Night Out

One

Frank immediately regretted all his promises as soon as Hazel closed the door.

"And you're sure you'll be okay," she asked for the third (millionth) time. "You've got everything you need? Wipes, diapers, proper food ..."

Frank had the nerve to chuckle. "It's alright, Hazel, we'll be fine. You deserve a night out anyway." She still didn't look convinced; her stunning eyes, as bright as 14 karat gold, were full of anxiety.

Frank took her by the waist and kissed her softly, reassuringly. "We'll be fine," he whispered, "trust me."

This sealed the deal for Hazel. She walked the length of the small kitchen where Will, their almost one year old child, sat in his clunky car seat, slobbering all over a stuffed bear.

Hazel kissed his forehead, and the infant pawed his mother's face. Hazel giggled, and turned to Frank. "Just one night," she said, her eyes locked on him. Then she turned teasing. "Try not to burn the house down."

Frank laughed. "I'll try."

He gave her one last kiss before she departed out the door, her bag slung over her shoulder.

Just as the door shut, Will started wailing.

Like, not just crying, but screaming. Frank unbuckled him and tried rocking him, that didn't work. His little baby face was pinched and red and his tiny fist were clenched like he was prepped to punch Frank.

He tried milk, some applesauce. He even tried singing a song. Will just bawled louder (Frank honestly couldn't blame him, his singing was terrible).

Finally, Will quieted a bit, and Frank decided it was a good idea to go for a walk. So, he strapped Will into his stroller.

The night was cool, but not cold, and the streets of New Rome were empty. Frank enjoyed the fresh air and the open sky. Apparently, Will did too, because he fell asleep after five minutes.

Frank was just about to go back, when he noticed something.

On the cobblestone street, a piece of paper blew aimlessly in the breeze. That shouldn't have put Franks nerves on end, but it did. There was no wind, no whisper of any movement. So how could the paper be moving?

The darkness suddenly felt darker, the silence thicker.

A bead of sweat trickled down Franks neck.

He stopped walking, and was about to turn around when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He yelped and jump so bad that he landed with a THUD on the cobblestone road. Will woke and started whimpering again. Frank struggled to get up.

"Who's there!" he shouted into the darkness. His backpack that he brought wherever he went morphed into a bow and quiver, and he notched an arrow. "Show yourself!"

The creature, whatever it was, was quick, but so was Frank.

He saw moment, and he pointed his arrow straight toward it.

"Whoooa, Frank. Watch the nose."

He'd know that sarcasm anywhere.

"Percy?" It was definitely him. Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, the most powerful demigod Frank knew. In his hand he held a blue Yankees cap. Frank was pointing an arrow straight at his nose. "Sorry," Frank mumbled, lowering his bow. "What ... What're you doing here?"

Percy's sea green eyes glittered with mischief. "Do I need a reason to visit my best bud?"

"When it's practically midnight?" Frank glanced at his watch. "Yeah, I'd like one."