Percy Jackson and the lightning thief

We take a Zebra to Vegas [Percy]

The war god was waiting for us in the diner parking lot. "Well, well," he said. "You didn't get yourself killed."

"You knew it was a trap," I said.

Ares gave me a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV.

I shoved his shield at him. "You're a jerk."

Annabeth and Grover caught their breath.

Ares grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. He slung it across his back.
"Sorry," he said and he actually sounded genuine.

"If you're going to send me on a quest ever again, which by the way I hope you don't, never and I repeat never make it involve spiders.
Also never make it involve tight, confined small spaces."

"Fine."

"Oh gods!" exclaimed Annabeth. "There were spiders! They are horrid."

"Agreed." I told her.

"See that truck over there?" Ares pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner. "That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas."

The eighteen- wheeler had a sign on the back, which I could read only because it was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.

I said, "You're kidding right. Just teleport us back to the train. Please."

He looked at his watch, "Don't think that'll do any good."

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to me.

Inside were fresh clothes for all of us, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuff Oreos.

I said, "I don't want your lousy — "

"Thank you, Lord Ares," Annabeth interrupted, giving me her best red-alert warning look.

"No thanks to from me."

I looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. The waitress who'd served us dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt us.

She dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. She said something to him. He nodded, held up a little disposable camera and snapped a picture of us.

Great, I thought. We'll make the papers again tomorrow.

I imagined the headline: TWELVE-YEAR-OLD OUTLAW BEATS UP DEFENCELESS BIKER.

Ares got on his bike, revved his Harley, then roared off down the street.

"Why are you acting like your best buds with Ares?" Annabeth asked.

"Because we kinda are."

"Hey, guys," Mattheo said. "I hate to interrupt, but ..."

He pointed toward the diner. At the register, the last two customers were paying their check, two men in identical black coveralls, with a white logo on their backs that matched the one on the KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL truck.

"If we're taking the zoo express," Mattheo said, "we need to hurry."

I didn't like it, but we had no better option. Besides, I'd seen enough of Denver.