April 30, 9:04 AM

Wayfinder emerged into the blinding light of full day, her body crushed briefly by the Colorado heat. She lingered in the doorway a second while she adjusted. My fur is getting a little long, maybe I should get a trimmer.

Getting shoved in a basement might not be the most dignified place to be, but it did have its advantages: the underground stayed much cooler than the surface. Something touched lightly to her rear as she emerged from the doorway. Way didn’t look back to see if she’d decided to wear the hoodie or not: she was entirely distracted by the view before her.

Way hadn’t grown up in Denver, or any of the surrounding neighborhoods. She no longer recognized anything she saw without turning towards the mountains.

While studying in university, Way had occasionally taken classes that presented her with views of impoverished, inhuman conditions that existed elsewhere on the planet. This view was one such: a dirty, vast favela, with damaged buildings surrounded by makeshift shelters and stalls, crowding close to each other near a narrow section of intact road. Many of those shelters had the look of military tents or perhaps UN relief supplies—but just as many were assembled from scrap metal or cardboard.

She was downtown somewhere, judging by the height of the buildings. But beyond that, Way couldn’t really guess. Voices filled the air—shouts from sellers at their stalls, moans of pain, arguments and laughter and barked orders. At least a hundred Bluetooth speakers played from everywhere, mingling into a broad featureless din that made Way’s ears press to her head.

“Entrance is back that way,” Hazel said, nudging up next to her in the doorway. She had worn the hoodie, despite the heat. With the hood all the way up over her head, Way could barely see the more unnatural features on the bug—so long as she didn’t glance behind her at her back legs. “The Police are mostly back there, between us and the entrance. We have to go there to get our food allotment every other day. They’re the ones in the camouflage, see there?”

Hazel nodded towards a unicorn mare striding their way down the sidewalk. Hardly intimidating this one: a petite unicorn about Hazel’s height, though with mature proportions for a pony. She was just short. Was there something familiar in that shade of green in her eyes? More than the uniform vest, obviously taken from surplus desert camo fatigues, then sewn with a name patch Way couldn’t quite read from that distance.

She wore a gun on her belt, which hung somewhere just behind her shoulders. Much closer to accessible, though she’d have a hard time aiming if she couldn’t use her magic. Maybe she could? She must be able to do something if she was going to march straight into those blind alleys filled with the stench of alcohol and garbage and worse things. The same way she wanted to go, away from the entrance. She could guess where she might find that “royal crystaller” who helped write the guide on magic for adults.

“Are there any rules stopping us from crossing the isolation zone?” she whispered. “Can we go that way?”

The bug nodded nervously. “So long as we’re back by curfew. We have to check off names coming in, and they collect them. If you’re not there, you don’t get food the next time. It’s… kinda the only rule.”

“Then come on.” Wayfinder urged her forward, breaking into a slow trot. The bug soon matched her pace, her hooves sounding far softer against the pavement. She was soon closing on the officer. From the side rather than behind, so the mare would see her coming. The last thing she wanted to do was frighten or anger the stranger.

But surely someone with a pastel pink coat and curly yellow mane wouldn’t be the sort to respond with violence to a reasonable request.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” she said, about the time the little mare had turned to look up at her. “Can I ask you something?”

The pony stopped dead at the word “ma’am,” and her otherwise neutral expression turned sour. “Don’t try to pull any bullshit on me, stranger. Forget how I look, I can break half the bones in your body if you make me. I’m no beat cop.”

Apparently NEM10 had a sense of humor. That stance, the fury on her face, the short cut of her mane—Way could sympathize with all of it. I guess it could be worse for me after all. I could look like her.

More than anything else, Wayfinder didn’t smile. Ruby and Sam could laugh at her loss of masculinity, but she couldn’t do the same to someone else. “No bullshit,” she said, looking away from her, as though intimidated by her intensity. “I was just—my little sister and I need to go that way, and we were hoping to follow you.” She lowered her voice, though whether it would make any difference with so many nonhumans around, she didn’t know. “We don’t feel safe here. But having an officer around would make things easier.”

The mare glanced between them. She reached forward—not hard, since she was the same height as Hazel—and flicked the hood back to expose her face. “Holy shit,” she levitated it forward, surrounding the hood with a brief flash of pink. “Second thought, you leave that on.”

She turned her focus back to Wayfinder, eyes narrowing. “Your sister isn’t dying, is she? Because if her health is threatened in any way, we have a duty to conduct her to Zone 1 for medical treatment and evaluation.”

“No,” Hazel said. Despite her typical shyness, she responded quickly. “I’m fine. I got sick months ago. I just look like someone stuck a dead body in a blender full of bugs.”

The officer wilted. “Fine, whatever. You can follow if you like. But you should know: I have a patrol assignment. I can’t escort you anywhere. If I encounter anything needing attention, you will keep your distance and not interfere.”

Way nodded. “Thank you, uh—officer?”

“Lance,” she finished, turning away with a flick of her short tail. She set off down the road again, a little faster than she’d been moving before. “Officer Lance. Don’t call me ma’am again. I don’t need more reminders.”

Way followed. Hazel joined her after a few steps, scampering to catch up.

She turned the name over in her mind. An unusual last name, but that probably didn’t mean anything.

“Yes, Officer Lance. My sister and I won’t give you any trouble. We’re just trying to make it through this place without anything… else happening to us.”

She had good reason to fear. The streets were narrow, barely wide enough for a single vehicle. They turned and shifted erratically, creating blind spots filled with trash or used for shelters.

Not one of the infected looked happy, though this was obviously for reasons disconnected from the sickness itself. She saw no signs of open wounds, sores, or other complications from their initial transformation. Everyone was fully transformed.

Rather, she saw signs of their deplorable conditions. Manes matted, coats stained, bandages from injuries obviously acquired here on the street.

There were few elements to unite them other than their inhumanity. Some tried to wear clothes, altering their old possessions to preserve their modesty. Many more wore nothing at all, and seemed to have little in the way of possessions.

Age at least seemed unaffected by the transformation. She saw children with their parents, playing awkwardly at a park filled with equipment that no longer suited their stature.

Not all were ponies at all. There were a smattering of other birds like Sam, towering over the ponies. A handful of other things too, she had no names for. At least one tiny lizard-thing, sitting alone in a scorched cardboard box and begging for scraps from anyone who got close. No sign of bugs, though she did see something she guessed was a deer, and several enormous animals sweating themselves to death with wooly coats better suited for some eastern steppe.

An uncomfortable number of the strangers eyed her as they went by, looking back at her flank. She didn’t have to turn around to guess those men probably weren’t staring at the Cutie Mark. She didn’t have to guess, because plenty of them called out to her with variations on the same themes. If she had to hear about the “discovery channel” again after today, she might really find out whether her magic could explode someone.

Hazel kept close to her while they walked, never more than a few steps away. Whenever anyone came too close, she darted under Wayfinder’s legs to hide, and stayed there until she could walk safely.

Everywhere they went, Wayfinder kept her attention alert, searching for signs of any ponies doing things differently than the general stink of bare survival and human misery. Sunburst said he was going to teach them, and his book showed he was good at it. Obviously the ones he helped would not be living in cardboard. But from one alley to the next, from a makeshift market selling salvage and contraband to a restaurant preparing emergency rations in many inventive ways, she saw no sign of the strange yellow unicorn.

“Guess I can understand why you wanted an escort,” the officer said, when they’d gone about half an hour through the streets. She’d become more relaxed as their time went on—maybe just because Way was there to soak up negative attention on her behalf. “Nothing but creeps and losers in Zone 2, but most of them usually pretend to have other motives. Might want a change in outfit.”

She winced. “Maybe you’re right,” Wayfinder agreed. “Lived with my friends before coming down to the isolation zone. Life was easier when no one was staring. You’re not wearing pants either.”

Officer Lance laughed. “I can handle myself if someone comes at me. All they have to do is give me a reason, and they’ll wish they didn’t have the hardware either.” She tapped one hoof sharply on the asphalt to demonstrate. It sounded faintly metallic—much harder than Way’s own. Another weapon for the police.

Way chuckled in spite of the grim subject. But as they traveled, the streets did seem less dangerous. Fewer shelters on the road, and more survivors huddling in the buildings instead. A few stalls remained, but here the road opened to a full two lanes, with many vehicles pushed aside to block off the road going the other direction.

And ahead, the space seemed increasingly sparse. Many buildings looked empty completely, and abandoned belongings littered the sidewalk. “I know this way. Why is no one living close to university?”

“Forest is that way,” Officer Lance replied, without looking back. “My patrol goes all the way to the border, then back through Zone 4.” She hesitated. “I don’t think you ever explained what you wanted to do out here. Long way to go in this heat.”

She felt that exhaustion herself, of course. She didn’t know whether earth horses could sweat, but here in the heat-island of a large city, she certainly could. “That’s a little hard to explain,” she said. “Not that I’m against telling, but I doubt you’d care.”

“Not even a little,” Lance said. “You can share if you like. Promise I won’t bite—people like me aren’t here to make things difficult for obedient citizens, just trying to get through a shitty situation. We’re trying to make it safe in here.”

“You’re bad at it,” Hazel said. Then she whimpered, her wings buzzing under her jacket. They couldn’t lift very far, and the sound was muffled. “Not you personally. In general. It doesn’t feel very safe in here. I miss my mom…”

The officer’s tail flicked several times in obvious frustration. She kept walking even so. “You’re not wrong, kid. Those bastards at logistics aren’t giving us half of what we need. Won’t let us deputize enough locals; they don’t want anyone in here unless they have prior training. My whole unit got the same strain of whatever this shit was. One’s so small she could ride around in a jar. So… not as much local support as we’d like. Half the state crammed into one city, half the food and not enough meds or power to keep people comfortable. Only thing keeping anyone in check is this shit.”

She stopped abruptly, gesturing ahead. Down the road, Wayfinder saw what was attracting her attention. Instead of the university campus and surrounding apartments, fast food, and dorms, there was… a forest.

The trees erupted from pavement and sidewalk, grew over buildings, and anything else that might be in their way. Several nearby parked cars looked as though they’d been working not too long ago, only now they had an enormous old-growth pine ascending through their floorboard and another hundred feet into the sky. Near the edge, several ponies gathered in uniforms, one wearing a heavy apparatus over their back.

Before Way could ask what it was, brilliant orange light exploded nearby, arching to the line of brush and trees in an enormous jet. The jelly caught to it instantly, burning with an unnatural shade of orange. “If we’re gone, there’s no one to keep this thing from eating people alive.” Lance said. No trace of humor remained in her voice, just cold confidence. “Is this what you wanted to see?”

“No…” Way admitted. “I didn’t know—” but Hazel had said there was something growing that people were afraid of. Obviously they’d found the source of that worry. “I’m looking for a… friend, who came in here before me.” She twisted to the side, nodding towards her flank. “He had one of these. Tattoo right here? Orange and yellow, talked like he was from out of state. I just figured he—”

The officer started laughing. “That lunatic? Only time I ever saw someone charge into the overgrowth. Didn’t come back, obviously. No one comes out of there. It’s where all the ones who die from the infection end up. Straight up horror movie shit. Not sure how he died, but I’m afraid your friend is toast.”

She turned away from the edge. “Anyway, I’m headed back. You can stay, or follow me. Up to you.”

There was only one thing to do.

1. Risk any danger to follow Sunburst, even into the mysterious forest. Ask Lance to take Hazel back to the shelter.
2. Go back and try to get help first. Maybe Sunburst could protect himself, that didn’t mean she could.