Percy POV
I was crouched behind a busted car. The car crashed into a coffee shop near the Hudson River. I was on the opposite side of Manhattan. I was trying to get into the city, but there were a lot of zombies on the streets of New York.
Rule #1: always be careful. I survived 8 months into the zombie apocalypse because I am always careful.
Hundreds of zombies were scuttering around the street I was in. They moved in sluggish motions, but if they sensed me, they'd all barge at me. I know how to handle zombies, but I wasn't stupid enough to pick a war against them. I was running low on ammo for my guns, and my blade would only be so useful.
Nope. I need a new plan to cross the bridge.
A fat zombie nearby turned around suddenly. I froze while crouching deeper into my hiding spot. The buildings around us were rotten and breaking down. The zombies were destroying the city that I once loved and lived in.
The zombie didn't go away. Instead, it started groaning and rushing toward me. Dam it.
I waited till the right moment before launching my knife at the zombie. The walker crumbled to the ground with a final screech. I ran at the zombie, grabbed my knife, and retreated inside the coffee shop again. I bolted the doors shut just as zombies started crashing against them. I locked the door before stepping away from the front wall.
Dozens of zombies collided against the door, trying to break it down. They were looking for flesh and food. In this case, I was the food.
I looked around the dark cafe. I had already killed every zombie in the shop. My backpack was open on the counter next to the cash register. Of course, the cash was left alone. Cash doesn't matter anymore. Weapons, water, and food are important.
The stench of death permeated my surroundings. I'm used to it at this point. I'm also used to the groans and screeches.
The zombies are disgusting.
However, I've met humans that are even more disgusting. I'd rather not share my experiences with humans after the zombie apocalypse.
Long story short, I stay by myself. I don't trust anyone with my survival.
I'm better off on my own.
I cocked my pistol into a waist holster before grabbing both of my knives. I carefully walked towards the pile of zombies near the front of the cafe. After I arrived at this cafe, I took out the zombies so that I can establish a temporary safe space.
The groans and collisions increased as I got closer to the front door. Of course, the zombies aren't smart. They only use brute force. In essence, they're rabid animals.
I crouched next to the zombies.
I always have to remind myself that they're not alive anymore. They're dead. I pulled a middle-aged green zombie to the floor. Then, I got to work.
I stabbed into the zombie's stomach before spilling its guts. The dark blood spilled to the floor while I set aside its organs. The intestines and blood are what I'm going for. I smeared the dark blood on my clothes. I also covered the blood on the bare skin of my arms and parts of my face. Then, I placed the intestines over my shoulders like a scarf.
It's easy to fool the zombies.
They sense humans based on a sense of smell. Their vision is quite poor, and they get around based on smell. If I smell like a zombie, they'll let me be.
Just in case, I smeared more zombie blood on my clothes and hair. It was disgusting. The warm liquid seeped down my body, but I ignored it. I reeked. I smelled like rotten eggs mixed with animal urine and poop. Gross.
However, if I want to cross the bridge, then I have to become a zombie.
It's the only viable plan.
I grabbed my backpack filled with water bottles, food, and weapons. I carried a pistol against my waist and held my knife. Then, I opened the cafe doors.
Initially, I didn't move. I stood frozen in place.
The zombies flooded into the cafe and spread through the room. A couple of them groaned while nudging me while passing. However, zombies are stupid. They pretty much didn't sense the human in me.
Why would they? I looked and smelled just like them right now.
I walked into the streets of New York. I kept my head high, and my senses were on high alert. This isn't my first time posing as a zombie. However, while walking in the open, you have to be cautious. Rule #17: when you're acting like a zombie, you don't need to walk like them. As I mentioned, they rely mostly on the sense of smell and hearing.
I walked quickly through the large crowds of zombies. They all looked so different. I hated watching the young kid zombies. They're heartbreaking.
A baby zombie (no more than a foot tall) was squirming near the gutter. I turned away quickly and kept my focus on the task.
I passed a restaurant that slowly crumbled. Vines and foliage were slowly taking over the concrete structures, which weakened the foundation. Essentially, whoever build that restaurant relied on heavy maintenance.
Since 96% of the population is gone, no one is maintaining anything. You're extremely lucky if you find a building with electricity these days.
Finally, I reached my destination. A bridge going to Manhatten.
The road ahead was filled with thousands of zombies. They were lazily moving across the bridge in both directions. Yup, if I wasn't posing as a zombie, I'd be dead in a heartbeat. I mentally complimented myself for surviving this long.
I gulped a few nerves before entering the bridge.
One zombie brushed my shoulder, which knocked the large intestine off my shoulder. the zombie growled while rushing toward me. I froze while the zombie sniffed my hair.
It was a large, muscly zombie. I swiftly shot my arm up. My blade sunk into the zombie's throat and pushed up against his brain. Blood splattered over me as the zombie's carotid artery exploded. I retreated from the zombie and kept moving.
While walking, I stared at the fields of zombies on the bridge. It took several minutes but had already made it about three-quarters of the way across the river.
You're probably asking why I'm going to Manhatten.
I'm risking a lot to get into downtown New York.
Essentially, I want to see my home one last time. I know that my parents are dead. They died during the first wave on the third day. I was on a beach trip in Maryland. After the virus hit, we were on the phone a lot. I was trying to get back to them, but everything went on lockdown. The zombie virus spread like wildfire.
Anyway, I was on the phone with mom and Paul when groaning and screaming echoed out of the phone. I sat there in horror listing to them become zombies.
I never cried so much in my life.
I'm going back to Manhatten because I want to see my home one last time. I want to grab a family picture from my home and take it with me. I want to feel the presence of loved ones again. I know that it's useless. However, it gives a purpose and a reason to keep going. If I don't have a purpose, then what's the point of surviving.
What's the point of living in this zombie-infested hell?
Suddenly, an engine roar interrupted my thoughts.
I turned around as hundreds of zombies shot towards the jeep. They pushed past me while rushing at the blue jeep filled with resources in the back. Three humans were standing in the trunk and shooting at the zombies.
One fat zombie sped passed me. I staggered backward and my legs hit the railing of the bridge. I caught myself before falling off the side of the bridge. This wasn't the safest bridge in New York because the railings were quite small and short.
The jeep roared closer before skidding to a stop.
"Hey, why'd you stop?" a blonde guy exclaimed. He had short hair and electric blue eyes. A silent determination sparked in them, and the scar on his lip shrunk as he shot at the zombies.
"The tire's bust," a voice shouted back.
There were five survivors in total (two girls and three guys), and they were stopped only a few yards away from me. They got down and started fighting the zombies that were coming from all sides. Gunshots fired while blades swirled.
The skinny Latino started replacing the flat tire with a new one. All the zombies were going at the group of survivors who were defending themselves successfully. It was impressive that the five of them were able to handle an army of zombies. However, the zombies were not coordinated, so they were falling on each other and falling off the bridge.
My gaze narrowed on a zombie who had climbed the truck. His bloodshot eyes narrowed on a pretty, dark-haired girl who was stabbing a nearby zombie with a staff.
Shit. She's doomed, I thought.
I shot toward the group of survivors. My arm wrapped around the dark-haired girl and pulled her to the side as the zombie jumped from above.
That was too close.
The girl screamed and shoved me roughly.
"Silena, are you okay?" an African American dude exclaimed. He rushed toward Silena while shooting the zombies in his path. Then, he pointed his gun at me.
I snapped to the side and the gunshots reverberated above me. I look and smell just like a zombie. They were fighting on high alert. They couldn't see me as a human. I got lost in the crowd of zombies, and I was trying to leave.
Just then, a horde of zombies pushed me to the ground. They rushed toward a blonde girl who was fiercely fighting the zombies coming at her.
For a second, I was caught off guard by her power. She was wearing tight jeans and a black shirt. Her ponytail swayed as she slashed at the zombies. One by one, any zombie that went near her crumbled to the ground.
"Annabeth, the car's ready. LET'S GO," another tall blonde guy shouted.
The African American guy and Silena had already climbed back into the truck. The Latino boy was in the driver's seat. The two blonde guys and 'Annabeth' were still fighting. There were way too many zombies for them. They had to leave.
I scrambled to my feet just as Annabeth's blade swerved at my head. I hadn't even seen that she closed the distance between us.
I caught her wrist. The knife was an inch from my eyes.
My sea-green eyes locked onto her stunning gray ones. Storm clouds thundered in her eyes. They were intimidating, but they were also gorgeous. I had never seen eyes like hers. They weren't a light gray. They were dark and all-consuming.
My grip tightened around her wrist. Wisdom flashed in her eyes.
"Wait, you're alive," she whispered.
Suddenly, zombies stumbled at us again. My grip on her wrist broke. I stabbed a fat zombie while she kicked another one in the stomach. I lunged forward and slashed a zombie near Annabeth. She shoved a zombie away from me.
We fought together, but we were relatively close to the edge of the bridge. However, Annabeth was working to get back to the jeep. I was just trying to get out of this swarm of zombies.
While fighting, I whirled around and crashed into Annabeth's elbow. I groaned while staggering back. I reached out to her instinctually.
"ANNABETH. BEHIND YOU," the tall blond guy shouted.
BANG!
It happened in slow motion. The blond fired his shotgun. The bullet whizzed through the field of zombies, past Annabeth, and collided with my stomach.
Pain exploded through my gut. Heat singed me.
The impact of the bullet shot me back. My legs hit the bridge railing, and I couldn't stop the force from pushing me back. A feeling of weightlessness followed as I went overboard. The gunshot threw me off the bridge.
The last thing I saw was Annabeth's face looking down at me.
In a few seconds, my body crashed into the dirty water of the Hudson River. The waves battered my weak body, and my blood tainted the water. Just for a second, I stopped fighting. I felt like giving up, so I did.
In that one second of vulnerability, darkness devoured me.
I sunk into the cold water.
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"If you have to explain to yourself why you're a hero, I guess you're not really a hero." - Bones.