The Apocalypse

28

Maeve and Maurits walked through the narrow, winding paths of the survivor town, a place cobbled together from remnants of the old world. Makeshift homes formed from corrugated metal and weathered wood leaned into each other like weary friends. The air was thick with the scents of sweat, cooking fires, and the earthy undertone of survival.
Maurits held Maeve's hand firmly, his fingers wrapped protectively around hers. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, assessing each passerby and scanning every corner for potential threats. His possessiveness was flaring for some reason. The tension in his shoulders betrayed his vigilance, a silent promise to shield Maeve from any harm that might lurk in the crowded streets.
Maeve, her small hand enveloped in his, kept her gaze fixed downward, watching her feet trace the uneven path. She counted the steps in her head, each one a rhythmic escape from the chaos surrounding them. The hustle and bustle of the town seemed distant to her, a blurred backdrop to the silent conversation of her thoughts and footsteps.
He guided Maeve with gentle nudges, steering her away from rough patches of ground and the occasional scattered debris. She trusted his guidance implicitly, her attention solely on the small, familiar movements of her feet.
As they neared the stalls where the horses were kept, the noise around them shifted. The cacophony of human voices gave way to the softer, more soothing sounds of snorting and the occasional whinny. The smell of hay and leather replaced the sharper scents of the town, offering a brief respite from the harsh reality they navigated daily.
"Maurits!" Johnny called beside and Maeve turned away from him immediately.
"Go on, go make your horse ready."
"Cow." she muttered annoyed he didn't called it the right name.
"Maeve!" He warned.
She looked up before giving him a small smile and entering the barn.
"What do you need?" Maurits asked annoyed at Johnny.
"Survivors are just a few miles off our boarders. The seekers found them."
-
Maeve hummed softly as she pushed open the barn door, its old hinges creaking in protest. The dim light of early evening filtered through the cracks in the wooden structure, casting long, eerie shadows across the floor. The familiar, comforting smell of hay and horses filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of leather and dust.
As she entered the barn, Maeve moved with practiced ease, her footsteps barely making a sound on the dirt floor. She paused by each horse's stall, giving every animal a gentle pet and a kiss on the nose. The horses nickered softly in response, their warm breath puffing in the cool air. She lingered with them, feeling the steady rise and fall of their breaths, the smoothness of their coats, and the comforting sense of routine and normalcy.
Finally, Maeve made her way to the far corner of the barn where cow was kept. Her steps slowed as she approached, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. Her heart beat faster with each step, a rhythmic drumming in her ears.
When she reached the stall, Maeve's heart sank. His flesh was rotting, patches of fur hanging loosely from his decaying body. The stench of decay hit her like a physical blow, making her gag. His eyes, once warm and full of life, were now a vivid, terrifying red, glowing with an unnatural light.
Maeve's mind raced, unable to process the scene before her. She had never imagined that animals could be affected too. The cow, now a walker, let out a low, guttural moan that sent shivers down her spine.
Instinctively, Maeve stumbled back, her boot catching on an empty bucket left carelessly on the floor. She fell hard, the impact jarring her senses. Pain shot through her as she scrambled backward, her eyes never leaving the monstrous creature that had once been her beloved cow. Her breath came in shallow gasps, fear gripping her heart as she struggled to comprehend the horror she was witnessing.
-
Maurits' head snapped toward the barn, his senses heightened by the sudden noise. He had been in the middle of a conversation, but the sound was unmistakable—something was wrong. Without a second thought, he broke into a sprint, his heart pounding as he raced toward the half-open barn door. The sinking feeling in his stomach grew with every step.
As Maurits burst into the barn, the sight that met his eyes made his blood run cold. One of the horses, a magnificent creature he had known and cared for, was no longer itself. The horse had become a walker, its eyes glowing an eerie red, its teeth bared in a grotesque snarl more suited to a rabid dog than a noble steed. Its movements were jerky and unnatural, the stench of decay hanging heavily in the air.
The walker horse took a menacing step toward him, muscles tensing as if to charge. Maurits' mind worked on instinct, his hand moving to the gun at his side. Before the creature could fully exit its now-open stall, he raised the weapon, his heart pounding in his chest.
With a steely resolve, Maurits pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed like thunder in the confined space of the barn, the bullet finding its mark between the horse's lifeless eyes. The walker crumpled to the ground, its monstrous form finally still.
At that moment, a piercing scream shattered the stunned silence, the sound raw with grief and terror. Maeve's scream. It was a soul-wrenching cry that echoed the pain she had felt when she lost her brother. Maurits' heart ached for her. The scene was too much for her; it was a cruel reminder of the horrors they had faced and continued to face.
"Fuck," Johnny cursed under his breath, the word carrying a weight of frustration and helplessness. He watched as Maurits, without missing a beat, ran toward Maeve. She was huddled on the barn floor, her face pale and stricken, her eyes wide with shock. Her face covered with blood and dirt.
Maurits reached her in seconds, his strong arms wrapping around her in a protective embrace. He could feel her trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she clung to him. The barn, once a place of comfort and routine, had turned into a nightmare.
"We're gonna be okay," Maurits murmured, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "We are gonna be okay" he kept repeating giving Maeve something to hold onto. He made a promise and he already had broken it. She was hurt once again. He promised himself she was never leaving his eye sight again.
Maurits held her tightly, his gaze sweeping the barn, taking in the sight of the fallen walker horse and the blood-stained dirt.
"Johnny, we need to secure the barn and check the rest of the animals," Maurits called out, his voice carrying an edge of urgency. "We have walker in our village!"