Okay, so I was listening to this really epic song the other day (Radioactive by Imagine dragons) and I thought FANFICTION! And so here is Chapter 1...if you like it:) (Abi)

Percy's POV

Can you remember when the world was normal? When people lived lives and not survived or lost them. I can't. No one can anymore. I would be surprised if they did. Because that life doesn't exist anymore. Either because they're undead or like me. Yes, I said undead. And people like me aren't that common as you might think.

Just in case you have amnesia about the last decade or so or you seriously missed out on the news, I will fill you in. About a decade ago, (I'm not sure, the time passes in strange ways here) there was a big international science experiment for a gas to eliminate all Carbon Dioxide. Yeah, that failed. The experiment produced a kind of radioactive gas that flooded the planet, changing the majority of it to undead. And I do mean zombies. A few of us are immune. Including me. Yay.

The lucky such luck. There aren't many of us. In fact I've never met anyone else like me.

You're probably thinking 'great, you can do anything you like'. I wish like hell.

There are undead everywhere. They have really bad eyesight but they have incredible smell and hearing. And they look disgusting. It's weird, I couldn't describe one to you without actually seeing it. It's no wonder they were made blind. So they don't have to look at themselves. They must have low esteem or something. But almost anything can set one off after you.

They don't register the smell unless you make a sound or a sudden movement. It's because everywhere smells of humans and zombies. The smell of zombies disguises my smell sometimes and sometimes long dead human smells mask it. If you disagree with me, try living in a world full of zombies craving your blood since you were seven. Yes, if you're good at math, I'm now seventeen. I think, anyway. Time doesn't exist in this world.

Welcome to the new age.

Everyday, I wake up to a thin layer of dust, unmoved by my sleeping. I'm not sure how the dust gets there unless zombies have skin cells too. Who knows? I break into a new place every night so the local zombies don't catch my scent and call to their little friends. Well, I say little. Some of them are nearly seven feet tall. Ash lies about the streets after falling from the skies. It looks like snow but it's ash from all the burning fires the zombies create. It's something to do with the combination of Carbon Dioxide and another radioactive gas. They have to burn things to keep up the heat for their high heat bodies. They burn the tops of buildings and the ash falls from the sky later in the day.

I wish it was snow. It hasn't snowed properly for eight years. But the zombies don't let the temperature get below 70 degrees Fahrenheit for them to live. Or not live, depends on your view of them. I'm sure there is someone out there who can explain that so much better than me.

So now you know the probable weather forecast (heat and plenty of ash/snow - you don't need a meteorologist to know that) and a few things about me and the world I live in. I turn a corner in the street I am walking down and stop, waiting for the sign of undead. If there was a zombie right now, this story would be much shorter than I intend. Nothing. (A/N; I would never do that!)

I squat down and shuffle around the corner, careful not to make a noise. This part of the big city is always difficult to navigate around the undead. You can get careless after a while, like my mom did, I'm always suspicious. I'll save that story for another time. I strap my rucksack tighter to me and creep up the pavement to the little corner shop. It's all I own. I glance at the sky. No smoke means no active zombies in this part. Nothing. I always seem to get dizzy when they light the sky.

My stomach rumbles and I curse it and myself for not eating for two days. I need to get to that shop soon or I might pass out and be fresh meat for scavengers. They eat our old food but human meat is just so much better. Sometimes they resort to cannibalism within their own horrible species. I've seen what they do. With my mom. The story isn't pleasant and I'm just about to eat. Maybe I'll tell you later.

I jog down the path and stop by the corner shop door. I 'live' in New York. I have been trying to get out for about five years. Since the thing with my mom. There is no point. There are zombies in the places just where you don't want them. And it would mean leaving the memories I have earned and lied here. It would feel wrong and insensitive to my mom who is here somewhere. Or what's left. I've heard Canada is a nice play to stay. It probably was but isn't anymore. The way the undead have destroyed my world is worthy of a revolution. If there was anyone to join me, I might consider it. But there isn't so I won't.

I brace myself for any oncoming zombies and stealthily push open the shop door. If I push it just soft enough, the bell won't move and my appearance won't be noted. Surprising as it may seem to you in your perfect lives, the undead still live in the ways the humans used to. They live our dead lives. It's strange to see a zombie in a shop, setting out the food for today. Although the zombies don't actually buy the products, they just steal. The shopkeepers don't mind. All zombies steal more than any human ever has.

I take a quick glance around the shop, seeing the almost empty shelves. It's good they don't look after the shop otherwise they might see the difference in number of food that will have magically disappeared when I leave. I take a loaf of bread from the near empty shelves and grab a bottle of clean water. You don't find much clean water around here. It is usually infected. I wipe the slime off of my bottle that will probably last several weeks or maybe a little less. Depends how much running I do.

I pull open the door again, cramming the bread into my bag and taking a sip of water. There goes my daily ration. I walk back down the path to my safe house and take out the map to see how far I've come from my last spot. I stole the map from a bus for sightseeing of New York. I scale the roads and see nothing. No undead. But a low groan and thumping sound of slow walking coming to a stop tells me otherwise. Crap.

If you've got a low stomach, stop reading now. I turn around to see the horrible creature staring at me with it's huge black and unseeing eyes, like a hollow and gaping hole into the abyss of misery and loss. A loss of mind and soul.

Green tinged skin that is torn and cut, slime running down the arms, legs and all over the clothes. Peeling bits of membrane breaks away from dozens of scabs all over the body. It wears the same clothes when it was turned into this.

A pair of baggy black jeans, laced with mud and tears in various places, showing more scabs and slime, crawling down the legs. It's bones show through the green skin like an ill child. It's t-shirt was once blue with a smiley face but more tears and muck has severed the face, making it scarred and a little creepy. A single drop of saliva dribbles down the chin as the zombie stands, lopsided, in front of me. The hair appears not to have changed. The mouth and nose are both drawn close to the skin. I scowl at the monster and it stares back, empty.

I back away slowly from it and try not to panic. Even after ten years of this, you'd think I'd get used to the sight of it. Never. Each one is different and each suffers a different cut to their body. Each a different story and life. It takes a step toward me and I jump back. Great, now it's after me. You'd think for a half dead person they wouldn't run. Well, in this world, the dead are quick. I turn and run.

(A/N: And I was going to end it here...*shakes head in shame*)

The zombie chases me down numerous alleys which I don't know and I try to make the difference larger but each time I turn a corner, it follows with more. Eventually I come to a stop. About seven zombies are not too far behind me. Dead end. I am so dead.

I take my pocket knife from (ironically) my pocket and slash out at them. If I could only distract them. I remember the flare gun. I pull it out and shoot it behind the group. They turn around stupidly to stare at the sky. I run through the crowd of zombies, cutting off several scabbed fingers to get away from the clutching hands pulling at my clothes. The limps fall to the floor and I sprint away, almost laughing at my luck.

I don't know how long I run for, but it seems like ages and my legs are aching when I stop for breath. I try to control my breathing and take in the chemical air. I reach my safe house for the night, a small empty house on the edge of the city, near a park (A/N:I've never been to New York so I don't know where anything is) and a few shops. I fling open the door and quickly shut it behind me, locking it. The house is eerily silence as I fall against the door, tired from my short day. When I sleep, I dream.

*dream* (A/N: This could be long)

"Percy!" she yells, running after me down the near empty streets, her curled hair flying out behind her. "Run!"

"I'm not leaving you!" I shout back, not turning to see what may lay behind us, probably a dozen zombies attracted by the noise we make as we shout instructions to each other. I try not to look in any particular direction other than forward. They say 'never look back'. I have never know who 'they' are, though. I catch a glimpse of her in my peripheral vision of the windows we pass of shops with zombies scraping at the glass holding them from fresh meat.

A decent meal.

"They're catching up!"

I could have guessed that even if I hadn't turned around to see the chase. Yep. About two dozen zombies on the hunt, their almost heavy legs falling to the ground instead of running as they follow us. Eugh.

I notice the sun is shining high in the sky, beating down on us, pressing heat into our bodies, tiring us. Not good. But then I hear the scream.

"No!" I scream back when I see her up against a wall, bombarded by zombies, her hair finally limp after the freedom of the running, her eyes frozen in fear, paralyzed, as they bite into her drained body.

"Go, my Percy," she utters through the crowd. I can still hear her.

I run forward to her aid as the zombies cluster closer, my knife outstretched against their prying hands. I slice whatever I can just to get to her. Green skinned villains fall at my vicious swipes in the race for time. She is dying.

I pull her from the wreckage of zombie bodies and set her on the warm ground. I look around for help in hopelessness, still knowing there is no one willing to help. There is no one anyway. The humans are dead. This is in the apocalypse, why would anyone help? But there can be no hope for her either. I see the bite marks made by zombies all up her neck and arms. There is nothing I can do but let her die. She is as good as dead.

Once bitten by a zombie, there is no returning. It's something about going into septic shock or something like it. If you aren't made undead by the gas poisoning the planet already, the chemical connection of human and zombie gases will kill you at a touch. Biting. I read it somewhere. I think it was in a science museum. My mom was doing an experiment on zombie DNA and human. The two DNA's just sizzled and vanished.

I stand back as she begins to writhe in pain.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, tears in my eyes as my life-long companion froths at the mouth and falls limp at last, her eyes dead and cold. The sun still shines ironically down. The one thing I can't glare at but it glares at me.

The zombies turn their unseeing eyes to her, noses wrinkling at the smell of another dead body. The only resistance we ever had, gone. The revolution relies on me. Great.

The zombies creep up to her and I walk back, not knowing what they will do. One begins. They tear off one of arms, blood streaming from the huge wound, and begin to chew. A few fight over the new meat while I gag. A few clever zombies start pulling at her other limbs, more blood pouring from the gaping holes in her body. I turn away, my own nose wrinkling at the rusty smell of a lot of blood. I don't turn back. I run, leaving her body to the scavengers, crying and gagging.

*end of dream*

I wake up drenched in cold sweat, tears forming in my eyes at the final memory of my mom.

I check my watch. Then I remember it hasn't worked for three years. So much time has passed. Or so it seems, anyway.

I try and control my heavy breathing a bit better and stand up, ready to leave for another day. Today, I go to another route to find a way out of New York. I really hope this route is the one. If not, I am stuck here forever. Yay for me.

I open the door and shut it just as quickly as a flurry of blonde hair rushes past me. I grin, feeling adrenaline in my veins. A newcomer at last.

I reopen the door and step out into the dark morning. Judging by the light, it's about five in the morning and going to be an overcast day. Another great day in the big city. I turn left and right, trying to see the mystery person. They've gone. My only chance of a friend or companion again. I sigh and pick up my rucksack again, preparing for a journey.

I won't bore you with what I did today. Just know that my map got blown away. I say blown away, I mean I threw it. That was completely my fault. Whoops. I got to the border of the city and got lost. So I came all the way back to the bus station where I got my original map from. Just as predicted, the weather hasn't changed so it has been cloudy all day. Pretty much like my brain. I couldn't stop thinking about that glimpse of blonde hair that I saw. It wasn't a zombie. I'd know the green tinged skin anywhere. But that hair. It wasn't grimy like the others. It was human. And long and curled like my moms.

I peep around the corner of the bus station. Maybe zombies even update the maps? I can only hope. No one about. Now is my chance.

I run across the tarmac and into the bus station shop. I take several maps and run out into the dark daylight again. I look across the tarmac for any sign of zombies. Nothing. As usual. Just a boring day of thieving. Everyday is the same. Get up. Steal something. Watch zombies. Kill zombies. Sleep. Then again for the next day. Occasionally, I get this feeling that the day will be different. I get this feeling again today. But I seriously doubt anything will change, like it hasn't in the last decade.

I turn a corner away from the bus station.

CRASH!

I run into something. Or someone. Hey, today might actually be my lucky day! I drop my map and go down to pick it up, confused by my clumsiness. The thing or person. It wasn't green. It wasn't going manky. It was normal. I pick up the map and look up, my hand going to my back pocket for my knife, just in case I met a zombie instead of some fantasy person. A human.

The dark sky glares out behind the thing, whatever it is, and I stand up to get a better look. Judging by mannerisms, this is a human. But it just...can't be. It's impossible. There aren't any humans left. Anywhere. This has to be a trap. There is no other explanation.

Blonde hair flies out in the slight breeze behind the girl. It cascades over the rolling wind in neat curls. She stares at me. She runs. What is the point in that?

I pick up my map, cursing my own stupidity, and begin to chase her. [A/N: Annabeth...chase...Chase is in a chase...] I quickly lose sight of her. Dang, this girl can run fast. I suppose one of the advantages with being with zombies your entire life. You learn to run. A lot.

She turns a corner. So do I. I skid to a stop at the top of the alleyway. The girl is nowhere to be seen. I really need to get better at this whole tracker stuff. Well done, Percy.

I listen to the silence and try to depict the sound of running feet. Pounding heart. That was just a little too unlikely though. I smirk about, almost hating myself. How could I let another human get away? Great job, Percy. Really, well done.

I cautiously walk down the small road to the source of the crying. It can't be a zombie. Zombies don't cry. They just don't. I don't know why not, since they seem to have stolen our minds in every other way. So who is it? The blonde? Or someone else? But how can it be someone else? There is no one else? Just meeting this blonde girl was a miracle. But someone else? No. Not going to happen. But then, why is she crying.

Dang, so many questions.

I reach the door and breath in deeply, my hand on my back pocket. I've never seen a zombie cry, so I don't know if they do or not. My hand lies on my knife as I push open the door to see the waiting person. A girl. A girl with black spikey hair and electric blue eyes.

Oh, I wonder who that is!

I hope you enjoyed our first apocalyptic chapter...

Review if you like it and if you want updates :)