The Apocalypse

37

Maurits was passed out beside her, his even breathing a comforting rhythm in the quiet room. Maeve carefully extricated herself from his embrace, moving with practiced ease to avoid waking him. She knew he needed the rest, especially with the tension that had been hanging over them like a dark cloud.
Slipping out of bed, she moved silently through the room, grabbing her collapsible bow from its spot by the door. It could transform from a compact, easily concealed item into a powerful weapon with just a few clicks. She pulled on her boots and a jacket, the chill of the night air seeping into the house.
Maeve stepped outside, the village bathed in the silver light of the full moon. The world was hushed, the usual sounds of the night muffled as if even nature was holding its breath. She knew Catherine would be on the wall, her usual place at this hour. The thought of confronting her sent a shiver down Maeve's spine, but it also filled her with a fierce determination. This was her moment to take control, to confront the ghost of her past that had haunted her every step.
Moving with the stealth she had learned over years, Maeve made her way toward the wall. The bow in her hand felt like an extension of herself, a tool of both protection and retribution. As she approached, she spotted Catherine's silhouette, standing as if she owned the night.
Maeve took a deep breath, her fingers flexing around the bow. She stepped into the clearing, her eyes locked onto Catherine. her eyes widening slightly at the sight of Maeve.
"Maeve," Catherine said, her voice a mixture of surprise and disdain. "What are you doing out here?"
"I come to talk," Maeve said softly, stepping into the moonlit clearing where Catherine stood.
Catherine turned to face her, a sneer forming on her lips. "About? You don't speak to me!" she replied, her tone biting and dismissive. She turned away, biting her lip, clearly unsettled by Maeve's unexpected appearance.
Maeve took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "You are bad people," she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "I remember you."
Catherine's eyes narrowed, but she didn't interrupt. Maeve continued, her resolve strengthening with each word. "I've thought about this for many hours, about what I should do. I've decided to give you a chance to flee, to run. You had a part in all the bad things that happened to me and my brother."
Catherine's sneer faltered, replaced by a flicker of surprise. "You think you're in a position to make demands?" she scoffed, though there was an undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.
Maeve nodded, stepping closer. "I do. I've learned to be kind, even when it's hard. I had a bad time at Chums On because of you. But I've decided to take the kinder path, to give you a chance. You can leave and never come back, or face the consequences."
Catherine stared at Maeve, her expression unreadable. "You think you're better than me?" she spat, though her voice lacked its usual venom.
"No," Maeve replied calmly. "But I want to be better than what you made me. I want to be free of the hate and fear you brought into my life."
For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them thick and palpable. Finally, Catherine broke the silence, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "You'll regret this," she muttered, though the threat lacked conviction.
Maeve shook her head. "No, I won't. Not this time."
"Fuck you." Catherine grabbed her hair pulling her back.
.
Maurits shot up from his sleeping side, a cold dread washing over him. He immediately knew something was wrong—Maeve was gone.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, panic lacing his voice.
He sprang out of bed, hastily pulling on his clothes and grabbing his gun. His mind raced as he burst out of the room, his eyes scanning the darkness.
"Maeve!" he called out, his voice echoing through the silent house. He sprinted through the hallways, his heart pounding in his chest.
No answer.
He pushed open the front door and stormed outside, his gaze sweeping the moonlit surroundings. The night was still, the village eerily quiet. He could feel his pulse in his ears as he called her name again, more urgently this time.
"Maeve!"
.
The two women grappled, the struggle intense. Catherine swung wildly, but Maeve's movements were precise and controlled. She remembered the training, the fear, the pain—and she channeled it all into this moment.
Catherine tried to grab Maeve's arm, but Maeve twisted free, slamming the bow against Catherine's side. Catherine stumbled back, growling in frustration. She rushed at Maeve again, and this time, Maeve met her head-on, their bodies colliding with a force that sent them both to the ground.
They rolled, each trying to gain the upper hand. Maeve felt Catherine's nails rake across her skin, but she pushed through the pain. She managed to get her legs under Catherine and kicked her off, sending her tumbling.
Maeve scrambled to her feet, her eyes locked on Catherine. "This ends now," she said, her voice filled with determination.
Catherine stood, glaring at Maeve. "You can't stop me," she spat.
Maeve's grip tightened on her bow. "Watch me." With a swift, powerful motion, she swung the bow, catching Catherine in the side of the head. Catherine staggered, disoriented.
Maeve seized the opportunity. She charged, using all her strength to push Catherine. Catherine's eyes widened in shock as Maeve pressed her advantage, forcing her closer to the edge.
Maeve sent Catherine over the wall. Catherine's scream echoed in the night as she fell, her body disappearing into the darkness below.
Maeve stood there, panting, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She stared down at where Catherine laid. She tried to get up.
Catherine's face twisted into a sneer. "And what do you plan to do, Maeve? Shoot me?"
"You were the reason my brother died. You used us, experimented on us. You deserve to pay for what you did." Maeve spoke
Catherine laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You think you can scare me, little girl? You think you can stop me?"
Maeve's grip tightened on the bow. "I know I can." She drew an arrow from her quiver, the point glinting in the moonlight. "This is for my brother. For all the pain you caused."
Catherine's eyes flickered with fear for a moment, but she quickly masked it with bravado. "Do it then," she taunted. "If you think you're strong enough."
Maeve's hand didn't waver. She aimed, her breath steady, and released the arrow. Right between Catherine his eyes. Killing her instantly.
Maurits, who had been watching from a distance, ran up to her, his eyes wide with concern. "Maeve! Are you okay?"
Maeve let her bow drop to the floor, her chest heaving with exhaustion. She slowly turned to Maurits, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and sorrow.
"I am sorry," she whispered.
Before Maurits could respond, a gunshot echoed through the night. Maeve's eyes widened in shock as she felt a searing pain in her body. She fell backward with a scream, clutching her wound.
Maeve!" Maurits shouted, his heart lurching. He saw the gunman, Rody, standing with a smoking gun. Without hesitation, Maurits drew his own weapon and fired, hitting Rody square in the chest. Rody crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Maurits sprinted toward the wall, but Emma, Rody's accomplice, was faster. She leaped over the barrier and charged towards Maeve, a fierce determination in her eyes. Sophie, alerted by the commotion, ran outside, her face a mask of horror and urgency.
"Maeve!" Sophie screamed, trying to reach her friend.
Maeve's vision blurred, the pain making it hard to focus. She saw Emma coming closer, and panic surged through her. In a desperate move, she mustered her remaining strength and yelled out to the hidden herd in the forest. "Kill her!"
The walkers responded immediately to Maeve's command. They surged out of the forest, their growls growing louder as they descended upon Emma. She barely had time to react before they overwhelmed her, their collective strength dragging her down. Emma's screams were short-lived, silenced by the ferocity of the herd.
Maurits reached Maeve, his heart breaking at the sight of her pale face and the blood spreading across her shirt. "Maeve, stay with me," he pleaded, cradling her head gently. Sophie arrived moments later, her face etched with fear.
"Maeve, please," Sophie begged, tears streaming down her face.
Maeve's eyes fluttered, her strength fading rapidly. She managed a weak smile, her gaze locking onto Maurits. "I... I did it," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Your did, darling," Maurits choked out, tears welling in his eyes. "You did."
People began to come outside their house.
"Hang those mother fuckers from their neck." Maurits shouted.
"Get me a fucking docter now!" He shouted and Johnny began to run to get him. Maeve her eyes rolled backwards before they closed.