𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩

Chapter X I I I

13
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Clarisse 'N The Booms

  "You are in so much trouble," Clarisse said.

  The group had just finished a ship tour they didn’t want, through dark rooms overcrowded with dead sailors. They'd seen the coal bunker, the boilers and engine, which huffed and groaned like it would explode any minute. They'd seen the pilothouse and the powder magazine and gunnery deck (Clarisse’s favorite) with two Dahlgren smoothbore cannons on the port and starboard sides and a Brooke nine-inch rifled gun fore and aft—all specially refitted to fire celestial bronze cannon balls.

  Everywhere they went, dead Confederate sailors stared at them, their ghostly bearded faces shimmering over their skulls, infesting the whole ship in the scent of death. They approved of Annabeth because she told them she was from Virginia. They were interested in Percy and Cyrus, too, because their name was Jackson—like the Southern general—but then Percy ruined it by telling them they were from New York. They all hissed and muttered curses about Yankees. They saluted once (y/n) first got on the ship, and parted way for him everywhere he went, but their scent wasn't right—sure they smelled of death, but it wasn't just death. It was a cursed way to die, so they were filled with a heavy smell of bindings. It was obvious how they died, so (y/n) didn't need to wonder. War didn't go easy on either side of it.

  Tyson was terrified of them. All through the tour, he insisted Annabeth hold his hand, which she didn’t look too thrilled about.

  Finally, they were all escorted to dinner. The CSS Birmingham captain’s quarters were about the size of a walk-in closet, but still much bigger than any other room on board. The table was set with white linen
and china. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, potato chips, and Dr Peppers were served by skeletal crewmen. (y/n) wasn't really a fan of the idea of eating anything served by murderers—not to mention he'd join them in afterlife had he eaten the peanuts—but his hunger overruled the unease, though it wasn't easily killed off with chips and soda.

  "Tantalus expelled you for eternity," Clarisse told them smugly. "Mr. D said if any of you show your face at camp again, he’ll turn you into squirrels and run you over with his SUV."

  "Did they give you this ship?" (y/n) asked.

  "‘Course not. My father did."

  "Ares?"

  Clarisse sneered. "You think your ma is the only one with undead power? The spirits on the losing side of every war owe a tribute to Ares. That’s their curse for being defeated. I prayed to my father for a naval transport and here it is. These guys will do anything I tell them. Won’t you, Captain?"

  The captain stood behind her looking stiff and angry. His glowing green eyes fixed Cyrus and Percy with a hungry stare. "If it means an end to this infernal war, ma’am, peace at last, we’ll do anything. Destroy anyone."

  Clarisse smiled. "Destroy anyone. I like that."

  Tyson gulped.

  "Clarisse," Annabeth said, "Luke might be after the Fleece, too. We saw him. He’s got the coordinates and he’s heading south. He has a cruise ship full of monsters—"

  "Good! I’ll blow him out of the water."

  "You don’t understand," Annabeth said. "We have to combine forces. Let us help you—"

  "No!" Clarisse pounded the table. "This is my quest, smart girl! Finally I get to be the hero, and you four will not steal my chance."

  "Where are your cabin mates?" I asked. "You were allowed to take two friends with you, were you not?"