𝔐𝔬𝔦𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔬 - 𝔉𝔢𝔪𝔒ℭ𝔵𝔏𝔢𝔬 𝔙𝔞𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔷

13. Pull the lever kronk! WRONG LEVeeeerrr-

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 couldn'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.

Percy and I tried to keep a low profile because our names and pictures 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. We had wild looks in our eyes. Our swords were metallic and black blurs in our hands. They might've been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick.

Sadly, it wasn't.

The picture's caption read:

Twelve-year-old Percy and Kiera Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearence of their mother two weeks ago, are shown here fleeing from the bus where they accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after the Jackson's fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe they may be traveling with two teenage accomplished. Their stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to their capture.

"Don't worry." Annabeth told us. "Mortal police could never catch us." But she didn't sound so sure.

The rest of the day, Percy and I spent alternately pacing he length of the train (because of our terrible ADHD) or looking out the windows. I found some pipe cleaners, rubber bands, old bolts and nuts, and three washers on the floor of the train. I decided to screw around with them and make them into random things, that Grover ate before I could figure out what I had made.

Once, I spotted a family of centaurs galloping across a wheat field, bows at the ready, as they hunted lunch. The little boy centaur, who was the size of a second-grader on a pony, caught my eye and waved. I smiled and waved back. I looked back to see every adult all had their faces buried in laptops or magazines.

Another time, toward evening, I saw something huge moving through the woods. I could've sworn t was a lion, except lions don't live wild in America, and this thing was the size of a Hummer. It's fur glinted gold in the evening iChat. Then it leaped through the trees and was gone.

 ྀིྀི           ྀིྀི           ྀིྀི           ྀིྀི           ྀིྀི           ྀིྀི           ྀིྀི            ྀིྀི           ྀིྀི           ྀིྀི 

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. My neck got stiff, and Percy was drooling.

Grover kept snoring and bleating and waking us up. Once, he shuffled around and his fake foot fell off. Annabeth and I had to stick it back on before any of the other passengers noticed.

"So," Annabeth asked me, once we'd gotten Grover's sneaker readjusted. "Who wants your help? And what about fire?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you were asleep, a few minutes ago, you mumbled, 'I won't help you. No more fire.' Who were you dreaming about?"

I was reluctant to say anything. It was the second time I'd dreamed about that thing in the pit. And probably the tenth time about the fire. But it bothered me so much I told her.

Percy opened his eyes and explained the same thing, just without my reoccurring pyromania.

Annabeth was quiet for a long time. "That doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs. The fire, I have an idea, but. . . It won't make sense until. . . Later."