next to him was a handwritten note and a .38 revolver.

I observed the hole in the equine skull below the horn and could easily guess his demise.

I set Cinder down on the mattress, went over to the pony bones, and checked the pistol and saw it had three shots left. Curiosity compelled me to pick up the note.

‘I never thought it would come to this. All my friends are dead or have abandoned me to this forsaken place. I’ve got nothing left. Let the fucking ghouls have the city. They won’t have me. Whoever is reading this, the password is ‘Grenade’ so you won’t make the same mistakes.’

The poor soul hadn’t even left a signature, knowing that it would probably never be read. I looked dejectedly at the bones. Pony or not, no one deserved that. Guiltily I rummaged through the pockets and found some bottle caps and another folded piece of paper. This one turned out to be a schematic for something titled a Bottle cap mine. At least I had a use for few dozen caps from the unicorn. My respect for the dead pony rose dramatically. My shoulder had stopped bleeding but it still hurt, and I suspected that I was looking at the remains of the psycho pony that had rigged the traps. Not entirely comfortable resting in the same room with a corpse I took the bones and laid them outside and closed the door.

Cinder nursed another bottle of Sparkle-cola as she sat on the mattress, keeping her weight off her injured leg. It seemed that we had found a place to rest at last. I insisted she strip off her torn jumpsuit and fished out the key for her harness, with a clack the straps and buckles came loose and she let out a breathy sigh of relief as she unfurled her wings. Even though we were injured and melancholy weighed heavy, we were free and alive.

And nothing felt better.

I checked over her wounds yet again, worried if her bone was straight and checked the bite on her shoulder. I unwrapped the bandages to look at the angry red skin and the gap in her feathers then rewrapped it in the clean bandages we had found. I dared not check her arm and risk hurting her worse, hoping that we could find either more medical supplies or a real doctor, if anyone was still alive beyond this blighted city.

I made sure that she was settled in and comfortable as I could manage before tending to myself. Off came the Stable suit, yellow 57 on the back. I gingerly slid it past my own untreated injury with a wince. Then came the moment, I unlocked my own harness and threw it off with loathing. My grey and black wings unfolded with a slow majesty from my sides. It felt good, liberating. I felt ready to jump for joy as my heart leapt, my soul lifted out of a black pit and felt a smirk creeping on as I massaged where the bindings had rubbed all my days.

After savoring the moment I took stock of our supplies and weapons. Between the two ten millimeter pistols there were seven rounds left total after the flight from the ghouls and just three shots for the unicorn’s revolver. Three flash bang grenades, five fragmentation grenades, three home brewed firebombs and half a dozen frag mines. Well, five working and one dud mine. I beamed at my personal arsenal of explosives and the inner fire lover was just waiting to test out my firebombs, my appetite merely whetted by torching the apartments. Besides a few cans of preserved apples and carrots we also had enough water canteens for at least a few days. I had also brought along my toolkit, tallied up a few hand tools, some duct tape, various scraps of electrical components and two bottles of wonderglue.

I looked down at my Stable jumpsuit with repugnance. Sudden inspiration struck me though as I realized I still had that suit of security barding. While he had no chance of wearing it myself, I could rip off the protective bits and using the discarded wing harnesses to fashion myself an armored Stable suit. Having grown up in a Stable ruled by the pony elite I had learned quickly the necessity of finding ways of converting equine gear to suit griffins better. It was certainly better than walking around the wasteland in nothing but my fur and feathers.

Someone or somepony had changed one end of the desk into a crafting surface with a vice so I got to work.

An hour later, after much cursing, some tape, more cursing, and a bottle of wonderglue I held up my finished work with a feeling not quite like pride, maybe satisfaction, or at least a comfortable amount of irony that an oppressor’s death and my own shackles had gone into making something that would protect me. My foot kicked something under the desk. I laid the armored barding down and squatted low.

There I found a lunchbox of all things! The color was faded but it was solidly built. After a moment of wondering what in Equestria the use of the thing would be I remembered the schematic left by the unicorn.

With the diagram laid out on the desk I went down the list of components. Frowning at the lack of certain constituents I pondered for a moment and came to an elegant solution if it would work. Fishing out the mine which had failed to detonate and a screwdriver, I pried the housing open. Into the lunchbox went some bottle caps, the explosive payload and on the outside I attached the sensor from the mine with a little replacement wiring from my own stock.

Add one Bottle cap mine to our inventory list! I showed it eagerly to Cinder.

“You get excited over the weirdest stuff, you know that?” She tittered. “Just let me know when you’re planning to set that thing off so I can stand far, far away as you explode.”

“Have faith in me, I haven’t exploded yet have I?” She just laughed weakly and shook her head. I turned my attention at last to the terminal, warily saving it for last after my most recent experience with data interface devices. Sure enough when prompted for a password the one provided by the dead pony unlocked it else I would have been lost.

Knowledgeable though I may be with the mechanism of their function and use I was no good at hacking terminals. I understood it in principle, the password guessing thing, but my experimentation in Stable 57 had only ended with several locked screens and pony delivered beatings.

The terminal held several dated log entries, which reminded me to check the logs I had recovered from the Overmare’s terminal once I was done. I selected the oldest first to read them in what I hoped was chronological order.

***

>Day 1:

Okay, so Dusk Treader wants me to keep this log of our expedition into Ghoul City. Says it’s important so that’s what I’m doing. Just kind of looked around town today until we found this place and got maps for the city out of this computer. Dusk decided it would be a good fallback point in case we got separated.

Megaspells really hit this place hard, not directly for some reason but something definitely hammered this place, only way to really explain all those damn fires that never go out. Not as many ghouls as I thought for a place called Ghoul city though. We’ve only scratched the surface but still. Most of the damn things are blind! Too long staring into the fires I think. They aren’t natural, too red I think.

We’ve come here looking for the M.A.S. research lab. No one knows what it was they were researching, but legend says it’s a treasure unlike any other. Something from before the war, something powerful enough to make the Stripes pummel the hell out of this place. That’s what we’re after. And according to these maps it’s going to be smack dab in the middle.

Dusk wants us to wait until daylight and head over to the hospital by that really big fire pit to stock up before we really head in.

***

I backed out to the main menu and saw an option hidden among the logs.

>Download city map?

Hell yes I would!

A quick scan showed a full map of Ghoul City now in my PipBuck. I looked and saw location markers labeled City Hall, Fluttershy District Hospital, Police Department, and others beside, but one stuck out that resided independent of the rest, the one that said Ministry of Arcane Science R&D. I had no intention of going there to search for some mythical treasure but I now had the location of somewhere I could get medicine and aid for Cinder and myself. Having found useful tidbits of information I otherwise would have missed after only one entry, I continued to read.

Out came my little silver lighter, the act of flicking the flame open and closed soothing and familiar.

***

>Day 3:

Fuck! Reginald is dead. We went to the hospital expecting to just breeze through some half blind ghouls but something was there. Something none of us had ever seen before. It was a ghoul but like it had crawled out of that damn fire pit! Nothing we threw at it even slowed the damn thing. It just grabbed Reginald and broke his back like he was a twig. We just left his body for the ghouls but the fire one didn’t care about feeding, it just wanted the kill. I think those eyes will haunt me till the day I die. Took us five blocks to shake the damn thing.

Treader said we’d rest today and head to the ministry building. This had better be worth it.

***

Something about that name stuck out to me, something nagging. Flick click went my lighter.

***

>Day 4:

So today we went to the ministry. The whole place is surrounded by a moat of that damn fire. There’s only a few narrow place to cross that are still safe. The zombie bastards were thick today, had to fight through more than one group, and no matter how many we kill there are more the next day. There were a few ghouls inside but nothing we couldn’t handle. Thank Celestia we didn’t run into one of those fire ghouls again, it would have wasted us. We didn’t get far though, lots of locked doors and terminals. We can see signs where other ponies have come and gone, no other traces though. Pretty uneventful all things considered in terms of legendary treasure.

I did notice a few weird things though. Wrong things. Like writing on the walls that looks like it was written in blood and I swear I saw a princess staring down at me this once. I know that sounds crazy but she had wings and a horn! One minute there the next poof! Gone! Something about this doesn’t sit right with me. It looks as though at least a dozen groups like ours have passed along over the years. And many of them locked the way back up behind them. Why? Something tells me that whatever treasure there is, it’s not worth it. Treader has faith though, so I guess that’s good enough.

***

The little fire crystal tirelessly produced its spark over and over.

***

>Day 7:

Everypony is dead. Well, they’re probably dead. I lost track of them down there in that hell. We had finally reached the bottom floor. That’s when things went to shit. There is something down there. Something… I don’t even know what. But I know that it burned. Treader scouted the final chamber himself and came back crazy. He was just screaming nonsense, and then he sat down and slit his own throat. Buttercup went in next and she never came back out. The others were shouting and arguing when they came around the corner. By they I mean the fire ghouls. Dozens of them.

The rest of us ran for it. Everypony for themselves. I managed to make it back here and trap the entrance. There are so many radiated cannibals out there the streets are nearly impossible to cross. I’ll be damned if one of those ghouls does to me what they did to the rest. If somepony is reading this now. Get out. Leave this damned city. It’s fucking Ghoul City. It’s fucking Ghoul City because the ghouls own it. It’s theirs, and nopony is every going to tell them otherwise.

***

The clicking stopped and the little tongue of flame seemed to float in the air.

I read the last entry in horror, able to imagine what had happened, but what resided at the beating heart of this diseased, cursed place was beyond me. I determined that in the morning I would take my sister far away from this place. Whatever clues this place held were not worth our lives. Even though the hospital was a tempting prospect I disregarded the possibility. We would have to spend the night though, flying low under all the smoke would be enough a strain even fully rested.

I stifled a yawn and went to the mattress where Cinder had already gone to sleep, too exhausted to care about the pain. I lay next to her, kissing her once before settling in.

***

A few hours later something was nudging me awake. “Uhn. Huh what?” I blinked, my speech slurring.

“Brother…” Cinder moaned weakly.

“Waz wrong?” I opened my eyes further and clicked on my PipBuck light to see her swaying; holding her head, the stench of vomit flitted to me. I felt my sibling’s forehead. Oh mercy, she was burning with fever! I checked her shoulder bandages to see fresh blood, and beneath the wound was cracked and black. I delicately took her wrapped arm and sniffed.

I could smell the infection, a sickly, rotting fragrance.

“Oh no, no, no, no.” I whispered. Carefully I eased her onto her back. She needed medicine or she was going to die, never mind flying out of the city. I was going to have to go to the hospital.

No matter what monsters might be there.

Footnote: Level up.
Perk gained: Think Fast! – You are a swift learner. You gain an additional 10% whenever experience points are earned.