The Apocalypse

30

Maeve stood quietly behind Maurits as the gates creaked open. The metal groaned in protest, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. Four survivors shuffled in, their eyes darting around warily, taking in their new surroundings. It was the day after the horrific encounter with the walker horse, and the unsettling information the scout group had brought back. Maurits had decided to keep the details secret, sharing them only with Johnny and a few trusted members of their group.
The plan was set. They would return to the house where Maeve had lived, and train with Maeve's herd of walkers. Maurits' own herd, dispersed and difficult to track, was no longer a viable option. They would leave on Monday, giving them two days to prepare.
Maeve observed the new arrivals with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The first was a tall man with a lean build, his clothes tattered and dirty, but his eyes sharp and alert. His dark hair was cropped close to his scalp, and he carried himself with a quiet confidence. The second was a woman in her mid-thirties, her face gaunt and lined with fatigue. Her blond hair was tied back in a messy braid, and she clutched a makeshift weapon, a sharpened piece of metal, with white-knuckled intensity.
It was the last two that caught Maeve's attention the most. A young man and woman, both in their early thirties, stood slightly apart from the others. There was something about them that made Maeve uneasy, though she couldn't quite place it. The man had a slender build, his dark hair falling into his eyes, and a nervous energy that manifested in fidgety movements. The woman, taller and more composed, had piercing green eyes and a predatory air about her, as if she were constantly assessing threats and opportunities.
Maeve's discomfort grew as she watched them. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, but her mind refused to give her any concrete reasons. They seemed familiar, but in a way that eluded her understanding. She tugged lightly on Maurits' sleeve, and he turned to look at her, his eyes questioning.
She whispered, "Those two... there's something wrong."
Maurits glanced at the pair, his expression thoughtful but noncommittal. "We'll keep an eye on them," he assured her softly. "Trust your instincts, Maeve."
The group mingled cautiously, the atmosphere tense with uncertainty. Maurits took charge, guiding the new arrivals to a spot where they could rest and recover. He addressed the survivors, his voice carrying a reassuring authority. "Welcome. We're a tight-knit group here, and we look out for each other."
As the newcomers settled in, Maeve couldn't shake her unease. She stayed close to Maurits, her eyes frequently darting back to the young man and woman. They were speaking quietly to each other, their expressions guarded.
Johnny approached, his face set in a grim line. "Everything's in place for Monday," he said, casting a wary glance at the newcomers. "We need to be ready for anything."
Maurits nodded. "We'll take the necessary precautions. Maeve has a bad feeling about those two," he added, indicating the young pair.
Johnny's eyes narrowed. "I'll keep a close watch on them. We can't afford any surprises."
-
Maeve lay in bed with a book, her petite frame nestled comfortably under the black duvet. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of pages as she turned them. A gentle tune hummed from her lips, a melody that brought a sense of calm to the dimly lit space.
Maurits entered the room, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her. In his hands were two glasses, the contents sloshing gently with each step. He paused for a moment, taking in the serene sight of Maeve lost in her book, the black duvet creating a stark contrast to her pale skin.
"Darling," Maurits whispered as he set the drinks down on the bedside table and slowly crawled over her petite frame. His movements were deliberate, careful not to disturb her too much.
Maeve's eyes lit up as she saw him, a smile forming on her lips. She closed her book, setting it aside as she looked up at him. "Hello," she whispered back, her voice filled with warmth and affection.
"I want you." Maurits growled slowly in her ear as he lowered his head kissing her neck softly. He pulled down the covers slowly maneuvering his fingers between her legs. Gaining a soft moan from Maeve.
"That's right darling. Missed this feeling?" He taunted softly. Pushing his fingers behind her panty. She gasped as he entered her arching her back.
"Perfect little darling." He muttered taking her lips on his before moving his hand in a timely rhythm. Before she knew it they were replaced by his dick. Slamming inside of her as moaned his name over and over. Her walls clenching around his cock milking its juices. and they fucked each other the entire night.
-
"What about this?" Sophie asked, holding up a pair of pants from the rack. The small shop, once bustling with customers, was now a silent relic of a bygone era. Dust motes floated in the shafts of sunlight streaming through the dirty windows, casting a warm, nostalgic glow over the scene.
Maeve examined the pants for a moment, then shook her head. "No," she replied, her voice soft but firm. She had been particular about what she wanted, and nothing so far had met her standards.
Maurits stood by the door, his eyes vigilant as he watched over the two girls. His presence was a comforting reminder of security in a world that offered little of it. He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze shifting between the street outside and the small interactions between Maeve and Sophie.
"How about this?" Sophie tried again, picking up a different pair. She turned to Maeve with a hopeful expression, determined to find something that would suit her.
Maeve glanced at the pants and considered them briefly before shaking her head once more. "No," she said again, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.
Maurits couldn't help but smile at Maeve's decisiveness. "It's okay, Maeve," he said gently. "Take your time. We have all the time we need."