Percy Jackson And The Lightning Thief

I Settle My Tab

It's funny how humans can wrap their mind around things and fit them into theirversion of reality. Chiron had told me that long ago. As usual, I didn't appreciatehis wisdom until much later.According to the L.A. news, the explosion at the Santa Monica beach hadbeen caused when a crazy kidnapper fired a shotgun at a police car. Heaccidentally hit a gas main that had ruptured during the earthquake.This crazy kidnapper (a.k.a. Ares) was the same man who had abducted meand two other adolescents in New York and brought us across country on a tenday odyssey of terror.Poor little Percy Jackson wasn't an international criminal, after all. He'dcaused a commotion on that Greyhound bus in New Jersey trying to get awayfrom his captor (and afterwards, witnesses would even swear they had seen theleather-clad man on the bus – 'Why didn't I remember him before?') The crazyman had caused the explosion in the St Louis Arch. After all, no kid could'vedone that. A concerned waitress in Denver had seen the man threatening hisabductees outside her diner, gotten a friend to take a photo and notified thepolice. Finally, brave Percy Jackson (I was beginning to like this kid) had stolena gun from his captor in Los Angeles and battled him shotgun-to-rifle on thebeach. Police had arrived just in time. But in the spectacular explosion, fivepolice cars had been destroyed and the captor had fled. No fatalities hadoccurred. Percy Jackson and his two friends were safely in police custody.The reporters fed us this whole story. We just nodded and acted tearful andexhausted (which wasn't hard), and played victimized kids for the cameras.'All I want,' I said, choking back my tears, 'is to see my loving stepfatheragain. Every time I saw him on TV, calling me a delinquent punk, I knew...somehow... we would be okay. And I know he'll want to reward each and everyperson in this beautiful city of Los Angeles with a free major appliance from hisstore. Here's the phone number.' The police and reporters were so moved thatthey passed around the hat and raised money for three tickets on the next planeto New York.I knew there was no choice but to fly. I hoped Zeus would cut me some slack,considering the circumstances. But it was still hard to force myself on board theflight.Takeoff was a nightmare. Every spot of turbulence was scarier than a Greekmonster. I didn't unclench my hands from the armrests until we touched downsafely at La Guardia. The local press was waiting for us outside security, but wemanaged to evade them thanks to Annabeth, who lured them away in herinvisible Yankees cap, shouting, 'They're over by the frozen yogurt! Come on!',then rejoined us at baggage claim.We split up at the taxi stand. I told Annabeth and Grover to get back to HalfBlood Hill and let Chiron know what had happened. They protested, and it washard to let them go after all we'd been through, but I knew I had to do this lastpart of the quest by myself. If things went wrong, if the gods didn't believe me...I wanted Annabeth and Grover to survive to tell Chiron the truth.I hopped in a taxi and headed into Manhattan.Thirty minutes later, I walked into the lobby of the Empire State Building.I must have looked like a homeless kid, with my tattered clothes and myscraped-up face. I hadn't slept in at least twenty-four hours.I went up to the guard at the front desk and said, 'Six hundredth floor.'He was reading a huge book with a picture of a wizard on the front. I wasn'tmuch into fantasy, but the book must've been good, because the guard took awhile to look up. 'No such floor, kiddo.''I need an audience with Zeus.'He gave me a vacant smile. 'Sorry?''You heard me.'I was about to decide this guy was just a regular mortal, and I'd better run forit before he called the straitjacket patrol, when he said, 'No appointment, noaudience, kiddo. Lord Zeus doesn't see anyone unannounced.''Oh, I think he'll make an exception.' I slipped off my backpack and unzippedthe top.The guard looked inside at the metal cylinder, not getting what it was for afew seconds. Then his face went pale. 'That isn't...''Yes, it is,' I promised. 'You want me take it out and –''No! No!' He scrambled out of his seat, fumbled around his desk for a keycard, then handed it to me. 'Insert this in the security slot. Make sure nobodyelse is in the elevator with you.'I did as he told me. As soon as the elevator doors closed, I slipped the key intothe slot. The card disappeared and a new button appeared on the console, a redone that said 600.I pressed it and waited, and waited.Muzak played. 'Raindrops keep falling on my head...'Finally, ding. The doors slid open. I stepped out and almost had a heart attack.I was standing on a narrow stone walkway in the middle of the air. Below mewas Manhattan, from the height of an aeroplane. In front of me, white marblesteps wound up the spine of a cloud, into the sky. My eyes followed the stairwayto its end, where my brain just could not accept what I saw.Look again, my brain said.We're looking, my eyes insisted. It's really there.From the top of the clouds rose the decapitated peak of a mountain, its summitcovered with snow. Clinging to the mountainside were dozens of multilevelledpalaces – a city of mansions – all with white-columned porticos, gilded terracesand bronze braziers glowing with a thousand fires. Roads wound crazily up tothe peak, where the largest palace gleamed against the snow. Precariouslyperched gardens bloomed with olive trees and rosebushes. I could make out anopen-air market filled with colourful tents, a stone amphitheatre built on one sideof the mountain, a hippodrome and a coliseum on the other. It was an AncientGreek city, except it wasn't in ruins. It was new, and clean, and colourful, theway Athens must've looked twenty-five hundred years ago.This place can't be here, I told myself. The tip of a mountain hanging overNew York City like a billion-ton asteroid? How could something like that beanchored above the Empire State Building, in plain sight of millions of people,and not get noticed?But here it was. And here I was.My trip through Olympus was a daze. I passed some giggling wood nymphswho threw olives at me from their garden. Hawkers in the market offered to sellme ambrosia-on-a-stick, and a new shield, and a genuine glitter-weave replica ofthe Golden Fleece, as seen on Hephaestus-TV The nine muses were tuning theirinstruments for a concert in the park while a small crowd gathered – satyrs andnaiads and a bunch of good-looking teenagers who might've been minor godsand goddesses. Nobody seemed worried about an impending civil war. In fact,everybody seemed in a festive mood. Several of them turned to watch me pass,and whispered to themselves.I climbed the main road, towards the big palace at the peak. It was a reversecopy of the palace in the Underworld. There, everything had been black andbronze. Here, everything glittered white and silver.I realized Hades must've built his palace to resemble this one. He wasn'twelcomed in Olympus except on winter solstice, so he'd built his own Olympusunderground. Despite my bad experience with him, I felt a little sorry for theguy. To be banished from this place seemed really unfair. It would makeanybody bitter.Steps led up to a central courtyard. Past that, the throne room.Room really isn't the right word. The place made Grand Central Station looklike a broom closet. Massive columns rose to a domed ceiling, which was gildedwith moving constellations.Twelve thrones, built for beings the size of Hades, were arranged in aninverted U, just like the cabins at Camp Half-Blood. An enormous fire crackledin the central hearth pit. The thrones were empty except for two at the end: thehead throne on the right, and the one to its immediate left. I didn't have to betold who the two gods were that were sitting there, waiting for me to approach. Icame towards them, my legs trembling.The gods were in giant human form, as Hades had been, but I could barelylook at them without feeling a tingle, as if my body were starting to burn. Zeus,the Lord of the Gods, wore a dark blue, pinstriped suit. He sat on a simple throneof solid platinum. He had a well-trimmed beard, marbled grey and black like astorm cloud. His face was proud and handsome and grim, his eyes rainy grey. AsI got nearer to him, the air crackled and smelled of ozone.The god sitting next to him was his brother, without a doubt, but he wasdressed very differently. He reminded me of a beachcomber from Key West. Hewore leather sandals, khaki Bermuda shorts, and a Tommy Bahama shirt withcoconuts and parrots all over it. His skin was deeply tanned, his hands scarredlike an old-time fisherman's. His hair was black, like mine. His face had thatsame brooding look that had always got me branded a rebel. But his eyes, seagreen like mine, were surrounded by sun-crinkles that told me he smiled a lot,too.His throne was a deep-sea fisherman's chair. It was the simple swivellingkind, with a black leather seat and a built-in holster for a fishing pole. Instead ofa pole, the holster held a bronze trident, flickering with green light around thetips.The gods weren't moving or speaking, but there was tension in the air, as ifthey'd just finished an argument.I approached the fisherman's throne and knelt at his feet. 'Father.' I dared notlook up. My heart was racing. I could feel the energy emanating from the twogods. If I said the wrong thing, I had no doubt they could blast me into dust.To my left, Zeus spoke. 'Should you not address the master of this house first,boy?'I kept my head down, and waited.'Peace, brother,' Poseidon finally said. His voice stirred my oldest memories:that warm glow I remembered as a baby, the sensation of this god's hand on myforehead. 'The boy defers to his father. This is only right.''You still claim him then?' Zeus asked menacingly. 'You claim this childwhom you sired against our sacred oath?''I have admitted my wrongdoing,' Poseidon said. 'Now I would hear himspeak.'Wrongdoing.A lump welled up in my throat. Was that all I was? A wrongdoing? The resultof a god's mistake?'I have spared him once already,' Zeus grumbled. 'Daring to fly through mydomain... pah! I should have blasted him out of the sky for his impudence.''And risk destroying your own master bolt?' Poseidon asked calmly. 'Let ushear him out, brother.'Zeus grumbled some more. 'I shall listen,' he decided. 'Then I shall make upmy mind whether or not to cast this boy down from Olympus.''Perseus,' Poseidon said. 'Look at me.'I did, and I wasn't sure what I saw in his face. There was no clear sign of loveor approval. Nothing to encourage me. It was like looking at the ocean: somedays, you could tell what mood it was in. Most days, though, it was unreadable,mysterious.I got the feeling Poseidon really didn't know what to think of me. He didn'tknow whether he was happy to have me as a son or not. In a strange way, I wasglad that Poseidon was so distant. If he'd tried to apologize, or told me he lovedme, or even smiled, it would've felt fake. Like a human dad, making some lameexcuse for not being around. I could live with that. After all, I wasn't sure abouthim yet, either.'Address Lord Zeus, boy,' Poseidon told me. 'Tell him your story.'So I told Zeus everything, just as it had happened. I took out the metalcylinder, which began sparking in the Sky Gods presence, and laid it at his feet.There was a long silence, broken only by the crackle of the hearth fire.Zeus opened his palm. The lightning bolt flew into it. As he closed his fist, themetallic points flared with electricity, until he was holding what looked morelike the classic thunderbolt, a five-metre javelin of arcing, hissing energy thatmade the hairs on my scalp rise.'I sense the boy tells the truth,' Zeus muttered. 'But that Ares would do such athing... it is most unlike him.''He is proud and impulsive,' Poseidon said. 'It runs in the family.''Lord?' I asked.They both said, 'Yes?''Ares didn't act alone. Someone else – something else – came up with theidea.'I described my dreams, and the feeling I'd had on the beach, that momentarybreath of evil that had seemed to stop the world and made Ares back off fromkilling me.'In the dreams,' I said, 'the voice told me to bring the bolt to the Underworld.Ares hinted that he'd been having dreams, too. I think he was being used, just asI was, to start a war.''You are accusing Hades, after all?' Zeus asked.'No,' I said. 'I mean, Lord Zeus, I've been in the presence of Hades. Thisfeeling on the beach was different. It was the same thing I felt when I got closeto that pit. That was the entrance to Tartarus, wasn't it? Something powerful andevil is stirring down there... something even older than the gods.'Poseidon and Zeus looked at each other. They had a quick, intense discussionin Ancient Greek. I only caught one word. Father.Poseidon made some kind of suggestion, but Zeus cut him off. Poseidon triedto argue. Zeus held up his hand angrily. 'We will speak of this no more,' Zeussaid. 'I must go personally to purify this thunderbolt in the waters of Lemnos, toremove the human taint from its metal.'He rose and looked at me. His expression softened just a fraction of a degree.'You have done me a service, boy. Few heroes could have accomplished asmuch.''I had help, sir,' I said. 'Grover Underwood and Annabeth Chase –''To show you my thanks, I shall spare your life. I do not trust you, PerseusJackson. I do not like what your arrival means for the future of Olympus. But forthe sake of peace in the family, I shall let you live.''Um... thank you, sir.''Do not presume to fly again. Do not let me find you here when I return.Otherwise you shall taste this bolt. And it shall be your last sensation.'Thunder shook the palace. With a blinding flash of lightning, Zeus was gone.I was alone in the throne room with my father.'Your uncle,' Poseidon sighed, 'has always had a flair for dramatic exits. Ithink he would've done well as the god of theatre.'An uncomfortable silence.'Sir,' I said, 'what was in that pit?'Poseidon regarded me. 'Have you not guessed?''Kronos,' I said. 'The king of the Titans.'Even in the throne room of Olympus, far away from Tartarus, the nameKronos darkened the room, made the hearth fire seem not quite so warm on myback.Poseidon gripped his trident. 'In the First War, Percy, Zeus cut our father,Kronos, into a thousand pieces, just as Kronos had done to his own father,Ouranos. Zeus cast Kronos's remains into the darkest pit of Tartarus. The Titanarmy was scattered, their mountain fortress on Etna destroyed, their monstrousallies driven to the furthest corners of the earth. And yet Titans cannot die, anymore than we gods can. Whatever is left of Kronos is still alive in some hideousway, still conscious in his eternal pain, still hungering for power.''He's healing,' I said. 'He's coming back.'Poseidon shook his head. 'From time to time, over the aeons, Kronos hasstirred. He enters men's nightmares and breathes evil thoughts. He wakensrestless monsters from the depths. But to suggest he could rise from the pit isanother thing.''That's what he intends, Father. That's what he said.'Poseidon was silent for a long time.'Lord Zeus has closed discussion on this matter. He will not allow talk ofKronos. You have completed your quest, child. That is all you need to do.''But –' I stopped myself. Arguing would do no good. It would very possiblyanger the only god who I had on my side. 'As... as you wish, Father.'A faint smile played on his lips. 'Obedience does not come naturally to you,does it?''No... sir.''I must take some blame for that, I suppose. The sea does not like to berestrained.' He rose to his full height and took up his trident. Then he shimmeredand became the size of a regular man, standing directly in front of me. 'You mustgo, child. But first, know that your mother has returned.'I stared at him, completely stunned. 'My mother?''You will find her at home. Hades sent her when you recovered his helmet.Even the Lord of Death pays his debts.'My heart was pounding. I couldn't believe it. 'Do you... would you...'I wanted to ask if Poseidon would come with me to see her, but then I realizedthat was ridiculous. I imagined loading the God of the Sea into a taxi and takinghim to the Upper East Side. If he'd wanted to see my mom all these years, hewould have. And there was Smelly Gabe to think about.Poseidon's eyes took on a little sadness. 'When you return home, Percy, youmust make an important choice. You will find a package waiting in your room.''A package?''You will understand when you see it. No one can choose your path, Percy.You must decide.'I nodded, though I didn't know what he meant.'Your mother is a queen among women,' Poseidon said wistfully. 'I had notmet such a mortal woman in a thousand years. Still... I am sorry you were born,child. I have brought you a hero's fate, and a hero's fate is never happy. It isnever anything but tragic.'I tried not to feel hurt. Here was my own dad, telling me he was sorry I'd beenborn. 'I don't mind, Father.''Not yet, perhaps,' he said. 'Not yet. But it was an unforgivable mistake onmy part.''I'll leave you then.' I bowed awkwardly. 'I – I won't bother you again.'I was five steps away when he called, 'Perseus.'I turned.There was a different light in his eyes, a fiery kind of pride. 'You did well,Perseus. Do not misunderstand me. Whatever else you do, know that you aremine. You are a true son of the Sea God.'As I walked back through the city of the gods, conversations stopped. Themuses paused their concert. People and satyrs and naiads all turned towards me,their faces filled with respect and gratitude and, as I passed, they knelt, as if Iwere some kind of hero.* * *Fifteen minutes later, still in a trance, I was back on the streets of Manhattan.I caught a taxi to my mom's apartment, rang the doorbell, and there she was –my beautiful mother, smelling of peppermint and licorice, the weariness andworry evaporating from her face as soon as she saw me.'Percy! Oh, thank goodness. Oh, my baby.'She crushed the air right out of me. We stood in the hallway as she cried andran her hands through my hair.I'll admit it – my eyes were a little misty, too. I was shaking, I was so relievedto see her.She told me she'd just appeared at the apartment that morning, scaring Gabehalf out of his wits. She didn't remember anything since the Minotaur, andcouldn't believe it when Gabe told her I was a wanted criminal, travelling acrossthe country, blowing up national monuments. She'd been going out of her mindwith worry all day because she hadn't heard the news. Gabe had forced her to gointo work, saying she had a month's salary to make up and she'd better getstarted.I swallowed back my anger and told her my own story. I tried to make itsound less scary than it had been, but that wasn't easy. I was just getting to thefight with Ares when Gabe's voice interrupted from the living room. 'Hey, Sally!That meat loaf done yet or what?'She closed her eyes. 'He isn't going to be happy to see you, Percy. The storegot half a million phone calls today from Los Angeles... something about freeappliances.''Oh, yeah. About that...'She managed a weak smile. 'Just don't make him angrier, all right? Come on.'In the month I'd been gone, the apartment had turned into Gabeland. Garbagewas ankle-deep on the carpet. The sofa had been reupholstered in beer cans.Dirty socks and underwear hung off the lampshades.Gabe and three of his big goony friends were playing poker at the table.When Gabe saw me, his cigar dropped out of his mouth. His face got redderthan lava. 'You got nerve coming here, you little punk. I thought the police –''He's not a fugitive after all,' my mom interjected. 'Isn't that wonderful,Gabe?'Gabe looked back and forth between us. He didn't seem to think myhomecoming was so wonderful.'Bad enough I had to give back your life insurance money, Sally,' he growled.'Get me the phone. I'll call the cops.''Gabe, no!'He raised his eyebrows. 'Did you just say "no"? You think I'm gonna put upwith this punk again? I can still press charges against him for ruining myCamaro.''But –'He raised his hand, and my mother flinched.For the first time, I realized something. Gabe had hit my mother. I didn't knowwhen, or how much. But I was sure he'd done it. Maybe it had been going on foryears, when I wasn't around.A balloon of anger started expanding in my chest. I came towards Gabe,instinctively taking my pen out of my pocket.He just laughed. 'What, punk? You gonna write on me? You touch me, andyou are going to jail forever, you understand?''Hey, Gabe,' his friend Eddie interrupted. 'He's just a kid.'Gabe looked at him resentfully and mimicked in a falsetto voice: 'Just a kid!'His other friends laughed like idiots.'I'll be nice to you, punk.' Gabe showed me his tobacco-stained teeth. 'I'llgive you five minutes to get your stuff and clear out. After that, I call the police.''Gabe!' my mother pleaded.'He ran away,' Gabe told her. 'Let him stay gone.'I was itching to uncap Riptide but, even if I did, the blade wouldn't hurthumans. And Gabe, by the loosest definition, was human.My mother took my arm. 'Please, Percy. Come on. We'll go to your room.'I let her pull me away, my hands still trembling with rage.My room had been completely filled with Gabe's junk. There were stacks ofused car batteries, a rotting bouquet of sympathy flowers with a card fromsomebody who'd seen his Barbara Walters interview.'Gabe is just upset, honey,' my mother told me. 'I'll talk to him later. I'm sureit will work out.''Mom, it'll never work out. Not as long as Gabe's here.'She wrung her hands nervously. 'I can... I'll take you to work with me for therest of the summer. In the autumn, maybe there's another boarding school –''Mom.'She lowered her eyes. 'I'm trying, Percy. I just... I need some time.'A package appeared on my bed. At least, I could've sworn it hadn't been therea moment before.It was a battered cardboard box about the right size to fit a basketball. Theaddress on the mailing slip was in my own handwriting:

The Gods

 Mount Olympus 

600th Floor,Empire State Building 

New York, NY

With best wishes, PERCY JACKSON

Over the top in black marker, in a man's clear bold print, was the address of ourapartment, and the words: RETURN TO SENDER.Suddenly I understood what Poseidon had told me on Olympus.A package. A decision.Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the SeaGod.I looked at my mother. 'Mom, do you want Gabe gone?''Percy, it isn't that simple. I –''Mom, just tell me. That jerk has been hitting you. Do you want him gone ornot?'She hesitated, then nodded almost imperceptibly. 'Yes, Percy. I do. And I'mtrying to get up my courage to tell him. But you can't do this for me. You can'tsolve my problems.'I looked at the box.I could solve her problem. I wanted to slice that package open, plop it on thepoker table, and take out what was inside. I could start my very own statuegarden, right there in the living room.That's what a Greek hero would do in the stories, I thought. That's what Gabedeserves.But a hero's story always ended in tragedy. Poseidon had told me that.I remembered the Underworld. I thought about Gabe's spirit drifting forever inthe Fields of Asphodel, or condemned to some hideous torture behind the barbedwire of the Fields of Punishment – an eternal poker game, sitting up to his waistin boiling oil listening to opera music. Did I have the right to send someonethere? Even Gabe?A month ago, I wouldn't have hesitated. Now...'I can do it,' I told my mom. 'One look inside this box, and he'll never botheryou again.'She glanced at the package, and seemed to understand immediately. 'No,Percy,'she said, stepping away. 'You can't.''Poseidon called you a queen,' I told her. 'He said he hadn't met a woman likeyou in a thousand years.'Her cheeks flushed. 'Percy –''You deserve better than this, Mom. You should go to college, get yourdegree. You can write your novel, meet a nice guy maybe, live in a nice house.You don't need to protect me any more by staying with Gabe. Let me get rid ofhim.'She wiped a tear off her cheek. 'You sound so much like your father,'she said.'He offered to stop the tide for me once. He offered to build me a palace at thebottom of the sea. He thought he could solve all my problems with a wave of hishand.''What's wrong with that?'Her multicoloured eyes seemed to search inside me. 'I think you know, Percy.I think you're enough like me to understand. If my life is going to meananything, I have to live it myself. I can't let a god take care of me... or my son. Ihave to... find the courage on my own. Your quest has reminded me of that.'We listened to the sound of poker chips, swearing and ESPN from the livingroom television.'I'll leave the box,' I said. 'If he threatens you...'She looked pale, but she nodded. 'Where will you go, Percy?''Half-Blood Hill.''For the summer... or forever?''I guess that depends.'We locked eyes, and I sensed that we had an agreement. We would see howthings stood at the end of the summer.She kissed my forehead. 'You'll be a hero, Percy. You'll be the greatest of all.'I took one last look around my bedroom. I had a feeling I'd never see it again.Then I walked with my mother to the front door.'Leaving so soon, punk?' Gabe called after me. 'Good riddance.'I had one last twinge of doubt. How could I turn down the perfect chance totake revenge on him? I was leaving here without saving my mother.'Hey, Sally,' he yelled. 'What about that meat loaf, huh?'A steely look of anger flared in my mother's eyes, and I thought, just maybe, Iwas leaving her in good hands after all. Her own.'The meat loaf is coming right up, dear,'she told Gabe. 'Meat loaf surprise.'She looked at me, and winked.The last thing I saw as the door swung closed was my mother staring at Gabe,as if she were contemplating how he would look as a garden statue.