The Apocalypse

16

"We'll see you in two days!" Johnny declared, his hand landing with a resounding slap on Maurits' shoulder. The entire scout group stood prepared, their supplies meticulously packed—rations, weapons, and essentials to ensure their survival. Maeve, dressed in the warm clothes Maurits had thoughtfully provided, carried her trusty bow, a symbol of her resilience in the face of adversity.
Maurits acknowledged Johnny's words with a solemn nod, his gaze scanning the determined faces of their companions, each one prepared to face the daunting challenges that awaited them. With a sense of purpose, he turned on his heel and made his way to the waiting truck. Sliding into the driver's seat, he ignited the engine, signaling their departure from the remnants of what had once been a thriving town.
As they ventured beyond the familiar boundaries, the world around them unveiled its haunting transformation. Nature, left unchecked, had reclaimed what was once inhabited by bustling communities. Buildings lay in ruins, engulfed by rampant vegetation, transforming the landscape into an eerie testimony of the apocalypse that had befallen humanity.
In the back of the truck, Maeve sat in silence, her head bowed low, her fingers idly intertwined. Thoughts and emotions swirled within her, a whirlwind of apprehension, curiosity. She struggled to process the weight of the world outside.
The sight of the desolate world outside churned Maeve's stomach, filling her with a sense of sickness. The magnitude of the devastation struck her deeply, casting a shadow of doubt over the hope she had cherished—the hope of reuniting with her long-lost brother. The broken-down walls and dilapidated houses served as painful reminders of the unforgiving reality they faced.
Maurits, ever the stalwart leader, addressed the group, outlining their intended route. They would drive south, toward the city—a decision met with a low rumble of agreement from their companions. However, doubt lingered in Dylan's voice as he questioned the safety of venturing into potentially overrun territory. "What if it's overrun?"
Derek countered, his voice laced with conviction, "It hasn't been overrun in decades, so why now?" A debate ensued, with Sophie interjecting her perspective, "their hasn't been enough food for walkers lately!".
Lost in her thoughts and detached from the bickering voices, Maeve turned her gaze outward, peering through the reflection in the glass. There, she locked eyes with Maurits, a silent understanding passing between them. His hand, instinctively reaching for the back of his chair, was met with Maeve's gentle touch. In that simple gesture, their connection solidified, a tangible reassurance of his presence.
Maurits's grip tightened around Maeve's hand, the weight of his touch conveying both strength and solace. His action spoke volumes, a silent promise that he would be there for her, no matter the challenges they faced. The thump on the back of her hand resonated as an unspoken affirmation, a reassurance that he would always be their.
They had been riding for half an hour, their anticipation building with each passing minute, until they finally arrived at the outskirts of the city. Maurits, their leader, turned to the group and declared, "We go on foot from here." With a determined stride, he exited the car and effortlessly slung his gun over his shoulder, securing his daggers and two additional guns onto his body. The others followed suit, preparing themselves for what lay ahead.
As the group made their final preparations, Maeve turned around, her eyes fixed upon the desolate cityscape. Broken and dirty, the once vibrant metropolis now lay in ruins. Nature had boldly reclaimed its territory, intertwining with the remnants of human civilization. The sight sent a shiver down her spine, evoking a sense of foreboding.
Silent whispers of wind echoed through the decaying buildings, as if the city itself was trying to communicate its desolation. A thick layer of dust covered everything in sight, with patches of vibrant greenery defiantly emerging from the cracks in the pavement. Trees stood tall where once skyscrapers had touched the heavens, their branches reaching towards the life-giving sun.
Maeve's gaze wandered, taking in the eerie scene. The absence of human activity created an unsettling silence, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional caw of a lone bird. It was a stark reminder of the world they had left behind—a world that had been torn apart by conflict and abandoned by its inhabitants.
"Maeve," Maurits said, extending his hand towards her. Without hesitation, Maeve grasped his hand tightly, drawing closer to his protective presence. Their connection was unspoken but resolute.
"We'll start by checking the hotel first," Maurits declared, tilting his head in the direction they needed to go. Dylan, equipped with binoculars, scanned the surroundings and reported, "No walkers in sight."
"Good," Sophie remarked as she positioned herself at the rear of the group, ensuring their backs remained covered. With a shared understanding of the task at hand, they moved swiftly, their steps purposeful and measured.
"Dylan, remain outside. Derek, you take the lower region. I will search the second floor," Maurits ordered, delegating tasks to maximize their efficiency. He knew that the ground level posed a higher risk of encountering walkers, and the second floor seemed a logical place to begin their search.
"Sophie, you accompany Maeve to the third floor," Maurits continued, assigning their team members to specific areas. He understood that the upper floors were less likely to be frequented by the undead. The arduous climb up multiple flights of stairs suggested that something significant awaited them on the higher levels.
"Stay with Sophie," Maurits silently ordered Maeve, planting a tender kiss on her lips. Maeve nodded, and together they ascended the stairs. As they climbed, Sophie proposed an idea, "Do you want to go to the top? We can see the view from the ceiling and create a new memory, something positive amidst the darkness of the town." Maeve's eyes lit up with excitement, eagerly agreeing to the suggestion.
One more flight of stairs brought them closer to their destination. Finally, Sophie pushed open the door to the roof, revealing the expansive cityscape before them. Maeve walked to the edge of the roof, gazing out over the vast expanse. A wide smile spread across her face, absorbing the breathtaking sight.
However, their joy was short-lived as Sophie's expression turned to alarm. She noticed a walker slowly approaching Dylan, who seemed oblivious to the impending danger. Panic set in as Sophie desperately shouted, "Dylan!" Yet, Dylan's partial deafness due to a previous explosion prevented him from hearing her warning.
Reacting swiftly, Sophie raised her gun, determined to save her friend. Frustration and fear mingled as she lamented, "Damn it, I can't get a clear shot! Dylan!" Feeling the urgency of the moment, Maeve unhesitatingly reached for her bow, ready to intervene.
Concerned for Dylan's safety, Sophie urgently warned Maeve, "Maeve, be careful! You might accidentally hit Dylan!" But Maeve, driven by instinct and unwavering focus, didn't need any further persuasion. She swiftly released an arrow, hitting the walker square in the head. The satisfying thud echoed through the air as the threat was neutralized.
Their hearts pounding with adrenaline, Maeve and Sophie exchanged glances, a mix of relief and determination passing between them.
Dylan gasped turning around before looking up. He put up his thumps.
"I love you." He spoke up to Maeve.