CHAPTER EIGHT
( the dog, the voice and the monument )

     IT WAS A MISERABLE night after that. We camped out in the woods, a hundred meters 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.

     We decided to sleep in shifts. Percy volunteered to take the first one. 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 in one of the blankets too but found it difficult to sleep without the night light that hovered over my bunk back at camp – I hadn't realized how much I'd grown accustomed to it until I needed to work without it.

     Another reason why I couldn't sleep was because of Annabeth, Grover and I's conversation on our way here. We agreed on one thing – something was wrong about this quest. Other than the fact that everyone knew that Percy's real motive behind this quest was to save his mother, we noticed the Furies' odd behavior on the bus. They weren't as aggressive as my other times when encountering them. My head kept reminding me of many other small details that occurred throughout the day, such as Medusa's words. There were too many that those same thoughts were the ones that lulled me to sleep, making my eyelids droop and relax my muscles under the blankets.

     When I woke up, I wasn't anywhere near where I had fallen asleep.

     I don't know how, but I had left my position on the ground and stood in a pitch dark room. At first I thought this would lead to my typical dream of the arena, but those suspicions were thrown to the side when a sudden light was turned on. My eyes took some time to adjust to the light and when they did, they widened in shock. In front of me stood an eight meters tall statue, similar to the ones carved for the gods. I thought this one represented one of the many female goddesses in Olympus, but as I paid close attention to the details like the eye shape, the nose and even the mouth, I couldn't help but think it looked just like me. The statue shaped a years older version of myself, holding onto a drawn bow beautifully carved into the ivory.

     Fascinating, isn't it? a voice rang in my ears as I couldn't remove my eyes from the statue. All that glory, all that power. You would do anything to experience it, isn't that right, little hero?

     I couldn't find the strength to answer.

     You could have that, little hero, the voice returned. It sounded old, ancient even, as if it hadn't been used in a long period of time. Forget your friends, little one. Help me rise.

     I didn't like the sound of that. I shook my head in disagreement, even if I wasn't sure that the voice was watching me.

     You want to help the gods? The ones who stood back and watched you suffer?

     "Leave me alone," I whispered. My voice didn't have enough strength to yell out.

     Remember I warned you, girl. In a simple blink of an eye, the statue that had stood in front of me crumbled into a thousand smaller pieces without a warning. I watched in terror as the once beautiful work of art fell with one loud thud; one of the pieces holding the carved imagery of my face collapsed against the floor, right at my feet as if to taunt me.

     I couldn't sleep well after that. The sound of that ancient voice rang in my ears each time I tried to go back to sleep, so all I could do was lay there on the blankets with my eyes closed. I unfortunately got up at the same time the sun came out, almost involuntarily. Normally, back in camp, I was the last in the cabin to wake up, but that wasn't the case for this occasion. I tried to ignore the sun's bright rays in my eyes and stretched out in my spot, careful not to wake the others. Annabeth woke up minutes after me and Grover followed afterwards. He offered to explore the woods in case he found a way that could help us move forward and came back with a companion, all while Percy remained asleep as a baby.

     "Do you want to wake him up or should I?"

     "Do the honors, please."

     Annabeth shook him several times before he finally woke up.

     "Well," Annabeth said, "the zombie lives."

     There was that look in his eyes, one that I knew too well – he had a bad dream. "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."

     Grover was sitting cross-legged on a blanket with the dirty, pink poodle he found in the woods in his lap. When the poodle caught a glimpse of Percy, he yapped suspiciously at him.

     Grover said, "No, he's not."

     Percy blinked. "Are you. . .talking to that thing?"

     The poodle growled, offended.

     "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."

     He stared back at Annabeth and I as if we'd back him up. I had already greeted and welcomed the dog, now it was his turn.

     "I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," he refused. "Forget it."

     "Percy," Annabeth caught his attention. "I said hello to the poodle, Maia said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle."

     The poodle growled. He said hello to the poodle.

     Grover retold how 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 and 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 replied. "Silly me."

     "So we turn in Gladiola," Annabeth explained in her strategy voice, "we get money and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."

     "Not another bus," Percy pleaded warily.

     "No," Annabeth agreed. She pointed downhill, towards train tracks I hadn't been able to see last night in the dark. "There's an Amtrak station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon."

     WE SPENT TWO days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers and past amber waves of grain. We weren't attacked once, but I didn't want to let my guard down. We tried to keep a low profile because, apparently, Percy's name and picture were plastered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers.

     The Trenton Register-News showed a photo taken by a tourist as he got off the Greyhound bus with a mad look in his eyes – it didn't help his case at all. The picture's caption read: Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with three teenage accomplices. His stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture.

     "Don't worry," Annabeth had told him. "Mortal police could never find us."

     But she didn't sound so sure. I could see the tension in Percy's demeanor throughout the rest of the day, which consisted in pacing across the floor. The reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver. We couldn't afford to get berths in the sleeper car, so we dozed in our seats. It was uncomfortable to say the least, but I've slept in worse places. Grover kept snoring and making bleating noises that added to the uncomfortableness. Annabeth did her best to maintain a rigid posture as she dozed off, but in the end her head went straight to my shoulder. I did my best not to move and allow her to sleep.

     "So," I broke the silence, carefully shifting in my seat. "Who wants your help?"

     "What do you mean?"

     "When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?"

     He seemed a bit reluctant about telling me anything, and I understood that. But after a few minutes of awkward silence, he finally got the courage to tell me about his dream. When he finished retelling it, I started to notice the similarities between his and my dream. I didn't want to tell him about mine, since he already looked quite spooked up by the one he just experienced. I tried to find the appropriate words to tell him before voicing my opinion without wanting to sound suspicious.

     "It doesn't sound like it could be Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs."

     "He offered my mother in trade. Who else could do that?"

     "I guess. . .if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why would he ask you to bring the master bolt to him if he already has it?"

     He shook his head in response. I kept thinking back to the Furies in the bus, screeching the words 'where is it' over and over. Grover somehow sensed the tense atmosphere and snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables and turned his head.

     I reached out to accommodate his cap so his horns wouldn't be visible. "Percy, you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right? He's deceitful, heartless and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time – "

     "This time?" he picked up on my last words. "You mean you've run into them before?"

     I involuntarily reached to touch my charm bracelet, specifically the lightning bolt charm. My eyes also focused on my beaded camp necklace, eyes falling to the pine tree clay bead that symbolized the end of my first summer in camp. "Let's just say I'm not fond of the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom."

     "What would you do if it was your mom?"

     "That's simple," I told him. "He already has her soul."

     "You're not serious?"

     I looked back at him with a conflicted gaze. I wasn't sure what got over me to confide such a private side about my life to him, even when I've only known him for two weeks at the most. Even if I grew annoyed by his sarcastic remarks all the time, he seemed like a boy I could trust with this information. I just. . .didn't know why.

     "My mom died when I was young, Percy," I finally confessed. "She was a famous singer in the 90's. Like, Grammy winner famous. She and my dad met during her concert in the Hollywood Bowl, and. . .you can imagine what happened. She believed he was the one, and wrote songs about their time together. You know that song, 'Enchanted Elysium'?"

     His eyes flashed with recognition and a hint of nostalgia. "Yeah! That was your mom? It was my mom's favorite song."

     "I bet," I smiled, it was one of my mom's favorites too. She used to say every musician has one. "I guess the lyric, 'love you like a Greek god' fits pretty well with that scenario, huh?"

     I cleared my throat. "She always said I was her miracle, and life was good, but I could tell she missed her old life up in stages. So, she met this man who claimed he was a music producer. He was nice at first, but there was something. . .off about him. He'd always find an excuse to be close to me, or ask personal questions. He seemed a lot more interested in me than in my mom."

     "Hey," he probably saw the look in my eyes. "You don't have to tell me. I get it."

     I played with my fingers as I tried to remind myself that this might be a good idea. I remembered what he said back before we came across Medusa, about how we were a team. Team players have to trust each other in order to work together, and I wanted to gain his trust, even though I thought we weren't going to come out of this quest as friends

     "My mom married a really awful guy," he broke the silence. "Grover said she did it to protect me, to hide me in the scent of a human family. Maybe that's what your mom tried to do."

     "No, it wasn't like that," I shook my head once more. "One day I came back home after being with the neighbor's and found him and my mom arguing about something in her bedroom. I managed to spy on their conversation and heard things like 'I'm not letting you take her' and 'You'll never get away with this'. I couldn't help getting closer to the room and saw his shadow, It wasn't. . .him. It was a monster. Manticore, is what they're called. He charged and I couldn't do anything to stop him. I ran away and left her all alone."

     "She was protecting you, you did the right thing."

     I heard the slight shake in his voice and I remembered this wasn't the first time he had this sort of conversation. I felt so selfish – telling him about my mom when he was in the same situation, probably ten times worse – but maybe he could have a chance in correcting his mistake. I figured I could help with all I could offer so he would succeed in saving his mom so he won't go through the same thing I did.

     "When you left, how old were you?"

     "Same age as when I started camp. Seven."

     "But. . .you couldn't have gotten all the way to Half-Blood Hill by yourself."

     My eyes involuntarily fell on Annabeth's sleeping form. "Not alone, no. You see, Apollo controls the sun, so I was protected as long as I remained under the sun's rays. Halfway through the journey, I made a couple of unexpected friends who took care of me, took care of each other."

     There were always moments where I wondered what would've become of me if I hadn't encountered Luke, Thalia and Annabeth in the forest that day. What if's about what would've happened if Thalia was still with us, alive and well. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize I had left Percy in silence until I saw him gazing out the train windows as the dark fields of Ohio raced by and that gave me the cue that our conversation was over.

     Towards the end of our second day on the train, June 13, eight days before the summer solstice, we passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St Louis. Annabeth had already woken up from her nap and craned her neck to see the Gateway Arch, a stainless steel shaped into a large curve.

     "I want to do that," she sighed.

     "What?" Percy asked.

     "Build something like that. You ever see the Parthenon, Percy?"

     "Only in pictures."

     "Someday, I'm going to see it in person. I'm going to build the greatest monument to the gods ever. Something that'll last a thousand years."

     He laughed. "You? An architect?"

     I eyed him carefully at his words. Why did he feel the need to laugh about that?

     Annabeth's cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Yes, an architect. Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them down, like a certain god of earthquakes I could mention."

     "Sorry," she apologized right afterwards. "That was mean."

     "Can't we work together a little?" he tried to reason. "I mean, didn't Athena and Poseidon ever cooperate?"

     Annabeth had to think about it. "I guess. . .the chariot," she said tentatively. "My mom invented it, but Poseidon created horses out of the crests of waves. So they had to work together to make it complete."

     "Then we can cooperate, too. Right?"

     The train rode into the city, Annabeth watching as the Arch disappeared behind a hotel.

     "I suppose," she said at last.

     We pulled into the Amtrak station downtown. The intercom told us we'd have a three-hour stopover before departing for Denver. Grover stretched. Before he was even fully awake, he said, "Food."

     "Come on, goat boy," Annabeth said. "Sightseeing."

     "Sightseeing?'

     "The Gateway Arch," she said. "This may be my only chance to ride to the top. Are you coming or not?"

     Grover and Percy exchanged somewhat doubtful looks. They looked like they were thinking about saying no to the offer, but then their eyes fell on me. I raised my hands in surrender to silently tell them I did not want to interrupt Annabeth's opportunity to see something she was so excited about. They let out individual sighs of defeat since they knew we couldn't separate, especially considering our latest luck.

     Grover shrugged. "As long as there's a snack bar without monsters."

     The Arch was about a mile from the train station. Late in the day the lines to get in weren't that long. We threaded our way through the underground museum, looking at covered wagons and other junk from the 1800s. I didn't have a single clue about what I was seeing as we walked deeper into the museum, but Annabeth kept telling us interesting facts about how the Arch was built. Grover kept passing Percy and I jelly beans on the entire journey, and I kept noticing how he passed Percy the blue ones and saved the purple ones for me.

     "You smell anything?" Percy murmured to Grover.

     He took his nose out of the jelly-bean bag long enough to sniff.

     "Underground," he said distastefully. "Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn't mean anything."

     I did feel uncomfortable, like I shouldn't be here, but figured it was just the nerves from our past experiences that had me thinking that way.

     "Guys," Percy said. "You know the gods' symbols of power?"

     Annabeth had been in the middle of reading about the construction equipment used to build the Arch, but she looked over. "Yeah?"

     "Well, Hade – "

     Grover cleared his throat. "We're in a public place. . .You mean, our friend downstairs?"

     "Um, right," he stumbled over his words. "Our friend way downstairs. Doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?"

     "You mean the Helm of Darkness," Annabeth corrected him. "Yeah, that's his symbol of power. I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting."

     "He was there?" he asked.

     "Only time he's allowed to visit Olympus since it's the darkest day of the year," I said this time. "But, if I remember correctly, his is a lot more powerful than Annabeth's hat. . ."

     "It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, or seen, or heard. And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?"

     "But then. . .how do we know he's not here right now, watching us?" Percy questioned.

     Annabeth, Grover and I exchanged looks. It was a probability we hadn't thought about.

     "We don't," Grover confessed.

     "Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," he said. "Got any blue jelly beans left?"

     Annabeth convinced us all to ride the little elevator that took the tourists up to the top of the Arch. I had no problem with confined places, but when I saw that we were going to cramp up into the car with this big lady and her dog, a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar. I figured maybe the Chihuahua was a service dog of some kind, because none of the guards said a word about it, but there was no tag that indicated it. We started going up inside the Arch. I'd never been in an elevator that went in a curve, but I can tell you it's not a nice experience.

     "No parents?" the lady asked us. She had beady eyes; pointy, coffee-stained teeth; a floppy denim hat, and a denim dress that bulged so much she looked like a blue-jean blimp.

     "They're below," Annabeth told her. "Scared of heights."

     "Oh, the poor darlings." The Chihuahua growled. The woman said, "Now, now, sonny. Behave."

     The dog had beady eyes like its owner, intelligent and vicious.

     Percy said, "Sonny. Is that his name?"

     "No," the lady responded. She smiled, as if that cleared everything up.

     At the top of the Arch, the observation deck had a carpeted floor. There were rows of tiny windows looking out over the city on one side and the river on the other. The view was decently okay, but I still couldn't quite shake the feeling that we weren't welcomed here. Annabeth kept talking about structural supports, how she would've made the windows bigger, and designed a see-through floor. She probably could've stayed up there for hours, but the park ranger announced that the observation deck would be closing in a few minutes. We walked toward the exit and entered the elevator with one other tourist. Percy was about to set foot inside after me but he seemed to notice the other tourist taking up space.

     The park ranger gave him a look, "Next car, sir."

     "We'll get out," Annabeth offered. "Well wait with you."

     He shook his head nervously, as if he thought something bad was going to happen, "Naw, it's okay. I'll see you guys at the bottom."

     I didn't think it was a good idea and turned back to face Grover and Annabeth, both looking nervous, but the elevator door slid shut before I could argue. The car disappeared down the ramp. I had caught a short glimpse of the other tourists at the observation deck before the doors completely shut, and I could've sworn I saw the lady from before smile with a forked tongue flickering between her teeth. That's not right. Forked tongue?

     "No, wait!" I cried out, terrified we'd made the mistake of leaving Percy by himself with a threat.

     The car shook as it made its way down the curve to the ground floor.

     "Maia, what – " Annabeth read the distress in my words.

     "Something's wrong. Percy's in trouble. We gotta get up."

     As I finished my sentence, the car shook once more and the doors opened completely, revealing the ground floor. We were at the bottom once again. Annabeth and Grover had no choice but to step outside of the elevator along with the other person, but I didn't dare to move. Something was wrong and I wouldn't give it up until someone told me otherwise.

     "Sorry, kid," the park ranger said in that snarky tone that adults used to show superiority to children. He crossed his arms. "No tourists go up anymore."

     The smirk he showed off made me feel the urge to kick him.

     Annabeth grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me off from the elevator, flashing a fake grin at the park ranger. "Come on."

     She, Grover and I steered off into a far corner of the museum. It was a lot less crowded than when we first got there, considering that it was almost closing time.

     "What did you see?" Annabeth asked once we were far away from any mortal ears.

     "I. . .don't know," I said in full honesty because I did in fact not know. What I was sure of seeing was the forked tongue. That lady. Her tongue was forked."

     Annabeth racked her brain for something that fit my description. "Okay, this is not good."

     "What do we do?"

     She shook her head, trying to say she was still thinking through. Tourists were continually leaving the museum in large packs of people and emptying the place with every passing minute. There was no way to get back up now, so what else could we do?

     "Everyone's leaving," Grover pointed out. "I don't wanna stay down here much longer."

     We both agreed with his idea. And after that, all Hades broke loose.