Chapter Three:
Shadow

Disclaimer: I don't own My Little Pony. Like, at all. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hasbro. However, all writing contents and semi-plots and original characters here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.

Summary: It began with two bodies, and then suddenly many more came to follow. I was there to witness the beginning of the end, where the dead won't rest, driven by the urge to devour the living. This rot is spreading faster than we could have anticipated. But we can't give up because the truth of our new world is all that matters. I am begging you…rise up and survive before it's too late.

Notes: I can only hope to capture even a fracture of medical frantics. I draw inspiration towards Covid, and how it was handled-or rather now it was mishandled. Having been caught in the midst of incompetence, it can be hard to pursue further criticism.

One foot in the ground, one foot in the grave
Don't you dare make a sound
Shhh! Hear you from a mile away
Run from the town
All you need is your name
And the sweat on your brow
And the blood running through your veins

Don't think twice
(You'll be dead in a second)
Turn your eyes
(From your hands to the heavens)
Kill your pride
(Turn your fear into a weapon)
And don't you forget it

Don't you let them take control
Don't let them break your soul
It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor
-"Shadow" by Livingston

The Sheriff and I double-timed it back toward the quarantine wing of the hospital. Our venture deeper into the hospital, however, was rife with fleeing ponies. Some ponies were sticking their heads out of their rooms, wide-eyed and curious to see what the commotion was going on about. There were nurses and doctors alike, hurrying to usher them out to safety. I noticed that a number of patients were being rushed away on wheeled beds and wheelchairs, with some still attached to IV banana bags and poles. I stopped several times, trying to answer some of those who begged for answers, but the Sheriff kept hedging me along. I also worried that some of them were the infected we were worrying about.

I tried to tell him, tried to warn him—what if any of those patients, those ponies, were bitten? What if we were letting them, the potentially infected, go free? It would only mean this disease would spread, that we were letting them fall through the cracks.

"We gotta get to the quarantine wing, leave 'em!" Sheriff Dust Cloud shouted over his shoulder. I don't know if he noticed, but I could hear that country twang seeping into his words more clearly now than usual. He worked hard to keep it buried, so ponies wouldn't see him as some kind of country bumpkin. So that they'd take him seriously.

I took him seriously, no matter how he sounded. His actions meant more to me than just his accent.

I don't think I ever told him that. A part of me wishes I had, before all this.

We were a hallway away from the quarantine ward when we stumbled across the first body. Judging from the hip bones, I deduced that it was a young filly, barely out of grade school. I hated it when I had to work on a child in my morgue. Taken from their life all too soon, the potential they could have reached, the lives they could have led. Gone, snuffed out, like a candle's flame against a Windigo's howling wintry breath.

Their graves ended up being much too small when it came down to it.

I didn't think this one would wake up and attempt to come back to life. Her body had been torn in twain, patches of flesh and strands of muscle still clinging to the white of her bones. Parts of her were everywhere, scattered across the hall, as though she had been ripped apart by several assailants—and I was more than comfortable deducing that. The bloodied hoofprints that led down the way had just come from told me as much. We must have missed the infected by a hair. Or perhaps through a nearby stairwell.

So much blood, too much blood, painted the walls, the floors, even the ceiling in some spurts. Was that really how much one little pony could hold in their bodies? I already knew the answer to that, but I tried to not think about it.

I startled at a deflated squeak under hoof and backtracked.

A little teddy bear with a missing eye lay in a thick puddle of blood, most of its faux fur sticky with it. Everything inside me twisted and knotted, at the absolute wrongness of all of this. Gingerly, I lifted it up in the air with my magic, and I could just barely make my reflection out in its shiny black buttoned eye. Or rather, I could only make out my muzzle in it; bright red fur and a scarred up muzzle, with mismatched eyes. One gold, the other silver.

Regretfully, I put the plush toy back down, besides the leftover carnage of the mare's ribs.

Another all-too-small grave to bury the dead—the actual dead, the ones who wouldn't get up and come after the living.

I dug into my reserves, steeling myself for what was to come. I needed to be clinical, not emotional.

Sheriff Dust Cloud pulled me along, and we moved more quietly. We could hear the growls of the dead stirring in rooms just outside the quarantine wing. I knew the longer fur of my withers was bristling, sirens rattling about inside my head, that I was willingly walking into an unknown precedent of danger. I felt a moment of my resolve wavering as I looked Sheriff Dust Cloud in the eye.

"What now?"

"We seal them in. If all of them haven't breached the quarantine like these have, we close as many as we can inside. We owe it to those who can still make it out unscathed."

I nodded and slowly, I used my magic to close and lock all the doors in the rooms we came across. Whether they contained the dead or not, I didn't want to take any chances. I also marked them with a quill and inkwell from my saddlebags. I always kept a set on hand.

'Dead Inside Don't Open'

The doors of the quarantine wing loomed as we came closer. Blood spattered the ground, the walls, in varying shades of red. Rust and brick, burgundy and ruby. Some looked almost as dark as black in the light. Bits of fur, mane, tail scattered in pieces. Chunks of flesh or ropes of entrails lying in bloodied puddles. I even spied the lone bits of brain lobes or half-eaten organs, broken bones, even a single eyeball staring endlessly up at the ceiling, the eyestalk freshly ripped from whatever socket it had once belonged to.

I briefly wondered what happened to the bodies that all these pieces of ponies they belonged to, if they had been devoured as completely as that little filly had been—but I quickly reminded myself that this wasn't normal. None of this was normal. Ponies weren't meant to come back to life, and neither were they supposed to be feasting on the flesh of others.

They likely got up and walked away, to find more ponies to eat. To infect. To spread this disease. That's how it worked, wasn't it? In nearly all cases of epidemiology, whatever the case may be—virus, parasite, bacteria—the goal of such infectious things was to invade a new host and to spread themselves as far and as fast as possible, to increase their numbers.

The doors seemed larger than normal as we were faced with them up close. There were no windows, thankfully; opaque or otherwise. It made it easier to avoid piecing together the carnage within. Or maybe it was worse, because I could picture exactly the type of slaughter and more that was within the quarantine wing. Between the two of us, I was more than sure that I have handled more bodies at a myriad of crime scenes than Sheriff Dust Cloud ever has.

I don't recall there ever being a murder in Ponyville, current or past. One of the bigger cities, on the other hand…Ponykind wasn't a stranger to foul play. It was easier to sow dissidence and deceit in a place like Fillydelphia than it was in Ponyville. This wasn't a dismissive way of saying that there haven't been smaller kinds of crimes here in the small town—but we've had our past trials and tribulations to overcome. It's just most of it has been due to villainous magically-ladened characters, like Queen Chrysalis or Tirek, not a pony smashing another pony's head in with a baseball bat or somepony being shoved down a flight of stairs.

"We need something strong. Got any chains in those saddlebags of yours?" Sheriff Dust Cloud remarked, eyeing them with a hint of hope. I sighed and shook my head.

"But I can certainly conjure up some," I replied and with a tilt of my head, magic encompassed my horn once more and chains rattled to life from my conjuration spell, floating before us. I manipulated them to wrap around the door handles and locked them up tight with a padlock. Even if my stomach is stronger than the average pony's for such carnage…there were just some things that even I didn't want to see. And there were some things in this world that you can't unsee once you do.

We moved quicker on our way out. I was beginning to wish I had kept my PPE on. All this blood and viscera, it was more than likely contaminated with the infection. The feathers on my fetlocks were getting gunked up, much to my chagrin.

So long as I didn't have any open wounds, I kept telling myself I would be fine, and yet…

The likelihood of that remaining the same was angling for a nosedive.

It was almost eerie how decidedly quiet it was inside the hospital. That didn't last long. We turned the corner, coming into the homestretch and found ourselves facing a feeding frenzy of more than just one dead pony. Four of them were clustered over a body, and I could still hear them weakly asking for help. I sucked in a breath between clenched teeth as we backpedaled just in time. One of those heads came up to peer back at where we'd been. They were missing half of their face, exposed muscle and teeth glinting in the hospital lighting, peeking out of the gore.

"Sheriff, I hope you have some kind of weapon on you," I said in a hushed tone.

He shook his head, face pinched in a grimace. "Never saw the need to. Not here in Ponyville. Starting to regret that decision."

I shook my head and reached into my bag, magic effortlessly lifting my favourite scalpel into the air. A flustered look briefly flashed across Sheriff Dust Cloud's face.

"Do you just carry those things around with you on the regular?"

"Only when I think I have to fight off the dead," I replied glibly. I peered around the corner and with a nod of my head, I willed my blade to swing forward, and it went at an angle, slamming into the closest one's head. It went in clean and came out covered in black ooze and clotted red blood. The other three ponies didn't seem to notice that one of their own had fallen. I repeated the same thing with the second, and then the third.

This was a mercy that they needed. A mercy I would give them.

The fourth finally seemed to notice something was off and turned to face us. Bits of flesh were stuck between his teeth, and he still had a mouthful, but it plopped out when he unhinged his jaw and moaned. That's when I noticed my blade wasn't moving the way I wanted it to. It was stuck in the third pony's skull.

The fourth one staggered upright and started shambling towards us. An entire swathe of his shoulders was missing and his shoulder blade worked up and down as he walked. I could see he was also missing an eye now. It was the same colour as the one from back by the quarantine wing.

"Anytime now, Red Rush!"

"It's stuck!"

"Aw, hellfire—!"

The Sheriff charged, even when I called out for him not to. The fourth pony lurched after him unsteadily. I almost cried out when he turned his back toward the dead pony, but realized an instant later what he was really doing. Sheriff Dust Cloud timed it perfectly; he leaned forward and struck out with his hind legs. The force of the kick and the way the pony's head snapped back was rather beautiful. The cracking of hooves against skull, even more so. A perfect strike.

The Sheriff didn't waste time. He bucked again, this time sending the pony flying with another sickening crunch. They slammed to the floor, and immediately began trying to get up again. They didn't get the chance to. The law pony whirled around and reared up, then crashed his front hooves atop the pony's skull. It caved in the first blow, but it wasn't enough. I watched as he did it a second and a third time. The fourth time around, the pony didn't get up. His skull was flattened to sharp jagged points, chunks of brain seeping out at the edges, a mixture of red blood and blackened ooze smattering the floor. I couldn't even recognize them anymore.

Sheriff Dust Cloud panted heavily, scowling down at the mess he'd made. I was mute on the matter. I stared at him, an inkling of new respect rising in me for the law pony. He caught me looking at him and trotted over. "You okay, Red Rush?"

"Y-yes. I'm sorry. I couldn't…get it out in time. Did you hurt yourself in anyway, puncture anything—"

"I'm fine, Red. I didn't hurt nothing," he huffed back, but he did offer a tired smile of reassurance. I simply nodded in return and turned my head to peer at the pony that my scalpel was still stuck in. After a few more tugs with my magic, I finally managed to wrench it out. I frowned at the poorly state of it. The blade was bent at an angle, and I softly groaned.

Sheriff Dust Cloud hummed softly under his breath. "Looks like you're gonna need a new one of those."

"It's not meant for bone," I said dejectedly, and gently set it aside on the nurse's station desk. It was only then that I noticed we were back by Far Fetch's room when I saw the room numbers. Both Deputy Far Fetch and Deputy Frizzy Pop were nowhere to be seen. No doubt, they've shambled off, looking for new meals and potential victims to spread this…this rot.

That's when the fire hydrant caught my eye, and right next to it…

"Bingo," I said, and I made my way toward it.

"Red, what're you—oh. I suppose that'll do it. Here, let me use it—"

"You'll end up using your mouth more than your hooves if you do," I snapped back. "And if you end up ingesting something, even a drop of blood, it'll be enough to infect you. I don't have that problem with my magic."

I pulled out the axe with a levitation spell and brought it to my side. I scanned the hallway, making sure that I was safe before returning to the Sheriff's side. I didn't need to be jumped by surprise by a hidden dead pony. The Sheriff was suddenly more interested on the bits of gore and tacky blood stuck to his hooves and fetlocks.

"Erm…is this bad for me, then?"

"All of this is bad for all of us," I said, even as I scanned his limbs. "But as long as you don't have an open wound of any sort, you can wash that off and be fine. The sooner you do it, the better though."

"Noted. Now c'mon. We need to find my deputies."

"Wait. What? We need to get out of here, we need to seal up this place!"

That surprised me, pulling me up short. I turned to face Sheriff Dust Cloud, ears pinning against my head.

"Those two ponies were under my watch when they went down. I owe it to them to make sure they don't hurt anypony else. It's what they would have wanted."

"And everypony else?"

Sheriff Dust Cloud didn't answer, but he didn't to. The melancholy expression on his face was answer enough.

"I understand if you want to leave, Red Rush. I won't stop you. But I'm not leaving without…"

I looked away, sensing that this wasn't a moment I should be sharing with him. Instead, I allowed my attention to drift to the bodies that lay scattered in the hallway. I puzzled over them, recalling that some of the ponies, based on their Cutie Marks, were citizens of Ponyville. Their names, however, did not ring any bells. I politely cleared my throat, and jutted my head in their direction.

"Do you…know who they were?"

"You'd think you'd know the ponies here better'n me since you've lived here longer."

"I work odd hours. And I've spent more time with the dead than I have with the living."

"You run a funeral home. Don't that come with the whole public-facing glad-hooving?"

"I also work as the resident medical examiner, mortician, and coroner. And it's not just Ponyville I cater to, it's also Cloudsdale and even Canterlot, when theirs aren't available. I'm doing the job of at least five other ponies, and I don't exactly have very many repeat customers or willing enough volunteers to step up and help me. Other ponies try to avoid the topic of death, never mind a career involving it, in case you've missed the memo."

"Fair enough, I suppose," the Sheriff replied dryly. He turned his attention back to the bodies. "I knew 'em. That…that one right there, that's Davenport. He ran Quills and Sofas."

He nodded to another. "Junebug. She loved her flowers. And that one over there, I think that's…Caramel. Decent at making candied treats."

Sheriff Dust Cloud looked at the one he had crushed the skull of. He shook his head and sighed. "Clover Leaf. He ran a pretty nice little herbal shop."

I could hear the trace of regret in his voice. He really did know these ponies better than I did. A small flush of shame washed through me. I only knew them by their coats and manes and even sometimes, their Cutie Marks. I never really knew their names, because one day, they could end up on my slabs and under my scalpels and eventually, in one of my coffins. It had seemed unnecessary to bother trying, at the time.

Now I couldn't even give them proper rites.

The one that the four fallen ponies had been eating suddenly stirred. Weakly, they began rolling to their side. Whatever innards that hadn't been devoured slid out from the hole that had been violently torn open down her middle. Shakily, the pony tried to stand up, but their hind legs kept getting tangled in the loops of exiting intestines.

The Sheriff joined me at my side, and together we watched as this dead pony began trying its hardest to come after us. Between the tangled hind limbs to the slippery bloody floor catching its front hooves, it was a rather pathetic display of desperation. All the while, she continued to gnash her jaws, teeth clacking together as they made contact.

"And her?"

"…Sea Mist. She only just moved here, but she made some beautiful sea glass jewelry. Ain't right what's happened here. To her. To anypony."

"Nothing about this is right. Or natural. Which was why I was wanting more information earlier. Every little bit helps."

He raised a brow. I avoided his eyes as I leveled the fire axe. The crawling pony—Sea Mist—must have once been a beautiful mare. Her coat was a deep, rich blue while her mane was still a pleasing and soft seafoam colour. Despite the damage that had been done to her body, I could see the architecture of her form and piece together what lay beneath the ruins of butchery.

I can't recall if I had ever seen her before, even once, but given her newness…probably not. It was just as the Sheriff said: it wasn't right what's been happening.

I took a step back alongside the Sheriff as Sea Mist inched closer. I lifted the axe up higher and let gravity do the rest instead of my magic. The blade slammed home, burying itself deep in her skull. She instantly dropped with a raspy wheeze; her glassy eyes focused on us in their last moments of their second life.

We followed the trails of bloodied hoofprints and rivulets that had fallen from open wounds that stuck to the hospital flooring. There seemed to be one direction they all were aiming for: down and out. We managed to make it down to the second floor through the stairwell and were set to descend to the ground floor when the door to the second story stairwell burst open. I screamed and raised the fire axe with my magic, ready to slam it home, but the Sheriff yelled at me to stop.

I panted, axe raised high in the air, ready to strike—

But it wasn't the dead that came through the door. It was the living—two, in fact.

"We're alive! We're alive!"

The Sheriff crowded in beside me, eyes narrowed in suspicion before he nudged me in the shoulder.

"Don't. They're good to go."

"Were you bitten?" I asked, ignoring his verbal clearance. I still kept the axe raised, caution overriding everything else.

"Ha! Like any dead pony can snap their jaws on the great and powerful—!"

"This isn't the time, Trixie! And to answer your question, what does being bitten have anything to do with—"

"I said, were. You. Bitten?!"

I recognized the pair of mares in front of me, unfortunately. Starlight Glimmer and her obnoxious associate, Trixie. They ran that magic school that had once been headed by Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends.

The thought of her made me wonder: did she even know what was happening right now, at this very moment? That the dead were coming back to life and eating her subjects? That it was happening elsewhere, all over her kingdom? Or were ponies too afraid to open their mouths and send word to the princess, for fear of sounding mad?

"We weren't bitten, but those ponies tried their hardest, I'm sure," Starlight answered quickly before the other mare could. "What is wrong with them? We came here to check on one of our students, but we haven't found her yet because all hell's broken loose here!"

The Sheriff grunted and nudged me again. "This is your area of expertise, not mine."

I shot him an annoyed look, but I sighed understandingly and turned back to the two mares. "We need to keep moving. Were you being followed by those dead ponies?"

"'Dead' is one way of describing them," Trixie muttered with a shiver. I couldn't but notice the flecks of blood staining her uniform. What was she again, at the school? A therapist? I shudder to think of her giving advice to young and impressionable students. Her massive ego preceded the mare herself.

"That's because they are dead." I scowled back. She narrowed her eyes at me, looking me up and down. A spark of recognition went off in her moments later.

"Wait. Wait, I know you. I recognize you now! You're the creepy pony that runs that weird shop…something with 'Dead' in the name?"

"'Death Dealers'," I corrected her. "It's a funeral home, a morgue, and preparatory facility for law-assistance medical examinations, necropsies, and the respectful preparation of friends or family for their last funeral rites."

Trixie shuddered, tilting her head in a manner that seemed like she was looking down her nose at me. A rather gallant effort on her part, as I was taller than her. "Yeah. That. Starlight, we need to get back to looking for Curry Twist, she has to be around here somewhere."

Trixie made to move toward the stairs that led up to the third floor. The Sheriff stepped in before I did, shaking his head.

"Everyone's dead up there. There's nothing left."

"What? It's the only floor we haven't checked! Out of the way—"

I blocked her. I had an unusual build for a Unicorn, I've been told. I'm bulky enough to be mistaken for an Earth pony, if no one noticed the horn. Trixie scowled back up at me, eyes narrowed.

"We just came from up there. There's nothing but the dead on the third floor." I emphasized, before a thought occurred to me. I twitched my ears, hesitating. "Was this pony traveling on the train?"

Starlight Glimmer blinked at me, and I could see the inklings of dismay beginning to crease at the edges of her expression. "Y-Yes. She was. She had an escort, her cousin Brownie Mint."

"…did she have a teddy bear with one eye?"

The Unicorn gasped softly and she closed her eyes. "Please. Don't. Don't tell me…"

"I'm sorry. We found her remains in the quarantine wing." I said bluntly, glancing at Sheriff Dust Cloud. He sighed and nodded when Starlight and Trixie looked to him.

"Please tell me she's wrong, Sheriff."

"…Red Rush ain't, I'm afraid. She's good at her job. There were a lot of ponies up there…and a whole lot of remains. But there was only one little filly we found, and there was that little stuffed toy nearby."

I ducked my gaze from the pair of Unicorns, politely allowing them a moment to process the news, even if only for a few seconds. I looked to the Sheriff and wasn't surprised to see a somber expression on his face. I'm sure he was filled with guilt at not being able to save everyone. I began to feel the dregs of regret tugging at me as well. If I had been faster, if I had detected this threat sooner…

How many would have been spared a merciless death? How many would still be alive and safe? How many more were at risk?

I shuffled on the spot, the itch to get going rising to a crescendo beneath my burning muscles and sweat-laced fur and skin. We couldn't stay here for much longer, as I could hear the faint screams from somewhere else in the hospital rising to greet us. More victims turning into potential infectious carriers.

"Ladies, I know this isn't ideal, but we need to leave. Now. This entire hospital is compromised and it needs to be sealed before any of the infected leave. If that happens…"

"Then…the rest of Ponyville will turn into this pony-eating-pony nightmare?" Trixie remarked in a hushed tone, her earlier bravado coming to an uncharacteristic silence. I nodded, hoping that my face was solemn enough to get my point across.

"And here I was hoping this was just another elaborate series of pranks that Rainbow Dash or Pinkie Pie had going on. Who knew I'd be hoping for more cupcake zombies again?" Starlight chuckled nervously, but I could hear the strain and sorrow lacing the edges of her words.

Zombies? I thought, and I vaguely recalled the event that Starlight referred to, from years ago. It had been a town-wide event, or so I had come to find out. I hadn't been there to witness it. If I recalled correctly, I'd been attending a seminar in new embalming and restorative art techniques in Vanhoover that week. But the word 'zombie' jumped out at me. It seemed apt, if I recalled what it meant correctly: A corpse rising from the grave, revived and shambling about in the world of the living.

Again, I felt that irritating sense of familiarity that this all rang just beneath the surface, just out of reach.

"That's…one way of describing what these ponies are," I said carefully with a thoughtful nod. I motioned to the Sheriff. "I think we might need to split ways from here. You find your deputies. Ladies, you should leave as soon as you can; the sooner, the better."

"But wait, what about you?"

"I need to seal up this place. We can't afford to have any infected leave."

"And if they have?" Trixie demanded. I took a measured breath before answering her.

"That is a bridge I'll have to cross if I come to it." I said, brushing past them for the last flight of stairs that led to the ground floor.

"Wait, you can't do this on your own! And what about those who aren't infected? They need to be able to evacuate as well!" Starlight exclaimed as she trotted after me. I glanced at her over my shoulder.

"You have an entire school full of young ponies and other creatures to take care of. You need to prioritize their safety first. I can handle the hospital. Besides…I'm the creepy pony that deals with the dead on the regular. Who else can do this without losing their lunch or their nerve?"

To their credit, both mares appeared contrite at my response. The Sheriff blustered, stepping in to intervene between Starlight and myself.

"Red Rush's right. Even if she is being a horse's ass about it," he said, a hint of a smirk tugging a corner of his lips and a brow raised in humour. It faded quickly when he turned back to Starlight. "Go take care of those young'uns. Both of y'all. And if one of you can make it to that town meeting, I would suggest you do. We'll meet you there."

The pair exchanged uneasy glances, but they nodded and hurried on ahead of me. I waited until I heard the echo of their hoofbeats faded and the slam of the stairwell door finalized their exit. I turned to the Sheriff.

"I'm giving you twenty minutes. Evacuate who you can as fast as you can and find your deputies and…give them mercy. If you're not out by then, I'm sealing the hospital."

I paused, then floated the fire axe over to him and he caught the handle in his mouth. He dropped it into the crook of his leg forelimb. The Sheriff nodded, his face set grimly as he pushed on to the second floor. "See you on the other side, Red Rush."