The Apocalypse

19

They continued on the road for another two hours, the passing scenery offering glimpses of a world forever changed. As they traveled, they noticed an increasing number of cars parked by the side of the road, their occupants seeking refuge or perhaps meeting a different fate.
Maeve's restless spirit led her to wander a little away from the group, her curiosity piqued by the sight of a gas station up ahead. However, Maurits's voice cut through the air, "stay close by, darling!" warning her to stay close. Reluctantly, she turned back to look at him, nodding in acknowledgment of his concern. Yet, the allure of the gas station beckoned, and a small spark of rebelliousness ignited within her.
Sophie, busy refueling the vehicle, remained unaware of Maeve's attempt to get her attention. The gas station seemed tantalizingly close, and the thought of finding a sweet treat or two enticed the young girl. She knew that calling out to the others would likely be met with disapproval, and she understood that Maurits wouldn't allow her to go on her own. However, the allure of a potential candy stash proved too tempting to resist.
Maurits, always vigilant, was the first to notice Maeve's absence. His sharp eyes quickly detected her figure disappearing into the gas station. His heart clenched with worry as he realized the dangers that could lie within, not only from the walkers that still roamed the world but also from other potential threats that could lurk in such places.
"Fack," he roared, a mix of frustration and fear in his voice. Without a moment's hesitation, he sprinted after her, his strong legs propelling him forward with determination. The thought of losing Maeve, filled him with a primal instinct to protect her at all costs.
Walkers might can't change her but walkers can still hurt her and kill her.
With cautious steps, Maeve ventured further into the dimly lit shop. The musty air filled her nostrils, and a shiver ran down her spine as she surveyed the disarray that surrounded her. The shelves, once neatly organized, now stood in disarray, covered in layers of dust and rust. Nature's relentless march had found its way inside, reclaiming its territory, as vines crept through cracks in the walls and tendrils of ivy snaked their way towards the ceiling.
A sudden fit of coughing erupted from Maeve as a cloud of sand swirled around her, stirred up by the creaking door. She instinctively covered her mouth and nose, her eyes watering from the intrusion of the gritty particles. Doubt began to gnaw at her, whispering warnings of the potential dangers that lurked within this eerie place. She took a step back, her initial curiosity giving way to apprehension, considering a hasty retreat.
However, before Maeve could make her escape, a figure emerged from the darkness with an ear-piercing scream. Terror surged through her veins as she instinctively dodged the incoming attack, the razor-sharp edge of a knife grazing the air close to her face. In her desperation to avoid harm, she stumbled and fell to the side, a shard of glass on the floor cutting into her side, eliciting a sharp pain.
The woman, filled with wild intensity, lunged toward Maeve, her intentions clear. But in that critical moment, Maurits, like a guardian angel, swiftly intervened. With a fierce determination, he seized the assailant and forcefully pulled her away from Maeve's vulnerable position.
Gasping for breath, Maeve quickly pushed herself into a seated position, her back pressed firmly against the corner of the room. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear coursing through her veins, as she assessed the situation. Adrenaline surged, empowering her to protect herself, even in the face of danger.
The woman, now restrained by Maurits, growled with primal fury, her eyes filled with a feral rage. The dim light cast sinister shadows across her face, accentuating the wildness that had consumed her. Maeve's mind raced, trying to comprehend the events that had just unfolded, grateful for Maurits's swift action. She didn't seem to be a walker, but the time in loneliness had made her go mad.
As the seconds ticked by, the group collectively regained their composure, their eyes fixed on the woman struggling against Maurits's hold.
"Maurits's anger blazed like a wildfire, his blood boiling with a mix of fury and protectiveness. His eyes burned with intensity as he issued his command, his voice seething with anger. "Get Maeve out of here!" he snarled, his voice laced with a fierce determination to keep her safe.
Dylan, sensing the urgency in Maurits's words, wasted no time. He swiftly reached out, his strong hands enveloping Maeve's trembling body, guiding her away from the chaotic scene within the shop. His touch offered a comforting reassurance, a steadfast presence in the midst of uncertainty.
Meanwhile, Maurits, his heart pounding with a mixture of rage and adrenaline, pushed the assailant away with force, preventing her from regaining her composure. With a swift and decisive motion, he drew his handgun, his hand steady despite the tempest of emotions raging within him. His finger squeezed the trigger, and in an instant, a bullet found its mark, ending the threat the woman posed.
Sophie and Derek, witnesses to Maurits's actions, exchanged a glance filled with a complex mix of understanding and contemplation. Their eyes held a shared history, the weight of their experiences etched in their expressions. Typically, they followed a code that emphasized caution and the potential for redemption, giving survivors a chance to explain their actions. However, in this dire situation, they recognized the necessity of Maurits's decisive response, knowing that sometimes survival demanded immediate action.
Maurits stormed out of the shop, his anger radiating like a predator on the prowl. His clenched fists and tense posture betrayed the raging storm within him. With a commanding tone, he directed his fury toward Dylan, his voice laced with venomous anger. "Leave," he ordered, his words punctuated with a seething intensity.
Dylan, though hesitant, stood his ground, recognizing the danger that Maurits's unchecked rage could pose. He raised his hands in a gesture of non-confrontation, his voice tinged with concern. "Maurits, don't do anything stupid," he pleaded, positioning himself firmly between Maurits and the car where Maeve sat, a symbol of vulnerability and innocence.
Maurits, fueled by his overwhelming emotions, disregarded Dylan's plea, his finger tightening on the trigger of his gun as he aimed it directly at Dylan's forehead. "I ordered you." The air grew thick with tension, as fear and defiance clashed in the standoff between these two strong-willed individuals.
Reluctantly, Dylan yielded to Maurits's demand, his heart heavy with worry for Maeve's safety. He stepped aside, his eyes never leaving the dangerous gaze of Maurits. As Maurits moved closer to the car, a surge of apprehension swept through Dylan, tinged with a sense of helplessness in the face of his friend's unchecked anger.
Sophie, her senses attuned to the sudden shift in the atmosphere, immediately voiced her concern, her voice trembling with fear. "Where is Maurits?" she asked urgently, a sense of foreboding settling over her. The glint in Maurits's eyes, filled with a dark and fierce rage, sent chills down her spine for the well being of Maeve.
She tried to get out but Dylan stopped her.
"I don't think will hurt her, but he would definitely hurt us."