The Long Road Home

by ISKV

Act 1, Chapter 1 - From Dust, to Rust

The wind whistled as a light pink pegasus soared between the massive structures that jutted out of the ground as if they were trying to stab the sky. Her usually curly silver mane was tamed into a ponytail with a length of string, otherwise her grey eyes would be covered in a cloud of fluff. Her left saddlebag was full to the brim with maps and trinkets found on expeditions, while her right bag held her lifeline, a military radio taken from an abandoned warehouse. Her headset was currently around her neck, long periods of wearing it caused painful aching around her temples.

Suddenly, her headset came to life as a voice miles away began to talk.

"Horizon..." Blitz said in a singsong voice, his smooth voice perfect if there ever was a job opening for a shampoo commercial. He was an earth pony, one of the few non-pegasi scouts. He walked with a limp after an accident that involved a weak floor and particularly large basement. While he never went out into the field again, he made himself useful and got himself a job as the "Hub" of the scouts. All information came from him, and all information went to him.

She slipped on her headset in a single, practiced move. "Don't call me that! It's EVE!"

"Geez... take your pills, calm down, and pull out whatever you have up your ass." he paused, "Then again..."

"Don't do it."

"I wonder..."

"Don't do it!"

"Who named you..."

"DO NOT DO IT."

"Event Horizon?" Blitz smirked and snickered through the radio.

Eve let out a loud groan as she was forced to hear the one thing about her she was not comfortable with. She was barely a filly when she picked out a book on space. After falling asleep on the page about Black Holes, her parents had a weird tradition that she chose her own name. Unamused, she butchered the name from Event Horizon to just Eve.

"Shut up Blitz. Just shut up." said the scout through clenched teeth.

"Ah man... I really wanna-"

"HEY. Blitz!" a gruff voice yelled, "Stop flirtin' with your girl and give her the list!"

"Sorry sir." Blitz said in a quiet voice. The only one who would talk to him like that was his father, leader of their little community. Rustling sounds could be heard as the pony rearranged papers.

"Okay... We need you to find... Diesel fuel, 100 gallons, three car batteries, don't worry if they're empty just make sure they're intact... Ah... as many solar cells you can find, and preserved oat rations, also as many as you can find. And if you can get some more of that German beer. I... I mean, THEY. Will love you."

Eve rolled her eyes, "Yeah. Just like how they all love you eh’ Casanova? And no. No beer. The last time there was alcohol you kept hitting on everyone! Including me!”

"I did? Oh... I think I did..."

"Blitz..." his father growled from the back of the room.

"Yessir. Alright Eve, good luck with everything. I gotta take care of a giant shitstorm Daisy managed to stir up.”

The call ended there and the wind picked up. Below, she could see that she had flown into an urban battleground. Tanks lay rusting in the streets, some completely intact, others no more than scrap metal. Bullet holes peppered whatever was left of the buildings that weren't completely destroyed by bombs.

She looked around for a familiar white and blue logo. Because even in a post-apocalyptic world there is no better place to start than at Walmart™.

***

Her job was a salvage/scout, or more jokingly referred to as a Vulture. She was one of the few scouts in her home community, bringing her quite a lot of respect. But she wasn't the best, Thunderstruck was. He was a mix of quick wings, good eyesight, and gut instinct. But what she lacked physically, she made up for with knowledge. Her mentor, a retired scout herself, often wondered why the filly would spend time learning about languages used across the world instead of training to fly, spot potential supplies, and assess the purity of collected water. But a treasure trove was opened when a foreign ship was discovered half sunk in a port. Her knowledge of many languages and general know-how proved invaluable when the items inside the containers were put to use. To this day, the community was still using what they had found.

Eve hummed a random tune as she pushed along a cart through the dark aisles, littered with products and goods meant for use for those long gone. Car batteries? Auto Maintenance. Solar cells? Lawn lights usually had a good sized cell. Boxes of preserved oats? Food.

She had to give the Americans credit though. What they made, they made to last. Eve tried hard not to think about the strong preservatives that would've been used on the tasteless bars of oats.

But Walmart had only so much. As big as the retail corporation was, fuels were the one thing they did not sell. Ancient wheels squeaking, she pushed the battered cart outside the store and put on her headset.

"Ey Blitz." she said in a bored voice.

A moment later, he replied, "Yo."

"I'm at Walmart. Got everything except the fuel. I'm gonna leave a cart with the stuff inside and look around some more."

"Got it. Oh hey," Blitz scratched his head, "Um... Ah..."

Eve was silent til she realized, "No. No beer."

He replied with a groan until he got a smack on the head with a rolled up newspaper, "Okay, okay... I'll send Raincloud and Daisy. It isn't that heavy right?"

Even though she was alone, she shook her head out of habit, "Nope. Two should be enough."

"Alright."

The pegasus closed her eyes and breathed.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

She thought about her life. Friends back at camp. Her job. The very air around her.

Eve opened her eyes. For now, fuel.

***

She soared through the air over the bay, the salty smell of the water filling her nose with nostalgia. The pegasus imagined what it would've looked like before the war, golden unending sand with waves of clear blue water lapping on the beach. No mess of military vehicles that littered the area or the ships that brought them here.

Eve tucked in her wings and dived, the air blowing her mane and tail straight back. It was one of her favorite things to do and sometimes she would spend a whole day doing nothing but that. The pegasus opened her wings at the last moment which cushioned her fall. Hooves lightly tapping as she touched down on top of the armored vehicles, Eve examined a line of Russian tanks that appeared to have been unloaded but never used.

She tapped one of the external fuel tanks. After a short but deep *Gong*, Eve grinned, and with a quick burst from her wings, hopped onto the adjacent vehicle. It answered with an emptier *Bong* but it still sounded like it had some fuel inside. The next was totally empty, most likely due to the bottom half shot off by bullets. The rest had random amounts of fuel left, more than enough for her community. Using her teeth and trying to ignore the taste of rust, she popped off the fuel cap. A strong smell of refined oil reached her nostrils, causing her vision to blur. The pegasus quickly backed off, breathing deeply to expel the fumes. With her mind cleared, she examined what was left of the barrel's label. Though the standard fifty-five gallon drum was physically intact, it was covered in rust and chipped paint.

Brushing aside decades of dust and sand, Eve squinted, trying to make out the large, white characters painted on years ago.

R-77

Multipurpose

WARNING! Keep Out Of Reach Of Children!

She grinned.

Hailing from deep within the Ural Mountains, the highly classified multipurpose fuel was a unique 'Cold-Burn' formula. Compatible with most engines, it could be used in jets, trucks, unmanned drones, and cruise missiles, but left only a marginal heat signature. Most missiles that relied on infrared tracking systems were useless on such vehicles. It was developed for use by the Special Forces, but had eventually leaked out into the rest of the world. While there were many other types of fuels that were formulated to withstand centuries of storage, R-77 was one of the rarest, making Eve's find all that more interesting.

The pegasus stopped her train of thought. Now was not the best time to nerd out about fuel. Slipping on her headset, Eve was just about to contact Blitz when out of the corner of her eye, she saw a ship not far off shore. Pulling out a pair of binoculars, the pegasus examined the vessel. Ships weren't uncommon, but this one was a relatively small cargo ship loaded with standard Intermodal containers in various conditions of wear. She couldn't read the writing due to the paint falling off, but she could tell that it wasn't a language she could read anyways. A little pinprick walked on the deck. Eve gasped.

A human!

Humans were exceptionally rare this far up north. Most stayed below the equator where the war wasn't as extreme. The most adventurous of humans never passed the Tropic of Cancer on land, and stayed miles out of sight at sea.

The ship slowly passed until it was out of sight. Eve started talking.

"Blitz, I found the fuel."

"Finally. The others are back already-"

"I saw a ship." Eve interrupted, all traces of sarcasm wiped from her voice.

"...And?" Blitz replied, his still bored-sounding.

"With humans."

Multiple gasps could be heard. It seemed like her fellow scouts were listening in. Another voice replied, this one more feminine.

"But... But... Humans?" Cerulean squeaked. She, like her name suggested, was blue from mane to wing to tail.

"Yup."

The microphone bumped as it changed hooves. Blitz's father came on the radio.

"Eve, get out of there. Forget about the fuel. Just get back!" he said, almost to the point of yelling. Though she wasn’t his child, all scouts were considered as such. Deadshot Heaven was known to go extreme lengths when others were threatened.

"Alright."

The scout took off and started flying back home. Gaining altitude, Eve could see the ship and its cargo again. But from here, the containers looked different. Small holes were cut in the walls near the top in all of the metal boxes. She abandoned those thoughts and high-tailed back home.

***

Eve was no more than a minute away from her home when the aforementioned Cerulean shot out and tackled the startled pegasus.

"EVE!"

"Waah!"

Cerulean squealed as Eve rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I was so worried! Are you alright? Are you alive? Did the humans get you?"

"Cee! I'm right here. Nothing happened." Eve reassured her.

"Oh. Good." the blue pegasus smiled and tapped her front hooves together twice, a habit she had picked up before she had arrived here.

Cerulean was an orphan who was found as a young filly. She never talked about her past or her family, if any. But once Eve crashed into her during scout training, both had a sisterly connection since. Cerulean was a bit of a ditz while Eve tended to be more blunt, but they countered each other into so perfect a balance, others often joked on how they were actually the same pony split into two.

The two landed in the center of their little home. The whole community was made from shipping containers salvaged from the nearby port and fitted with ventilation and lights. The only things younger than a decade were the foals running around.

Eve and Cerulean split up for the day, the latter wanting to try out whatever new creation the cook managed to make. Eve on the other hand had to make sure she was accounted for. She tiptoed over to the radio box that Blitz literally lived in. It was an odd monstrosity, with a generator stuck onto the back and a salvaged antenna jury-rigged on the roof, it resembled a giant, crippled ant. The rust-red color didn’t help.

Peeking inside, she could see a tan coated blond earth pony playing with his signature chromed chain around his neck. It was a cheap, dime-a-dozen knockoff, but Blitz was the kind to not stay still. He claimed it helped him calm down, and considering how much he was fiddling with it, one could say he was in a lot of stress.

Eve sneaked behind him. Yup, definitely nervous.

"Hey!" she said cheerfully.

She suppressed a giggle when he spun around on his chair so fast that he passed her and fell off. Blitz groaned as he rubbed his head. He was about to yell at whoever surprised him like that until he saw who was standing behind him.

"EVE!" he leapt up and hugged her, "You're alive!"

The mare in question felt her face getting warmer and rolled her eyes at his actions. Nonetheless, she hugged him back tightly. Only after they were together for a minute, Blitz's eyes shot open as he realized what he was doing, and slowly pulled away. The pair scratched their heads and avoided eye contact while an awkward silence ensued.

"Did you see the humans?” he blurted out, silently cursing himself a moment later at choosing a stupid conversation starter.

Eve shook her head, "They were too far away, but they looked really tall."

A dam broke as Blitz asked question after question, "Did they really have laser guns? Um, planes! Did they have-"

She held up a hoof to stop him, "I told you, they were too far away," Eve smiled, "Sorry I made you worry," Blitz mumbled something about not being worried, "but it's nice to know you care."

Eve walked out of the radio box to check up on the cart of items she found earlier. Blitz sat back down on his chair and let out the air he was subconsciously holding. He stared at the ceiling until another scout called home. For now, there was a job to be done.

***

My name is Weaver. I am a Colonel of the United States Army. This is my personal log, so please excuse me if my professionalism and attitude are not up to par.

My wife bought me this journal as a birthday gift. Truthfully I preferred an electronic tablet to write, but she said there was just something about putting pen onto paper. She’s a writer. I guess it’s a writer thing. It’s funny though, my favorite tablet is over a decade old, but the technology used in this old-fashioned journal made this thing a hell of a lot more expensive than the latest model. They claimed that paper was easier to preserve than circuit boards and polymer touchscreens. Even in the advertisement they said that their product could survive the apocalypse. But with the way things are going, I think their words are about to be tested.

We just lost Benny to the fucking Norks. He was roughly fifty-seven, older than all of us. It’s bad. Jaeger’s the only other mortar carrier that works, and I don’t think Hyperion’s gun is going to last. And there is no way Lumis is going into direct combat. He’s a command vehicle. He may have a machine gun, but that’s no excuse for sending him into the fight.

Mammoth and Rhino are the only tanks that work. Maximus, Grizzly, and Bruno’s engines have finally died. They’re being retired and re-purposed into semi-mobile bunkers.

The drones are faring better. The quadrotors are lasting surprisingly long, and the Crusher UGV is holding up better than we expected. They may have men, but we have the tech. Or, at least what’s left of it.

By the words of the great comedian George Carlin, I swear on my mother’s tits that if they try to get across the Rio Grande, I will personally see that they are flayed and dried out in the sun to make human jerky.

So if you are reading this, go to your nearest place of worship and ask whatever invisible man you believe in to leave me a message.

Did this journal survive the apocalypse?

Did we win the war?

If the United States Army doesn’t exist anymore, am I still a Colonel?

Please leave a message after the beep.

Beeeeeeeeep.

He looked up. This Colonel was, to say it eloquently, fucking bonkers. The man slumped in his seat in the back of the truck. Confusion was all over his face as the ancient vehicles rumbled and creaked, one after another in a large convoy. Muddy, irradiated water rained from above, and days when it rained in the middle of the night, one could swear that the sky looked nuclear green.

Squealing and screeching, the convoy slowed to a stop. Yells and orders quickly followed, and the men dismounted, their grueling tasks set for the next twelve hours.

He slipped the journal back into the inner pocket on his long coat. It was a gift from his father, before he passed. The story and personal words of Colonel Weaver's kept him sane, and even if he read Weaver’s story many times to the point of memorizing them, it was one of the few things that was genuinely interesting in his small, island-sized world.

As a team of work ponies heaved the wrecked but still massive tank from where it was buried, he hefted a pickaxe from a pile, and started to dig.