Luke (sequel to 'Say You'll Remember Me')

Chapter 11

The bus drops us off in Louisville at a little past 7:30 in evening; we were supposed to get there at noon, but there was a hold-up in Pittsburgh, something that might've been meant for Luke. The car had ran the light and tried to crash into the bus; the driver barely managed to avoid it, but that wasn't the end. The car followed the bus, then it was joined by another. Then another.

Everyone on the bus was scared, everyone scrambling to call the police. The cars were corraling the bus, forcing it out of the busy parts of the city, down twisting back alleys. Wherever they were taking us, I knew if we made it there, the ending would not be good. I could hear the sirens, off in the distance, but getting closer, tracking the phone of one of the callers. The drivers of the cars could hear it, and the energy shifted. They forced us to speed up, racing to shuffle us into whatever warehouse they had taken over, and once inside, those cell phones would stop tracking.

I didn't dare look over at Will the entire time; I couldn't risk giving away that we knew what was going on. If we made it out of this, there'd be question, and there was no need to draw unecessary attention to a soon-to-be murder suspect and his travelling companion. Eventually the police were in sight, and almost as soon as they were, the three cars peeled off, one-by-one. As the cars veered off, they went in different directions, most of the police cars with them. It isn't like it mattered, the entire Pittsburgh police squadron could be after them, but in the end, those three cars aren't going to be caught. She's too smart to have not taken this into account. 

I was right, there was questioning after the bus finally stopped, but the bus driver was first, and in the confusion, and we managed to sneak away. The part of the city that we were in was less than desirable, but we managed to make it to a bus stop and back to downtown.

"How do you think she found us?"

He looks at the ground in thought, running through a mental checklist before answering. How much does he know that he isn't telling me? "I don't know," he sighs, "maybe she has everything leaving the city under watch. Monitoring every bus, train, all of that, ya know."

"Do you think she knows about the land out west?"

"Maybe, especially if she has the dead campers on her side, but I'm counting on her not knowing that you know about it. We aren't even taking the direct route. We've gone out of our way and she still found us. Do you still have your phone?"

I guess I've lost my edge. "Shit, do you think she's tracking it?"

He shakes his head, I know he's disappointed in my lapse of judgement. "We can't be sure, but I don't think we can really afford to take chances. we've gotta play by old rules, they worked well enough before." I hand him my phone and he throws it into a gutter. "Hopefully this slows them down a little bit."

"Hey, we need to stop by an atm before we get on another bus."

He looks confused. "What for?"

"If she can track phones, then she might be able to track my credit cards. Besides, even if she can't, the police can, and it's only a matter of time before they're after us too."

"Emptying your account is gonna seem kinda incriminating, won't it?"

That one hits a little deep. "It doesn't matter. Any way this ends, Percy and I can't go back to the real world now."

~

The Louisville Greyhound station is empty. The plan was to get a cheap motel room nearby; get a few hours of sleep before our bus leaves a 3 A.M.  but with the delay in Pennsylvania, It didn't make any sense to waste our now limited cash reserves. Besides, it wasn't likely that we could find a motel that still accepts cash. 

Luckily, we didn't have to share the lobby with anyone, and benches were cushioned. I decided to let Will sleep first while I kept watch, not that sleep would come easy to either of us. I haven't been able to feel at ease since the attack on the bus yesterday; I guess I forgot how it feels to be on a quest.

The station doesn't have any cameras on the inside, so I can make the call to Hermes. If I put my thumb against the water fountain, I can make just enough of a mist to get a message through. I'll have to remember to mop up the water when I'm done; I refuse to deal with anymore incidents before we make it to Tulsa, even if it is just from a slip and fall.

I toss the drachma in and request to speak to my dad. It takes a long time for him to respond, and I can't lie and say I wasn't hoping he would decline the call. I guess a father can never fail to disappoint.

"Luke," He says with far too much joy as appropriate for someone who is no more than an immortal deadbeat dad, "How have you been? I haven't heard from you in a couple of years."

"First of all, it's been 15 years, and second, I'm not here to catch up. Do you know about the situation with the camp? Anything at all?"

"No, did you do something good? Maybe win a chariot race?"

I wish it was possible to strangle a projection. "No, I'm 28, and I haven't been at the camp since I was 15. Have you not heard about it being destroyed? About Chiron? All of your children there who were murdered? What the hell do you people even talk about up there?"

He actually looks taken aback, at least for just a second. "No, I had no idea, what happened?"

"I can't tell you much, all I know is that somehow Annabeth Chase escaped the underworld and she's brought a lot of unhappy people with her. The camp is gone, and I'm headed to Tulsa with one of the survivors. We need an army, can you help me get in touch with the few campers that made it out? The older ones? I don't have a list of names, but a damn god, surely you and Dionysus can figure it out and get the word out. Please. I need your help."

He softened, even looked troubled. I'm not used to seeing so much empathy from a god. "I'll see what I can do. What should I say to them?"

"I don't know who's on our side anymore, so we can't give them too much information. Just tell them to get to the Tulsa Library and then to call me or Will Solace. We'll help them from there."

"I'll try my best, son. we can figure out what's happening." The moment turns oddly sentimental, much more than I'm willing to admit or participate in.

"Just get the meessage out." I swipe away the message before it gets any closer too a reunion.

Whatever is going on, the Olympians aren't aware of it. It looks like it's up to us to fix this, whoever 'us' turns out to be.