𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩

Chapter ξ

Xi - Fourteen
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Dam-ed

  At the edge of the dump, they found a tow truck so old it might've 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 didn't seem as stunned as Zoë or Brooklyn or Grover or Cyrus. (y/n) and Nico hung around, the latter sobbing into the son of Persephone's arm, while Benny snuggled around them.

  "The skeletons are still out there," Thalia 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. Grover, Brooklyn and Cyrus sat in the pickup bed with Nico and (y/n), leaning against the tow wench. The air was cool and dry, but the nice weather just seemed like an insult after losing Bianca.

  Cyrus's hand closed around the little figurine that had cost her life. He still couldn't even tell what god it was supposed to be. Nico should know, but he wasn't going to ask that to a longing boy.

  (y/n) wanted to believe that Bianca was still alive somewhere. But he had a bad feeling that she was gone for good. But he could tell, her soul was going down way before they even got to her body.

  "It should've been me," Cyrus 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."

  But he wasn't okay. Ever since the encounter in New Mexico—whatever had happened when that wild wind blew through—he seemed really fragile, even more emotional than usual. (y/n) was afraid to talk to him about it, because he might start bawling.

  At least there's one good thing about having a friend who gets freaked out more than you do. (y/n) realized he couldn't stay depressed. He had to set aside thinking about Bianca and keep them going forward, the way Thalia was doing. He wondered what she and Zoë were talking about in the front of the truck.

  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?"

  (y/n) scanned the horizon. There wasn't much to see. Desert in all directions, occasional clumps of barren mountains plopped here and there. The canyon was the only thing interesting. The river itself wasn't 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 them.

  "There's a path," Grover said. "We could get to the river."

  (y/n) tried to see what he was talking about, and finally noticed a tiny ledge winding down the cliff face. "That's a goat path," he said.

  "So?" Grover asked.

  "The rest of us aren't goats, lad," Cyrus pointed out.

  "We can make it," he said. "I think."

  (y/n) thought about that. He'd done cliffs before, but he didn't particularly like them. He spared a glance back at Thalia, and she looked so pale she might've been buried.

  "No," he ordered. "We continue further upstream."

  Grover said, "But—"

  "Come on," (y/n) said. "A walk won't hurt us."