Someone Came With Her, Part 3

“Pinkie Promise!” chirps Discord.  He morphs back into his “usual” self, if such a word could be applied to him.

“Yeah, whatever,” you sigh.  “So what am I supposed to do about this, anyway?”

 “I want you to stop the sorcerer.  What else?”

He catches your raised eyebrow.  “No, you don't need to kill him or anything like that.  Just disrupt the ritual he'll use to cross over.  It should be easy, provided you and the others can withstand his inevitable magical rampage.”

You blink.  “Others?  Magical rampage?  What?”

“See, that brings up another important point.  You'll be coordinating with some other helpers I found.  It'll give you the best chance of success.  As for the other point, there's a--”

Suddenly a shrill beeping sound fills the air--the alarm clock, no doubt.  The world around you begins to slip away.

Discord suddenly looks panicked.

“You'll do this, right? For Equestria?” begs Discord.

“Even if I believed you, I usually don't remember my dreams,” you say matter-of-factly.  “Smell you later, homes.”

“Wait!” he wails.  “There's one more thing!  This has to be done just right!  There's a very high chance that he'll cast a--”

Your eyelids flutter open.  Jeez, that dream was fucked up.  Something about Discord and dancing cacti?  Whatever, you decide as you walk to the bathroom.  The last clutches of the dream slip away as you take a shower, and soon you're not even sure if you dreamed at all.

But something lingers in your mind.  Something about Sawgrass.

After you get dressed and packed up, you realize your hands are shaking.  Butterflies flit about in your stomach.  You feel like you're back in third grade, looking out fearfully at the audience just before the school play starts.

What the hell was bothering you so much?  It's just a quick side trip, and you don't have any big plans for the day.  Why the anxiety?

The unease persists even after you check out with the Freaky Mustache Man at the front desk.  You get in your car and grab a quick granola bar from your pack for breakfast.  No time for anything more filling: you just want to get this visit out of the way.

As you drive down the lonely county road, you find yourself repeatedly checking the clock on your dashboard.  11:36...11:37...

To hell with this, you think.  Abruptly you pull over and give yourself a mental bitch-slap.  This is your vacation.   You don't even -need- to go to Sawgrass, let alone follow a schedule.

You play with the idea of just turning back and continuing on to Arizona, but by now the anxiety was lifting.  No, you didn't -need- to go to Sawgrass.  But you still kinda wanted to.  You'd just drop by for a moment, take some pictures, and act as though this little psychotic episode never happened.  Right.

You take the final turn, and half a kilometer ahead lies Sawgrass.  You slowly cruise down the main street, taking in the atmosphere.

Just like you expected, it's a depressing little place.  Most of the buildings have been bulldozed, and the few that still stand are hollow, boarded-up shells.  The sidewalks are broken ruins with ragged shrubs poking out of the cracks.  “VISIT MAGNIFICENT MEGAN'S PONY RANCH,” a decrepit sign shrieks.  “NO. 1 PLACE IN SAWGRASS.”

You pull up to an abandoned lot and climb out of your car, camera in hand.  The heat is sweltering out here, but you can handle it.

You can -mostly- handle the heat.

Never mind, it's pretty close to intolerable.

Taking a swig from your water bottle, you trudge onward.  Already you're sweating fiercely.  You drink in the sights around you, fascinated by the town's post-apocalyptic atmosphere.

From what you heard, Sawgrass was evacuated a few decades back due to the discovery of dangerous pollutants in the soil.  Back in its heyday it had a few dude ranches and a reputation for horse breeding, but now it's just a sad little cluster of nothing.

It's a great place for photos, though. Especially if you're a fan of horror movies.  It looks exactly like a place where mutants would lurk, or where your worst Freudian fears would suddenly come to life.

Idly kicking a poor rock that was just minding its own business, you mull over what to do next on your trip.  The Grand Canyon is a must.  You also heard--

Whummm.

You pause for a moment.  What was that?

Whummmm.

It's a low, throbbing hum, sounding like some sort of massive machine.  You can feel it in your teeth and deep down in your gut.  It's coming from somewhere behind you.

Half-expecting to see a flying saucer, you turn around.  Nothing looks out of the ordinary at first.  Just a few old buildings and a radio tower.

Whummmmmm.

A strange blue glow is starting to build on the top of the tower, like St. Elmo's fire.

Whummmmmmmm.

What the fuck.

Just when you start to worry that disaster is about to strike, the glow vanishes and the noise subsides.  The pitiful breeze abruptly dies, leaving you in eerie stillness and baking heat.