Prophesied Powder, PJO

3.6

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Chapter 27
We Have a Dam Problem

Volume 3: The Titan's Curse

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At the edge of the dump, they found a tow truck so old it might have been thrown away itself. But the engine started, and it had a full tank of gas, so they decided to borrow it.

Thalia drove. She did not seem as stunned as the rest of them.

"The skeletons are still out there," she reminded them. "We need to keep moving."

She navigated them through the desert, under clear blue skies, the sand so bright it hurt to look at. Zoë sat up front with Thalia. The boys sat in the pickup bed, leaning against the tow wench. The air was cool and dry, but the nice weather just seemed like an insult after losing Bianca.

Pallas quietly tucked himself in the corner of the bed and felt each rumble of the uneven highway. He had never been good with death.

"It should've been me," Percy said. "I should've gone into the giant."

"Don't say that!" Grover panicked. "It's bad enough Annabeth is gone, and now Bianca. Do you think I could stand it if..." He sniffled. "Do you think anybody else would be my best friend?"

"Ah, Grover..."

He wiped under his eyes with an oily cloth that left his face grimy, like he had on war paint. "I'm...I'm okay."

It was oblivious to all of the boys that Grover was not okay. They had each known him for years. Ever since the encounter in New Mexico, he had been fragile; even more emotional than usual.

Pat had a flat expression on his face. Pallas could not tell how he was handling it. As soon as Pallas began staring, Pat lulled his head over to let his scarred eyes hang on him. Pallas averted his eyes, pulling his legs tightly to his chest.

"Pallas," Pat lifted his chin, as if he was studying Pallas. It was an awful feeling for a boy with such a heavy secret on his chest.

"Y-yeah?" He asked. His voice was quiet, and he stuttered, and it was an awful response.

"Don't blame yourself."

Pallas thought back to his conversation with Hermes last summer. He had suspected that Pat and Hermes had talked about him and his "problems" (okay, he had a few) behind his back, but Pat's words now sounded eerily similar to Hermes' warning. Either way, they could not stop him from feeling awful.

When Pallas didn't reply, Pat tightened his jaw. "Pallas," He said, more forcefully, "You do not have a right to blame yourself right now. Stop it."

Pallas looked at Pat—so wound up from Aphrodite, and Talos, and Bianca. He wasn't normally like this, and yet, it was what Pallas needed at the moment. He let the words settle into his mind and heart. Quietly, he said, "Okay." Then, "Merci."

The tow truck ran out of gas at the edge of a river canyon. That was just as well, because the road dead-ended. Thalia got out and slammed the door. Immediately, one of the tires blew. "Great. What now?"

There was not much on the horizon. Desert in all directions, occasional clumps of barren mountains plopped here and there. The canyon was the only thing interesting. The river itself was not very big, maybe fifty yards across, green water with a few rapids, but it carved a huge scar out of the desert. The rock cliffs dropped away below us.