pjo · zombie apocalypse · infection au · camp half-blood · survival horror · paranoia · tragic · scavenging · trapped · grim
The sun died in a smear of crimson across the quarantine sky, stretching jagged shadows over the silent camp. Annabeth stood framed in the window of Cabin 3, her outline sharp against the failing light. The air hung thick with the smell of pine needles and something fouler, something rotting. Beyond the glass, the forest held itself still, hiding the shambling shapes that used to be friends. She released a sigh—a heavy, worn-out sound that lingered in the empty room. At the tree line, the invisible barrier hummed a low, persistent note, a cage of light and dread. It was time. The sun had vanished, and with it, their slim margin of safety. Out there in the gathering dark, the infected moved, their twisted forms waiting. Annabeth’s grey eyes held the twilight, haunted by the memory of P…