The Apocalypse

22

Maeve awoke abruptly in the middle of the night, her body enveloped only in the sheets that covered her bed. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she quickly scanned the room, her heart pounding in her chest. But there was no sign of Maurits, her beloved partner. Panic began to creep into her thoughts, and without hesitation, she hastily threw on a nearby bathrobe, determined to find him.
Her gaze fell upon the open door leading to the balcony. She approached it cautiously, her eyes fixed on the figure standing against the black railing, staring out into the town below. "Maurits?" Maeve whispered, her voice barely audible in the night air.
At the sound of her voice, Maurits turned his head slightly, "darling" he spoke acknowledging her presence. He held out his hands, and without a moment's hesitation, Maeve took them, seeking solace in his touch. He pulled her close, enveloping her in his strong embrace. His one hand rested gently on her waist, while the other clung tightly to the balcony railing. His eyes, filled with a mix of melancholy and determination, were fixed upon the sight before them—a large bonfire illuminating the darkness.
Maeve, leaning her head against Maurits' chest, couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity. "Is there a party happening?" she asked softly, her voice filled with intrigue and a touch of concern.
"Yes," Maurits replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "It's a celebration for our return." He explained to her. Silence surrounded them again. "I have lost four people from my group," he confessed, his tone heavy with sorrow.
Maeve's heart ached at his words, realizing the weight of the losses he had endured. She understood the fragility of life in this post-apocalyptic world, and the pain that accompanied the loss of loved ones. She turned in his arms, facing him directly, her eyes searching his face.
"It's something to return everytime from the outside world!" Maurits explained to her.
"If I wasn't immune I would have died on my second night after the apocalypse happened. To lose someone is one thing to lose someone you care about and love is another thing." He muttered softly.
"I can't bear the thought of losing you," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine fear.
Maurits looked down at her, his gaze softening with affection. "You won't, you know why," she assured her, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
A sweet smile graced Maeve's lips as she met his gaze. "Because I will listen. I promise," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity. Standing on her toes, she gently pressed her lips against his, a tender and reassuring kiss.
Maurits couldn't help but chuckle, his laughter mingling with their shared affection. "Alright, darling," he whispered against her lips. "Let's get you back to bed."
-
"Today, there will be executions, involving four individuals. Three of them were bit crimes, while the fourth attempted to commit rape against a woman," Maurits informed Maeve.
"Attendance is mandatory for everyone, but you don't have to watch if you don't wish to. You can focus on me throughout the proceedings or direct your gaze wherever you feel comfortable," Maurits reassured Maeve, to which she nodded slowly in response.
"Alright," she exhaled softly.
The couple made their way towards the assembled group of people. Maurits positioned himself at the forefront alongside Johnny, gently urging the two individuals forward.
"Present Sander Vilira," Johnny's voice resonated with a stern tone. "He stands accused of attempting to rape Mrs. Samantha Sully." Two men forcibly dragged a severely battered individual towards the execution wall, where they securely fastened him with chains. Positioned in front of him were four armed men.
"Ready your weapons," Johnny commanded, his voice cutting through the air.
"Fire!" The four guns discharged simultaneously, and Sander slumped lifelessly against the chains. Maurits shielded Maeve, pressing her face into his chest, but even through her obscured view, she couldn't escape the sight of blood. The grim sequence repeated itself two more times.
"That is my brother," she spoke, her voice trembling, as her eyes caught sight of the man being placed in handcuffs. Maurits instantly reacted, grabbing her waist tightly to hold her back, knowing she was dangerously close to running towards him.
"He is turned. He needs to be put down," Maurits said, trying to reason with her.
"No," she cried desperately. "I am immune, he is immune!" She whimpered, struggling to free herself from his grasp and reach her brother.
"His eyes have changed, darling," Maurits attempted to explain, his voice filled with sorrow. Before them, four people with guns stood, their gaze shifting between Maeve and Maurits.
"No!" Maeve screamed, her voice filled with agony, thrashing against Maurits' hold. Everyone's eyes widened in astonishment. Never before had they heard her make such a distressing noise.
The four men looked at Maurits, uncertain whether to proceed, as Maeve continued to cry inconsolably. Her brother growled, transforming completely into a walker. They had found him a few feet away from the town, not fully turned, so they had brought him in to confirm whether he was immune or not.
Maurits gave a curt nod, unbeknownst to Maeve. The four men turned around, and four gunshots shattered the air. "Joshua!" Maeve screamed with all her might as Maurits released his grip on her. With full speed, she ran towards her deceased brother, tears streaming down her cheeks. She screamed in anguish, the pain of losing someone she had hoped was still there piercing her heart. Her hands hesitated over his decaying flesh, already showing signs of rot from the transition.
"A herd!" someone shouted from the gate, breaking the heavy silence. Maurits turned his head towards the gate, where Sasha ran to console Maeve, embracing her tightly. Maurits took advantage of this momentary respite to check on the gate. He ascended the stairs two steps at a time, his eyes widening at the sight unfolding before him. Walkers emerged from every corner of the woods and mountains. Maeve's anguished screams echoed through the mountains, attracting the attention of the herd. Somehow, they recognized her as one of their own, an instinctive need to protect what belonged to their herd. Just as Maurits realized this, he also understood why no walker had ever attacked him—he was immune, just like Maeve. The walkers only targeted the members of the scouting party.
Without hesitation, he ran towards her, pulling her away from Sasha's grasp, and held her tightly against his chest, desperately trying to calm her down. Her screams and cries pierced the air, but he needed to make her stop for their own safety. She clung to his body, seeking solace and protection amid the chaos surrounding them.
The herds still attacked, but their attack was less aggressively so the guards on the wall could hold them of.