The fire crackled as it shot smoke and embers of light into the night sky. It's timber burned brightly, illuminating the surrounding clearing. Two figures sat by it, comforted by its warmth. A man and a woman, dirty and exhausted, finding reprieve in the heat generated by their only light source. It seemed even the moon was dim, as if it had lost its luster and now shined at half mast, mourning.

The man spoke, his voice low and hushed, perhaps in fear of someone, or something, listening in on their conversation.

"Do you think it's true? They really abandoned us?"

He was clearly unsure, even afraid of the answer to that question. It seemed lately there had been little answers, or any information at all as to how everything, society as a whole, collapsed in a matter of weeks.

The woman poked at the fire, and tossed a small branch into it, feeding the dying flames.

"I don't know… no one's heard anything for days now. It's as if they've all gone silent… or been silenced. We have to find out… in the morning, at least. Right now, we should get some rest. I'll take the first watch, then I'll wake you in an hour."

She spoke with finality, a plan already brewing in her mind. The man nodded, his eyes focused on hers, as if wanting to burn her face into his very retinas.

"Alright then. Stay sharp, wise girl."

He laid down on the soft grass, his head propped against the fallen tree they'd been sitting on. His eyes were barely closed before he dozed off, trying to find any semblance of sleep.

The woman was now left alone, her thoughts and plans keeping her mind occupied. Had the gods truly left them? Were they on their own, left to fend off the hordes that sought nothing other than to destroy them?

She twisted a bead from the necklace she wore in her fingers. A miniature illustration of the Empire State Building was engraved on it, along with names of those long gone. Her gaze was wistful. Maybe, in another world, she would be studying and plotting designs of buildings in her spare time, her love by her side. Maybe she could have had a normal life, once.

The woman moved her hand up towards her head, plucking her baseball cap off of it. The faded color of the material and the Yankees logo felt coarse beneath her fingers. It was the first, and possibly last thing her mother gave her. It had been through her in the best and worst of times, a symbol that always gave her hope, hope that one day she wouldn't need it anymore. That she wouldn't have to hide from anyone or anything to survive ever again.

She let the hat slip from her fingers and drop into the fire, the flames growing just a bit as they consumed the polyester.

LINE BREAK

Percy rubbed his eyes, pupils dilating to adjust to the encompassing darkness around him. He was met with Annabeth staring into them, her own grey glare snapping him awake.

"I've been trying to wake you for 5 minutes. I was this close to sticking your hand in the embers," she scolded him, voice so low he could hardly hear her.

"Sorry, I'm a heavy sleeper, what can I say?" He chuckled, but Annabeth slapped his mouth shut.

"Shut up! I heard… something, just there, beyond the tree line."

She pointed to their left, but Percy couldn't see anything. Still, he took her word as fact, and slowly sat up, hand reaching for his pocket instinctively. He cursed under his breath, remembering that Riptide probably wouldn't help against this threat.

Out of the stillness that made his ears ring came a slow cacophony of sounds. A twig being broken underfoot. Liquid dripping down onto the forest floor. A growl like something primal reverberating off the bark of the surrounding foliage. Then, as if spit out of the black nothingness, a person emerged.

Hunched over, pupils wide and eyes wider. Slimy sweat and saliva dripped from every orifice. Tattered clothes hung loosely around the decaying husk that shambled toward the stunned demigods. The t-shirt this thing wore was in shreds, but the letters CHB were still barely legible.

What was once a proud demigod, a son of Hermes as Annabeth recognized named Raymond, was a shell of a human being. Humanity was still present in those eyes, but mixed with paranoia and a dark, feral lunacy. It could not speak, and even if it did, Percy could see through the boy's throat, scratched and clawed open so that his breathing was impaired. How it was even doing so was a mystery, but that didn't seem to bother the young man before them.

It grew closer, to which Annabeth and Percy scrambled back, nothing to defend themselves with other than Riptide. Percy didn't have the heart to take it out and end the miserable existence of the creature before him. He couldn't bring himself to take another human life, even if what stood before them was bordering the definition.

In a jittery and spontaneous movement, the boy leapt with a speed that shouldn't have been possible in something so frail. It grabbed onto Percy, digging its overgrown nails into his shoulder blades as it tried to tear his flesh from his body. Percy was narrowly able to move his head to avoid getting bit, holding the boy off, but shocked at the inhuman strength it possessed. He screamed bloody murder, spit from the boy's mouth covering his face, some getting into his mouth making him gag.

The creature was knocked off him as Annabeth beat it's skull with a decently sized rock, straddling the body to hold it in place as she split its head in twain. She grunted as she kept hitting it over and over, blood splattering on her face, leaving her blind but still swinging the rock.

Percy pulled her off the now still corpse, though she kept swinging wildly into the air, a crazed and desperate look on her face. She wiped her eyes, and Percy followed suit, the grotesque sight before them nearly making him hurl right after. The boy's head was caved in entirely, face unrecognizable as blood slowly oozed from the crushed arteries that once connected the brain to the rest of the body. An eye, still bloodshot red, hung off the side of the bowl-like remains of the skull. The brain was half crushed, but the only intact part still looked shriveled and punctured, likely due to the infection that once ravaged the poor soul.

Percy turned away, unable to bear sight at the remains on the ground. He instead walked back to the makeshift campsite they had set up the night before, grabbing the bag of provisions they left Camp Half-Blood with. He turned, and saw Annabeth still standing over the body, quick and sharp breaths racking her body as she clutched the blood-soaked rock in her hands. Percy grimaced, but cleared his throat, to which Annabeth looked back at him with an eerily perceptive stare.

"Let's move. There's bound to be more to come."

She looked back at the body, then to him, and nodded firmly, turning to walk with him as they left the ashes and corpse behind. Neither of them looked back at the carnage they caused.

LINE BREAK

The pair emerged from the 278 Interstate, a long line of wrecked cars in their wake. The Brooklyn Bridge was just a few hundred feet away, its double arches already beginning to crumble, pieces chipping off into the waters below. Destroyed vehicles littered the streets, some still burning quietly, others charred black from their engines exploding upon collision. Percy could see the remains of a family still in their minivan, a father's corpse draped over a mass with pink light-up shoes, stained with ash and their father's entrails. They kept walking.

Buildings stood quietly over the destruction below, some even with their windows still intact. Doors were broken off their hinges or forced open entirely, dark hallways being visible from the outside. Pets and wild animals alike roamed the streets. A dog made a meal off the body of a man in a business suit, while another pack of feral cats fought over a severed arm still holding onto a car door. Smoke billowed from distant apartment buildings, whether it be from a burning room or a distress signal wasn't discernible. The whole world had gone down the gutter in a matter of weeks, reminiscent of a calculated attack on humanity as a whole. The eerie silence was deafening, as if the great flame of Western Civilization had been snuffed out entirely. Percy had never felt so alone in his life.

Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge and into Manhattan proper held no solace either. The sun dipped lower, the high rise buildings that were still burning doing their best to hide the star from view. The top half of the World Trade Center had completely torn off, embedded in the adjacent buildings, marking the end to one of history's unluckiest structures. Getting closer to the heart of the city, it was clear that the mortal government had tried to curb the destruction and chaos. Barricades and checkpoints that had been hastily established now lay dormant or decaying, bullet casings strewn across the streets along with bodies donning armor and rifles. Annabeth picked up one, checking its magazine to find it nearly full. Neither of them knew how to aim properly or even reload, but they figured that it might help in a pinch.

As the moon rose over the night sky, casting a soft glow on the debris, Percy and Annabeth moved silently from building to building. At night, when the cover of darkness could be afforded, the hordes moved. They shambled and crawled their way from street to street, almost like a hive mind, attacking anything that moved or made noise. Alleys became a sort of safe zone, as none of the infected seemed to have the brain capacity to check left to right, only following the creature like a herd of livestock. They had no thoughts, feelings or reason. Only the desire to kill, consume, and spread.

Annabeth ducked behind a pile of trash bags in one such alley on Fifth Avenue, having just passed Washington Square. A group of nearly a dozen infected rushed past, chasing wildly after something that had attracted them, be it a straggler or an animal. It gave the demigod pair some breathing room, and they ducked into a delapidated office building. Cubicles with computers still running on back up generators gave ample cover to rest, but also plenty to be ambushed. Percy and Annabeth checked every inch of the first floor, and once they confirmed they were alone, shared an equally huge sigh of relief.

They settled into a cubicle, hiding under a desk in the pitch black, facing one another. Their bodies were so close they could feel each other's breaths on their faces. Percy leaned back and placed his head against the side of the desk.

"We're only a few blocks away now. It's just the Flatiron District, and then we're done. Home stretch." He forced a smile on his face, but there was no humor to be had in their predicament.

Annabeth rubbed her eyes, closing them and also leaning into her side of the desk. Neither of them had slept in a couple days, besides Percy's flirt with rest in the forest earlier that day. Paradoxically, though, neither of them had ever felt so restless either.

"I guess so… here, let me look at your injuries. That guy couldn't have left you unscathed."

Percy acquiesced, twisting his body around to expose his back to her. He slid his shirt off, and Annabeth took out a flashlight they had in their shared backpack. The light flickered, but stayed on, illuminating Percy's upper body. Annabeth winced at the deep red claw marks on his back where Raymond had sunk his nails into, the injuries already showing signs of infection. She fished around in the bag, and pulled out their meager stores of medical supplies. A small square of ambrosia and some gauze were all there was, even after looting a pharmacy which had already been picked clean. She popped the square into Percy's mouth, but even the divine food only managed to clear up the infection. Annabeth wrapped the gauze around his upper chest where the wounds were worst, and it seemed to do the trick for now.

She leaned back, muttering, "This can't go on for much longer. Those bastards better be up there, because we won't last another week stranded in this stupid city."

"So what's the plan then," Percy asked, "we're just gonna march on up to the Empire State Building, hop in that elevator and beg them for help? Ask them questions? Beat the shit out of them and then get smited by Zeus?"

"Percy, I don't know how they're going to react. I don't know if they'll even let us on Olympus. All we can do is hope. We made it this far didn't we?"

Annabeth reached out her hand, and Percy took it with his own. They stared at each other for a good while before laughing quietly, a pained yet genuine laugh.

"If I wasn't covered in dried blood and dirt, I could kiss you right now," Percy stated.

"What's really stopping you?" Annabeth remarked quietly.

Percy mulled it over, then leaned in, capturing her lips with his own. She held his cheek, pulling him closer, making the moment last as they embraced in the now somewhat comforting darkness. It was the first moment of true peace they'd had in several days.

Once they broke apart, the silence and stress returned to them. He looked over to his left, taking out a water bottle from their pack. He turned the plastic over in his hands, eyes narrowed and concentrating. Perhaps out of boredom, or maybe even curiosity, he tried making the water defy gravity and flow out. The liquid remained indifferent to his efforts. Nothing had changed, both in the bottle or in the past month regarding his powers. He set the bottle down with a sigh.

Percy turned his attention to their newest, staring at the rifle still laying on the floor beside them, its barrel gleaming even in the dark office space.

"Do we even know if it works? We haven't shot it yet. Hell, I haven't even held one of those in my life."

"I mean… it's not like we can test it, unless we want to be dinner for these… things. It's a final resort, let's just leave it at that."

Percy nodded, not moving for a second before reaching into his pocket and taking Riptide out. He threw the pen away, but a few seconds later it materialized back into his pocket. He fished it out again with a sigh, turning it over in his hands.

"I mean, at least that gun can hurt those things. That's already leaps and bounds better than this," he shaked the pen coldly in his hands. "It's not like we've seen a monster since Greece anyway. Your cap at least gave us a few seconds of heat left. Thalia's bear mace can managed to stun one of those guys when she used it. What is this useful for? Writing my final wishes down?" He scoffed.

Annabeth snatched it from his hands. "You never know. It could save our lives one day. Besides, we don't have much else anyway. Last I checked we had maybe 3 bottles of water and half a Snickers in that bag, maybe a can of kidney beans too. Whatever we can get our hands on, we keep. Now sleep. I'll take first watch again, but please wake up this time."

Percy grumbled under his breath, but nodded. Sleep suddenly sounded great, now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He closed his eyes, hoping for the first time in his life that he would get a dream that might hold some information.

He had no such luck.

It took nearly two days of evading the hordes to cross the length of the Flatiron District. Every time they sat down to rest, they discussed plans and strategies, what to do when they got to Olympus. The conversations quickly changed though, as their food supplies dwindled, into their favorite foods. Percy would describe his mom's blue cookies while Annabeth tried to imagine biting into one. The crunch as her teeth broke the cookie into chunks, the chocolate dissolving on her tongue. It held them over in the worst of times, but no amount of imaginary food could silence the growls of their stomachs. They had to find refuge, fast.

The crows cawed overhead, circling above the chaos beneath them, searching for prey. Percy and Annabeth were rounding out on 33rd, the Empire State Building standing at the end of the block. They hadn't seen a single infected all day, which was delightful… if a bit concerning. The building in question looked worse for wear. Nearly half the windows were shattered on the first few floors, the glass peppering the street along with several bodies, most donning ties and button up shirts. At least they had a quick death.

Walking inside only painted the picture clearer. The once pristine lobby now sat ruined like the city as a whole. Fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling, blood splattered sporadically over turned over furniture and bodies lying on the floor. They all were missing limbs, as if a wild pack of hyenas had taken chunks out of each and every one of them. Annabeth picked up a somewhat intact cell phone, checking the time for future reference.

4:41 PM

They were burning daylight. She grabbed Percy's arm and pulled him deeper into the building, right up to the elevators that led to Olympus itself. Percy tried forcing the doors open while Annabeth split off to look for the bastard who could open them. He gripped the edge of the doors and pulled, but they wouldn't budge. He tried again, yet nothing changed. It was then Annabeth tapped him on the shoulder.

"His body was over there… he was holding this pretty tightly," she stated. Her expression was grim, as if she had stared into the eyes of death itself. She was holding a note in her hands which Percy took. He read the note five times, but he still couldn't believe what he was looking at. Written in Ancient Greek were only four words, but they made his heart drop to his stomach.

"You're on your own."

The gods hadn't abandoned them.

The gods were dead.

LINE BREAK

Percy's feet striked the pavement hard, his breaths short and quick. Annabeth ran right behind him, constantly turning back to see if they had gained any distance, only to be greeted by a hundred pairs of crazed, hungry eyes staring through her. They had messed up. All it took was one angry shout to alert every infected in the area. Now they were running for their lives as a horde nearly four dozen strong chased them across the length of Fifth Avenue. With every intersection they crossed, more seemed to join the mass of starved creatures hounding them.

Percy shouted ahead of her, which somehow only seemed to anger the infected more. "It's right around this corner, hurry!"

They rounded said corner, ending up on the porch of Sally's apartment complex. It was their only hope of escaping the horde.

They rushed up the steps, but the infected were right on their heels. One hand managed to grab onto Annabeth's ankle, but a swift kick broke the thin wrist of its owner. The door was already blown off, laying on the floor, so the pair ran down the halls, clambering right up to Sally's apartment. Percy fumbled with the knob, but managed to open the door in the nick of time. They slammed it behind them the second they were past the threshold, locking it while Percy stood against the rotting wood, holding it shut as the infected pounded and clawed at it. Animalistic growls and screams echoed through the halls as the creatures tried forcing their way in, sensing weakness and a free meal.

Annabeth, meanwhile, hastily opened the cabinets in the kitchen, looking for anything to defend themselves with. The best she could scrounge up was a small butcher's knife, but it would have to do. She tossed the knife to Percy, who caught it with one hand as he struggled to keep the door shut. Annabeth took the rifle off her back and aimed it, her arms shaking just holding the unfamiliar object in her hand. It felt uneven, unlike anything she'd wielded before. Still, it was probably their only chance at survival.

"On the count of three, let go of the door and stand back, alright?" She yelled out. Percy nodded, and stood by, his knuckles white as he clutched knife and doorknob in his hand.

"One." Annabeth pressed the butt of the gun into her shoulder, emulating a stance she saw in the war movies she saw as a kid. She, Thalia and Luke would sneak into theaters whenever they could, relying on Luke's ability to sneak past the employees and opening the emergency exit so they could get in through the back. Saving Private Ryan was always her favorite. They'd hop from room to room; spending often the entire day in the dark rooms watching whatever was on that week. Luke would manage to snag them snacks from the bar to hold them over, always making sure to get her a small box of Nerds. It would be the highlight of her day.

"Two." Percy closed his eyes briefly, trying to envision his life in another reality. He'd be standing in the same spot, on his mother's doorway, only he'd be smiling as Sally embraced him, her kind words welcoming him into her arms. She'd fuss over him, wondering why he was wrapped up in gauze. His sister would be running up to him, asking for him to pick her up so that he could make her fly like Superman, her giggles filling the room as the sound of sizzling bacon streamed from the kitchen. His eyes welled up with tears when he opened them, but the cold, determined face never left. It was never meant to be.

"Three."

Percy turned the knob and yanked the door open. Three infected tripped over each other as their barrier was now gone, and Annabeth let off a hail of bullets. The shots mostly found their mark, taking out a sizable chunk of the horde as they were all packed so tightly. The gunshots pierced the air, making both Percy and Annabeth grimace. It was the loudest thing they'd heard in months, and it left their ears ringing.

The gun clicked as the last bullet left the chamber, smoke pooling on the roof and dispersing from the hot barrel. Nine infected were still left standing, and Percy could hear more bounding up the steps, attracted by the sounds of the gun. He gripped his knife impossibly tighter, backing up and away from the doorway as the haggard creatures regained their footing. Annabeth and him stood shoulder to shoulder, the gun now gripped like a club in her hands. This was it. This was their final stand.

The first one to reach them was met with a hard hit to the stomach and a knife to the throat. Blood spurt from the gash, but Percy didn't care. He wasn't going to let these bastards take away the only thing worth living for. Not without a fight.

What happened in the next couple minutes was nothing short of total carnage.

Percy fought like a man possessed. He stabbed and swung at anything that moved, cleaving his way through the seemingly never-ending stream of infected creatures that dared enter his beloved mother's apartment. Every movement he made was packed with the determination and courage of the damned. Ever since he had been kicked out of Yancy, he had been deemed a threat, and nearly killed for simply being the son of the sea. No monster would stop at anything to get to him, and gods were much the same. It seemed like every waking day since he'd found out about the divine world, he had been the hunted, the prey, the one too dangerous to be left alive. His very existence nearly caused a war that would have ripped apart the whole world. Nothing had ever stopped him though. Not losing his mother, not the god of war nor the underworld. Not the titan that bore the sky nor the one who controlled time itself. The very earth itself tried to stop him but failed.

None of them could stop the Destroyer.

Nothing could.

Nothing except for his love falling to the ground as one of the infected tackled her.

Percy's whole body acted on autopilot. He roared and dove for the man that dared touch her. Percy drove the knife into its chest, again and again and again. Even when the life faded from its bulging eyes, he did not stop. He only did when her hand touched his shoulder, and her voice reached his ear.

"We have to move!"

He looked behind him, seeing more infected rush into the building. Grabbing his woman's hand, they rushed down the hall, Percy pulling Annabeth along frantically. The reached the master bedroom, finding it just as empty as the rest of the house. He slammed the door shut behind him, locking it as he set Annabeth down on the floor. She sat propped up against the bed, breathing shallow, short breaths. Percy inspected her, his blood running cold as he saw a massive chunk of flesh ripped off of her shoulder, muscle tissue viscerally exposed. He took off his orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, pressing it into the wound. It quickly got soaked with a rich, dark red. It wouldn't do. She was losing too much blood.

Percy's eyes stung, tears threatening to break free. "No, no, no, no… please, please, please dear god… don't leave me…. Don't leave me Annabeth." His voice cracked as he choked back a sob.

Annabeth groaned, her stormy grey eyes staring into his. He could hear the bangs on the door, the hinges straining and cracking, but he paid it no mind as she began speaking.

"I won't leave you, Seaweed Brain. I wouldn't ever leave you. I'm right here, can't you see?" She laughed weakly, which turned into a hacking cough. Percy couldn't bring himself to fake a smile as tears stained his face and dropped onto the carpet floor which was now soaked in red.

"Of course, Wise Girl. I know. You've always been there for me. You've always been the one with the plan. Come on, don't fall asleep on me. We're going to march right out of here and make it out. We're going to go to New Rome, a-and retire, and live out the rest of our days together… r-right?" His voices picked up in speed, desperation dripping from each syllable. His body shook as Annabeth nodded slowly, a smile growing on her face. She tried to speak, but no sound emerged. He could see her breathing grow slower and slower.

Percy pressed his forehead against hers, trying to match her breathing with his own. His hand held hers, and he could feel her skin growing colder, but she still gripped back. He whispered to her, willing strength and confidence into each and every word he spoke with.

"I love you, Annabeth. I always have, and always will. You're my everything… You always… you always will mean everything to me. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. Please forgive me… I'll see you on the other side, and I'll make it up to you. I promise."

His words never reached her ears.

She drew her last breath, her eyes cloudy and her body still.

Percy sobbed, his eyes burning and chest aching.

The sounds of the infected were a million miles away, his thoughts consumed only by the desire to speak with her one last time. He just wanted to hear her voice again, calling him stupid for rushing into the horde and leaving her exposed, chastising him for not making a plan first. He thought back to his first day in Camp Half-Blood, when he had been on the brink of death at the hands of the Minotaur. She had been there, nursing him back to health, spoon feeding him nectar as she giggled at the way he drooled in his sleep. How she had saved him from being turned into a rodent in Circe's island. In the clearing earlier that week, when he'd almost been mauled to death by an infected. She always had his back, saving him from his own deadly courage. Why couldn't he save her now?

A weight in his pocket pierced his thoughts.

He tore one hand away from Annabeth's and into his faded blue jeans, pulling out a small ballpoint pen.

Riptide seemed to sing to him, offering an opportunity.

The blade had been with him longer than anything else, save his mother. It had been his only truly prized possession, the one thing that never failed him. It had saved his life more times than he could count, ever since he had first held it in that museum all those years ago. It gave him a second chance at life that night, sparing it from an untimely end at the hands of the Furies.

How ironic.

Percy uncapped the pen.

He turned the sword in his hands, its tip meeting his bare chest.

He looked at Annabeth's corpse.

The door was busted down behind him.

Percy met her eyes, empty and devoid of life, her beautiful smile still on her peaceful face. He whispered to her again.

"See you soon, Wise Girl."

And.

He.

Smiled.

Back.