Fallout Equestria

Chapter 24.

Death.

The battlefield was strewn with bloody corpses under a charcoal-grey sky that heaved and threatened rain.

I was dying. Or, more precisely, my host was dying. And, trapped in his memory, I was along for the ride. Part of my mind remained coherent enough to wonder about that. I could feel the press of metal against my host's head, a helmet which could easily hold a recollector. Was I going to experience death?

The rest of my mind was overloaded by the pain that tore at my abdomen. My host had fallen against the wall of the trench, head propped up just enough to see that most of his body below the stomach was no longer as attached as it should be. I could see his intestines and internal organs spilling out onto the recently dug dirt. Mercifully, I couldn't feel that... my host had lost all feeling below the top of the wound.

He was already dead. He must have known it, but his body just hadn't gotten the message yet.

Who was I? I had assumed this was Applesnack's memory, since it came from one of the orbs in his memory case. But that seemed unlikely now. Between the armored barding and the blood, I couldn't be sure.

Several pegasi flew back and forth over the battlefield, searching, relaying messages or calling out names. For a moment, a familiar sky-blue mare with her shockingly brilliant rainbow mane and tail swooped over my trench. She hovered, looking about frantically. Her blood-stained purple suit looked nearly black in the light and her battle saddle was scorched. Her eyes fell on me and she winced. Then she was off again.

"Hey!" The large form of a particularly statuesque red stallion in similar military barding slid down into the trench next to me. His eyes went wide as he took in the morbid reality of my wounds.

"So... Sarge... we drive those striped bastards back?" I felt my muzzle move, and the words came out in a low, masculine voice.

I felt a drop of wetness hit our cheek. At first, I thought the other pony was crying. But then another raindrop fell out of the sky, and another, and another.

"Ayep," the red pony nodded, wisps of orange mane fell from under his helmet, caked a dark red by blood. He spoke slowly, "Ya did good, soldier. Mighty good. They'll make ya Sergeant after this." Rain was beginning to soak into his coat, washing caked blood out of it.

My host choked, coughing up blood. The taste was warm and coppery in our mouth. "Post mortem, I'm afraid, Sarge." My host's voice was eerily calm and even. He had minutes left to live, if that. And he seemed... at peace with it. "I'm afraid I won't be joining you when you go after all."

We felt cold. A chill deeper than that from the rain. I felt drops of rain kissing the seeringly painful wound. I was thankful I couldn't feel drops landing inside me.

"Don't talk," the big one said, looking deeply wounded. "Ah ain't ready t' let ya go, buck."

"Think the zebras had different to say." My god, my host actually chuckled. He was in utter agony... I hadn't felt pain like this since the dragon set me on fire; I was sure that my own body was screaming... and he just chuckled. Like it was nothing. "Don't worry, Sarge. We won the day, right? No regrets..."

The big red stallion looked like he was fighting tears. My host just grinned, his muzzle full of his own blood. "...Well, one regret. Never did get to meet that hot sister of yours."

The stallion frowned dangerously, and I suddenly realized that his mane was the same color as Applejack's coat. And they had similar freckles. Big Macintosh bristled, then burst into a gruff laugh. "Now ya got t' pull through," he grinned, "So's Ah c'n buck yer backside, boy!"