Wildflowers, Percy Jackson ₁

025, damn gingers

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲｡

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 Sylvie or Percy or Grover or Zoë. This was shown in the way they let her drive.

"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. Sylvie, Percy, and Grover sat in the pickup bed, with the two boys leaning against the tow winch and Sylvie leaning against where the bed connected to the truck itself. The air was cool and dry, but the nice weather just seemed like an insult after losing Bianca.

Sylvie's hand closed around the little figurine that had cost Bianca's life. Sylvie still couldn't even tell what god it was supposed to be. Nico would know.

Oh, gods... what was she going to tell Nico?

Sylvie wanted to believe that Bianca was still alive somewhere. But she had a bad feeling that Bianca was gone for good.

"This is all my fault," Sylvie whispered in a hoarse voice. "If I hadn't made Talos raise his foot..."

"No," Percy argued, like he was telling her You and me all over again. "I made you. I let Bianca go into the giant. It... It should've been me who died."

"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's right," Sylvie said, finally looking away from the figurine. "It shouldn't have been you. It shouldn't have been any of us."

"Well, I'm right, too," added Percy. "It's not your fault."

Sylvie had to force her gaze away from Percy, electing to look at Grover instead. He was wiping under his eyes with an oily cloth that left his face grimy, like he had on war paint. Feeling Sylvie's gaze, he mumbled, "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. Sylvie was afraid to talk to him about it, because he might start bawling.

So Sylvie, Percy, and Grover didn't talk again for the rest of the ride.

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?"

Sylvie 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 us.