The Unknown (A Percy Jackson Fanfiction)

17. Annabeth Slaps Me

Hello everyone!

I was aiming to update a few days ago but I've had a super eventful (and stressful) week. I've recently been diagnosed with a tiny benign brain tumour near my pituitary gland-it's nothing serious, thankfully-but I've had to do a load of tests and stuff to check what hormones it's messing with. Fun! 

But finally here is the chapter! Please enjoyyy! 

Chapter Seventeen (unedited)

They didn't exactly make me feel welcome.

I was dragged inside by Amara, passing through the entrance part of the theatre where candy and popcorn and soda was sold. All traces of food and drink had disappeared, apart from the few stray wrappers strewn across the carpet.

Men, women and children alike stared at me like I had crashed through the ceiling from space. Some of them jeered at me, yelling insults in my ear. The children were herded away and out of sight, casting curious and fearful glances in my direction. Their clothes were tattered or at least too big or too small for them, and their faces were streaked with dirt.

Amara kept a firm hold on me. She dragged me through another set of double doors-not nearly as heavily bolted-which led into one of the screening rooms.

It was dimly lit, but I could see that most of the chairs had been uprooted from their respective rows and pushed along the side of the right wall. Steps, with small lights on either side, led to the large stage at the front of the room. The red curtains were slightly torn, sending a shadow sprawling across the screen.

I glanced around. "Not exactly the place I would've chosen to hide out."

"We didn't have very much choice." Amara replied stonily.

"But you're going to run out supplies soon-if you haven't already and..." I trailed off and glanced around again, suddenly pinched by a surge of momentary panic. "Where are you taking me? I need to see Annabeth and the others."

Amara tightened her hold on me. "I need to take you to Rachel." She sneered the name with obvious contempt, curling her lip. "She'll definitely want to take a look at you and your bite wound."

"Who is she?"

My question went unanswered when a small group-in the left corner of the screening room-glanced up at us. With unconcealed reluctance, Amara waved her hand at them.

A woman stepped out of the group to greet them. She was petite and had mousy brown hair splayed across her slender shoulders. She looked like she was in her thirties, maybe even late forties, shown by the shallow creases in the corner of her eyes and thin mouth. She wore hiking boots, ripped jeans and a tank top despite the coolness in the room.

"Who might this be?" Asked who I presumed was Rachel. She circled me like a predator, a glint in her mossy green eyes.

"He was the one of the group of kids we brought in yesterday." Amara replied stiffly. "We left him behind because he was Infected, looking like he was on the verge of Turning."

Rachel looked at me sharply. "Why did you bring him here?" She demanded. "We have little kids in the next room, and a pregnant mother. The last thing we need is him."

"I haven't Turned yet, and I was bitten about a week ago." I interrupted.

She raised an eyebrow, anger turning to curiosity. "Interesting." She turned to the small group of people behind her, silenced by our arrival. "Michael? You know a lot more about the Infected than anybody else. Check him over."