Jace Irons: The Shard of Chaos

Chapter Five: I Always Wanted to be a Cyborg

I didn't stop moving all night. My head was in a hurricane. It broke my spirit that I had to leave Briar behind. I was scared if he was gonna be okay or not, angry with myself for not remembering that puddle of gas on the ground during the fight, and angry because I lost my arm. I kept stumbling through the woods, trying to find the road again so I could follow the map to Camp Half-Blood. I eventually made it back to the road again, but this time I would walk in the woods just beside the road, I didn't want anybody stopping if they saw a smoldering teen with one arm hobbling down the road in the night. The adrenaline from the fight was wearing off, same with the endorphins that kept my arm from hurting to the point where I couldn't see. My vision was going in and out, my head was pounding, my arm was throbbing, and it was getting harder and harder for me to keep my balance.

I didn't remember passing out, but I woke up the next morning in the woods, my face flat on the grass of the forest floor, the morning dew clinging to my hair and clothes. Any adrenaline I had last night adrenaline had worn off completely now, and I was in so much pain. My head felt like it had been microwaved on high, and my stub of a right arm burned with a pins-and needles stinging sensation that was almost unbearable. I stood up, but my legs were so wobbly and my head was so dizzy I had to sit back down. I took out a few of the protein bars and inhaled them, as well as a bottle of gatorade. That should help keep me on my feet. I walked, or more or less stumbled my way through the woods from tree to tree, leaning on them for support. It was about an hour before I came upon a rest stop diner on the side of the road. There were about ten cars parked out front. I checked my phone, it was 6:30 in the morning, and I wasn't going to make it much farther if I didn't get to camp soon. I looked at the map, I still had about 60 miles to go. There was no way I was gonna be able to make that trek on foot. Drastic measures needed to be taken. There was an old Ford Bronco parked among the cars in the parking lot, and the rest stop must have been old, and had really slow business, because there were no security cameras anywhere outside the building. Perfect

I walked all around the parking lot of the rest stop, and all around the rest stop itself. I was walking around the back of the building when I saw exactly what I needed on the ground next to an overflowing trash can. I picked up the screwdriver, it was a flathead, a little bent, but it would do. I limped back to the parking lot where I approached the old Ford Bronco. It was perfect because if it was as old as I was hoping, there'd be no car alarm. I stood on the passenger's side, swung my left arm weakly, and jammed the point of the screwdriver into the window. It made a tiny crack in the glass. Holding the screwdriver where it was I maneuvered my body, slamming my chest against the handle of the screwdriver, making the crack wider with each strike.

I was three slams in when the window splintered and broke, pieces of glass sprinkling all over the ground and the passenger seat of the truck. I reached inside and unlocked the door, and slid into the passenger seat. I knew what I had to do. I placed the point of the screwdriver into the ignition, where the key would usually go. Holding the point of the screwdriver in place with my left hand, I lay on my back across the bench seat and drove my foot into the screwdriver handle to kick it home. I felt the key mechanism shatter as the screwdriver point hit its mark.

I sat up, grabbed the screwdriver, and twisted it, and the engine roared to life. Holding the wheel steady with my right bicep, I put the car into gear. How I knew where to move the shift stick to, I have no idea, but I just understood the machine. I have never even driven before, I just made a series of correct guesses. I peeled out of the parking lot and zoomed down the road. No one had emerged from the rest stop during the process, which I thanked my lucky stars for. I had to steer with my left hand, occasionally holding the wheel steady with my stub of an arm while I looked at Briar's map. Looks like I had to travel another sixty miles or so down the road, before walking into the woods a bit to reach camp, as indicated by the red dot, which was smack dab in the woods.