The Curse of Achilles (PJO AU)

The Son of Neptune (Part 5)

Outside Seward, Alaska

Seward was only a few miles away when their driver's truck broke down, so Percy, Frank, and Hazel decided to walk it. By midmorning, they climbed over a rise in the road and saw a small bay ringed with mountains. The town was a thin crescent on the right-hand shore, with wharves extending into the water and a cruise ship in the harbor.

Percy shuddered. He saw a chained princess in his mind. He'd had bad experiences with cruise ships.

"Seward," Hazel said. She didn't sound happy to see her old home.

They'd already lost a lot of time, and Percy didn't like how fast the sun was rising. The road curved around the hillside, but it looked like they could get to town faster going straight across the meadows.

Percy stepped off the road. "Come on."

The ground was squishy, but he didn't think much about it until Hazel shouted, "Percy, no!"

His next step went straight through the ground. He sank like a stone until the earth closed over his head—and the earth swallowed him.

Percy clamped his eyes and mouth closed, but some mud had already made its way into his nose and throat. The darkness was cold, slimy, and terrifying. He tried his best to stay calm, which wasn't easy. He hadn't had time to take a proper breath before sinking underground, and every survival instinct was already screaming at him to open his mouth and take a breath. Percy had a feeling that lungs filled with mud would feel a lot worse than lungs filled with water. Unfortunately, his dad did not give him the ability to breathe mud.

Ella's fragmented prophecy sprung to Percy's mind. The son of Neptune shall drown. He'd thought it was nonsense, just another random phrase she put together from her books. He'd always been able to breathe underwater. How can you drown without water?

But this is what it meant. He was drowning in the earth. He was about to die.

Percy never knew what drowning felt like before this. And he was absolutely terrified.

This quest was just one reminder after another about how the Curse of Achilles didn't make Percy invincible. First his nervous breakdown after seeing Polybotes and the centaurs, then the gorgon's blood, then the gryphon attack, and now this. Iron skin did nothing against suffocation.

What about Hazel and Frank? Had they fallen in too? Were they searching for him? How long had he been down here? And if he died . . . would they be able to finish the quest?

Percy Jackson. Gaea's voice sounded in Percy's head. You belong to me now.

Freakin' Gaea, Percy thought. Of course this was one of her plans. But the question was: would she kill him now or save him for her grand finale? Percy didn't like either option.

Percy's lungs were burning. He didn't know how much longer he could last. There was nothing he could do.

Annabeth, Percy thought.

He reached up, desperately searching for one last chance at life. It felt like he was fighting cement just to move, but he had no other option. He could barely feel his hands, as cold as he was. Even if he found something, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold onto it.

Images flashed behind his closed eyelids—fuzzy, color-leeched memories from before Lupa. They landed on the moment when Percy had walked into the River Styx to gain equal ground with Luke Castellan/Kronos. He remembered falling into the river from the immense pain, feeling it pulling him apart, breaking him down into nothing. He remembered how close he came to being whisked away.

And then he had seen Annabeth—smiling, beautiful, calling him an idiot like she always did. She was reaching down from the dock of . . . of Camp Half-Blood's lake. He had fallen out of his canoe and she was helping him up. He had taken her hand and she had revived him. She was the reason he made it out of that river alive, and with the Curse of Achilles in tow.

But that was just an illusion his pain-riddled mind had conjured up. She wasn't there then, and she wasn't here now. Percy would never see Annabeth again.

I'm sorry, he told her.

Percy's fingers knocked against something. Shoes, ankles, pants—Frank or Hazel. He couldn't tell which one with his numb fingers, but he grabbed onto their ankles with all the strength he had and hoped they had a plan.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Percy's heart sank. It was an accident. One—or both—of them had fallen in with him. He'd gotten them killed. They had failed, and it was all his fault.

And then the ankles moved and almost slid out of Percy's hands. He tightened his grip and shot upwards so fast it hurt his arms.

The next thing Percy knew, he was above ground, lying on what felt like grass. He gratefully gulped down air, but the mud got in the way and the next few minutes were spent alternately sucking down huge breaths and hacking up mud. Hazel was next to him doing much of the same, also covered in muck. Percy was still coughing when Frank dragged him farther from the quicksand-like earth that had almost drowned him.

"You were down there so long!" Frank cried, hovering above Hazel and trying to wipe the mud off her face. "I didn't think—oh, gods, don't ever do something like that again!"

He wrapped Hazel in a bear hug. "Can't—breathe," she choked out.

"Sorry!" Frank said.

Percy flopped onto his back, still coughing and shaking. Frank tried wiping the mud off of him, too, but the clothes he was using as towels didn't work very well. He managed to corral Percy and Hazel to the side of the road, where they sat and shivered and spit up mud clods.

Percy couldn't feel his hands. He continued coughing all the way through Hazel's explanation about the muskeg and the vision Gaea had so generously blessed her with. He could see in her face the despair she felt.

Percy rubbed his shoulders. He was pretty sure his lips were blue at this point, and his teeth chattered as he spoke. "You—you saved me, Hazel. We'll figure out what happened to Nico, I promise." Especially since Percy was beginning to remember the son of Hades, and needed answers from him.

The sun was high in the sky, and the warmth felt good. Percy was still shaking, and so was Hazel when she said, "Does it seem like Gaea let us go too easily?"

Percy picked a mud clod from his hair. "Maybe she still wants us as pawns." Her little message to him had sounded like it. "Maybe she was just saying things to mess with your mind."

"She knew what to say," Hazel agreed. "She knew how to get to me."

Frank put his jacket around her shoulders. "This is a real life. You know that, right?" We're not going to let you die again."

Hazel didn't answer and stared at the rising sun. She stood. "We should get going. We're losing time."

Percy gazed down the road. He was starting to feel better now, but his slight trembling wasn't from the cold. Close calls like that were starting to become way too familiar.

"Any hotels or something where we could clean off?" Percy looked down at himself. "I mean . . . hotels that accept mud people?"

"I'm not sure," Hazel admitted. She looked at the town below and recognition shone in her eyes. "I might know a place where we can freshen up."

Percy climbed to his feet and they started towards Seward—making sure to stay on the road this time. Hazel and Frank huddled together, leading the way, and Percy trailed behind them.

Silently, Percy picked up a rock with a sharp edge and pressed it against his arm as hard as he could. Nothing. It wouldn't puncture his skin. The Curse of Achilles was still there.

So why did he feel so vulnerable?