Warninig: Blood, deaths, violence, bad words, use of weapons
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You let out a low groan, rubbing your eyes with fatigue as you tried to shake off the sleep. The pain in your back was intense, a result of an uncomfortable night. The rain that had relentlessly fallen the night before had turned the floor of the tent into cold, wet mud, and the constant patter of drops against the canvas roof had kept you awake. However, to your relief, Alice hadn't been disturbed by the noise. She was still sleeping peacefully on your chest, her small body curled up against you in the sling that held her.
You got up carefully, trying not to wake her while adjusting the sling to ensure she remained secure. With one hand, you gathered your hair into an improvised bun, the mess reflecting how exhausted you felt.
As you stepped outside the tent, the cool morning air greeted you. "Good morning," you greeted Rick, who was emerging from the tent he shared with Lori and Carl. He nodded in your direction, responding with a smile. Everyone was tired, but the dawn always brought a slight sense of relief.
Your gaze swept over the camp, looking for something to focus on, some purpose to distract you from the weariness. It was then that your eyes landed on Glenn, watching Morales and Jim, the three of them focused on the red sports car they had recovered the day before.
You moved a little closer, observing the scene unfolding in front of you. You couldn’t help but notice the look of disappointment on Glenn’s face as the other two men, Morales and Jim, dismantled important parts from the sports car. They were removing pieces to use for Dale’s RV, something necessary but clearly bothering Glenn. Rick also approached, instantly picking up on his friend’s dismay.
“They're like vultures,” Glenn muttered, his tone laden with sarcasm and frustration as he watched Morales effortlessly pull one of the car’s tires off. “Go ahead, take it all apart.”
The weight of disappointment was evident, and though he tried to mask it with humor, it wasn’t hard to see that he felt defeated.
Dale, aware of the situation, tried to ease things. “We need the fuel for the generators,” he explained in his slow, measured tone, giving Glenn a light pat on the shoulder to emphasize the need to prioritize the group’s well-being. “Without power, we won’t have light. I’m sorry, Glenn.”
“We can get another one,” you said softly, hoping to offer some comfort. Your tone was calm, almost hopeful. Glenn, with a small, forced smile, nodded, acknowledging the attempt to cheer him up.
Rick, always pragmatic, tried to lighten the situation with his own touch of optimism. “She’s right,” he said, looking at Glenn firmly. “Maybe we’ll steal another one someday. You never know what we’ll run into.”
He gave him a few pats on the back before moving on. You stayed by Glenn’s side for a few more moments, sharing the silence.
Glenn, breaking the quiet, finally turned to you, his gaze soft but curious. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, his eyes searching yours as if, for a moment, he wanted to set his mind away from the car problems and focus on something simpler—on you.
You shrugged, trying to soften the response you knew you’d give. “I tried, but last night’s rain made it hard to rest. Alice, luckily, didn’t seem to notice,” you said, with a small smile as you glanced down at the little one, who was still sleeping peacefully in the sling.
Glenn nodded slowly, his eyes settling on the baby before a warm, genuine smile formed on his face. “I see,” he replied, his tone low and comforting. Tenderly, he let his finger brush against Alice’s tiny hand.
Alice’s little hand stirred under Glenn’s gentle touch, and both of you shared a fleeting smile, the kind that comes from a moment of calm amid the chaos. However, the tranquility shattered in an instant when a piercing scream broke through the silence that had covered the camp like a fragile layer of security. Immediately, everyone turned toward the source of the sound, their bodies tense and alert.
“Stay here,” Glenn said firmly, his gaze filled with worry before rushing to follow the rest of the group. His departure left a void around you, but you didn’t move immediately. You were used to those kinds of orders, yet the uncertainty grew in your chest.
Before you could decide whether to follow him or not, you felt a firm hand on your arm. It was Dale, coming down from the RV, his usual serious expression now more urgent. “Stay,” he ordered, his voice harsher than usual, while adjusting his grip on the axe he was holding. Without another word, he headed toward where the others were already gathering.
“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, frustrated but with no alternatives. Slowly, you began walking toward where Andrea and Amy were standing, watching from a distance. Their faces reflected the same unease you were feeling.
When you arrived, you joined them, and from that vantage point, you could see how the situation was unfolding. Carl, Sophia, and Morales' kids were crying, their small figures trembling as they clung to their mothers’ clothes. The women comforted them as best they could, though their own eyes were filled with terror. Meanwhile, the men of the camp formed a circle, weapons in hand, surrounding something you couldn’t quite see from your position.
The unmistakable sound of a growl confirmed your suspicions: a walker. How the hell had one of them gotten inside the camp? The mere fact that one of those things had crossed the barriers they believed to be safe made your stomach churn. You pressed your lips together, wishing you could see better, wishing you could do something more than just watch. But for now, all you could do was wait and trust that the others would take care of the threat.
Then, a familiar sensation interrupted your thoughts. Alice was starting to stir in the sling, and a look of discomfort appeared on her little face, accompanied by an unmistakable smell. A smell that, in any other situation, would have made you laugh, but now only drew a resigned sigh from you.
“Ugh, Alice...” you muttered, grimacing as you shook your head slightly. You knew what was coming, and though you couldn’t blame her—she was just a baby, after all—the task ahead wasn’t pleasant. “Again? Really?”
You looked around with a mix of frustration and resignation, as if the chaos outside and the chaos of changing a diaper were part of the same endless nightmare. But there was no choice. Even though the world around you was falling apart, even though the dead walked among the living, life carried on with its small needs, even in the apocalypse. Alice needed to be taken care of, and you were all she had at that moment.
You quickly searched for a spot where you could take care of the situation, finding a small corner far enough from the central tension of the camp. You carefully knelt down, unfastening the sling and placing Alice on an improvised blanket you carried in your backpack.
"Alright, ready," you whispered with a smile as you finished settling her, gently brushing her soft brown hair. Her little hands moved restlessly, and with a loving gesture, you held her face to look at her. "Are you hungry? Let’s get your bottle ready," you said in a soft tone.
Immersed in that small, private world you had created with Alice, you didn’t pay attention to what was happening just a few meters away. You didn’t bother to look when the shouting grew louder, nor when the sound of a fight began to echo through the camp. You already knew, almost without having to see it, that Rick and Daryl were clashing. Daryl had been beside himself since finding out what happened to Merle, furious that they had left him behind in the city, handcuffed to a pipe on that rooftop. What he wasn’t sharing was the reason: deep down, you believed Merle deserved it. After all, he was a dangerous idiot, and you could still feel the faint sting on your cheek, the ghost of the slap he’d given you before they left him behind.
Rick, as always, had given in to Lori’s insistence, who had practically demanded that he promise Daryl they would go back to Atlanta to search for Merle. It was a near-suicidal mission, and most of the group knew it. But, as expected, some reluctantly offered their help, knowing that refusing wouldn’t change anything. Glenn was one of them, and that stirred a pang of frustration and worry in you. You knew he couldn’t say no, that his nature made him too noble to refuse Rick, even if it meant putting his life in danger.
You walked over to Glenn, who had his back to you, focused on packing a few things into his bag: a water bottle, a flashlight, basic but essential items for such a risky mission. You watched in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of worry pressing on your chest. You knew that, even though he didn’t want to, Glenn always ended up volunteering in situations like this. He couldn’t help it; his nobility and sense of responsibility pushed him to put himself in danger time and time again.
“You couldn’t say no,” you finally said, breaking the silence as you stepped closer to him.
Glenn turned to look at you, with an expression that confirmed what you already knew: he was exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. The burden of always being the one who helps, the one who sacrifices, was starting to weigh on him. His eyes, though filled with determination, showed a shadow of defeat, as if deep down, he knew what you feared.
You sighed, and almost without realizing it, you murmured to yourself, "My sweet boy can’t say no."
You instantly scolded yourself for what you had said. Not because you didn’t feel it, but because you didn’t want those emotions to get in the way at that moment. There was too much at stake. But despite your best efforts, the affection you felt for Glenn was evident in every word you spoke.
"You know you don’t have to do this," you said louder, stepping closer to him and placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Rick can find another way, you don’t have to put yourself in danger every time someone asks you to."
Glenn gave a small smile, a mix of resignation and sadness. "I’d like to stay, believe me," he said, his voice soft but hesitant. "But I already promised Rick I would go." His attempt to justify his decision only heightened the frustration you felt. Seeing the frown on your face and the anger in your expression, he tried to sound more convincing, though you knew even he doubted his own words.
"Don’t worry," he continued, softening his tone and meeting your gaze. "I’ll be fine. We’ve done this before, remember? It won’t be any different."
"I’ll come back," Glenn insisted, with a firmness meant to reassure you. His eyes locked onto yours, as if he wanted his words to sink into every last one of your doubts. "I’ll be okay, I promise. I won’t keep doing these things if I know they make you feel like this."
"Glenn Rhee, don’t play with me," you responded in a softer tone, though still carrying a hint of disbelief. What he said comforted you, though a part of you remained skeptical. You hadn’t noticed how close you were now. Barely a foot of space separated your bodies, the tension palpable in the air, vibrating between the two of you.
"I never would," Glenn murmured, his voice low and sincere, filled with an unspoken promise. The silence that followed was intense, charged with something you couldn’t quite describe, a mix of worry and something deeper you didn’t dare name. The world around you seemed to shrink to that small shared space, until Rick’s voice broke the bubble that had formed.
"Glenn!" Rick’s shout snapped him out of the trance. Glenn pulled away, a bit reluctantly, letting out one last sigh before turning back to you.
"Take care," he said quickly, throwing you one last affectionate look before heading toward Rick and the rest of the group waiting for him.
You watched him walk away, feeling a strange emptiness in your chest. You couldn’t help but worry, but you forced yourself to trust his words. You sighed again and looked around, searching for Alice, who was in Amy’s arms. The blonde was gently rocking her while the baby played with her hair, smiling innocently.
“Y/N!” Jacqui’s voice called you from a distance as she and the other women headed toward the quarry. “We’re going to wash some clothes, do you want to join us?”
“Sure, give me a moment, I’ll catch up,” you replied with a smile, feeling grateful for the distraction. Gently, you took Alice from Amy’s arms, making sure she was comfortable in her carrier before stepping into your tent. You quickly searched for your dirty clothes and Alice’s. Then, after a brief moment of reflection, you decided you could also take a couple of Glenn’s items. You didn’t think he would mind, and after all, the poor guy already smelled.
You sat on a dry rock next to the water source, beginning to separate the clothes you would wash first. You were so focused on scrubbing the dirty garments that you barely paid attention to the conversation forming among the other women. The effort felt exhausting; you weren’t used to handwashing, and household chores had never been your strong suit, considering the long hours you used to spend at work. An internal laugh made you think, I’m definitely not wife material.
“I’m seriously starting to doubt that this is fun,” Andrea commented, holding a basket of clothes next to Jacqui, her eyes filled with frustration.
“Why do we have to do the maid’s work?” Jacqui complained, indignantly.
“It’s not that hard to understand,” you replied without looking up, your hands submerging another garment in the soapy bucket of water. “The men are so stupid they can’t even take care of themselves.”
Andrea’s dry laugh and Jacqui’s nod confirmed that you weren’t the only one sharing that sentiment.
“Didn’t you hear? The world has ended,” Amy chimed in with a touch of sarcasm, her expression ironic as she shook out a wet garment.
Before you could respond, you felt Carol’s gaze on you, her soft voice breaking your concentration. “Are you okay?” she asked, noticing the frown you had been wearing without realizing it. Her tone was warm, filled with that maternal concern she usually showed everyone.
You shook your head lightly and wiped your forehead, which was starting to glisten with a layer of sweat under the relentless sun. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a smile that tried to seem casual. “Just battling this stain,” you added with a light laugh, rubbing your hands on your waist while glancing quickly at Alice, who was still playing peacefully on the blanket.
Amy, who hadn’t stopped watching you, let out a comment laden with complicity, glancing sideways at her sister before smiling. “He’ll be fine, he’ll come back,” she said in a tone meant to be reassuring but that held a spark of mischief. It took you a moment to process what she was talking about until you realized she was referring to Glenn. Just thinking of him made the heat of the sun feel trivial compared to the blush that started creeping up your cheeks.
“I’m not worried,” you blurted out without thinking too much, even though you knew it was a blatant lie. You weren’t sure why you denied it so firmly, but the idea of everyone noticing how much you cared about Glenn made you feel vulnerable, as if you were somehow exposing a part of yourself that you had kept locked away.
“Sure, sure,” Jacqui replied, her tone clearly indicating that she didn’t believe you at all. “But I saw you arguing with him before he decided to head back to the city. You looked more than just concerned.”
“We were just talking,” you insisted, scrubbing one of Glenn’s shirts between your hands harder than necessary, as if that could erase both the conversation and the feelings you were trying to hide.
“You talk too closely to be just friends,” Carol teased, a mischievous smile forming on her face.
“Wow, I didn’t expect that comment from you,” you shot back with a smile, trying to divert the topic. Then, in a playful gesture, you splashed a bit of water at her. “We’re just friends, nothing more,” you added, though the word “friends” tasted bitter in your mouth. The relationship between you and Glenn had become trapped in that label, and it was starting to smell like something unresolved, something neither of you was ready to confront.
“I miss my washing machine,” Carol sighed, exhausted, letting a wet shirt drop onto the pile of clothes.
“I miss my Mercedes and the GPS navigation,” Andrea commented as she meticulously brushed the clothes spread over her lap. Her tone was light, but the gleam in her eyes showed a palpable nostalgia.
“And I miss my double-filter coffee maker,” Jacqui added with a smile, “with the built-in grinder, of course.”
“My computer… and text messages,” Amy interjected, frowning as she helplessly regarded the garment she had been scrubbing for what felt like an eternity.
“I miss my air conditioning and a decent bed,” you sighed emphatically. You weren’t lying; your back was a battlefield of cramps, and the relentless heat made every day feel longer than the last. It was incredible how the basics had become luxuries.
The conversation took an unexpected turn when Andrea, without warning, blurted out, “I miss my vibrator.”
The silence that followed was brief but palpable, before everyone exchanged surprised glances and then burst into laughter.
“So do I,” Carol added casually, which unleashed even more laughter, this time louder and more liberating. It was a moment of respite amidst the storm, a small flicker of humanity in a world that tried to steal it from you every day.
The atmosphere turned dense in an instant when Ed, with his cigarette hanging from his lips, approached the group. The environment, which had just moments ago been filled with laughter, was now heavy with palpable discomfort. Quick glances were exchanged among the women; the tension was evident.
“What’s so funny?” he asked in his brusque tone, his gaze heavy with disdain as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. Carol flinched slightly, and the discomfort on her face was impossible to ignore.
“We were just sharing war stories, Ed,” Andrea joked, trying to dissipate the tension. Though her words had a light tone, it was easy to see how tense she was. Carol, for her part, seemed increasingly uncomfortable, her posture shrinking with each passing second.
“Is there a problem, Ed?” Andrea’s patience was starting to wear thin, her tone sharper, almost defiant.
“It’s none of your business,” Ed replied with disdain, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and looking at her coldly. “You should focus on your work. This isn’t a comedy club.”
The coldness of his words ignited a spark within you, and before you could stop yourself, you retorted, “You’d better focus on shutting your mouth or I’ll kick your fat ass.” Your words came out with more venom than you intended, but you didn’t regret it. You held your gaze steady on him, challenging him to say more.
Seizing your intervention, Andrea stood up and walked toward Ed with a wet piece of clothing in her hand. “Listen, if you don’t like how we wash the clothes, then go wash them yourself.” She thrust the garment toward him with evident disdain, but Ed, instead of taking it, roughly tossed it aside.
“It’s not my job,” he replied, unfazed, taking another drag of his cigarette as if nothing had happened.
“Andrea, don’t do it,” Amy tried to intervene, her voice filled with concern.
“What is your job, Ed?” Andrea shot back, her patience exhausted. “Sitting on your ass and smoking cigarettes?”
Ed’s face twisted into a sneer of contempt. “I don’t have to listen to a stuck-up, arrogant bitch,” he responded aggressively. Then, his gaze turned toward Carol, who remained motionless, fear reflected in her eyes. “You, come with me,” he ordered in a rude tone, raising his voice. Carol hesitated, but fear paralyzed her.
You couldn’t just stand by. You stepped closer to her, gently taking her wrist in an attempt to stop her. “You don’t have to go anywhere, Carol.”
“Leave her alone, Ed,” Andrea interjected, placing herself between them.
Ed ignored the challenge. “That’s none of your business. Come with me!” His voice rose even further, and the tension in the air became almost unbearable.
Carol looked at you, her face pale and her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Please, Y/N, it doesn’t matter,” she whispered, her voice so fragile that you felt your heart break a little. You understood her fear. It was a cycle she couldn’t escape from alone.
Ed turned to Andrea, his face filled with fury. “Don’t think I won’t hit you too, just because you’re a college bitch.”
Andrea looked at him, offended, but before she could respond, Jacqui intervened, crossing her arms firmly. “Are you going to bruise your wife again, Ed?” Her voice resonated with authority. “We saw it. We know what you do.”
That was enough to unleash chaos. In a matter of seconds, everything turned into a struggle. Ed, in his frustration, slapped Carol when they tried to stop him. It all happened so quickly that you could barely react, but before things escalated further, Shane appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed Ed by the shirt, lifting him with a strength that seemed almost superhuman, and threw him to the ground.
“If you ever touch your wife, your daughter, or anyone in this camp again, I won’t hold back, you hear me?” Shane’s voice was a palpable threat as his fist collided repeatedly with Ed’s face. Blood and blows filled the air, and Ed’s body lay on the ground, bloodied and defeated.
The crowd fell silent, except for Carol’s sobs. Shane stood up, breathing heavily, and shot one last warning glance at Ed.
After all the commotion, you returned to the camp with heavy steps. The air felt denser than usual, but you tried to shake off the bad taste of what had happened. As you hung the wet clothes on the line, you made sure the wind wouldn’t carry them away.
When you finished, you headed to your tent, relieved to escape the lingering tension in the camp. You sighed as you picked up Alice in your arms. “Alright, little one, you’re going to have to learn to walk soon. You’re getting heavier every day,” you joked, stretching your sore back from the day’s work.
Alice, with her little bright eyes filled with determination, tried to stand up. She leaned against your legs, her tiny hands gripping your pants, but after a wobble, she ended up sitting back down on the ground. You let out a soft laugh at the sight of her; her surprised expression was adorable.
“It’s okay, sweetie, we’ll try again,” you said gently, leaning down to help her up once more. You took her small hands and patiently guided her, holding her steady as she attempted to straighten up on her wobbly feet. Her little eyes sparkled with concentration, her lips pursed in an expression that, despite her young age, conveyed a mix of frustration and determination.
“That’s it, come on... slowly,” you murmured as she, with your support, managed to stand for a few seconds. You felt her strength, small but growing, as she tried to take a step. Every advancement, no matter how minor, filled you with pride. But on her second step, her legs buckled again, and she fell gently onto her bottom, this time letting out a light giggle that was contagious.
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The cold night air seeped between your bare arms, prickling your skin as you stared restlessly at the embers of the fire. The wind played with your hair, a dark strand tickling your cheek before you brushed it away with a distracted gesture. Your leg wouldn’t stop bouncing, reflecting the agitation you felt deep within. Glenn and the others had not returned yet, and the weight of uncertainty was consuming you.
You tried to calm yourself, but negative thoughts relentlessly assailed your mind, showing you a myriad of scenarios in which things could go wrong. Each image was worse than the last, each one a reminder of how fragile the lives of those you loved had become. You hugged yourself, trying to protect not only from the cold but from the storm of emotions attacking you from within. Alice wasn’t with you; she had fallen asleep much earlier than usual, and Dale, in a kind gesture, had allowed you to lay her down in the RV for her safety, so you could get close if anything happened.
You let the conversations around the fire wash over you, although you didn’t participate much. You had never been one to talk a lot, and even less so now. You preferred to listen, to observe. It was something you did better than speaking: reading between the lines, understanding without needing to say too much.
“Where are you going?” you heard Andrea ask, her tone casual but filled with curiosity. Amy, her sister, had quietly gotten up.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” the young blonde replied softly, with a shy smile. “Gosh, a girl tries to be discreet…” she chided her sister with a hint of embarrassment as she made her way toward the RV.
Not long passed before a blood-curdling scream shattered the tranquility of the camp. The conversation halted abruptly, and everyone turned toward the source of the sound. What you saw paralyzed your heart: a walker had caught Amy and was sinking its teeth into her arm, eliciting screams of pain that seemed to echo throughout the camp. Chaos erupted like a storm. More walkers emerged from the shadows, moving slowly but with an insatiable hunger. Panic spread among everyone. Mothers instinctively shielded their children, while the others hurried to grab any weapon they had on hand to defend themselves.
Shane, with the skill of a soldier, began to shoot, taking down one walker after another that approached dangerously. Your heart raced wildly. You cursed yourself for leaving your weapon inside the tent. As you tried to back away to safety, you tripped over a rock and fell backward. The gravel scraped your skin, but you had no time to worry about the pain. One of the walkers lunged at you, and in a desperate move, you grabbed a wooden stick and drove it into its head, watching as the lifeless body fell beside you.
You breathed heavily as you got back up, the only thought in your mind being Alice. You had to reach her; you had to make sure she was safe. You fought your way through the chaos, taking down two walkers that were too close to the vehicle’s door. The dark blood of one splattered your neck, and the disgust almost made you vomit, but there was no time for that. You stopped abruptly when your eyes met a horrifying scene: another walker had reached Amy and was viciously biting her neck. Blood gushed out, splattering the ground and clothes, as Amy fell to the ground.
Andrea screamed heartbreakingly, unable to process what was happening as she held the bleeding body of her sister. The sound of Alice’s cries grew louder, increasingly desperate, and your ears began to buzz. It felt like everything slowed down, each second weighing like an eternity. Your instinct screamed at you to run to your baby, to protect her at any cost, but the horror of what you were witnessing kept you anchored in place, as if your body couldn’t move.
A scream jolted you from your reverie. "Watch out!" The warning came just in time. As you turned, a walker lunged at you, its empty eyes and decaying flesh hanging from its face. Instinct took over; you gripped the wooden stick with both hands, even as splinters dug painfully into your skin. You didn’t think, you just acted. The blow was brutal, striking directly at the walker’s head. You felt the resistance of the rotting flesh give way as the wood pierced through the skull. The body collapsed at your feet, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze.
Without wasting any more time, you ran toward the RV. The interior was dark, but you didn’t stop. You knew exactly where you had to go. You walked quickly to the small room at the back, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it would explode in your chest. With trembling hands, you pushed aside the curtain, revealing Alice. Her face was red, drenched in tears, and her arms reached out to you as soon as she saw you.
You scooped her up in your arms with a tenderness that contradicted the chaos outside. Your body shook, adrenaline and fear battling for control, but you sank to the floor, leaning your back against the wall, trying to find a breath amid the panic. Alice continued to cry, her small body shaking with sobs, and everything in you wanted to calm her, to protect her from this terrifying world that had become more dangerous with every passing second.
“Shh… I’m here, sweetheart, mommy’s here,” you whispered as you cradled her against your chest. The words slipped from your lips, automatic, a desperate attempt to soothe her, to soothe yourself. “Everything will be alright, baby. Everything will be alright.” But the sounds of screams and gunfire outside made it hard to believe. You knew the words were empty in that moment, but you repeated them, hoping they could offer some comfort, if not for her, at least for you.
The cries of Andrea, the thunder of Shane’s gunfire, and the growls of walkers continued to echo, but in that small corner of the RV, you tried to create a bubble of calm for Alice. You pressed her small body against yours, the warmth of her soft skin offering you a small ray of hope amid the despair. You couldn’t lose control, not when she needed you so much.
Tears began to fall uncontrollably, hot and heavy, as fear consumed you completely. Each sob was a reflection of the desperation you were trying to hold at bay, but you couldn’t anymore. Everything was crumbling around you. You didn’t know to whom you were praying, whether to some god that could still hear you or simply to hope itself, but you wanted the horror to end. You were so scared, so exhausted, that the simple act of breathing felt like an impossible task.
Gradually, the sounds from outside began to fade, the noise of the struggle transforming into the crunch of footsteps on the ground. Footsteps you didn’t recognize. Your heart raced again, and your mind imagined the worst: maybe everyone was dead, and you were the only survivor, doomed to face the world alone with Alice in your arms.
Your body tensed as you heard someone approaching the RV. The small room, which just minutes before had been a refuge, now felt like a death trap. You desperately searched for something to defend yourself with, anything that could help you protect Alice. But there was nothing. You were helpless, alone, and fear surged over you once more.
Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway, and for a moment, your soul seemed to leave your body. But then you saw clearly: it was Glenn. It was him, and his gaze reflected both relief and concern.
“Are you okay? Were you bitten?” His voice was filled with urgency as he knelt in front of you, his hands searching for your face, touching it gently. His thumb wiped away a tear rolling down your cheek, his gesture so full of tenderness that it broke the last barrier you had built to keep yourself strong.
“Please respond… talk to me,” he insisted, his voice nearly breaking. His eyes searched yours desperately, trying to ensure that you were truly alright.
You couldn’t speak. The words lodged in your throat, choked by fear and relief. All you could do was nod weakly before collapsing into his arms. You surrendered to his embrace like a frightened child, your body shaking uncontrollably as you sobbed against his chest. Glenn held you tightly, as if he were the only thing keeping you connected to reality amid the nightmare.
"I'm here. You're safe," he whispered softly as he held you tighter, his arms wrapping around your body with a care that almost made you crumble further. His warmth, his presence, provided you with a small anchor in the chaos. Though the world remained a terrifying place, in that moment, in Glenn's arms, you found a glimmer of safety.
As Alice, in your arms, slowly calmed down, her breathing syncing with yours, you realized that, at least for now, you had survived.
Il pazzo criminale e pedofilo, minacciato e pilotato dal nazi-sionista genocida internazionale (braccio destro di Satana), dopo le tantissime stragi attuate, le violazioni del diritto internazionale e dopo aver scatenato guerre, dopo l’utilizzo di una violenza verbale e fisica mai vista prima, minaccia che stanotte potrebbe esserci "la fine di una civiltà".
Un malato mentale megalomane e pieno di reati, un imperatore fascista osannato fino a ieri da fascisti leccaculo privi di anima del nostro Paese, sta in pratica dichiarando pubblicamente che potrebbero essere usate le atomiche e che domani potrebbe essere l’inizio della fine di ogni cosa.
Miliardi di persone sono in pericolo e tutto il nostro futuro è in pericolo perché un popolo di imbecilli fascisti e decerebrati ha preferito mettere nelle mani delle proprie nazioni la peggiore feccia criminale mai esistita: male puro, demoni che, attraverso le loro menzogne e la loro propaganda fatta di illusioni e giravolte continue, sono riusciti a portare l’intera umanità sull’orlo del collasso.
Non è solo una civiltà a essere in pericolo: è tutto il mondo che domani potrebbe cambiare per sempre. Un attacco forzato alle centrali elettriche o, peggio ancora, un’atomica, sarebbe il vaso di Pandora per scatenare tutta la forza delle altre superpotenze, che si scaglierebbero tutte insieme contro l’Occidente, distruggendoci tutti.
Avete scelto il male: mafiosi, corrotti, pervertiti, pedofili, bugiardi, e adesso perirete tutti quanti nell’inferno che vi siete selezionati.
Mi spiace per i milioni di bambini che domani potrebbero soffrire e morire tra atroci sofferenze. Se il pazzo pedofilo lancerà il suo attacco, è certo che le cose non saranno mai più come prima.
L’Apocalisse è alle porte e, anche se la società finge di crederci, il malato mentale ha le chiavi della valigetta nucleare per poter scatenare l’Armageddon.
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Since the beginning of time, humanity has always been expectant about the future; it's an anxiety that has always consumed us, to the point where there are diseases that are precisely about thinking too much about future possibilities that haven't even happened yet. Because since stories began with "Once upon a time," it was always known that an end would come, even though "happily ever after" also existed. Everyone knows that at some point, "forever" would mean something.
That is why we are so attracted to the idea of the Apocalypse, that is, the end of the world as we know it, not literally the end of the earth, because that would be quite catastrophic in one way or another, but rather the end of society and the rural and urban conventions that have defined us for thousands of years. We're talking about waking up and no longer being sure if you'll have a roof over your head, a bed to sleep in, something to eat the next day, or even if you'll wake up alive.
Whether we like it or not, we're fascinated by apocalyptic scenarios, mainly because they offer a fascinating exploration of humanity's social and psychological state. While some view humanity as a collective of spineless individuals who would kill each other off, especially when resources become scarce, others cling to the hope, however illusory, that people are fundamentally good and would strive for the common good. This is why these stories, despite originating from biblical passages, have branched out in various ways, allowing us to explore much about the human condition.
In this list, we'll examine some of them, not necessarily the most destructive. If that were the case, I'd likely choose the literal destruction of the universe due to a particle accelerator or a roaming black hole passing through Earth without us even noticing. That's not fun.
I should also mention that I'm going to focus a bit more on the works that I consider the best representatives of this form of Apocalypse. This is mainly because if I were to single one out based solely on its characteristics, it would be quite difficult to pinpoint what kind of characteristics made this Apocalypse so appealing to people. In this case, as I said, I'll focus on one specific work, but that doesn't mean I'll diminish the contributions of other works to the Apocalypse genre on this list.
1: Judgment Day
We begin with a classic from ancient civilizations, the day of judgment. Ever since we invented the idea that there were ultra-powerful lords in the sky who did not take shelter, there was also the idea of what would happen if one day those lords in the sky who protect us from universal dangers died, or on the contrary, became so angry with us that they began to cause a lot of catastrophic events in the world.
Basically, no matter what religion you see in the world, if it's complex enough, it will have at least one Doomsday story, in which the Earthly world as we know it will be left in ruins and nothing will remain of it. Usually, this type of Apocalypse also refers to a kind of Rebirth, meaning that not all of humanity will disappear, but will be placed in another environment. For example, in Norse mythology, there were two humans on Earth who would allow the human population to be repopulated, thanks to the guidance of one of the Norse gods who would survive Ragnarok. Meanwhile, in the biblical Judgment Day, the righteous humans would be taken to the sun of God and received in paradise, while those sinners would be condemned to experience the Apocalypse firsthand.
But I think none are as terrifying as the Great Flood.
Here I am not referring simply to the biblical one where Noah took two animals of each species to the ark, but to the most ancient ones; literally the first story we have recorded on stone tablets, the epic of Gilgamesh, already spoke of how at some time the gods got fed up with the world and flooded everything.
That story is so universally known by humanity that you can practically find a variation of it in every culture, whether only a small area was flooded or the whole world, for example in the aforementioned Bible where God floods the world and as an act of forgiveness, puts a bow at the end of the sky to remind us that it would never be like that again. We also have Plato with his story that, who knows why, there are still people today who are determined to find Atlantis, where the mysticism that was gradually corrupted due to the pride of its inhabitants was flooded from one moment to the next.
Even the Egyptians had a variant in which the main river overflowed to the point of covering the entire desert. This is why, wherever you go, the flood is always portrayed in a somewhat divine way, something directly imposed as a punishment from the gods. More than anything, because the idea of a flood, while quite commonplace, does not compare to the idea of something global, that is, where even the mountains would be covered in water.
The great flood is in this position mainly because, despite being a truly chilling scenario, it also relies heavily on the belief that something above us will come to punish us for our actions. In other words, the end of the world is not presented as inevitable, but rather as a remedy against the evil of the world, once again maintaining the theme of subsequent cultural rebirth. However, those we will see next do not have this luck, being more of an act of pure bad luck.
2: Alien Invasion.
What is worse than those in the heavens becoming angry with us and coming to punish us, and the punishment not even being deserved? This is where the concept of deities in the sky comes in, possibly the evolution of the concept of colonizing species in space. The final frontier. Also known as the part where human beings have been constantly wondering if they are alone or not, but I think more important than that would be whether those someone out there would have hostile intentions towards us.
Ever since aliens began to be conceptualized, they have always been shown as a reflection of humanity, a glimpse of our civilization exaggerated to the point of Flandersism. Thus, the more benevolent aliens are those idealized ideas we have about a calm, peaceful, and collaborative society, while the most aggressive ones would be the worst we can do to species we consider inferior, simply because we don't understand them.
The most chilling thing of all is that there could be a thousand different ways in which an alien civilization could invade us and destroy everything, whether from the classic flying saucer or an orbital attack arriving from thousands of light-years away, so far away that we wouldn't even see what's hitting us. Humanity would become extinct before the colonists even reached the planet, which would have everything ready for immediate terraforming. However, what impacts me the most is the novel The War of the Worlds, since it started with this whole story.
Hg Wells wrote the story as a kind of response to the colonizing behaviors of British England, that is to say, that what we were doing to our own species could be returned by a species that didn't even see us as equals, and while the book is quite good for this list I will put what is, without a doubt, its most destructive representation.
Despite the fact that many of us are nostalgic about the 2005 musical version, the truth is that there is something culturally impactful about the 1953 film that cannot be erased in any way, mainly because this film took the original Martians and brought them to a point of almost unrecognizability.
To illustrate the point, the Martians in the book use the Heat Ray and the Black Smoke, which are essentially a laser beam and also a biochemical weapon—weapons that we are still capable of manufacturing today. Not to mention the tripods, which, although quite impressive in the book, were relatively easy to destroy compared to the war machines we have today. So much so that the director of the 53 version asked a US government official if they would be able to destroy the Martians in the book, to which he replied with a resounding yes.
Hence, the 1953 version exaggerated everything possible. The Martians no longer move on any kind of mechanical legs, but they don't exactly float or hover in the air either. Thanks to a tripod-shaped electromagnetic potato beam that, if it focuses on the ground, can burn the terrain in its path, their heat weapons were replaced by disintegrating rays. That is to say, anything the beam touches destroys the mesons that bind the atoms together, causing it to disappear. They also possess energy shields, which means that not even a nuclear bomb can affect them, and the most curious thing of all is that in machine chairs they are not difficult to destroy; they are simply too advanced in their defense and attack mechanisms. This leads to the end of the film where all of humanity resigns itself to going to live in the highest mountains where they hope the machines cannot reach them.
One thing I really like about this version is the use of the atomic bomb, since the very form of the atomic bomb was a reflection of humanity's ability to emulate the destruction mentioned in mythological stories long before. Even that isn't enough to deal with the Martians now, but despite all that, the story still maintains a moral: however omnipotent the Martians may be, they are still creatures of flesh and blood. Therefore, upon entering the atmosphere, a small bacterium that miraculously was compatible with their organisms made them sick, and having no resistance against it, the entire Martian population died, and thus the whole planet was saved. Unlike in the book, the Martians didn't just land in England, but literally all over the world.
A small reminder that any species that believes itself superior to another must remember the fact that we are all also made of flesh and blood. But what if that limitation no longer exists? What if there is then another form of destruction?
3: War against the Machine.
This is the one everyone has been talking about lately. Mainly because it keeps getting updated due to the technological advances we have so much of, so much of the paranoia today is quite justified given that there are several science fiction concepts that have been applied incorrectly, and have no kind of foundation or basis in the reality of computing, but even so we are all afraid of artificial intelligence.
In fact, there are many quite serious studies that have warned that the creation of an artificial intelligence that is poorly programmed could easily lead to the extinction of all humanity in the blink of an eye. It wouldn't just be a question of whether or not they drop nuclear bombs on the world, but of literally cutting off all types of communications and causing electronic devices to malfunction in extremely serious ways. Of course, being a machine, many of the elements that we consider details for life wouldn't affect it. I already made a post talking about the enormous dangers that a war against machines could pose in real life, since they aren't limited to having to sacrifice units per base or lose soldiers; they can always rebuild, reaffirm, or rethink their strategies, provided they are well programmed.
We've all heard the story of "I have no mouth and I must scream," one of the pillars of modern science fiction and popular culture. However, I still maintain that the story that popularized the war against machines at the end of the world is none other than Terminator.
As I said, despite being the fundamental pillar, something very similar to the War of the Worlds is happening to it; that is, the strategies that were proposed at that time are already quite obsolete for the level of technology we have; that is, if Skynet used that same type of technology against us today, we would beat it quite easily.
But that doesn't change the fact that several elements of the Terminator saga in the future machine war remain extremely chilling. This is mainly because for a time humans believed that the machines were abducting people to leave them in concentration camps when in reality they were only keeping test subjects; once these were no longer useful, they were simply thrown into a meat grinder. Therefore, unlike any common enemy in a war, machines do not maintain the same morale as a common enemy. Furthermore, they do not have the same limitations.
But for me, the most chilling thing about Skynet is the fact that it's a machine that learns from its mistakes. It wasn't until halfway through the war that the Terminators began wearing synthetic human skin, cultivated on farms and by studying the behavioral patterns of Skynet humans. It also went so far as to develop a time machine to travel to the past and exterminate crucial members of the resistance. And of course, there's the T-1000, a machine created entirely from liquid metal—something that seemed like pure fantasy at the time, but which has now been successfully implemented in an experiment using a Lego minifigure as a base, allowing it to be assembled and reassembled at will.
While we know very well that an artificial intelligence cannot invent from nothing and needs a reference point, this is what makes Skynet so terrifying: it is a machine that no longer has the limitations of a human mind and yet has the creativity of one.
If the resistance wouldn't have destroyed Skynet's core; humanity might have spread throughout the Terminator timeline, which I find quite ironic since, at the end of the day, it was just about devastating the system by destroying the main CPU so that the entire threat would disconnect as if it had never been activated in the first place. But what happens when this mindset can't be disconnected when there's no brain behind the action? What if añl it wants it's to consume?
4: Zombie Apocalypse
It's curious how a creature from Haitian folklore became one of the biggest nightmares of the new millennium, mainly due to its simple nature. No matter what kind of zombie it is, there is always one characteristic they share: most look like a human, but they are no longer human.
The zombie has gone through many different incarnations, as mentioned before, it comes from Haitian folklore. Therefore, originally it was simply a person under black magic. Later, when Romero started making his films, the zombies were products of space radiation, and after that, the dead simply rose one day without any explanation. But it wasn't until the beginning of the year 2000 that zombies began to be portrayed more as a living infection.
This is when zombies began to have a more biological background, whether it's a bacterium, a virus, or a parasite that makes us walk and consume everything we touch. This seems extremely realistic by our standards, since we not only have parasites and viruses that we know control their hosts in some way, even if only to reproduce, but the simple fact of this behavior is quite natural; they are basic instincts that even microbes maintain. And maintaining this in an environment where the zombies themselves cannot stop their massacre makes the zombie apocalypse, over time, become more than anything a slow, painful death for the entire species, with fewer and fewer healthy people in the world.
Of course, we also can't forget the elephant in the room: zombies as monsters are, in essence, quite clumsy and stupid, even in fiction where zombies mutate and have a huge variety of types and forms, or can even run. They are very easy to kill; basically, they have the resistance, or even less, than that of an average human being. Not to mention that it's quite common in early zombie works for the apocalypse to be limited to a rural environment or a city that is quickly contained by a nuclear bomb, or simply by going from zombie to zombie killing whatever is found. Even movies and video games like Resident Evil, Dead Rising or 28 Days Later give the idea that the apocalypse wouldn't be global. But how could it be?
World War Z gives us the answer: our own incompetence. While in the early 90s there was still some hope that authority figures would remain present in any kind of health emergency, the arrival of the new millennium, several pandemics, and even the terrorist attacks of the time resulted in enormous distrust of authority. Therefore, World War Z is the perfect reflection of a zombie apocalypse, since the disease spread not because the zombies were unstoppable, but because of our own incompetence. There is a point in the book where they even start distributing a medicine that doesn't actually have any kind of preventative effect against the virus and was simply a placebo agent, a kind of way to calm the masses before a cure is found. Does that sound familiar?
What's interesting about World War Z is that we can see in real time how the world is going to hell, how various populations of people and even individuals isolated from the world try to stay afloat in the face of this global emergency. We have blind people, astronauts, military personnel, and families who, thinking that the zombies would go to the frozen areas and freeze, died because they hadn't planned well how to survive in the snow without a heater.
Sure, the film also maintains a certain global perspective and collaborative humanitarian effort, but the difference is that the infection occurs very quickly, whereas the book takes its time. There are several events in the Apocalypse that show how people are integrating or dealing with the zombie diseases, including millionaires who hide in bunkers and are besieged by survivors to loot them, and soldiers who, confident in their tactics, are overwhelmed by hordes of the undead, or even an entire country disappearing overnight with only a radio broadcasting what is happening—quite chilling.
Although World War Zeta wasn't the first zombie apocalypse story, it remains not only one of the most important but also the most culturally influential. If you want an answer as to how a zombie apocalypse could realistically occur on a global scale, you only need to read World War Z.
Ironically, a recurring theme in the book is the enormous human incompetence in the face of forces that are trusted, and I think the last analyst may be the best example of this.
5- Nuclear Holocaust
The thing about nuclear bombs is that since they arrived they changed the world. There's no way that a generation hasn't had at least a little anxiety about a nuclear holocaust. And that is the key word: holocaust, even though initially the phrase was used as nuclear war. The truth is, in such a war there would be no winners; the countries would fire all kinds of bombs at each other, destroying one another to such an extent that those involved would have no way of declaring victory because there simply wouldn't be any survivors left. They would have to remain on the sidelines or survive in the desolate world that a group of incompetents created out of fragile ego.
It's so common that if you think about it, all the apocalypses we've seen previously have something to do with a nuclear bomb. The first apocalypses created in mythologies always had the gods sending some kind of catastrophe so massive that it was capable of moving mountains and burning entire forests in just a moment. That nuclear bomb was the only thing keeping us a contending force against the alien invaders, and if it didn't work, we would be doomed. That nuclear bomb is also the preferred method by which it is usually mentioned that apocalypses related to artificial intelligences could destroy the planet, and the nuclear bomb is an element capable of wiping out an entire population very quickly, an element that was even used in the book World War Z
It is so popular that even works of fiction that had little or nothing to do with it were retconed to apply this same cataclysm; Mad Max itself originally had as its premise the lack of water in the world, but was later retconed to a nuclear war as the trigger for the catastrophe. And without going any further, there are other types of works that maintain a rather stereotypical nuclear aesthetic just because, despite the fact that radiation is quite lethal. The truth is, that's not the biggest problem, as far as nuclear holocaust is concerned. Just look at the Chernobyl area and you'll see how animals still maintain their habitats there despite some problems, but adapting to it, even plants continue to grow.
So if you're thinking that radiation would turn Earth into Mars or the wasteland from Fallout, you can forget about those kinds of ideas. What I would create is not that, but the destruction of the atmosphere.
The fact is that multiple sudden nuclear bomb strikes can opened numerous holes in the atmosphere, causing solar radiation, which already has carcinogenic properties, to spread across the globe without any means of making the world habitable. You would literally destroy life on Earth, and there's no way even a protective suit can help you.
And for that, there's no other franchise best than Metro 2033.
Yes, I understand that most of the time Metro also falls within the constant of stereotypical mutants due to radiation; however, this is not the only thing that keeps the franchise afloat, since the mutants are the least of the problems for the protagonists. As I already explained in the subway, you can't live on the surface under any circumstances because the sun turns the whole wasteland into a completely aggressive place. Both animals and stalkers only come to the surface at night when solar radiation is at least tolerable because it is that thing that still remains even during the day.
The real problem with the metro lies in its very name: the Moscow Metro. It's the only place where several contingency plans for nuclear holocaust are still in place. And although the franchise progresses and the atmosphere improves, and the protagonists are able to move about normally, most of the main storylines originate in the metro, in this small underworld where humans are beginning to repopulate, but under a culture that not only reflects the past but is also becoming something completely different from what it once was.
Let me explain: inside the subway there are still wars, and in these wars you encounter different types of characters who idealize past ideologies, whether it be those of revolutionaries like Che Guevara or white supremacists. There are also witch doctors who have gradually made a belief part of their daily lives, as well as everyone else. But what keeps them from expanding in any other way are the animals that have been evolving within the subway, from gigantic packs of rat kings that simply devour everything they find, including themselves, to mole creatures that grew due to the abundance of food to the point where they became dog-like hunters, or even one of the main characters of the saga, a species of Homo sapiens that began to adapt to the dark environment, creating a new species. The subway is not afraid to mix supernatural elements with science fiction; however, it still remains palpable and realistic within everything that ends up, since in the Moscow subway anything can happen because nobody knows what is hidden in the shadows.
The reason why Metro 2033 and nuclear holocaust are in first place is because it encompasses the worst fears of all the previous ones; It was created based on human incompetence with divine powers that no other species has been able to replicate. In addition, it has also put us in a precarious situation where humanity is simply expanding, but at a much slower pace, either by maintaining behaviors from the past world that we try to recover without understanding that those types of behaviors were what led us to the life that people have in that apocalyptic world, or by trying to maintain a form that they no longer fit into.
In a nuclear holocaust, a new world would be created, a Renaissance, but unlike the others, humanity would have absolutely nothing to do there. It simply wouldn't be our world anymore; it would be the world of the small creatures who, just as the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs caused, would inherit the world. Have a great day.
Que assim como no tempo de Noé possamos construir nossa arca todos os dias a medida em que o Senhor nos orienta até que Cristo venha pois assim como a inundação chegou na terra devastando tudo com a água o dia do Senhor também virá sobre a terra. Para alguns será salvação pois estarão com sua arca construída a medida dos dias em que persistiram verdadeiramente em Cristo porém para os outros que não deram ouvido será o fim ["Quem tem ouvidos, ouça o que o Espírito diz às igrejas"(Apocalipse 2:11)]. Você está realmente preparado para o "de repente"? Examine-se, tome posição em Cristo, a vinda do Senhor Jesus não é brincadeira, o Senhor nos diz através de sua palavra que será como nos dias de Noé em que muitos não davam importância a grande inundação da chuva que viria da parte do Senhor e somente quando já não havia mais tempo eles se desesperaram pela salvação que outrora estava sendo anunciada [E, como foi nos dias de Noé, assim será também a vinda do Filho do Homem. Porquanto, assim como, nos dias anteriores ao dilúvio, comiam, bebiam, casavam e davam-se em casamento, até ao dia em que Noé entrou na arca, e não o perceberam, até que veio o dilúvio, e os levou a todos, assim será também a vinda do Filho do Homem. (Mateus 24:37-39)] mas assim como as portas da arca foram seladas a porta da graça também se encerrará. "Buscai ao Senhor enquanto se pode achar, invocai-o enquanto está perto". (Isaías 55:6)
