craving |PERCY JACKSON| [book 1] UNDER EDITING

XXXII

CHARON ESCORTED THEM into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?" He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and they started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon answered,

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," Annabeth cleared her throat, "That's...Fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy said.

"Ha."

Percy got a sudden dizzy feeling. They weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around them started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

Selena blinked hard. When she opened her eyes, Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been, were now empty sockets-like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw her looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," She managed to say,

She thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting her see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying. Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When they blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. They were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling everyone across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things- plastic dolls, crushed car-nations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so ..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across-hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above them, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Panic closed up Percy's throat. What was he doing here? These people around him ... They were dead.

Selena grabbed hold of his hand. Percy understood what she felt. She wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.