The sun was harsh overhead as Percy and Leo moved across the camp's courtyard, gravel crunching under their boots. Around them, men marched in organized lines, their faces set in grim determination. A large white flag bearing two concentric circles split by a vertical line fluttered at the center of the yard. The place had a distinct military efficiency that felt unsettling rather than reassuring.
Percy's hand brushed against the handle of his gun, strapped to his back, as his gaze swept over the guards posted at key points around the camp. "This place has got all the charm of a prison yard," he muttered to Leo.
Leo's expression was tight, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. "Yeah, but at least in prison, everyone feels equal. Pretty sure that's, like, rule number one of survival: don't hand over your gun."
Ahead of them, a line of people was forming at a squat concrete building that Percy guessed was the armory. Guards flanked the door, rifles slung over their shoulders, while others inspected weapons being handed over at a steel table.
"Turn in your weapons," one of the guards ordered as they approached. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp blue eyes and a no-nonsense expression. His uniform was spotless, the crisp white armband on his sleeve drawing Percy's attention.
"Why?" Percy asked, his jaw tightening.
"No one carries firearms inside the camp unless they're on patrol," the guard said. "It's protocol."
Leo let out a disbelieving laugh. "Yeah, and it's also how people get eaten. You think zombies care about your protocol?"
The guard's eyes narrowed, and his hand hovered near the pistol at his hip. "If you have an issue, you can take it up with someone else," he said, his voice cold.
Percy hesitated, his grip on his gun tightening. Around them, other guards had started to notice the exchange, their gazes sharp and calculating.
"Fine," Percy said through gritted teeth, pulling the gun from his back. He set it on the table with deliberate force, watching as the guard inspected it.
Leo held out a few seconds longer, muttering under his breath, before pulling his pistol from his jacket. "You guys better not lose it," he said, sliding it across the table.
The guard didn't respond, simply gesturing for them to move along. Percy and Leo exchanged a glance before heading toward the mess hall.
"Great," Leo muttered. "Now we're stuck in this creepy Stepford camp without even a gun to our name."
Percy's lips pressed into a thin line. "We'll figure something out."
The mess hall was cavernous and orderly, its walls bare except for the stark white flag they'd seen in the courtyard. Long metal tables were arranged in perfect rows, each accompanied by benches bolted to the floor. The room smelled of overcooked meat and disinfectant, the kind of sterile scent that set Percy's teeth on edge.
As they grabbed their trays—powdered eggs, soggy toast, and black coffee—they noticed the demographics of the room. Almost every face was that of a white man. The few women present were clustered together at one table near the back, their postures subdued.
"See what I'm seeing?" Leo murmured, his voice low.
Percy nodded. "Yeah. Starting to feel like we walked into the wrong camp."
They sat at the edge of one of the tables, their unease growing with every passing minute. Across the room, Nico was sitting with Clarisse and Luke, their heads bent in animated conversation.
"You think we should talk to them?" Percy asked, nudging Leo.
Leo snorted. "What, so we can get a lecture on how great this place is? Hard pass."
But Percy's curiosity got the better of him. Once they'd finished eating, they made their way over to the trio. Nico glanced up as they approached, his expression unreadable.
"What's up?" Luke asked, leaning back in his seat. His relaxed posture didn't match the sharpness in his eyes.
"This place seems... strict," Percy said cautiously. "Doesn't leave much room for people to be themselves."
Clarisse scoffed. "People don't need room to be themselves. They need discipline. That's why this camp works."
Nico nodded, his face set in a firm expression. "Out there, you've got chaos. In here, we've got order. That's the only way we survive."
Leo crossed his arms. "Sure, but what if someone doesn't fit the 'order'? What happens to them?"
Luke's smile was thin and cold. "Then they leave. Or they change. Simple as that."
The weight of his words hung in the air. Percy's stomach churned, but he forced his face to remain neutral. "And by 'change,' you mean?"
Nico's gaze turned sharp. "I mean they stop being a liability. People who can't follow the rules aren't just useless—they're dangerous. That includes anyone who thinks they're above the system."
Leo bristled. "So, what? You're saying anyone who doesn't fall in line gets kicked out?"
Clarisse leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "People don't get kicked out. They either realize what's best for them, or they don't survive. You can't afford to be soft in a world like this."
Percy's hand clenched into a fist under the table. "And what about people who—" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "What about people who don't think like you do? People who are different?"
Nico's expression hardened. "Different doesn't help anyone. This camp's about survival, not tolerance. Out there, tolerance gets you killed."
The implications hit Percy like a punch to the gut. His gaze flicked to the women seated in the back, to the cold stares of the guards, to the rigid, military-like structure of the camp. It was all starting to make sense, and none of it was good.
Back in their barracks, Percy and Leo paced the room, their frustration boiling over.
"This place is a nightmare," Leo said, running a hand through his hair. "They're bigots, plain and simple. Did you hear what Nico said? Like, really hear it?"
Percy nodded, his expression grim. "Yeah. And it's not just him. It's everyone here. The way they talk, the way they act... they think anyone who doesn't fit their mold is expendable."
Leo flopped onto his bunk, his hands covering his face. "And we're stuck here, unarmed, surrounded by people who'd probably string us up if they knew half of what we think."
Percy sat on the edge of his own bunk, his mind racing. "We need to get out. But we can't just walk out the front gates. They're watching us."
Leo sat up, his eyes narrowing. "Then we make a plan. We figure out how to get our weapons back, and we get the hell out of here."
Percy nodded, determination hardening in his chest. "We'll figure it out. We have to."
But as they lay down that night, the weight of the camp's oppressive ideology pressed down on them. Escape wouldn't be easy, but staying wasn't an option.
Not anymore.
