'•' The Lightning Thief '•'

13 :: 'Dia Fall Down go Splash

Published: August 7, 2021
Edited: July 17, 2022

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We spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain.

We weren't attacked once, but I didn't relax. I felt that we were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity to strike.

We tried to keep a low profile because Percy's name and picture were splattered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers. The Trenton Register-News showed a photo taken by a tourist as we got off the Greyhound bus. Annabeth was invisible minus a blur of blonde and Grover was not to be seen. Percy and I however, were easily noticeable. Percy had a wild look in his eyes. My sword was a metallic blur in my hands. It might've been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick.

The picture's caption read:

Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with three teenage accomplices, one of whom resembles Jackson's twin sister who was reported missing only weeks after her birth. His stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture.

"Don't worry," Annabeth told Percy, who had gripped the newspaper so tight that it had torn slightly. "Mortal police could never find us." But she didn't sound so sure.

The rest of the day I spent alternately pacing the length of the train (because I had a really hard time sitting still) or reading my Marine Biology book. Our reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver. We couldn't get berths in the sleeper car, so we dozed in our seats. Grover kept snoring and bleating and waking me up. When I did manage to get some sleep my neck became stiff and sore. Once, Grover shuffled around and his fake foot fell off. Percy and I had to stick it back on before any of the other passengers noticed.

"So," Annabeth asked us, once we'd gotten Grover's sneaker readjusted. "Who wants your help?"

"What do you mean?" Percy asked evasively.

"When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?"

I looked at Percy sharply. I knew he had the same dream we had last night, about the pit. The one that was much too like Tartarus for my liking. I never kept things from Annabeth though, so I told her about the dream we had.

Annabeth was quiet for a long time. "That doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs."

"He offered our mother in trade. Who else could do that?" Percy pointed out.

"Anna is right, it doesn't remind me of Hades voice but I guess...if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask us to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?"

Percy shook his head, while I sat there wishing I knew the answer. I thought about what Grover had told us, that the Furies on the bus seemed to have been looking for something.

Where is it? Where?

Maybe Grover sensed my tense emotions because he snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head.

Annabeth readjusted his cap so it covered his horns again. "Percy, you can't barter with Hades. Dia knows that, right? He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time-"