The Helm of Darkness - A Percy Jackson and The Lightning Thief Fanfiction

4 - We Get Advice from a Poodle

We were pretty miserable that night.

We camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers.

We'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but we didn't dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. We didn't want to attract anything else.

We decided to sleep in shifts. Percy volunteered to take first watch. Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground.

Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky.

I lay down by a tree, putting my back against the trunk and grabbing a knife, holding it tightly in my hand.

"What do you need that for?" Percy asked.

I sighed, "I haven't gone to sleep without holding a weapon in years, Percy. Being a demi-god.... It messes with your head. I need to know that I'll be ready incase...." I trailed off. Looking at the sky. It was so polluted. I hated this time. So much debris. I couldn't even see the stars.

Sighing again, I curled up into a ball and fell asleep.

I my dreams I was there again.

Tartarus.

I don't want to describe it, for having to do that would give even you nightmares.

...

Someone was shaking me.

My eyes opened, and it was daylight.

"Well," Percy said, "the zombie lives."

I was trembling from the dream. I could still feel the grip of the fear around my chest.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough for Annabeth to cook breakfast." Percy replied. Annabeth tossed me an apple from Aunty Em's snack bar. "And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend." She spoke. My eyes had trouble focusing. Grover was sitting cross-legged on a blanket with something fuzzy in his lap, a dirty, unnaturally pink stuffed animal. No. It wasn't a stuffed animal. It was a pink poodle

The poodle yapped at me suspiciously.

Grover said, "No, she's not."

I blinked. "Are you ... talking to that thing?"

The poodle growled. "This thing," Grover warned, "is our ticket west. Be nice to him."

"You can talk to animals?"

Grover ignored the question. "Maliha, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Maliha." I stared at Percy, figuring he'd crack up at this practical joke they were playing on me, but he looked deadly serious.

"I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," I said. "Forget it."

"Maliha," Annabeth said. "I said hello to the poodle. Percy said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle."

The poodle growled.

I said hello to the poodle.

Grover explained that he'd come across Gladiola in the woods and they'd struck up a conversation. The poodle had run away from a rich local family, who'd posted a $200 reward for his return. Gladiola didn't really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover.

"How does Gladiola know about the reward?" I asked.

"He read the signs," Grover said. "Duh."

"Of course," I said. "Silly me."

"So, we turn in Gladiola," Annabeth explained in her best strategy voice, "we get money, and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."

"Not another bus," I said warily.

"No," Percy said.

"No," Annabeth agreed. She pointed downhill, toward train tracks I hadn't been able to see last night in the dark. "There's an Amtrak station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the west-bound train leaves at noon."