AN: This is me pushing aside updating my stories. Yay!
WARNING: There is character death, killing, cursing, and mentions if suicide in this. If these trigger anything, then, please; DO NOT READ.
She had no idea where she was going.
"I'm the map, then, apparently."
"Yeah. Where are we going next, Chase?"
Her feet just kept moving.
"I know it hurts, but we need to go. Now, get up or I'm gonna have to drag your ass to New York."
"Fine, fine, Chase! I'm up! Doesn't mean I have to like it."
She knew this because she was staring at her dusty sneakers, not because she was willing them to move.
"Finish you're food, kid. We got to get moving soon."
"I'm one year younger than you, Chase! I'm not a kid! Gods."
One step in front of the other.
"Watch out! There's one right behind you!"
"Thanks, Chase. Good to know you have my back. But don't think this means I don't have yours!"
Farther and farther away from that dreaded city.
"Wh-what are you doing? Put the gun down! I can still find a cure! I can still save you!"
"No, you can't. There's not enough time for you to save me. But I can still save you. Sorry, Chase, but I gotta go."
The city where she lost all her friends.
She tripped over a stone jutting out of the ground. She saw the stone before, but she wanted an excuse to stop. She stumbled, but regained her balance.
Then, realizing the weight of her problems wouldn't let her take another step, she dropped onto already scabbed knees. Her backpack slipped from her shoulders, his–no, her–gun dug into her hip, and she just sat there for a long time.
She waited for her friends/family to walk out of the treeline, encouraging her to get her ass up and get moving, as she had done for them so many times. Beckendorf would follow his encouragement with a few words of wisdom. Silena would have had her perkiness bleed into her. Magnus would tell her to get moving, for their parents. Clarisse would threaten her with an ass-whooping. Luke would smile and tell her that everything would get better, because he was there for her.
But then, after seconds, minutes, hours passed, she realized that she was all alone. Completely, truly, alone.
Warm, salty tears welled out of her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. She had dreams, once upon a time, but this world–this sad, cruel world riddled with sickness and zombies and death and humans–wasn't worth living in anymore.
She took his–her–pistol out of her belt, flicked off the safety, and shakily pressed the barrel to her right temple. Luke had put the gun to his temple, too, on the same side. Same side, same gun, different life.
Untended apple trees stood tall in front of her. A lizard scuttled away, and a rabbit stared back at her, like it didn't know the world was coming to an end. She envied the tiny fuzzy creature.
This isn't the worst way to die, she reasoned. She thought of Beckendorf, who died in an explosion to bring down a horde of zombies. She thought of Silena and Magnus, torn to shreds at the hands of the enemy. She thought of Clarisse, the girl saying "I got this" and "Go on ahead" and never seeing her again. Finally, she thought of Luke, who had been falling to the zombies' poison, and shot himself in the head to know that he wouldn't infect her, too.
And tightened her finger on the trigger.
"Woah, woah, woah! What are you doing?!"
She brought the gun away from her head in surprise at the voice. She looked around frantically, but couldn't see the person, and wondered if she was finally going crazy. She wouldn't be shocked if she was, really.
But then, a boy was crouching in front of her, pinning her hand with his. His skin looked pale, and his raven black hair was messy, like he hadn't brushed or washed it in months. And that was most likely true. Dirt caked his arms, face, and clothes, and a bruise with several scratch marks located on the ill-colored skin was placed upon his cheek. His gorgeous sea-green eyes were frantic, like he actually cared if she committed suicide or not.
Her heart skipped a beat in her chest. Sue her; it's been a while since she's had living human contact that wasn't with her cousins or her cousin's girlfriend.
"What does it matter to you?" she snapped. She jerked her pistol away, which caused her to lose balance and topple onto her backpack. Both of Clarisse's and Beckendorf's old shotguns dug into her back. Those two had acquired shotguns (obviously), Magnus, Luke, and Silena managed to grab pistols, while she fought with whatever she could scrounge up–pieces of wood, baseball bats, knives. Until Beckendorf died, of course.
"Are you okay?" the boy asked, scrambling over to her.
She gave him a look that she hoped would convey the sentences I was just about to shoot myself in the head. Do you think I'm okay? "Just peachy," she bit out.
"Sorry," he said, getting her look. "Did you get hurt in that fall?" he rephrased.
"No." She brushed the dirt off her jeans and, with a jolt, realized that she had tears staining her cheeks. She quickly wiped them off.
The boy nodded. He slowly reached over, and she tensed, thinking he was about to take her stuff. But she just heard the safety of her gun click on before he retracted his hand.
"My name's Percy," he introduced. "Percy Jackson. And yours is?"
She nearly gave him the name of one of her cousins (or Silena's), because those were who she was thinking about. Not herself. "Um, Chase. Annabeth Chase."
Percy smiled–a bright, happy smile. It took her breath away. She hadn't seen a smile like that since they first lost Beckendorf. "Nice to meet you, Annabeth," he said, helping her stand up.
"Likewise." Once the word left her mouth, she looked down at the gun clasped in her hand, and realized how stupid her earlier actions had been. She had always been a fighter; always the one to pull through the worst of situations, always with the best plan. It was in her blood. She could get through this. Luke had given up his life to save hers, and to shoot herself would be selfish.
She tucked the gun back into her belt.
"Are you out here alone, or are you traveling with a group?" Percy asked.
"What does it look like?" she said. She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers getting stuck in the wild knots, before jutting her thumb behind her. "I lost my last companion some days ago." She kicked at a rock over to where the innocent rabbit had once been. She guessed it had scurried into the bushes at Percy's arrival. "'Just kind of been wandering from there. I'm guessing you're alone?"
"Nah." He shook his head. "My group is just across the treeline. They sent a couple of us to pick apples for food and cider and stuff, but I found you."
She raised an eyebrow. "How are you going to pick apples without a basket?"
"Oh! Um…" He shuffled on his feet and looked down. She guessed that he was blushing, but she couldn't tell with all the dirt on his face. "I kind of, dropped it? When I saw you? It's right over there." He pointed to the right at a metal bucket, dropped expertly on the ground.
"Nice," she remarked.
He looked up to stick his tongue out at her. "You could help me," he suggested. "Pick apples. And then, I don't know, come and meet my group? And it won't be like a forever binding contract, or anything. Just…To see if you like them."
She pondered this. She didn't know if she was ready to meet new people. Luke had just died a day or two ago (she honestly can't remember how long she had been walking), and the other five had all lost their lives in New York City, too. Of course, there had been others–Grover, Thalia, Nico, Travis, Connor, Will, Rachel, and a collection of their parents–a part of their group, but they hadn't lost their lives in the city, so their deaths weren't as fresh.
But she said, "Sure. I'll meet them."
His face broke out into that bright grin again. She put her backpack on, and they grabbed his bucket. As they picked apples until dusk, she did something she hadn't done a very long time.
Laughed.
;
The group was surprised when Percy came back to the camp with Annabeth in tow, but they welcomed her with open arms.
Before the full-on apocalypse, four years ago, when Annabeth had been twelve, she would have called the collection of people small. But now, it was like the biggest city she had seen in years.
There was some two-to-three dozen, and most of them were teenagers. The only adults were Tristan McLean, Aphrodite McLean, Pluto Levesque (Percy's uncle), Jupiter Grace, Sally Jackson (Percy's mom), and Gleeson Hedge, and the only child was Percy's kid brother Tyson.
Annabeth learned that pretty much all of them were from the same small town in Florida, too; a ragtag team led by the both late Poseidon Jackson and Chiron Brunner. (Now Sally Jackson and Jupiter Grace had taken over the reins.) There were a few strays picked up along the way, of course, like Jason and Jupiter Grace, Reyna Ramírez-Arellano, Calypso Jones, Frank Zhang, and, the newest, Annabeth Chase.
She got along great with everyone, especially Jason Grace, Reyna Ramirez-Arellano, Frank Zhang, Leo Valdez, and, of course, Percy Jackson. She and Percy ate next to each other at almost every meal, opted for the same shifts on different chores, and quickly learned how to fight back-to-back against the zombies.
But it wasn't without loss.
;
The group's plan was to go to the Camp in New York City, but, after hearing Annabeth's tale of how it was destroyed and overrun by zombies, they changed their minds. They decided to go to the Camp she had heard about in Nebraska.
Reyna Ramirez-Arellano, Gleeson Hedge, Ella Harpy, and Sally Jackson had all decided to play hero at different times, sacrificing themselves for the greater good of the group.
They had taken in a blond named Octavian, and he, on his fourth night with them, slit Leo Valdez's throat and took all of his stuff. (He just about managed to run into the night, but Nyssa Valdez shot him in the head before he made it.)
Jason Grace had been pushed out the window of a building, and Arion Runner had gone missing in Mansfield, Ohio.
The most haunting death for Annabeth had been Hazel Levesque. The girl had been thirteen, and not that big, so when she got bit by a zombie, the poison traveled through her body fast. Hazel and Annabeth had been sent off to raid a hunting store, and they both emptied the guns they had on them. Hazel got infected, and, instead of getting to stand back and shoot her, Annabeth had to stab her neck with a hunting knife.
She had been a human for thirteen years of her life and a zombie for five minutes. As she had watched the life drain from her eyes and the blood bubble out of her throat, Annabeth realized that, yeah, zombies were still human. They were still alive until you killed them.
She hadn't been able to sleep for days after that.
;
They still had yet to make it to Nebraska.
They trudged on for miles and days and years. Sometimes they got cars, but only if there were enough seats for all of the group. They were nothing if not loyal.
Most times her legs ached. Most times her lungs burned. Most times she didn't get enough to eat every day. Sometimes she felt like giving up. Sometimes she wanted to shoot herself in the head, finish what Percy has stopped all those months ago.
Then, she felt his warm hand slip into hers, and she remembered where she was going, and, most importantly, who she was going for.
AN: Yay! Cliché zombies! I'm so original.
Random fun fact that nobody cares about: Out of everyone that has ever been on the Argo II (including Reyna, Coach Hedge, Nico, and Fetus) have first names that are five letters long, except for Annabeth, Nico, Leo, and Gleeson.
This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you see any errors, please inform me and I will do my best to fix them.
Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews will stop the zombie apocalypse!