Pandorum: The Lost Tapes

Tape 2 [Beyond the Everfree]

Location: The Everfree Forest

Date: May 16th, 2012

Time: 8.00 P.M. - 9.00 P.M.

Heaven knows how long I have been running for the burning was no longer confined to my lungs alone. Every fiber of my body ached, sending ripples of pain up my calves with every hastened step I took. My frantic eyes searched the terrain, well aware that my fears were now playing hopscotch with my nerves for I stood on the edge of jumping out of my skin at any given moment. They were out there somewhere, those ungodly things. Patiently waiting like demons from the blackness, watching me with their pale, devilish eyes.

The frigid wind howled and blew a bitter chill past the trees. Their bare, scraggy branches stretched above like malevolent talons reaching out to me against the dark starlit sky. I couldn't remember the last time I gazed at the night sky after being locked underground for almost a year and a half. Truly, I would have considered it sight to behold had it not been for the horrors I had been forced to endure. I could almost chuckle at the cruel irony had I the will to spare.

The forest was a bloody maze and with every twist and turn, it led me deeper into dangerously unfamiliar territory. Tall silhouettes shadowed the damp and stagnant ground as the odor of decomposing wood hung heavily in the air. With no longer the strength to spare, I slowed to a jog and eventually to a complete stop as I struggled to feed my now starving lungs with air. The sickly stench of sweat and blood assaulted my nostrils though the fibers of my shirt.

Though it was the sound of my staggered breaths that made me realize just how silent everything was. Not the hoot of an owl nor the chirp of a cricket for miles on end. I recalled the ponies back at the facility and how they used to tell stories about this place. A good number of old mare's tales like the Ponyville Devil, or the village of Sunny Town. Typical stories grown ponies would tell to scare little foals into behaving, least the Cursed Ones come snatch them from their beds while they slept. For my part, I prayed that some stories would remain stories.

I had thought that perhaps I could find solace in the deafening silence around me. To regain my sense of peace and serenity now wrenched from my once mundane existence. Where did it all go wrong? I ran that thought again and again in the depths of my mind. My heart longed desperately to cast blame. Relishing in the thought as sweet as fresh apple cider of the odious things I would to him should I find the one responsible for this. But then, my mind would interject with the horrible truth that perhaps this nightmare was of my own doing.

Doctor Ian, Summerset, everyone and everypony on Team Pandora. As for me, how I've reached this appalling position with love, only love as my guide. Love, and a dream of a world, of a future without pain and without suffering. Noble intentions had led us all to atrocity. The righteous passion fueling our ingenious scheme was but delusion. I clenched my jaw, feeling my chest begin to tighten. With a cry of rage, I slammed my fist into tree next to me, chipping off a good piece of its bark.

Then, I heard a scream.

I gasped, feeling the bitter chill like the salient fangs of a venomous viper sinking into my skin.

I was not alone.

There were others out here in this dismal forest, and they were being hunted just like I was. As natural as instincts go, every inch of me wanted to turn tail and flee, but I was done leaving others out here to die. If they had escaped the facility, then they deserved to live as much as I did. Drawing a determined breath, I darted down the nearest path.

I ran as fast as I could, tearing through the foliage like a man possessed. Along the way, I picked up a couple of scratches and cuts, but I paid them no mind.

"Hold on, I'm coming!" I cried into the darkness, praying that the sound of my voice would offer them hope.

I gnashed my teeth together, forcing myself onwards as I heard the cries of terror grow louder with every passing second. It was there at the end of the tree line, I spotted a clearing to what led to a dirt road. But before I could reach it, I snagged my foot on something big and heavy.

"Whoa!" I tumbled face first to the ground.

I groaned, cursing myself for having taken a mouthful of dirt upon impact. In the midst of clearing my mouth of the God-awful taste, I froze.

There, I found myself staring deep into a pair of pale, emerald green orbs of a unicorn mare lying in a pool of her own blood. I shuddered at the thought of what had tripped me and my curiosity be damned, I decided to look.

Oh, dear Christ…

It was a human body. Mangled, torn, twisted and ripped apart in ways I hadn't the courage to describe. I screwed my eyes shut, digging my fingers deep into the damp soil in a desperate attempt to banish the haunting image from my mind but to no avail.

Help me…

My eyes shot open. The terrible screams continued on, but hidden under those pitiful pleas for mercy I thought I heard a whisper. Hesitantly, I turned my gaze to the unicorn from before.

Her eyes shifted to mine.

"Fuck!" I cried as my legs gave way.

"Help… me… please…" she whispered. Blood gushed out like an open faucet from gaping wound in her neck with every uttered word.

I couldn't breathe, nor could I believe my eyes. I didn't want to. Such a sight has never haunted me so, not even in my worst nightmares. The adrenalin flew over my veins like a carp through the river, but I couldn't move a single muscle, not even to scream. She was alive, she was alive but I hadn't the will or the sanity to help her.

Then, from the empty blackness, I heard a growl.

I gasped, snapping my attention to the sound of rustling foliage.

Shit…

Something was coming, and I was pretty certain I knew what.

"Help me… don't… leave… me," the unicorn begged.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry…"

I jumped to my feet. There was no time to make a run for it. I had to hide. Darting to the nearest tree, I dropped to the ground and took refuge behind it. The rustling grew louder the closer it got, then it came to a stop. Silence ensued, broken only by the subtle sounds of heavy breathing and a slow, ferocious growl.

"No… no… please… no. Celestia… help… me– AAAAHHHH!"

The scream was drowned by the sickening sounds of teeth tearing into flesh.

I smothered myself, feeling the bitter tears streaming down my face. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Oh God, please forgive me!

There were no words to describe how much I despised myself at that very moment. Coming here was a mistake and as always, I had let my foolishness get the better of me. I had hoped to be their savior, but instead became a monster who had willingly abandoned them to their fate. Though between the uncontrollable trembling and the overwhelming feeling of self-loathing, I regained my composure just long enough to realize that the gut-wrenching sounds of chewing had ceased.

What the… Where could it–

I gasped, petrified at the sudden sound of a deep, labored grunt behind me as I was assaulted by the horrible stench of death and decay. Sweat poured down my body as I stayed perfectly still. I tried not to breath, but I knew it was impossible. It was there, it was right there. I could see it in the corner of my eye. I screwed my eyes shut, biting my bottom lip as I felt its putrid breaths upon my bare skin. This was it, I was going to die here, I thought. It was going to find me and rip me apart like that poor mare.

Then, nothing.

Not a growl, not even a peep. Even then I was too afraid to open my eyes. I thought that if I did, I would find it staring me right in the eye like a scene straight out of a B-Rated horror flick. Only when the sounds of feeding continued did I allow myself to exhale deeply, realizing I'd been holding my breath the entire time. I didn't know if it had been fate or sheer dumb luck but once again, I had escaped death's grasp by the skin of my teeth.

I needed a new plan, but I could no longer go back the way I came, not with that thing in the way. Lady Luck may throw you a dime once in a while, but fortune rarely smiles a second time. As for the mare, just like Summerset, I had no choice but to make peace with myself and come to terms with the fact that there was nothing I could have done to save her. I wiped the tears from my face, smearing dirt all over my face, but I was too emotionally drained to care. Though before I could sneak away, I heard something emerge from behind a bush on the opposite side of the road.

"Help me, somepony, help me, please!"

I kept low as I watched a cream colored mare limping across dirt-covered road but she didn't get very far, not with those things on her tail. Those screams, they belonged to her. From the outlines, I counted at least four– two ponies and two humans, snarling like they abominable beasts they were as they converged on her withering frame.

"No, no, go away! Go away! Help me, help me sompony, anypony, help me!"

She screamed at the top of her lungs, begging for something, anything to save her. I could see the fear in her eyes, and how it clawed at my heart. Like the consistent fool I was, I was ready to risk everything to save her, at least until I saw the bite marks her foreleg. I balled my fist and bit down hard on my knuckle. She was as good as dead and even if I had saved her, she would have turned all the same.

"No, no! Celestia, please no!"

I watched as her hooves collapsed beneath her, her baby blue irises shrinking to the size of pinheads at her reckoning made flesh. It growled, salivating like a starved Timberwolf before its prey. I would have turned away then and there, had I not noticed something in the distance.

Could it be? For a moment I had reason to hope, for at the end of the road laid a concrete building surrounded by a metal fence. It was a bunker, or at least it looked like a bunker. Probably an outpost for one of the security forces patrolling the A.E.G.I.S. facility. I knew that getting into that bunker would mean me getting my hands on well needed supplies. The hard part was clearing a good 50 yards without drawing attention to myself.

"Aaaaahhh! Help me, help me please! No, no!"

I returned my gaze to the mare from before. Just like that, the voice of the Devil began overriding that of my conscience. Leaving her to her fate would provide me the distraction I needed. Though, coming to terms with my own helplessness was one thing, but knowing sacrificing someone was a different matter entirely. As reason warred with emotion, my heart inevitably grew cold as the Devil won out in the end. Just as the stallion ripped off a good chunk from the mare's foreleg, I climbed to my feet and ran as if Hell itself was on my tail.

It took every ounce of me to block out her screams, her cries of pain, and her pitiful whinnies as she called out to a deity who had forsaken her just the same. I looked back over my shoulder as the others began to feast, ravaging her with their ravenous limbs, parting her tendons, taking chunk after chunk from her bones as they tore her to pieces.

Then, in that split second, her head turned in my direction.

Our eyes met.

There was no scream. She couldn't. Those things had ripped out her throat barely seconds after, silencing her for all eternity. Blood, so much blood, how it sickened me to no end, though what sickened me most was my own cowardice.

Oh, Maria… what have I become?

Eventually, all that remained of those two mares faded into the distance along with their hopes and their memories. As I approached the bunker, I stopped to take a well-deserved breather, careful to remain in the shadows in case there were more of those things up and about. I took a knee, using cover of a nearby tree to get a better view of the perimeter. From what I could see, the bunker had remained intact, primarily because of the electrical fence surrounding it. Judging by the charred carcasses still holding onto it, I would say that it was still very much operational.

"Shit."

I ran the numbers in my mind, contemplating on the possibilities of survivors still holed up inside. If there were people or ponies on the inside, I was certain they had no intention of offering aid, hence the fence. If it were abandoned, everything inside would remain in one piece leaving me a much better chance of finding exactly what I needed. I groaned, there were too many variables to consider but none of it would matter if I couldn't solve my most important dilemma.

How the heck am I getting in?

I turned my attention to the door in the metal fence, more precisely at the keypad mounted next to it as I realized it was exactly the same as the security terminals they used back at the A.E.G.I.S. facility. They were retinal scanners. State of the art technology that responds only distinctive eye patterns, almost like a fingerprint. In other words, I was locked out tight and there was no getting in there, least not with my eyes.

A ragged snarl pierced the stillness as I backed myself against the tree trunk. Peeking over my shoulder, I laid eyes on yet another of those things. This time it was my fellow human being.

Though there was something odd about this one, minus the fact that he was missing an arm. If not for the blood red eyes and blackened veins webbing across his exposed flesh, he looked very much alive. The man growled, drool dribbled down the entire length of his chin as he salivated like a diseased pooch. I did my best to recall what Doctor Ian had told me about the infected. The bits and pieces about the symptoms they would show barely minutes upon contact. A perfect specimen of the infection in its primary stages, at least before rigor mortise and rot begin setting in.

Naturally, the only logical choice was to wait until the danger had come to pass. It would have been wise decision, had I not noticed the uniform he was wearing. More precisely, the words A.T.L.A.S. Security stitched into the bloodstained denim fibers. I had also realized that his eyeballs were still intact, resting snugly within his eye sockets.

It certainly did not take me long to put two and two together.

I shuddered at my own idea, attempting to banish the repulsive notion but like everything else, there was no denying the plain, simple truth. There, behind a wall of death lies my salvation and all that stands in my way is once a living, breathing human being. I hear the Devil's whisper against my better judgement. His words like poison seeping into my very soul like black ink.

My voice of reason however, wielded my morality like a sword against the evils that had tainted me. Words of virtue against temptation going back and forth, back and forth while I lay in denial of the darkness that now wells within me. I closed my eyes, covering my face with the palm of my hand as my thoughts wandered to Doctor Ian's final moments, to that of my beloved Maria and the promises I had made, ones I intended to keep.

As I opened my eyes, I found myself staring at a rock about the size of grapefruit sitting idly before me. Then, came an understanding so large, it left no room for reason. I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. In the face of adversity, every creature on the face of the Earth is interested in one thing and one thing only, its own survival. When it boils down to pure, unadulterated instinct, the Devil always wins.

I knew what I had to do.

"Maria… forgive me." I grabbed hold of it in the palm of my hand. Gripping it tightly as I waited for it to grow closer.

I knew that there was no margin for error. I needed to take it down as quickly as possible or risk alerting others to my presence. It growled again, half-wheezing as it struggled to breathe through blocked nostrils now caked with mucus and dried blood. My breaths grew short, my heart pounded against my chest as I was forced to relive the moment I had decapitated that stallion with an axe. This was no different, I thought. It was either me or him, and when this was all over, only one will emerge unscathed. I steeled my heart as well as my nerves, readying myself the moment he came within range.

One… two… THREE!

I charged from behind the tree like a maddened bull and the ferocity to match, catching that the thing off guard. It had turned to face me, but only a moment too late.

Leaning into my shoulder, I tackled it straight to the ground. It snarled, wailing its one good arm in an attempt to free itself from my clutches. I shifted my weight on top of it, pinning it down by wrangling its neck in an attempt to suffocate it. Barring my teeth, I raised the rock high above my head. I cried at the top of my lungs, giving into my most primal of instincts as I smashed its head in over and over again.

It thrashed about as I tightened my grip around its neck, cutting off its windpipe. Tremors of impact shook my arm. Warm blood splashed my face, and with every strike, I felt pieces of me, like the pieces of skin and bone being torn apart and scattered in every direction. In my crazed delirium, I kept on hammering, and hammering, and after a while, all I was doing was pounding wet chunks of brain matter into the ground.

So I stopped.

I panted as my body trembled. The sound of my own heartbeat felt like speakers tuned on high against my eardrums. My arms felt heavy against my side as I felt the rock slip from my fingers. The world felt wet to the touch, from the skin on my face to the tip of my fingers and by now I could no longer tell if it's sweat or something else entirely. It took a good while before my breathing began to steady and my senses to return. Though deep down, I wished that it hadn't, least I be spared the horror I had left in my wake.

The man, that thing, was no longer moving. He looked to be a sleep now and I would have believed it had it not been for all of the blood and the gaping wound in his skull. My bloodied hands shook as I brought them to my line of sight. He was a monster, an infected, he no longer had the consciousness of a man and he would have killed me just the same. It was kill or be killed, my actions should be justified. But why did my heart tell me otherwise? Why do I feel as if I had just murdered an innocent man?

I drew a breath through my gritted teeth, knowing that the worst of my intentions was yet to come. Though lost in my moment of insanity, I thanked the heaves that I had refrained from damaging his eyes. Perhaps I should count myself lucky, in a rather disturbing, demented way. I started to search his pockets for anything useful. I patted him from top to toe, finding a few wrapped pieces of candy, a couple of Equestrian lotto tickets. Then, I found it in his right side pocket.

"Jackpot."

I knew the familiar feel of a Swiss Army knife for I had one just like it when I was a child. It had been a coming of age gift from my old man before… from a much simpler time. As I flipped the blade into view, I caught sight of something in his shirt pocket. Raising an eyebrow, I reached for it, feeling it glossy to the touch as I pulled it out.

"Oh, fuck…"

It was a photograph, one a devoted family man would never leave home without. He had a wife and two little girls. Turning it around, glanced over sentence penned in cursive through a hand drawn shape of a heart.

Te amaré por siempre – Carlos & Mia Santiago

"I will love you forever." They were they very same words Maria used to say to me.

My heart broke, though I no longer had anymore tears to shed, only a forlorn sense of emptiness and regret. I laid the photo faced down upon his chest before moving his hand on top of it, holding it close to his heart. I couldn't bear the look of those innocent eyes and blissful smiles, and in turn, I had hope to spare them of what was about to happen.

"Lo' siento," I muttered.

With knife in my hand, I moved closer to the man's face. All I could do now is pray that the Lord would grant the strength to see this through. The Lord? I delude myself. By now, I was no longer worthy of his grace. No, something else is watching over me in His stead. Something cruel, something sinister.

Slowly but carefully, I parted the man's eyelids, feeling my body shiver as our eyes met. I may be immune but a part of me remained wary if I should jar him from his eternal rest. Only this time, I would no longer have the element of surprise. Now I may not have any medical experience, but I did have steady hands and that was enough. Sweat trickled down my face, as I brought the blade to his eye. I slipped it under his eyelid with surgical precision, careful not to damage the cornea. I don't think I could stomach a second time should I screw this up.

When I found the muscle within, I began to cut, sliding the blade to and fro as if I was cutting into a piece of steak. Slowly but surely, I felt the tendons begin to part.

It took all my willpower, all of it, to keep me emptying my stomach then and there. I could almost taste putrid sourness gurgling at back of my throat, threatening to unleash the floodgates of whatever I had left swirling about in my gut. The minutes began to pass me by, and each and every one was just as unbearable as the last. It would have taken me half the time I hadn't the need to calm my nerves. I kept on cutting, occasionally jerking the blade to see the eyeball had come loose within the eye socket. When I was satisfied with my work, I drew a deep breath, and severed the optic nerve.

Alright, easy does it. Just like reaching for an olive in a martini glass, at least that was what I thought. Holding the knife in place, I reached into the man's skull, gradually losing the battle against my own reflexes as I fought to keep myself from throwing up. Blood drenched my fingers as I inched it from its bony prison, and before long, I had done it.

I did it, I recited the words in my head like a hymn of victory, but never had triumph felt so horrifying. As I found myself gazing at the eyeball clutched in my hand, I could no longer hold myself back. I gagged, turning away from the body, I was hit by a torrent of uncontrollable spasms. There was nothing left to empty and yet my body felt no relief until it has convulsed to its sheer content.

I wiped the saliva from my mouth, disgusted with myself in more ways than one, but I got what I came for. Clambering to my feet, I bolted in the direction of the bunker, almost tripping over myself as my knees gave way. Things weren't looking good for me, that much I knew. Like an engine running on fumes, I've gotten this far with nothing but pure adrenaline and fear. I needed something, anything or the next time I run into those thing might just be my last. Arriving at the gate, I tapped my fingers across the Plexiglas surface.

"Welcome," said a digitized voice as the monitor came alive. "Please remain motionless."

Then it dawned upon me, what if it didn't work? What if killing a man and cutting his eyeball out like a crazed psychopath had all been for naught? I shook my head, knowing that it was too late to turn back now. Holding it in my fingers, I raised the eye to the scanner above.

"Scanning in progress."

I closed my eyes.

"Scanning in progress."

A breath escaped me.

"Scanning complete. Level 1 clearance, Private Santiago."

My eyes snapped wide open to the sounds of disengaging locks and the churning of metallic gears. It worked, passage acquired by acts worthy of my damnation, but it worked. Though, my relief weighed heavy with regret, I made my way into the compound. I allowed the bloodied eye to slip from my torpid fingers to the grass beneath my feet. Just like everything else, I left it to its own devices. Before me stood the concrete bunker, its walls now grey and eroded by the elements. I drew my attention to the steel door painted in red, noticing that it had been bolted from the outside.

Strange, I thought. Perhaps none of them had been lucky enough to make it here in one piece. Or, a cold sweat ran down the side of my face, they could have locked it up tight to ensure what's in there will never see the light of day. Once again, the universe has thrown yet another a gamble in my path, a 50-50 chance of life or death awaiting me in the confines of that bunker with only one way in and one way out. I scoffed, despising my naivety in believing that after everything I had been through, things would finally be going my way. The world is cruel, and it certainly wasn't being subtle about it.

I breathed out heavily, albeit shakily as well as I reached for the metal bolt. With a grunt of effort, I slid it aside and opened the door. The hinges creaked in protest, echoing down the dark, empty hallway that led inside. I looked over my shoulder, offering a final thought to those I had left behind, to the tortured souls who looked to the heavens for hope, only to have damnation raining down upon them. To the bodies I desecrated, trampled on as I clung to my miserable existence.

Mouthing words of prayer, I stepped into the darkness.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Hope can be a terrible thing.

I allowed the door to close behind me with a loud clang and immediately, I was engulfed by the shadows within. Blinded and deafened by the nothingness, I heard only the sound of my own beating heart, growing faster with every passing second. Soon, I was met with the mechanical grindings of a booting generator, sighing a breath of relief as the lights came on. It was a fairly large facility and to be honest, it looked more like a barrack rather than a bunker. Making my way further inside, I pushed through another metallic gate as my eyes wandered from the messy bunk beds and metal shelves stacked against the wall.

The floors were scattered with everything imaginable, from files, pieces of paper, even books and magazines. I scoffed at the mare in sexy lingerie plastered on this month's issue of Playpony resting at my feet. In all honesty, I've never been attracted to ponies, unlike Anna. I remembered how Mom threw an ungodly fit when she brought home her first coltfriend, she was sixteen then.

I sighed. My parents had always been traditional in that sense and if they were alive today, I don't think they would have even approved of Maria. Not that I would have given a damn.

The place was a complete and utter mess. Whoever lived here certainly left in a hurry, and judging by its still sorry state, they never made in back.

Alive that is.

Then, I saw something at the far left of the structure and like a breath of fresh air to a drowning man, I spotted my salvation. Shelves, more precisely what was stacked upon them. Boxes upon boxes marked M.R.E and instantly, I knew what they were. Like a raving madman, I dashed toward them and pulled them right off. Throwing it on the ground, I made short work of cardboard box and grabbed the first bag I could get my hands on. I felt feral, all sense of civility drowned by the pulsing hunger now egging my need to feed. I growled, violently tearing the bits and pieces of plastic and foil as if they were mortal enemies put on this earth to defy me. I didn't stop to read its contents. In fact, I didn't care. The moment I got the first pack open, I gorged myself to my heart's content.

It felt like chewing on toilet paper, but never in my life had something so horrendous tasted so delicious. Sauce drenched my bloodstained fingers, gravy ran down the corners of my mouth as I bit, chewed and swallowed whatever I could get my hands on. Time passed, and it was only after my third bag did I manage to regain myself, and with it, came the shame.

Shit, I cursed. I wiped the stains from my lips, realizing that in that one moment, I felt closer to those things than ever before.

As I got to my feet, I noticed the gun cage on the far right of the structure, but that came secondary to my list of priorities. Instead, I headed for the doorway leading to the restrooms next to the shelves. I looked like Hell and smelled worse. Besides, after everything I've been through, I could use a hot shower and a fresh set of threads. The thought that I still had Doctor Ian's blood on me sent shivers down my spine. Stripping myself bare, I made a beeline for the showers.

The feeling of warm water upon my aching torso found my no less troubled. Shutting my eyes, I rested my forehead upon my arm as I prepped it against the sandy brown tiles. I listened to the rhythm of falling droplets drumming against my back while I gathered my thoughts. Judging by what I had seen, I needed to believe that most of Equestria is lost. If so many had turned on the first day, one only assume what could happen in three days.

Doctor Ian's instructions were clear – head on through Ponyville, past Baltimare and straight on to Horseshoe Bay. Like most things, simple in theory but damned near impossible in the real world. There will hordes of undead between here and Horseshoe Bay. Hundreds? No, thousands of insatiable monsters looking for a quick meal and to them I was the definition of fast food.

Like my colleagues back at facility, my concerns wandered to those who were still alive. To the smart, the quick, the resourceful, and the lucky. To those who who're still fighting blood and bone in order to survive the nightmare I had thrust upon them. The realization, bathed in blood of their loved ones that they, like me, would never be the same again.

I'm sorry… I kept reciting it like a mantra. As if that word, that simple, meaningless word would offer the means to absolve me of my atrocities. Sorry? I let out a weak, staggered chuckle. My sins would stain me to the end of my days and with it I will bear the Equestria's eternal hatred and scorn.

The tap squeaked as I turned off the shower. Drying myself, I stepped out of the stall, partially relieved to be rid myself of all that blood and death. It certainly would not last, that much I knew, but right now even the smallest of comforts felt like heaven on this wretched earth. I was on my way to the lockers when I spotted a reflection on restroom mirror. In truth, I hardly recognized the roughed-shaven face of the man looking back at me.

From the dark rings beneath his eyes, the shallow cuts across his face and that desolate forlorn expression, I didn't have the heart to tell him that he was a horrible reflection of his former self. It was almost as if the mirror was showing me the effects of the darkness that had tainted me. Perhaps I wasn't entirely immune after all. Perhaps instead of changing me into an undead creature of the night, it was warping me into something else entirely. Maybe the real Alex Jensen had died in that facility with Doctor Ian and the rest of Team Pandora. What escaped that place was no longer human and I shuddered to think of the abomination that would end up leaving this place in my stead when this was all over.

I shrugged at the thought before making my way to the nearest locker. Whatever it may be, it was too late for me, just as it was too late for Equestria. I ransacked each and every one of them the best I can, ripping hangars of clothes off their poles and tossing them aside. All the while, ignoring the mementos and family photographs mounted on opposite side of the locker doors. Amongst the pile, I found a black jacket, a plain T-Shirt, a decent pair of denim jeans and some good ole' fashioned military boots that were just my size. I threw them on, zipping up my new jacket up tight before heading to the gun cage.

Rifles, sub-machine guns, pistols, shotguns, stacked neatly upon their appropriate shelves like a scene out of S.W.A.T. as our heroes were in the midst of prepping themselves for a mission. Certainly, I was spoiled for choice but I knew better than to bite off more than I could chew. I didn't know half of these guns let alone how to operate them. As much as I idolized Sylvester Stallone and his Rambo movies back in the day, the last thing I wanted, the last thing I needed was to blow my own foot off by accident.

I didn't have the military proficiency to handle a carbine and a sub-machine gun would pack too little a punch. I would be throwing away bullets as it they were candy. Not to mention, all that ammo would end up slowing me down. I needed something light, and yet packs one heck of kick.

Then, I saw it. A single piece, mounted at the end of the gun cage. Curious, I made my way to the gun in question. The UTAS UTS-15 tactical shotgun. Yes, I had heard the guards bragging about a brand new shipment of these things coming in the week before. I grabbed hold of it, taking it in my hand as to get a good feel of it. I was certainly surprised to how light it was and as an added plus, I knew my way around a shotgun, compliments of my days growing up on that dreary old farm spent ridding it of coyotes and foxes. There were a couple of knobs and levers that may take some getting used to, but I'll improvise.

I raised my wrist to my line of sight, taking a glance of the red diodes reflected upon the obsidian face of my watch. "Oh, crap…" I cursed.

I had wasted too much time. In haste, I laid the gun down on the nearby work desk as I got to work grabbing anything and everything I could grab my hands on. A tactical vest, a handgun with a holster to match and a pouch sling. Throwing them on, I then got about emptying the shelves of ammo. I didn't understand half of what was written on those boxes, but I knew the make and the model and that was enough. Besides, I couldn't help but smirk at the word 'shredder' printed on those boxes of slugs.

In the midst of pushing a pile of boxes aside on a nearby shelf, I stopped, spotting something oddly familiar hidden behind them. I raised an eyebrow as I reached for something thin and long, sheathed in a thick case of Velcro. The moment I laid my eyes on the polished wooden hilt, I knew exactly what it was.

"Well I'll be damned…" I unhooked it and removed it into the light.

There it was, in my hand, was a machete. Its silver blade, all thirteen inches of it as malicious as a cobra's fang glistened in the lamp's piss-amber glow shining above me. Like the shotgun, I was no stranger to a machete. My father used to keep one in the shed back in the day which he would use to keep that old tree out in the back from growing past the fence. After the incident, well, that old thing became my best friend.

I was so young, and so very angry. After each and every one of father's drunken episodes, I would grab that old machete from the shed and started swinging away at wooden fences around the old barn house. I would hack away at them for hours at a time, imagining myself taking bits and pieces off that washed up bastard's head with every swing. I got so good at it, I had started believing that old thing had become a part of me. I was even able to pull off some pretty neat tricks with it.

Then, one day, while I was busy hacking at my third pole that month, I noticed something at the house that made me stop. There at the window, I saw my old man, watching me with his one good eye as he held his beloved bottle of Jack in his hand. Strangely, there was no anger, no disdain. Just a plain, leveled stare. I however, did not respond in kind.

I looked him right in the eye, giving him the most hate-filled expression he would ever seen on a living thing. I hated him. I hated him with every fiber of my being and I wanted him to know it. He gave nothing in return. Instead, he took a swig of his bottle and disappeared behind the curtains.

He had every right to beat me to an inch of my life. To kick my head in and throw me about like a rag doll as if my existence was the sole reason for his misery, but he didn't. In the years to come, never once did lay hands on me or Anna. For the longest time I had thought him a coward, but perhaps deep down inside, behind that mangled face of his, there was a piece of him that still considers us his children. Or maybe because he knew that there were certain lines no man should ever cross, least he forfeits his humanity altogether.

How ironic that would find myself in that same predicament. I can't begin to imagine the horrors of war that had warped him so. Though judging from what I've seen here, and the things I've done, I could at least begin to understand why.

I twisted my wrist, twirling the blade in a circular motion, hearing a shift in the air around me as it sliced through the wind. It grew fluid, almost second nature as if the very muscles in my hand had connected with memories a lifetime ago. Losing myself in the rush, I slashed the blade upwards into the air one last time.

Heh, looks I still got it.

I pulled a triumphant grin while I resisted the urge to quote the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. I slid the deadly blade back into its Velcro sheathe and packed what I could into my bag, being mindful of the weight. As I slid open the drawer at the bottom of the work table, my eyes snapped wide open.

"Yes!" I snatched large piece of folded paper from under a bunch of scattered tools. It was a map, Heavens above it was an actual Equestrian map.

Pushing everything aside, I rolled up the sleeves of my jacket and unraveled the thing. Turning on the work lap, I splayed it across the table's wooden surface to get a better look.

"Everfree, Everfree, Everfree…" My eyes searched the vast landscape, running the tip of my finger through every oddly named town, city and landmark. It wasn't long before I found what I was looking for. "Aha!"

From the map, I found all three locations including Ponyville, Baltimare and Horseshoe Bay. Unfortunately, my discovery had led me to rethink my decision to visit both Ponyville and Baltimare. One was a town and the other a city, and it doesn't take an idiot to know that they were both densely populated. If the virus had taken both of them, going there would spell certain death. No, I needed another way. Hmm, perhaps I could cut through the Everfree and head East, I thought.

It seemed like the better alternative. The population of Equestria both human and pony avoided the Everfree like the plague so there would be a small chance of me running into those things. Not to mention, the trees would give me the cover I needed. Then again, there was sound reason why they choose to keep away from this place. There were things in this forest, things far worse than the undead. As usual, I was left with yet another gamble. Try going into town and court certain death or try the road less traveled and risk painful, agonizing failure. Two options, unfavorable odds and time was running out.

"Fuck!" I hammered my fist on the table.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

"Primary power has been disengaged. Switching to backup generators in T minus 1 minute."

I jerked to attention. I would have been swallowed by the darkness had it not been for the work lamp still illuminating the map. Was it a busted fuse? No, the power would have failed from the start if that had been the case. No, someone, or something must have tripped it.

There was a rustle in the shadows coming from the far corner of the bunker and though faint, I swore I heard a footstep. There was something in here and it was trying to get the drop on me. Calm down, calm down. I needed to calm my mind. My only solace was the knowledge that I was in a cage with one entrance. I kept my back against the doorway, hoping that I could lull it into believing it still held the element of surprise.

I had contemplated reaching for the pistol holstered at my right thigh, but decided against it. My gun had no suppressor on and the gunshots would alert more of them to my presence. Even with a whole arsenal at my disposal, I couldn't risk wasting precious time holding my ground.

No… I have to do this quietly.

I felt the hairs on my neck stand upright. It was there, it was right behind me and it was getting closer. The machete. My eyes wandered to the hilt of the blade lying next to me. Biting my bottom lip, I wrapped my jittery fingers around its hilt before sliding it free. Then, just like Private Santiago, I waited.

Wait for it…

It was getting closer.

Wait for it…

It was at the doorway.

Wait for it…

It was right behind me.

NOW!

I smashed the lamp against the table and everything went pitch black. I grabbed the machete and spun around, crying at the top of my lungs as I aimed for the black figure behind me. But what should have been blood and bone, came instead as a metallic clang. A spark illuminated the cage for a split second.

Something had blocked my attack. No, it couldn't have.

I felt something hard hit me square in the gut. I gagged, doubling over as the ungodly pain pulsing through my abdomen overpowered my senses, but against all odds I was still conscious. Pulling through the pain, I swung the blade around like a raving madman. I couldn't see it, nor did I care. I figured the faster and harder I swung, I would hit something eventually.

Then, I felt it again, that same excruciating pain lighting my nerves on fire as I took the full front of it across the face. My ears rang, the world turned topsy-turvy as my knees buckled. Before I could even catch myself, I felt a blow to my chest. I tumbled back first into the metal cabinet behind me, hitting my head hard. I coughed, struggling to regain my composure when a light came shining on my face.

"Aw, fuck!" I cried, moving my arms in the way in an attempt to shield my eyes. It wasn't long before I realized I was staring down a barrel of a rifle.

"Who are you? How in blazes did you get in here?" cried a voice.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up!" I cried, backing myself up against cabinet, putting my arms up in surrender. Not that it did me any good.

"Start talking before I blow your bloody head off!"

"My name is Doctor Jensen. I'm a member of Team Pandora, please don't shoot!"

"Bollocks. I saw the video feeds, there were no fuckin' survivors!"

"It's true, Goddammit!"

"Backup power engaging."

The lights came back on as rays of halogen white returned the sight to my eyes and with it, the identity of my assailant. It was a woman. I would have assumed she was African American, but posh accent told me otherwise. She was draped from top to toe in combat gear while her body armor and uniform caked with dirt and dry blood. Irises of dark brown slicked with murderous intent narrowed in my direction as she kept her finger tight on the trigger.

"Please…" I said. "I am Doctor Jensen, member of Team Pandora. I escaped the A.E.G.I.S. facility the same way you did barely an hour ago."

She raised an eyebrow. "Doctor Jensen? As in Alex Jensen, the virologist?" she asked as she eased up on her aim.

I breathed a sigh of relief, nodding as I did. "Yes, oh yes. Thank God. I didn't think that anyone survived the–" I paused the moment I realized she had been staring at the fresh bandage around my arm.

Fuck…

"Fucking Hell, you've been bit!" she cried, jerking her rifle up as she pointed the gun back to my head.

"Wait, wait, WAIT. I can explain. I not infected!"

"Bollocks, that was what the last son of a bitch told me before he turned!" she cried.

"I know you find this hard to believe but I was bitten almost an hour ago!"

"Don't you lie to me!" she cocked her gun, making me cringe. "They turn, they all turn. What makes you so fucking special?"

"Doctor Ian had said that prolonged exposure to the virus had me immune to it."

Her eyes widened. "What the heck is that supposed to mean? And where the Hell is Doctor Ian, huh?"

"He's…" I opened my mouth to speak, but instead I hung my head low and turned away. "He didn't make it."

Her expression softened at the tone of my voice.

"He gave his life so I could escape," I added. "It all happened so fast. One minute he was there with me and the next he's…" I covered my mouth.

"My condolences," she said.

"Look." I said, looking her in the eye. "I know it sounds crazy and I know we're both having a really, really shitty day, but I am telling you the truth. I was bitten and I didn't turn. You're just gonna have to take my word for it."

"Do I look stupid to you?" she said. "I'm sorry for your loss, but unfortunately I'm going to need a whole lot more than that if I'm going to give you a benefit of a doubt."

"Then how about this. What if I told you I knew a way off this rock?"

That small twitch in her eyebrow betrayed her curiosity. "Go on."

"Lower your gun away and I just might."

There was hesitation at first, I derived that much from her body language but I knew desperation when I saw it. She grunted before running her fingers through her thick, curly brown fro.

She then groaned in defeat. "Fine, you win." She lifted her rifle out of my face and offered me a hand which I took.

"Alright then, start talking," she said as I got to my feet.

"First of all, I could use a name. I get rather uncomfortable around strangers, especially one who just threatened to blow my head off." I massaged my lower jaw. "Fuck, I'm feeling that in the morning."

She scoffed. "Lieutenant Trisha Jackson, A.T.L.A.S. third division. I run the security team down on Level 4 back at the facility."

"The Auditorium?" I bent down, picking up my machete. "That would explain why I didn't recognize you. I spent most of my time down on Level 8," I added.

"I suppose you can call it a blessing in disguise. It was a lot closer to the surface, so when all Hell broke bloody loose, I was one of the few to have made it out in one piece," Trisha said, her voice taking a more somber tone. "Though, I can't say the same for the rest of my team, or my captain."

"I'm sorry," I said, sheathing my blade. "Well, like I said, I know a way off Equestria. Before Doctor Ian died, he managed to get a word out to A.E.G.I.S. to send an extraction team."

"An extraction team? That's brilliant. Where?"

I shrugged. "Horseshoe Bay."

Trisha moved to where the map was, tracing her fingers along its weathered surface. When she found it however, the look on her face told me more than words could say.

"Horseshoe Bay? Are you fucking kidding me? That's 500 miles from here!"

"That's not all. According to their instructions, we be there exactly at 7.40 A.M. sharp, and not a minute later."

She shot a glance at her watch. "That's over 10 hours from now, we'll never make it in—" She paused. "Hang on, what happens if we don't?"

"What do you think? We get left behind."

"Bugger!" Trisha slammed her fist on the table. "Fuckin' corporate wankers!"

"Hey, hey, calm down. We aren't out of the game just yet. We still got 10 hours to go. That's plenty of time to get where we need to be, so long as we work together."

Trisha drew a staggered breath. "So, I assume you have plan?"

"Here." I pointed to the map. "We cut through the Everfree. We stay off the main road and we follow these network of roads all the way down to Horseshoe Bay. If we remain out of sight, we can–"

I stopped when I noticed she was giving me a deadpan stare. "What?"

"The Everfree? That is your brilliant plan? You want us to cut through miles of uncharted territory across some of the most dangerous terrain in Equestria?"

"Look, I know it's crazy, but I believe it's a worth a shot," I said.

"No, it's not crazy. It's completely mental, and here I thought we were out to survive this, not commit suicide."

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, alright, let's see you come up with something better." I folded my arms and leaned against the table.

"Right." Resting her gun by the table, Trisha moved up to the map. "We head here, to Ponyville." She pointed to the illustration. "We can search the town for a car, a truck, anything with wheels. We prep it up and ride it straight onto Horseshoe Bay. If we put the pedal to the metal, we could even be there in half the time."

"Alright, there's your problem right there." I pointed. "First of all, we don't know if anything left working in Ponyville. Not to mention, you're talking about a whole damned town."

"And you honestly believe that after everything you've heard about this bloody forest that it's safer than a horde of undead?" she said. "Alex, the Everfree is dangerous, even more so at night. Without proper bearings we could end up getting lost or worse. Time is working against us and we cannot afford any delays."

"We're talking at least a hundred of those thing walking the streets. I don't know about you, but I didn't escape that Godforsaken place to end up someone else's lunch!"

"Look, I don't like this anymore than you do, but the way I see it, it is the best shot we have. Believe me, if there were any other way, I would consider it but right now we're plum out of options."

I opened my mouth to interject, but I stopped when I realized my argument was borne on belligerence rather than sound reasoning. Her deduction was logical at best. Crazy, bordering on suicidal but logical none the less. Though, I decided against revealing Doctor Ian's initial instructions or risk my pride be torn to shreds.

As I traced my fingers over the old map, it dawned on me just how intricate Doctor Ian's plan truly was. From his extensive knowledge of the facility and a pre-imposed escape plan. It was almost as if my escape was not by accident, rather by design. Just like his composure after the incident with Patient Zero, I wasn't sure if I should be impressed or disturbed.

"So, what do you think?" Trisha's voice returned me to my senses.

I sighed in resignation and nodded. "Alright, we'll do it your way."

"Excellent." Trisha lifted her rifle, slinging it over her shoulder. "The clock's a-ticking, so load up and let's get going." She started for the boxes of rations laying where I last left them, only to pause when she noticed the mess.

Once again, she shot me a leveled stare.

"What? I was hungry. Sue me," I said.

Trisha groaned, rolling her eyes before removing her backpack and began stocking up.

"And for the record, I'm no soldier so don't expect me to fall in just like that." I folded the map before gathering the rest of my things.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry 'bout that, Doc. We'll make one outta you yet," she said. I couldn't see it for myself, but somehow I could tell she was smirking. "Sides, you got some fight in you, I'll give you that."

I slung the backpack over my torso. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should, because I rarely give them," she said, zipping her bag up tightly. "Oh, and by the way…"

I shifted my attention to her at the sound of her pause.

"Do you honestly know how to work that thing?" Trisha asked, gesturing to the UTAS I had cradled in my arms. "I doubt UTAS 101 was part of your college curriculum."

"Pfft." I snorted. "It's a shotgun, how hard can it be?" The moment those words left my lips, I drew an instant sense of regret.

To be honest, it looked nothing like the old shotgun back home. I didn't know the first thing about working it let alone where to start.

"Mind if I take a look at it?" Trisha asked, making her way back into the gun cage.

"Knock yourself out." I handed the weapon over. "By the way, I could use some pointers, if you don't mind that is."

She took it in her hand. "Like I said before, you're no soldier but we'll make one out of you yet. Follow my orders, and I promise you by this time tomorrow, we'll both be laughing it off over a good ole' pint of Guinness," Trisha said while she took the gun apart.

She shrugged. "Like it had all been nothing more than bloody nightmare."

I leaned my back against the worktable and folded my arms, allowing my mind to gain a better understanding of my new-found companion. Trisha's military to the core and she held the unbroken visage of a battle-hardened soldier and Christ, she held it well. She was no stranger to close quarter combat, the throbbing pain in my lower jaw can vouch for that. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if it were fate or mere chance that had led her straight to me? Divine intervention aside, she made for a valuable addition. Perhaps we may survive this after all.

"And by the way." I raised an eyebrow as she spoke. "You mentioned Doctor Ian saying how you were immune to the virus." She said, laying the pieces across the work desk. "What exactly did he mean by that?"

I had to admit, her words left me stunned and for a moment, I had contemplated a lie. Though I knew that if we were going to get through this together, I needed her trust more than ever.

I sighed as I turned to face her. "It's a long story, and I don't think you're going to like how it ends."

And so I told her everything.

It has been said that nothing hurts a person more than the truth and to Trisha, it was more than she could bear. Once I was done, she cried, she screamed, she thrashed anything she could get her hands on, and I could only watch from afar as the bits and pieces that had been holding her together for so long finally came apart. I couldn't begin to imagine what she had seen, the horrors she had to endure watching her team, her brothers in arms eaten alive by the monsters created by the very men she had been hired to protect.

I had feared that she would have considered putting a bullet in my head in retribution, but she didn't. She said she couldn't find it in her heart to cast her blame on me, that like her, I was merely a pawn in someone else's nefarious scheme. In all honesty, a part of me prayed that she would have taken my life then and there, thus sparing me future horrors.

A full 10 minutes had passed us by since we last left the safety of the bunker behind us. Instinctively, I found myself looking over my shoulder back at the concrete structure. I wanted to stay. We had enough food and water to keep us going and a whole arsenal for protection. By my calculations, we would have been able to survive for at least a good month. I tightened my grip around the sling of my bag at the thought. Yes, we would have survived but to what end? If we blew this one chance at escape, it may never come again.

And Doctor Ian would have died in vain.

The sound of dried leaves and twigs crackling and snapping beneath the leather soles of our boots were the only thing making the unnerving silence a little less awkward. I shifted my gaze to my new companion, noticing her now sullen expression. She hadn't spoken a word since we left and in all honesty, it was making me uncomfortable. As if Everfree itself hasn't done enough in making my nerves stand on end.

I tightened my grip around my now fully loaded UTAS, thankful that Trisha had managed to walk me through its basic operations along do's and don'ts prior to her meltdown.

I drew a deep breath. "Trisha, I…"

"Alex, I know what you're trying to do, but don't." She shrugged. "Just don't."

I pursed my lips shut, deciding that my words had might as well been salt to an open wound. Her reaction was understandable and personally if it had been me in her shoes, I would have reacted in the exact same way. I wanted to offer her words of comfort, assurance, words a regular human being would use in empathy. It was moment like these which I realize just how hollow words actually were, how meaningless they could be when we find our souls drowning alone in an ocean of grief and despair. An ocean of our own making.

"Alright…" she said. Her voice called me to attention.

"According to the map, Ponyville lies just beyond those trees." She gestured with the point of her rifle. "So remember to stay close, stay quiet and no matter what, do not open fire unless absolutely necessary. We'll be deep in hostile territory and we can't afford any fuck ups."

I scoffed silently. "You don't have to tell me twice."

"By the way, a friendly reminder…"

I shifted my gaze to her as our eyes met.

"… if you fall behind, you get left behind. I don't care how bloody important you think you are. Do we understand each other?"

The evil within me twisted a small smirk on my face. "Crystal."

"Good," she said as nodded her head in acknowledgement.

It wasn't long before we cleared the tree line at the edge of the forest. Finally, I thought. I breathed a sigh of relief that the accursed forest was finally behind me. Then again, perhaps I had spoken too soon for before me, stood acres upon acres of trees as far as the eye can see, but upon closer examination, I realized they weren't part of the Everfree after all.

My eyes wandered to the branches above to the sight of dozens of Red Delicious dangling from their stems above me. "Are these… apple trees?"

"Alex… over there." Trisha pointed in the distance.

I scrunched my eyes to several structures illuminating faintly in the moonlight. A barn, a house and several others too small to make out from where we stood. It goes without saying that I would recognize a farm when I see one.

"Good catch. You think they'd have what we're looking for?" I asked.

"Well, I certainly have my fingers crossed," she said. "And even if they don't, I'm sure that we can find a couple useful things lying about that rickety old place."

"Let's just hope that's all we find," I said.

Trisha nodded, slinging her rifle around her shoulder, she started down the moonlit path.

I may not have told her, but I was glad to have her with me. Having someone with a pulse to carry on a conversation with might just be the one thing keeping me from losing myself entirely. I was prepared to go on, no matter how dark and hopeless the path before me may seem. So long as I fulfill Doctor Ian's wishes, I had little regard if the man named Doctor Alex Jensen would cease to exist. I will find a way out of this nightmare. I will find my way home, and may God have mercy on those who would try to stop me, living or dead. Shouldering my own weapon, I did well to stay on her tail, praying that we would both find what we so desperately seek…

Hope.

The faint beeping of my watch alerted me to the end of my hour.

[Please insert Tape 3]