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Percy turns around and studies the outline of Chicago. What was once a beautiful lively city is now a deadly, haunted wasteland. Percy doesn’t dare go within earshot of the city, and risks altering no doubt it's 3 million undead population. His sword fighting skills have served him well, so far however even he knows that he can’t take on 3 million at the same time, and hope to live. Probably.
Still, it would’ve been nice to see Lake Michigan. Even if it isn’t salt water, Percy knows that it would’ve done wonders for him. As far as he knows, the undead can’t swim, so Percy would’ve been able to get a good, solid 24 hours of uninterrupted sleep. He could’ve taken a shower, washed some of the guts and blood out of his clothes.
Well, there’s no sense in moping over it. The US has rivers and small lakes in almost every state. Eventually Percy will find one remote enough that he’ll be able to enter.
Percy shoulders his pack and goes to move on ward, when he smells something in the air.
Smoke.
Percy wonders if the undead have managed to set themselves on fire. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve managed something so absurd. However, in the back of his mind, a quiet, hopeful voice says that it could be another human.
Percy hasn’t seen another human or demigod in just over three weeks.
Only the undead and the occasional monster.
Another part of his mind whispers that it could be a trap set by a monster. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time they’ve tried that. Even before this undead apocalypse, monsters tricked Percy, made him hear and see things that weren’t there.
Percy knows that he should keep walking. He has a goal - get to San Francisco, find his mom and Paul. He should stick it to. However, the chance of seeing another demi-god, or even a rare, unturned human is too much to turn up.
Percy silently follows the scent of smoke, keeping his guard up and his hand on Riptide in his pocket. He quietly hops over fences, cautiously skirts around (hopefully empty, or at least locked) houses and buildings until he hears the crackling of a fire.
This is it. Whoever - whatever made the fire is just around the corner. Percy pulls out Riptide and uncaps it. Better safe than sorry. He counts down from 5 in his mind, and then springs around the corner, holding Riptide out in front of him.
The fire is actually decently sized. It flickers between two and 3 feet tall, and about one foot wide. There's a nice pile of wood underneath, although judging by the shape of the wood, the person was reusing a couple of old wooden chairs. There’s no food cooking over the fire, but that’s sadly reasonable. Nearly all the animals are gone, hiding from the undead.
Percy looks up from the roaring fire and sees a man sitting on a chair. He’s in his mid twenties, wearing dark track pants and a green sweater. There’s a messenger bag leaning at his side. His skin is tanned, black curly hair on his head, and slightly pointy ears. His eyes are brown, and tired, aged creases around his eyes, and eyebags underneath. Somehow he looks familiar, but Percy can’t put a name to the face.
The man looks up and sees Percy holding Riptide. To Percy’s surprise, the man gives him a tired smile. “Hello Percy.”
That voice. Percy knows that voice. He racks his mind, trying to figure out where he heard it, who said it… The man vaguely looks like an weather-weary, exhausted version of the Hermes Percy is accustomed to seeing. “Lord Hermes?” Percy guesses, hesitantly. His voice is hoarse from unuse.
Hermes nods. “Got it in one.”
Percy caps Riptide and puts the pen back in his pocket as he struggles to contain his surprise. Hermes is a god. At least, he’s supposed to be a god. Here sitting in front of him, Hermes looks… human. Whenever Percy had met gods in the past, they all had an aura of power. Ares’s aura brought anger, and willingness to fight, Zeus brough static electricity that minutely shocked everything in the air, and Apollo brought scorching heat, not unlike the sun. Hermes’ aura had always been much more subtle (something he was secretly thankful for) but now…
Now it’s non-existent.
That’s worrying. Very worrying.
Before Percy could figure out how to politely ask him if he was still a god, and what he was doing on earth instead of on Olympus, the messenger bag beside him starts wiggling. They both glance at it.
A snake head pops out. “Hermessss, did I hear someone?”
Another snake head joins the first. “Did I hear ratsssss?”
Hermes sighs. He turns away from the snakes and looks at Percy. “I trust you remember George and Martha?”
“Percssssy!!” The snakes hiss together.
“Hey guys.” Percy greets, slightly confused. He’s used to seeing them wrapped around Hermes’ staff or his phone, not hiding in his messenger bag.
“Do you have any ratssssss, Percssssy?” George asks.
“Uh no, sorry George.”
George hisses sadly and retreats back into the bag. That’s alarming. From what Percy remembers, George and Martha were both quite social for snakes. Almost every time they spoke, Hermes had to put them away himself or set them on mute to get a word in.
Martha stays out a little longer. “Itsssss good to ssssssee you Percssssy.” She hisses. There’s something in her voice - concern, maybe? Percy can’t quite tell. After being alone for three weeks, his social skills are beyond rusty. “You sssssshould keep usssssss company for awhile.”
Then she follows George and retreats back into the bad. Hermes scowls in their direction, but Percy can tell that it's less angry and more… worried. The sight only adds to Percy’s questions and concern.
Hermes turns back to Percy. “What brings you here, Percy?”
Percy licks his chapped lips. He hasn’t spoken in so long, and it's unnerving hearing his own rough voice. “I’m going to San Francisco.”
Hermes raises an eyebrow. “That’s quite the travel, especially if you’re going on foot?”
Percy nods. “When all of this,” Percy gestures around them, “started, I was in my mom’s apartment in Manhattan. Mom and Paul were in San Francisco at a conference for writers. I’m going to find her.”
There’s a strength and conviction to Percy’s voice. He knows that the chances of actually finding her, especially if she's - if she’s one of them - is slim to none but he still has to try. That’s his mom and his father figure. He’s not going to give up on them.
Hermes smiles faintly. “You’re a good kid, Percy.” Nevermind the fact that Percy stopped being a ‘kid,’ years ago. There’s something melancholy in Hermes’ tone, and Percy’s almost scared to ask.
Nonetheless, he does. “What- what are you doing here?”
Hermes laughs. It’s loud, and it echoes off the walls around him. Percy gives him an alarmed look before spinning around to see if any undead heard them, hand already in his pocket on Riptide. After a few moments, none appear.
“Relax, Percy. They’re all locked in the houses. They can’t get out.” Hermes waves his hand dismissively.
Seeing Hermes like this is weird. It’s wrong. The Hermes that Percy knows is wise, helping and kind. He’s not morbid and… almost broken like the man standing in front of Percy. Percy can’t hold the question back any longer. “What happened to you?”
Hermes laughs again, except this time it's self deprecating. He fixes Percy with a look. “When the human population was… changed, do you know what happened with our world?”
Hermes is talking about the greek world. The demi-gods, the gods, satyrs and monsters. "I know that camp tried to hold out, but the borders were too big. I know the campers, satyrs and everyone who could leave was relocated to Olympus. The gods were called back, and the doors closed. I know my dad took the nymphs and water creatures and retreated to Atlantis. And… I think Hades did the same with his kingdom in the underworld.”
Hermes raises his eyebrows. “You are surprisingly well-informed.”
Percy shrugs. “I had a few drachma’s left. I made a few calls.”
Hermes nods. “Smart. All of that is true, except, not all of the gods returned to Olympus when we were called. A few of us, Apollo, Artemis, Hephaestus, we thought we could do something. Apollo through if he was able to look at some of the undead, he could find a way to reverse it. Find a cure, or make some potion. Hephaestus thought he could build something to distribute it over the world.”
Hermes shakes his head. “It didn’t work. One of the undead managed to bite Apollo and he got sick.”
Percy stares at Hermes in horror. If the god of medicine and healing himself wasn’t able to beat this-this thing -
Percy didn’t want to finish the thought. “Apollo is he - Is he dead?”
Hermes shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, I can still feel remnants of his domain, but at the same time we haven’t seen the sun since he got bitten. Artemis dragged him up to the mountain in Canada with her hunters, I think, and Hesphestus retreated to one of his workshops. If he made it in time.”
“If he made it in time?” Percy echoes.
Hermes grimaces. “The gods - we get our power from our domains. Your father, and you, to an extent, you get your power from the ocean and bodies of water.”
Percy nods.
“It’s the same for the rest of us, with our respective domains. My father, yours and our uncle, their domains will always exist. There won’t be a time where the sky, the ocean and the dead fade away, not unless the earth is destroyed. It’s a little different for the rest of us. Our domains are based on human qualities. Athena’s is based on wisdom and war, Aphrodite, love, Artemis, hunting and so forth.” Hermes explains.
“What do you think happened when the humans died out?”
Percy’s eyes widen as he understands what Hermes is getting at. “Your domains are fading.”
Hermes nods. “And so are we.”
Percy staggers backwards. He had wished ill on the Olympians dozens of times - not all of them, and never Hermes - but he had never imagined that they would actually die.
“You’re dying.” Percy says. It’s a somber statement.
“Slowly. Very slowly. There’s still some humans alive, about a quarter million worldwide? That’s enough to sustain me, but that number is going to keep on getting smaller and smaller.” Hermes admits. His tone is matter of fact - like he’s already accepted his fate.
“That’s - You can’t just - Hermes -”
Hermes stands up, walks around the fire and places a gentle hand on Percy’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It won’t happen soon, I have several decades left. Maybe even a century.”
Percy’s mind is still whirling. Every city, every town that he passed by on the way here had been full of undead people, and no living ones. But the fact that the earth’s seven billion population had been reduced to a quarter of a million? It’s heartbreaking and mind blowing.
Not to mention that the golden age, the age of the greek gods is coming to an end. Along with human civilization.
“Hermes, you can’t - we can’t just accept this!” Percy explodes. “We have to do something, we need to find a way to reverse whatever this is! Give me a quest or something!”
“Oh, now you’re asking for quests?” Hermes laughs, clearly remembering the days that Percy borderline threatened the gods not to send or abduct him for any quests.
“Yes! Give me something, anything! We - you can’t just give up!”
Hermes studies Percy for a moment, before he pulls him into a hug. It’s comfortable and warm, and with a start, Percy realizes just how much he misses human contact, or rather humanoid contact. Percy hugs Hermes back just as tightly.
“You’re my friend.” Percy mutters in his ear. “I don’t - I can’t just let you die.”
After a few moments, Hermes pulls back. “Is this your legendary fatal flaw in action?” He teases.
“I-” Percy flounders. He knows that it is, he has considered Hermes his personal friend for several years already. Still, the teasing metaphorically knocks him off his feet. Sue him, his social skills are rusty. “Yes. I’m not letting you die. Not if I can help it.”
Maybe it's the conviction and stubbornness in Percy’s voice, or maybe Hermes didn’t fully accept his demise because he eventually agrees, to Percy’s immense relief. “If we can find Apollo - and if he’s well enough, we could persuade him to give it another shot.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Percy responds. He remembers Hermes said that Artemis brought him and her hunters into the mountains in Canada. Assuming that Hermes mean the mountains in British Columbia, they had quite the journey. "I'll go to Apollo and convince him to give it another try, and then to Hephestus to deliver the cure to everyone. But… I want to find my mom and Paul first.”
Hermes hums understandingly. His expression dims a little, and he turns away to walk back to his seat, back to hiding from the greek world in the ruins of western civilization.
“Please, come back? Come back with me into our world, the greek world. I know - I can't imagine what you're going through, but we have a shot at saving you. At saving everyone.” Percy doesn’t like the thought of leaving the fading god alone here, with only Martha and George for company. The image of Hermes sitting alone, tired and dying… it's depressing. Not to mention that he doesn’t envy the thought of another two months of travelling across the USA alone.
“You want my help with your quest?” Hermes looks a little disbelieving, as if now that his powers are fading he can't imagine that someone sees value in him.
Percy nods. “Yeah. Travelling alone isn’t fun and - I’d like the company.”
Hermes smiles. “Okay.”
The End.