Chapter Text
Chapter 12
WE GET ADVICE FROM A POODLE
We were pretty miserable that night.
We camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers.
We’d taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em’s, but we didn’t dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. We didn’t want to attract anything else.
Unfortunately, Annabeth insisted that we still practice. She said that fighting in the woods would be good to learn. But I think she really just wanted to use me to blow off some steam. Because she wasn’t pulling any punches. My arms felt like rocks after the fight with Medusa, and Annabeth was taking full advantage of it.
By the end of the sparring session I couldn’t even muster the effort to walk all the way to the clearing. I took a seat on the roots of a nearby tree, and Annabeth sat with me, surprisingly.
“Hey Annabeth?”
“Hm?”
“Was it just me or did the Furies say it and not he earlier?”
“That’s what was so funny about what happened earlier, they were saying it.”
“So I guess Hades lost something too? And he thinks that we have it? Weird…”
She pondered for a moment, “Maybe. I don’t think we have anything…”
I shrugged, “Well, we oughta get back now.”
We made our way back to the campsite, and we all decided to sleep in shifts. Percy volunteered to take the first watch before I got to.
Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky.
I laid down on the marshy grass, but couldn’t fall asleep. Everytime I closed my eyes to sleep I felt something staring at me, but when I looked around I couldn’t see anything out there.
“Go ahead and sleep,” Percy said. I think he was talking to Grover. “I’ll wake you if there’s trouble.”
He nodded, but still didn’t close his eyes. “It makes me sad, Percy.”
“What does? The fact that you signed up for this stupid quest?”
“No. This makes me sad.” He pointed at all the garbage on the ground. “And the sky. You can’t even see the stars. They’ve polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess you’d be an environmentalist.”
He glared at me. “Only a human wouldn’t be. Your species is clogging up the world so fast…ah, never mind. It’s useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I’ll never find Pan.”
“Pam? Like the cooking spray?”
“Pan!” he cried indignantly. “P-A-N. The great god Pan! What do you think I want a searcher’s license for?”
A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and muck. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rainwater, things that might’ve once been in these woods. Suddenly I was nostalgic for something I’d never known.
“Tell me about the search,” Percy said.
“The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago,” he said. “A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, ‘Tell them that the great god Pan has died!’ When humans heard the news, they believed it. They’ve been pillaging Pan’s kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep.”
“And you want to be a searcher.”
“It’s my life’s dream,” he said. “My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand…the statue you saw back there—”
“Oh, right, sorry.”
Grover shook his head. “Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad. But I’ll succeed. I’ll be the first searcher to return alive.”
“Hang on—the first?”
Grover took his reed pipes out of his pocket. “No searcher has ever come back. Once they set out, they disappear. They’re never seen alive again.”
“Not once in two thousand years?”
“No.”
“And your dad? You have no idea what happened to him?”
“None.”
“But you still want to go,” Percy said, clearly sounding amazed. “I mean, you really think you’ll be the one to find Pan?”
“I have to believe that, Percy. Every searcher does. It’s the only thing that keeps us from despair when we look at what humans have done to the world. I have to believe Pan can still be awakened.”
“How are we going to get into the Underworld?” Percy asked. “I mean, what chance do we have against a god?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But back at Medusa’s, when you were searching her office? Annabeth was telling me—”
“Oh, I forgot. Annabeth will have a plan all figured out.”
“Don’t be so hard on her, Percy. She’s had a tough life, but she’s a good person. After all, she forgave me.…” His voice faltered.
“What do you mean?” Percy asked. “Forgave you for what?”
Suddenly, Grover seemed very interested in playing notes on his pipes.
“Wait a minute,” Percy said. “Your first keeper job was five years ago. Annabeth has been at camp five years. She wasn’t…I mean, your first assignment that went wrong—”
“I can’t talk about it,” Grover said. “But as I was saying, back at Medusa’s, Annabeth and I agreed there’s something strange going on with this quest. Something isn’t what it seems.”
“Well, duh. I’m getting blamed for stealing a thunderbolt that Hades took.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Grover said. “The Fur—The Kindly Ones were sort of holding back. Like Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy…why did she wait so long to try to kill you? Then on the bus, they just weren’t as aggressive as they could’ve been.”
“They seemed plenty aggressive to me.”
Grover shook his head. “They were screeching at us: ‘Where is it? Where?’”
“Asking about me,” Percy said.
“Maybe…but Annabeth and I, we both got the feeling they weren’t asking about a person. They said ‘Where is it?’ They seemed to be asking about an object.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know. But if we’ve misunderstood something about this quest, and we only have nine days to find the master bolt.…”
“I haven’t been straight with you,” Percy finally admitted. “I don’t care about the master bolt. I agreed to go to the Underworld so I could bring back my mother.”
Grover blew a soft note on his pipes. “I know that, Percy. But are you sure that’s the only reason?”
“I’m not doing it to help my father. He doesn’t care about me. I don’t care about him.”
“Look, Percy, I’m not as smart as Annabeth. I’m not as strong as Jason. I’m not as brave as you. But I’m pretty good at reading emotions. You’re glad your dad is alive. You feel good that he’s claimed you, and part of you wants to make him proud. That’s why you mailed Medusa’s head to Olympus. You wanted him to notice what you’d done.”
“Yeah? Well maybe satyr emotions work differently than human emotions. Because you’re wrong. I don’t care what he thinks.”
“Okay, Percy. Whatever.”
“Besides, I haven’t done anything worth bragging about. We barely got out of New York and we’re stuck here with no money and no way west.”
“How about I take first watch, huh? You get some sleep.”
I felt terrible for eavesdropping on them but I couldn’t fall asleep, and they were just talking too dang close to me. After a few bars of Piano Concerto no. 12, I was asleep.
In my dreams, I stood in a dark cavern before a gaping pit. Gray mist creatures churned all around me, whispering rags of smoke that I somehow knew were the spirits of the dead.
They tugged at my clothes, trying to pull me back, but I felt compelled to walk forward to the very edge of the chasm.
Looking down made me dizzy.
The pit yawned so wide and was so completely black, I knew it must be bottomless. Yet I had a feeling that something was trying to rise from the abyss, something huge and evil.
One of the little heroes, an amused voice echoed far down in the darkness. Too weak, too young, but perhaps you will do.
The voice felt ancient—cold and heavy. It wrapped around me like sheets of lead.
They have misled you, boy, it said. Barter with me. I will give you what you want.
He then began to fill my head with the thoughts of a better world, it was one without gods, one where I could be a normal kid again, one where I could have friends and family of my own.
I reached out, trying to grab that vision, but it disappeared the moment my hand came close.
Cold laughter echoed from the chasm.
An invisible force pulled me forward. It would drag me into the pit unless I stood firm.
Help me rise, boy. The voice became hungrier. Bring me the bolt. Strike a blow against the treacherous gods!
The spirits of the dead whispered around me, No! Wake!
The thing in the pit tightened its unseen grip around me.
I realized it wasn't interested in pulling me in. It was using me to pull itself out.
The spirits of the dead whispered once more, Resist! Wake!
I resisted as hard as I could, trying to break free from its grip. But the voice from the pit held me firm.
Stop resisting, the voice rumbled, this is what you want.
I felt spirits of the dead swirling around me, pulling me back, dragging me away from the pit. With their help I broke away, and the spirits dissipated as quickly as they appeared.
The voice rumbled from below the earth, The offer stands, bring me the bolt and I will give you what you want.
My eyes opened, and it was daylight.
I slowly sat up. My hands shook, and I was still trembling from the dream.
“Look who’s finally awake.” Annabeth said.
I looked around, my eyes still foggy, Grover was sitting cross-legged on a blanket with something fuzzy in his lap, a dirty, unnaturally pink stuffed animal. Wait, that was a poodle.
At least I beat Percy to waking up I suppose.
I asked, “What’s for breakfast?”
Annabeth tossed a bag of nacho-flavored corn chips from Aunty Em’s snack bar at my head. I barely caught it before the chips hit me in the face.
Annabeth said, “Hold on. I’m gonna go wake up Percy.”
Annabeth started shaking Percy, trying to wake him up. But he wasn’t budging, that must have been a really good dream.
He slowly stirred, and Annabeth said, “Well, the zombie lives.” Before she sat back down across from us.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Long enough for me to cook breakfast.” Annabeth tossed him a bag of nacho-flavored corn chips from Aunty Em’s snack bar. “And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend.”
I ate the entire bag of chips as quickly as I could while I listened to them talking. I had learned that talking while eating was rude after all.
The poodle yapped at Percy suspiciously. Grover said, “No, he’s not.”
“Are you…talking to that thing?”
The poodle growled.
“This thing,” Grover warned, “is our ticket west. Be nice to him.”
“You can talk to animals?”
Grover ignored the question. “Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy.”
“I’m not saying hello to a pink poodle,” Percy said. “Forget it.”
“Percy,” Annabeth said. “I said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle.”
The poodle growled at Percy.
He said hello to the poodle.
I realized I hadn’t said hello either, partially because I didn’t realize the poodle wanted a hello. So I swallowed my mouthful of chips before saying hello to Gladiola.
Grover explained that he’d come across Gladiola in the woods and they’d struck up a conversation. The poodle had run away from a rich local family, who’d posted a $200 reward for his return. Gladiola didn’t really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover.
“How does Gladiola know about the reward?” Percy asked.
“He read the signs,” Grover said. “Duh.”
“Of course,” Percy added. “Silly me.”
“So we turn in Gladiola,” Annabeth explained in her best strategy voice, “we get money, and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple.”
I thought about my dream—the whispering of the dead that helped me, the thing in the chasm. All that might be waiting for me in the West.
I finished my final mouthful of chips, “Still no planes.”
“No buses either,” Percy said warily.
“No,” Annabeth agreed.
She pointed downhill, toward train tracks we hadn’t been able to see last night in the dark. “There’s an Amtrack station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon.”
