A/N: Hey guys! So this is my first actual multi chapter Percabeth story. I do have another one on my account but I think that this story will be a lot better and better written. Now, this is based off of a picture of Percabeth but my image loader absolutely hates me so, no picture but this story I very self explanatory. You guys will have to bear with me because Percy and Annabeth will meet at first. It's a little confusing but it's a great story that I quite surprised myself by coming up with it. Please enjoy!
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Annabeth POV (Age 7)
I ran through the open road, knowing the danger I put myself in but I had to get away. Get away from my family, no. They aren't even family any more. Each day it gets worse and worse, a sickly shade of green has passed over their skin. Every cut, every scrape, never healed. Turning yellow and purple and swelling to the point they have boils every where on their skin.
My family was no longer human.
Changing, morphing into something unnatural. Something terrifying. A movie come to life. I remember the book my daddy got me. Four months ago, people started becoming hot headed and turning ghastly shades of yellow to even green/purple. Biting people, tearing limb from limb and it terrified me. I was small, easy to get, slow. I was weak, they can get me.
I was wrong, I'm fast, I'm cunning, quick witted and smart. Those creatures can't get me. No matter how mundane I thought I was but now I realize there's something about me that makes me different. My dad said he was sorry when he locked the door. He shoved me out of our house.
"Run. Stay away from cities and find someone. Someone to help you. Go-" my father cringed, his hands tightening their hold on the door. The knuckles turning bleach white. His voice was now strained, "Annabeth, go west. New York, there's a place that's saf-"
"I'm sorry." With that he slammed the door. The noise knocking me backwards slightly. He left me, he shut me out. He kicked me out! I'm seven, who am I supposed to get to New York? Find people who aren't. I choked on the word even though I wasn't even talking. The word sinister. Fictional even.
Zombies.
I let the tears run down my face, my hair whipping around my face as I ran. I ran away. Running past every house, every person thinking their down with the flu, every nightmare. Especially spiders, spiders are worse than zombies.
I ran as far as I could for the day, the book clutched in my hand. I could barely read the words that said things like "pathogenic" and "carcinogens". What's that supposed to mean? I mean, I'm smart but I'm seven! The crying had stopped but my face was probably red from running, my eyes probably red and puffy and then my voice raspy. And let's not even mention the killer headache and how sore I am.
My muscles ache. My legs felt like there were thousands of copies of Junie B Jones books were glued to my legs. My favorite book from my First grade library. The sun was slowly setting in the distance. I'm so happy that I live close to the border of California and Nevada, not much to run until I'm outa here. But it was getting late, I go to bed at eight which is really late for me but maybe I'll wait till I get out of California and then rest.
I saw people walking or lying in the middle of the road. Their bodies barely moving but bites and maim marks were everywhere on them. Their moans and whines could be heard from miles away. I can't tear my eyes away, knowing the images are burned in my mind. Blinking even was horrific, the zombie fledglings lying in the ground branded on my eyelids.
I ran, I ran from the zombies. I knew they were behind me but they can't catch me, they haven't turned all the way and the tiniest bit of humanity was still there. They couldn't hurt a little girl.
Annabeth Chase. A survivor, a warrior. A seven year old fighter. Saving herself from zombies on her own. Running across the country to go to some fantasy safe haven her father had told her about. On a mission that'll end soon enough if she takes one wrong step, goes in the wrong place. The responsibility on her shoulders of having to take care of herself.
Five Years later, Manhattan, NY
"Seriously?" I looked around the deserted city. Trash littered the streets. Metro entrances were vandalized beyond recognition. The average decapitated zombie would be tossed in the alleys sometimes but most of them appeared to be in the middle of the road.
"This is worse than Ohio," I muttered to myself. Looking around at the apartment buildings. Looking to see lights or shadows of something. If there was a shadow either a person or zombie was there. Less likely a human but I had my hopes. If there was a shadow though, that meant food and water, hospitality, and sleep.
Safety.
Not a very common adjective anymore to describe America. I had gone to so many places, the mall of America, a trip to Washington DC, the Gateway Arch but there wasn't anybody there except some bratty dog, bellagio hotel and casino, Wrigly Field, Cincinnati Union Terminal and some other places. I don't know why I liked the architecture.
It's permanent, no matter how many zombies are here but the buildings will stay. They can deteriorate but they will always be there, whether rubble or the actual building, the monuments are permanent. That's what I want, something permanent. A home. A life. A person, preferably a boy but still.
Gosh, a boy. I haven't seen a boy in five years, unless you count zombies guys but I don't. I haven't seen another person.
I haven't had human contact in five years, eight months, twenty four days and seven hours.
Unless you count them.
The zombies kept me company I guess you could say. If a person didn't have human contact or hear another human will go insane. But I've heard people. People screaming in pain. People groaning while transforming into the hideous beasts.
That's when I saw the light. Light. Light in an apartment. Shadows, two people. Older women and a child. Child with short hair. A boy! A family!
I couldn't even stop myself. The chances to great of having a chance of safety and familiarity pushed me to run faster up the stairs, being ever so quiet. The window is on the fourth floor and on the very end. I can do this.
I will see someone alive and real and, and healthy.
The stairs weren't even a struggle, I felt no fatigue at all when I climbed up the stairs. I practically flew, skipping two steps at a time. The fourth floor sign was bold and bright. A sign of help. I pressed open the door, hearing groans behind me.
I gotta keep moving.
I raced down the hallway, panting from excitement and expectancy. I knocked on the door. Lightly at first, in case zombies were near. I didn't want to trigger anything. Everything was dead silent and I heard another moan from the stairs.
I got a little nervous and knocked again. Shifting my small pack I stole from a car in Indiana. Small enough to be fast but big enough to hold a small blanket, some food, a water bottle and my book.
The groans got louder and I pulled my knife out. A small dagger I found in Nebraska in a casino. It was sharp enough to maim and long enough to keep some distance but short enough to be held in the belt loops of my jeans. Mostly torn and could be mistaken as shorts and a tank top with a loose jacket.
I knocked on the door again, louder and I heard shuffling. I couldn't tell if it was from the stairs or from the apartment. My eyes darted, looking at the other doors for easy escape routes in case I had to bolt.
Instead of knocking I basically punched the door, "I'm not a zombie! Open the door!" I yelled. I looked behind me to see a zombie, not looking at me but apparently looking for its lost hand. It's wrist was purple and black and had been grotesquely chopped off. He was rather fat and his whole body seemed bloated. His face was red as if he'd been drinking and he walked dizzily, his whole body swayed and seemed ready to fall at any time.
Before he could see me I was pulled in the doorway and the door closed silently. I felt soft hands on my shoulders and I slowly turned around. My blonde hair was blocking my eyes and I couldn't see the person who had pulled me in.
"I'm Sally Jackson. Are you ok?" A soft, feminine voice asked me. I gasped in surprise hearing words from someone other than me was intoxicatingly euphoric. I couldn't help but feel excitement over whelm me.
"I'm Annabeth Chase, I'm from California and I'm not infe-" before I could finish the most important word in the apocalypse, I passed out. Feeling adrenaline course through me because I was actually happy made me go unconscious.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Now, I know that I skipped over the whole time that Annabeth spent with
Thalia and Luke but I purposefully did that because I have an idea for next chapter. I will hopefully post every week but I'm not exactly good at that. At all. But I will do my best! I hope you enjoyed, share with your friends and tell me what you think of the story! Who do you think the zombie was in the hallway, review!
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