ℐ 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 ℋℯ 𝒦𝓃ℴ𝓌𝓈 // Percy Jackson fic

i. viii

"long story short, I survived"
~~

They spent a total of two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain.

They weren't attacked once, but Aurora didn't relax. She 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.

They tried to keep a low profile because Percy's name and picture were splattered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers. The Trenton Register-News showed a photo taken by a tourist as he got off the Greyhound bus. Percy had a wild look in his eyes. His sword was a metallic blur in his hands. It might've been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick.

The picture's caption read:
Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus with unknown female accomplice where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with three teenage accomplices. One of the female accomplices seems to be more involved than the others. His stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture.

"Don't worry," Annabeth said. "Mortal police could never find us." But she didn't sound so sure.

The rest of the day Percy spent alternately pacing the length of the train (because he had a really hard time sitting still) or looking out the windows.

The reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver. They couldn't get berths in the sleeper car, so they dozed in their seats. Percy tried his best not to drool in his sleep, since Aurora was sitting right next to him.

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

"So," Annabeth asked me, once she'd gotten Grover's sneaker readjusted. "Who wants your help?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?"

Percy was reluctant to say anything. But it bothered him so much I finally told her.

Annabeth was quiet for a long time. "That doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs."

"He offered my mother in trade. Who else could do that?"

"I guess...if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld. If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?"

Percy shook his head, wishing he knew the answer. He thought about what Grover had told him, that the Furies on the bus seemed to have been looking for something.

Where is it? Where?

Maybe Grover sensed Percy's emotions. He snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head.

Aurora readjusted his cap so it covered his horns. "Percy, you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right? He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time-"

"This time?" Percy asked. "You mean you've run into them before?"

Her hand crept up to her necklace. She fingered a glazed white bead painted with the image of a pine tree, one of her clay end-of-summer tokens.