The Son of Neptune - Chapter 16

LUNCH FELT LIKE A FUNERAL PARTY. Everybody ate. People
talked in hushed tones. Nobody seemed particularly
happy. The other campers kept glancing over at Percy
like he was the corpse of honour.
Reyna made a brief speech wishing them luck.
Octavian ripped open a Beanie Baby and pronounced
grave omens and hard times ahead, but predicted the
camp would be saved by an unexpected hero (whose
initials were probably OCTAVIAN). Then the other campers
went off to their afternoon classes – gladiator fighting,
Latin lessons, paintball with ghosts, eagle training and a
dozen other activities that sounded better than a suicide
quest. Percy followed Hazel and Frank to the Barracks to
pack.
Percy didn’t have much. He’d cleaned up his backpack
from his trip south and had kept most of his Bargain Mart
supplies. He had a fresh pair of jeans and an extra purple
T-shirt from the camp quartermaster, plus some nectar,
ambrosia, snacks, a little mortal money and camping
supplies. At lunch, Reyna had handed him a scroll of
introduction from the praetor and camp senate.
Supposedly, any retired legionnaires they met on the trip
would help them if shown the letter. He also kept his
leather necklace with the beads, the silver ring and the
probatio tablet, and of course he had Riptide in his
pocket. He folded his tattered orange T-shirt and left it on
his bunk.
‘I’ll be back,’ he said. He felt pretty stupid talking to a Tshirt,
but he was really thinking of Annabeth, and his old
life. ‘I’m not leaving for good. But I have to help these
guys. They took me in. They deserve to survive.’
The T-shirt didn’t answer, thankfully.
One of their roommates, Bobby, gave them a ride to the
border of the valley on Hannibal the elephant. From the
hilltops, Percy could see everything below. The Little
Tiber snaked across golden pastures where the unicorns
were grazing. The temples and forums of New Rome
gleamed in the sunlight. On the Field of Mars, engineers
were hard at work, pulling down the remains of last night’s
fort and setting up barricades for a game of deathball. A
normal day for Camp Jupiter – but on the northern
horizon, storm clouds were gathering. Shadows moved
across the hills, and Percy imagined the face of Gaia
getting closer and closer.
Work with me for the future, Reyna had said. I intend to
save this camp.
Looking down at the valley, Percy understood why she
cared so much. Even though he was new to Camp Jupiter,
he felt a fierce desire to protect this place. A safe haven
where demigods could build their lives – he wanted that to
be part of his future. Maybe not the way Reyna imagined,
but if he could share this place with Annabeth …
They got off the elephant. Bobby wished them a safe
journey. Hannibal wrapped the three questers with his
trunk. Then the elephant taxi service headed back into the
valley.
Percy sighed. He turned to Hazel and Frank and tried to
think of something upbeat to say.
A familiar voice said, ‘IDs, please.’
A statue of Terminus appeared at the summit of the hill.
The god’s marble face frowned irritably. ‘Well? Come
along!’
‘You again?’ Percy asked. ‘I thought you just guarded
the city.’
Terminus huffed. ‘Glad to see you, too, Mr Rule Flouter.
Normally, yes, I guard the city, but for international
departures I like to provide extra security at the camp
borders. You really should’ve allowed two hours before
your planned departure time, you know. But we’ll have to
make do. Now, come over here so I can pat you down.’
‘But you don’t have –’ Percy stopped himself. ‘Uh, sure.’
He stood next to the armless statue. Terminus
conducted a rigorous mental pat down.
‘You seem to be clean,’ Terminus decided. ‘Do you
have anything to declare?’
‘Yes,’ Percy said. ‘I declare this is stupid.’
‘Hmph! Probatio tablet: Percy Jackson, Fifth Cohort,
son of Neptune. Fine, go. Hazel Levesque, daughter of
Pluto. Fine. Any foreign currency or, ahem, precious
metals to declare?’
‘No,’ she muttered.
‘Are you sure?’ Terminus asked. ‘Because last time –’
‘No!’
‘Well, this is a grumpy bunch,’ said the god. ‘Quest
travellers! Always in a rush. Now, let’s see – Frank Zhang.
Ah! Centurion? Well done, Frank. And that haircut is
regulation perfect. I approve! Off you go, then, Centurion
Zhang. Do you need any directions today?’
‘No. No, I guess not.’
‘Just down to the BART station,’ Terminus said anyway.
‘Change trains at Twelfth Street in Oakland. You want
Fruitvale Station. From there, you can walk or take the bus
to Alameda.’
‘You guys don’t have a magical BART train or
something?’ Percy asked.
‘Magic trains!’ Terminus scoffed. ‘You’ll be wanting your
own security lane and a pass to the executive lounge
next. Just travel safely, and watch out for Polybotes. Talk
about scofflaws – bah! I wish I could throttle him with my
bare hands.’
‘Wait – who?’ Percy asked.
Terminus made a straining expression, like he was
flexing his nonexistent biceps. ‘Ah, well. Just be careful of
him. I imagine he can smell a son of Neptune a mile
away. Out you go, now. Good luck!’
An invisible force kicked them across the boundary.
When Percy looked back, Terminus was gone. In fact, the
entire valley was gone. The Berkeley Hills seemed to be
free of any Roman camp.
Percy looked at his friends. ‘Any idea what Terminus
was talking about? Watch out for … Political something or
other?’
‘Poh-LIB-uh-tease?’ Hazel sounded out the name
carefully. ‘Never heard of him.’
‘Sounds Greek,’ Frank said.
‘That narrows it down.’ Percy sighed. ‘Well, we probably
just appeared on the smell radar for every monster within
five miles. We’d better get moving.’
It took them two hours to reach the docks in Alameda.
Compared to Percy’s last few months, the trip was easy.
No monsters attacked. Nobody looked at Percy like he
was a homeless wild child.
Frank had stored his spear, bow and quiver in a long
bag made for skis. Hazel’s cavalry sword was wrapped in a
bedroll slung on her back. Together the three of them
looked like normal high schoolers on their way to an
overnight trip. They walked to Rockridge Station, bought
their tickets with mortal money, and hopped on the BART
train.
They got off in Oakland. They had to walk through some
rough neighbourhoods, but nobody bothered them.
Whenever the local gang members came close enough
to look in Percy’s eyes, they quickly veered away. He’d
perfected his wolf stare over the last few months – a look
that said: However bad you think you are, I’m worse. After
strangling sea monsters and running over gorgons in a
police car, Percy wasn’t scared of gangs. Pretty much
nothing in the mortal world scared him any more.
In the late afternoon, they made it to the Alameda
docks. Percy looked out over San Francisco Bay and
breathed in the salty sea air. Immediately he felt better.
This was his father’s domain. Whatever they faced, he’d
have the upper hand as long as they were at sea.
Dozens of boats were moored at the docks – everything
from fifty-foot yachts to ten-foot fishing boats. He scanned
the slips for some sort of magic vessel – a trireme,
maybe, or a dragon-headed warship like he’d seen in his
dreams.
‘Um … you guys know what we’re looking for?’
Hazel and Frank shook their heads.
‘I didn’t even know we had a navy.’ Hazel sounded as if
she wished there wasn’t one.
‘Oh …’ Frank pointed. ‘You don’t think … ?’
At the end of the dock was a tiny boat, like a dinghy,
covered in a purple tarp. Embroidered in faded gold along
the canvas was S.P.Q.R.
Percy’s confidence wavered. ‘No way.’
He uncovered the boat, his hands working the knots like
he’d been doing it his whole life. Under the tarp was an old
steel rowboat with no oars. The boat had been painted
dark blue at one point, but the hull was so crusted with tar
and salt it looked like one massive nautical bruise.
On the bow, the name Pax was still readable, lettered in
gold. Painted eyes drooped sadly at the water level, as if
the boat were about to fall asleep. On board were two
benches, some steel wool, an old cooler, and a mound of
frayed rope with one end tied to the mooring. At the
bottom of the boat, a plastic bag and two empty Coke
cans floated in several inches of scummy water.
‘Behold,’ Frank said. ‘The mighty Roman navy.’
‘There’s got to be a mistake,’ Hazel said. ‘This is a piece
of junk.’
Percy imagined Octavian laughing at them, but he
decided not to let it get him down. The Pax was still a boat.
He jumped aboard, and the hull hummed under his feet,
responding to his presence. He gathered up the garbage
in the cooler and put it on the dock. He willed the scummy
water to flow over the sides and out of the boat. Then he
pointed at the steel wool and it flew across the floor,
scrubbing and polishing so fast, the steel began to
smoke. When it was done, the boat was clean. Percy
pointed at the rope, and it untied itself from the dock.
No oars, but that didn’t matter. Percy could tell that the
boat was ready to move, just awaiting his command.
‘This’ll do,’ he said. ‘Hop in.’
Hazel and Frank looked a little stunned, but they
climbed aboard. Hazel seemed especially nervous.
When they had settled on the seats, Percy concentrated,
and the boat slipped away from the dock.
Juno was right, you know. The sleepy voice of Gaia
whispered in Percy’s mind, startling him so badly the boat
rocked. You could have chosen a new life in the sea. You
would have been safe from me there. Now it’s too late.
You chose pain and misery. You’re part of my plan, now –
my important little pawn.
‘Get off my ship,’ Percy growled.
‘Uh, what?’ Frank asked.
Percy waited, but the voice of Gaia was silent.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Let’s see what this rowboat can do.’
He turned the boat to the north, and in no time they
were speeding along at fifteen knots, heading for the
Golden Gate Bridge.

Categories: The Son of Neptune