Ch. 4: The Merry Caravan Departs
Charleston was a friendly, generous, likeable sort of unicorn. Usually, these traits served him well. The performances his dance studio put on were consistently well-attended, ponies were always willing to help him out when the situation called for it, and he'd been able to make a very comfortable life for himself in Woostirrup. However, there were times when he regretted his propensity to aide his fellow ponies. One such time was this.
Hempy Hooves and Cheer Chime lead the way to Cheer's house on the edge of town. Charleston, a lanky-legged silver unicorn with a curly red and gold mane, followed obediently. He towed an elegant dark red wagon with gold-painted trim and pretty doors on its aft-end. It was meant for transporting props and costumes in a stylish way, not for trekking across Equestria during a zombie infestation. And for what reason? Cheer had given some bizarre story about Splicer being undead and needing to be taken to Canterlot, but Cheer was always like that. She could spout any tall tale with a straight face and then dissolve into manic giggles when somepony believed her. She'd acted so serious this time, which was unusual for her. Perhaps something was up. Then again, since the outbreak, Cheer hadn't exactly been her playful, plucky self. Charleston's thoughts were disrupted by a voice ahead of him.
"Doesn't seem like Pele and Blue are here yet," Hempy observed. He stood before Cheer's house, a rich green and gold windmill with crimson accents matching the one on her flank. The sails bore stylistic paintings of Celestia, Luna, the sun, and the moon. They turned languidly in the gentle breeze as Hempy searched for signs of the others. "They were supposed to get here before us!" he said, stomping his hoof impatiently. The anxiety was obvious in his darting pink eyes.
"They'll get here," Cheer said with a broad smile.
"Why are you smiling? What is there to smile about?" Hempy demanded. He winced as the angry words hung in the air. "I'm sorry… it's just that all this is so… I don't even know what to call this mess. What if somepony stopped them in town? What if Splicer got loose?"
Cheer merely shrugged and skipped to the little shed by her windmill. She'd painted it long ago with characters from Splicer's stories. It was in sore need of a touch-up. The bold characters and oversized depictions of gears and brassy machinery were peeling. She nosed open the door, which groaned as it swung out to reveal the stacks of boxes and bags the group had prepared earlier.
"May as well take the time to load up, right?" said Cheer as she headed for a large canvas sack of provisions.
"Just so we're clear on this, I'm still not sure what's going on," Charleston reminded the ponies in an attempt to probe for more information. He undid his harness with a cloud of gold and silver magic and went to the back of the wagon. He opened the doors for Cheer, barely getting out of her way as she heaved the sack in. "And why my wagon, for that matter?"
"To lock up Splicer. Of course," Cheer answered frankly.
"Of course," Charleston echoed skeptically, but didn't push the issue. He glanced into the back of his wagon, which had been rather rudely cleared of its contents by Hempy and Cheer. Without the colorful props, it seemed barren and foreboding, especially considering the thick bars which divided a portion of it at the front. Those bars usually defended a desk full of important papers and pricey costume jewelry, but that had had to go as well. Charleston sighed.
Hempy hefted a box on his back and joined Cheer in packing the wagon, making sure to leave a path open for the barred-off section. Hempy couldn't help but notice how cheerful the yellow and berry-purple pony was, recent events considered. Before he could bring it up, the clopping of hooves distracted him.
Bluegrass and Pyroclastic Pele hurried up the dirt road, a cloud of dust rising behind them. Blue towed a rickety cart which contained some wriggling thing under a heavy blanket. Straps had been tied across the cargo, but Charleston could hear the strain on the ropes far too distinctly for comfort. He resisted the urge to demand an explanation. He wasn't sure he wanted one. Bile was rising in his throat. Surely, this was some kind of prank.
"We've got to make tracks," Blue said as she pulled the cart behind the wagon. Pele floated above the group, her serious golden eyes scanning the town behind them. "Turtle Sundae's got a hunch that we're up to something, and the last thing we need is for her to find out she's right. Somepony help me out here."
Cheer lifted a hoof, paused, and then pressed through the impulse to retreat. She warily walked up to the cart and tugged at the restraints with her teeth as Blue handled the other side.
"She's sedated with some leaves from Hempy's plants," Blue assured Cheer as the blanketed zombie writhed. "Doesn't stop her from wiggling, though. Here, take this rope and I'll help her into the back."
Cheer did as she was told and climbed into the back of the wagon with the line leading to Splicer in her mouth. As she pulled, Blue pushed on Splicer, who was still partially swathed in the blanket. Eventually, the undead pony was coaxed into the wagon and guided to the caged-in front. Everypony held their breath as they closed and locked the barred door and backed away. Charleston couldn't move. His long legs were locked in position and his jaw was slack. He knew that blue-gray pallor and hints of black mane beneath the cloth. The torn flesh made him queasy. His eyelids began to flutter.
"Hey, Charleston, come on," Pele said as she swooped into view. "I know this seems crazy, but we really appreciate your help. You're a brave unicorn. Now, go help Hempy Hooves switch the harness so two ponies can tow at a time."
"Okay, kinda mechanical there, Pe-"
"We don't have time, Hempy," Pele interrupted, giving the purple and polychrome pony a sharp look. Hempy grinned meekly and began taking down the two-pony harness from the side of the wagon. Charleston, in an obedient daze, went to assist him. Pele flipped her braided turquoise bangs out of her face and fluttered up to observe the town again. She wondered when she'd see idyllic, oblivious Woostirrup again, and then turned her attention to closing up the wagon for departure.
On the gentle green hilltop to the east of town, five living ponies and one zombie in an ornate wagon lingered. The earth pony with the five-fingered leaf mark chewed his lip but rolled back his shoulders with determination. The lanky unicorn with the top hat and cane mark stared ahead, flabbergasted by the new turn of events in his life. The lavender Pegasus with the vibrant hummingbird mark perched on the wagon, a map laid flat beneath her hooves. The serene instrument-maker with the banjo mark adjusted the strap of her harness, as though nothing were out of the ordinary. The pony in the harness next to her, with the windmill mark, hummed something smooth and strange as she bid her house goodbye. And the pony in the wagon, the one with the double gears mark, chewed the bars of her cage and silently craved the flesh of her companions.