Wildflowers, Percy Jackson ₁

026, mr. donika burgers

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲｡

The statues were holding on to them so they couldn't fall, but Sylvie was still Sylvie. She was sort of clutching Zoë like it was the most important thing in the world—much to the Hunter's demise.

"Thee does not need to hold on so tight, Sylvie," Zoë grumbled.

Sylvie would beg to differ. She looked down. Below them, a range of snow mountains zipped by. One slip and she would go from child of grain to child of broken bones and snowballs really quick.

"I'm not taking my chances," she squeezed Zoë harder.

Zoë sighed, but she didn't stop Sylvie from holding on. She just yelled to the group, "We are in the Sierras! I have hunted here before. At this speed, we should be in San Francisco in a few hours."

"Hey, hey, Frisco!" Percy and Thalia's angel said. "Yo, Chuck! We could visit those guys at the Mechanics Monument again! They know how to party!"

"Oh, man," Sylvie's angel said. "I am so there!"

"You guys have visited San Francisco?" Percy asked.

"We automatons gotta have some fun once in a while, right?" the other statue said. "Those mechanics took us over to the de Young Museum and introduced us to these marble lady statues, see. And—"

"Hank!" Chuck cut in. "They're kids, man."

"Oh, right." If bronze statues could blush, Sylvie swore Hank did. "Back to flying."

They sped up, so Sylvie could tell the angels were excited. The mountains fell away into hills, and then they were zipping along over farmland (three cheers!) and towns and highways.

Grover played his pipes to pass time. Zoë got bored, shifted around Sylvie's grip, and started shooting arrows at random billboards as they flew by. Every time she saw a Target department store—and they passed dozens of them—she would peg the store's sign with a few bulls-eyes at a hundred miles an hour.

Eventually, the question came.

"Where you guys want to land?" Hank asked.

Sylvie looked down and said, "Woah."

She'd seen San Francisco in pictures before, but never in real life. It was like a smaller, cleaner New York, if New York had been surrounded by green hills and fog. There was a huge bay and ships, islands and sailboats, and the Golden Gate Bridge sticking up out of the fog. Sylvie felt like she should take a picture or something. Greetings from Frisco. Haven't Died Yet. Wish You Were Here.

"There," Zoë suggested. "By the Embarcadero Building."

"Good thinking," Chuck said. "Me and Hank can blend in with the pigeons."

They all looked at him.

"Kidding," he said. "Sheesh, can't statues have a sense of humor?"

As it turned out, there wasn't much need to blend in. It was early morning and not many people were around. They freaked out a homeless guy on the ferry dock when they landed. He screamed when he saw Hank and Chuck and ran off yelling something about metal angels from Mars.