Discordant hooves struck concrete. My heart seized at the cacophonous clacks. Go away! Go away! Go away! I willed with my thoughts. This would be my end. After months of scavenging and hiding, my journey of survival in the Edquine Event would conclude with me a bloody pulp of broken flesh mashed into the floor. A mess of fluid and bone--.

A noise captured my attention. My eyes darted to the doorway of the kitchen. I'm dead! God, why?

"They're gone," the young woman said softly. "The Jacks?"

A yelp escaped my lips. I held my knife in front of me, my arm stiff at full extension. Shaking. Yes, abundant shaking.

"They're gone," she repeated. She knelt down, matching my level, but she stayed put. "It's okay."

I sat dumb in the corner of the kitchen of the abandoned house. Well, I thought it was abandoned. My knife as my shield held up against the threat that was this person in the doorway. Her straight, blonde, greasy hair hung limp around her long, narrow face. It reached the shoulders of her slight frame, made smaller by malnourishment. She wore a facemask over her mouth as did all the survivors, which hid her features but drew me to her hazel eyes. Eyes that squinted at me.

She was laughing. Her whole body shook with it. She was laughing!

What the actual fuck? Indignation surged within me. "What?" I harshly demanded. The Jacks were completely forgotten now.

She indicated my steak knife. "What's that supposed to do against the Jacks?"

My terror replaced with rage bolstered my courage. I shuffled forward, knife still outstretched, and said, "Fuck you!" I was a true wordsmith.

She retreated from me and my knife, eyes wide. "Whoa! Chill out!"

"Fucking laugh at me!" I scowled. Not that she could tell with the mask over my face, so I made extra squinty eyes at her.

Her brow drew together. "Are you okay? You look like you're in pain," she asked. She moved forward again, my big steak knife forgotten.

I attempted a snarl.

She froze.

That's right, I thought, but my confidence was waning with my anger. I wasn't violent. I believe she noticed it as well.

"Sorry about laughing," she offered. "It was just...surprising is all. I'm Beth." Her voice softened if that was possible.

I moved back to my corner with my knife tucked against my chest, eyeing her.

She went silent.

What the hell is she doing?

She lifted her eyebrows at me and thrust her hands forward slightly, palms up.

Realization flooded me. She wants your name, dummy. "Sylvia," I stated, flatly.

"Hi, Sylvia. You're the first person I've met in...awhile. I don't even know what day it is," she said the latter, absently.

You're a gargantuan jackhole, I berated myself over my behavior.

I wasn't like this before the Edquine Event, before the horses of the world started talking and killing. Before spreading their deadly virus. Officially it was called the Equine Event, but it was immediately re-termed the Edquine Event as the internet is want to do. Memes of the Mr. Ed TV show and BoJack Horseman popped up everywhere before people started dropping like flies from either the virus the horses carried or the outright attacks from the horses themselves. It was so ridiculous that no one could have possibly made up this shit.

In light of the reality of my situation, none of it seemed funny now.

Beth's eyes narrow as they took me in, scanning my face.

"I feel like I know you." She craned her neck to get a closer look, inching forward.

I groaned. Out loud. Celebrity wouldn't even afford me solace in an apocalypse.

"Are you that lawyer?"

There it was. The words that haunt me.

"It depends on what you mean by 'that lawyer'," I said, watching her wearily.

I must have been a sight. My fro was unruly in the best of times, forget that it hadn't touched shampoo in weeks, or was it months? Sweat and dirt covered my skin and clothes. I glanced briefly at myself. My ashy arms were hideous, as were my filthy, chipped, and grimey nails. My daily skin regimen was a strict routine of lotions and moisturizers to bring out my skin's beautiful cocoa coloring. My lovers usually commented on how smooth my skin felt and looked. A lipstick lesbian they called me. I chose to call myself a dominating lawyer because putting my sexuality in a box was tantamount to diminishing my worth as a black woman. Neither the color of my skin nor who I took to bed defined me. Kicking my opponent's ass in the courtroom, now that elucidated my superiority in how I worked, how I played, and how I lived.

"Hello?"

I gasped in surprise. I had completely forgotten Beth, the attractive stranger crouching near me. Her eyes were damned attractive at least.

"You went all quiet and spacey there," Beth said, concerned. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" I asked. I sat down, giving my legs a much-needed rest. Workouts were no longer part of my daily routine. Running for my life truly didn't count.

"Calling you 'that lawyer.' I know you're Sylvia Roberts. I just didn't want to seem like a fanatic. You're kind of famous." She looked down, and I think she blushed. "At least to me," she said the last in a whisper.

That brought an unexpected chuckle from me. It seemed to surprise Beth as well as her eyes snapped up to mine.

"Yes, that's me," I said, sarcastically, "The famous, badass lawyer who had never lost a case until allegations of bribing judges hit social media."

"I never believed it," Beth said, quickly. She moved a little closer.

I scoffed, "You would be the first."

Is that lavender I smell?

"You'd never do something like that," she stated.

Her words held such conviction that I couldn't help but smile.

"That's rather naive, but I appreciate the gesture," I responded.

Beth scowled, pulling back a little. "Why's that naive?"

"You don't know anything about me, Beth. All you see is the person the media makes me out to be."

She became increasingly indignant as I spoke. "Don't know anything about you?" she huffed. "Here's what I don't know. You grew up in California to a single mother who worked two jobs. Your father bailed before you were born. Your grandma raised you and taught you your love for law. She couldn't be a lawyer because of her race, but she wanted you to be whatever you wanted. That's why you worked hard to go to Harvard Law. For her."

I stared at her in utter shock as she recounted my life story. Before talking horses became a thing and started killing everybody, I would have thought Beth a complete nutjob, stalker. That was not the case at this time.

"And that's why you'd never bribe a judge to win a case. You're too proud of the details to skip over them just to win. Bribery is the coward's way out. You're no coward," she finished with a pointedly smug look.

My chest contracted as if encircled in a band. An almost forgotten sense of belonging swelled within me. Since my grandma's death twelve years ago, I'd not experienced this kind of attention. Of course, there were the admirers. They were always present. I was never close to my mom. Her constant work schedule and then my own was not conducive to building any kind of deep relationship beyond the basic parent-child bond. No one understood me as grandma had. Until now.

"Damnit! I'm sorry. Don't cry," Beth sighed, exasperated. She closed the distance between us to gather me in her arms. "I don't know when to shut up."

For a moment, I was too shocked to move. I let her arms surround me in a comforting warmth, reveling in the sensation of being held after so long. Slowly, I leaned into the embrace, allowing everything to slip away. The waft of lavender intensified. How does she not reek of sweat like me? I marveled. The wetness that slid down my nose broke the spell.

I wiped awkwardly at my eyes but didn't move from the circle of her arms. I didn't want Beth to let go. I wasn't ready to be alone again. "Yes," I said with a trembling voice, "that's me alright. Brave Sylvia."

Beth stiffened suddenly and pulled away as if realizing that she was still holding me.

I frowned as her warmth left me.

She cleared her throat, "Ahem. We should move on. It's not safe to stay in one place for too long." With that, she got to her feet and left the kitchen.

Does she expect me to follow her?

****

That was a little over a year ago. I did indeed follow her. How could I not? She'd stolen my heart, not to mention that she was immensely better at dealing with the Jacks than I. I could face down an opponent in a courtroom but get a talking, murderous horse in front of me and I became like a victim of an Ellen Show prank. My brain went haywire while terror coursed through my body.

Beth, on the other hand, was calm and precise about every move she made. She showed very little fear, using her rational brain to mince out the best strategies for survival. I was shocked when she told me she had been a waitress. I would have never guessed. Her skills were how we came to be at the human survivalist colony. I suppose the large supply of toilet paper also helped. It was an essential survival item, more valuable than medicine. Beth was a master of finding supplies. She never ceased to amaze me.

When she came down with the Ediquine Virus, I simply couldn't believe it. My Beth, the survivalist, the rational thinker, had contracted this god awful disease. How? When? Why? I asked those and an abundance of other questions. No answer was forthcoming. Beth herself was unsure.

The colony banished her, of course. I expected nothing less. She put everyone in danger. It was the logical thing to do. We left a week ago. Though we had made friends, I would never leave Beth to face her fate alone. I would be welcomed back if I wished, they said. How could I go back? What was there for me once Beth was gone?

"Baby," Beth's voice was thready and weak, "you're making that face again." She was lying on a bed in an upstairs room in a random house close to the colony. She wore no mask. What was the point? She was wrapped in a blanket, covered in sweat. Somehow she still smelled of lavender

The first time she removed it to reveal her face to me, I literally lost my breath. She was more lovely than I could imagine. Big, pouty lips, high cheekbones, a perfectly straight nose, wide and strong chin with a small cleft in the middle all combined to possess my heart. It merely took the end of the world to find her.

"Just thinking," I said, wistfully. I was seated on the edge of the bed next to her, gazing out of the window.

"I know. The face."

How she could see my face under my facemask I'd never know. Magic? I stayed silent. With an abundance of feelings to convey, no words deemed it necessary to come to mind.

Beth's eyes watched my face.

After several seconds, I could take it no longer. The room felt as if it were closing in on me. I stood up, mustering a small smile. "I need to pee," I half lied. I had to pee, but not urgently. The weight of the situation was crashing down around me. Beth's hazel eyes boring into my skull, expectantly, adoringly, worriedly broke my wall of emotions.

I did not wait for her response. I left the room at a run. Luckily, the tears waited until I had left the room to fall. I'm a strong, badass lawyer, I mocked myself, burying my face in my hands. I squeezed my eyes shut to suppress the offending liquid. Beth can't see me crying like a baby. Get it together, Sylvia! I was about turn to go to the bathroom when Beth's scream pierced the air.

I sprinted into the room, heart hammering in my chest, bile rising in my throat, frantic to protect my love. What I saw was nothing short of horrifying. The love of my life had kicked off the covers, her limbs contorted at impossibly odd angles. Are those hooves? My mind short-circuited.

"What's happening to me, Syl?" Beth screamed.

Before I could stop myself, I said, "You're turning into a horse." Everything clicked at that moment. The virus was changing Beth into a horse.

"Sylvia?" Beth's plaintive plea sounded like a whinny.

"Beth..." I was immobile.

Hazel eyes found mine. The pain seemed to have dissipated. Her whole body was still and relaxed.

"It's going to be okay," she said, resolutely. She extended her hand to me.

I took it, sitting on the bed even though I was shattered.

Beth took a breath, the easiest one in while. "So, this is different."

A smile tugged at my mouth. Still positive Beth. I opened my mouth but she stopped me.

"Sylvia, I need to say something." She closed her eyes to steady herself before opening them again, resolve burned in their depths. "Before I met you, I obsessed about you. I read every bit of information I could find. I fell in love with you. I wanted to be you. Then all of this shit happened, and I actually met you! I thought I was dreaming. My heroine in the flesh for me to touch. I know, creepy stalker. But you were more than I could ever imagine you to be. You were right that day when you said I didn't know you. I do now." Her thumb stroked my knuckles. "I love you so much, so you have to promise me that you'll go back to the colony." Tears slid from her eyes, matching my own.

I shook my head. "I have nothing without you," I said through my tears.

"You have everything. You have a future."

"No, not without you."

I moved to remove my facemask.

She stopped me. "Don't you dare! Sylvia, I'm not dying. Don't you understand? I can't go through this if you do that." Her weeping became whinnies. "Go!"

That was the last thing she said to me. I never went back to the colony. They wouldn't understand. The horses don't frighten me anymore. I sit most days hidden in the trees, watching her run with the other horses. Occasionally, I'll catch the sound of her voice and remember a kitchen and warm arms encircling me.