Golden Green

Ch. 12

Percy Jackson and the Olympians belong to Rick Riordan. All credit to him.

The two days we all spent on the westward train were an actual underworld come to the surface for me. I had an apparent thing called motion sickness that makes you feel some horrible way of dizzy and wanting to throw up your meals and pass out all at once.

The sights of rolling green hills and shimmering bodies of water only slightly touched by man's buildings as cities kept me sane throughout the ride.

The windows did not open wide enough for me to stick my head out and vomit so I had filled a poor trash can more than once to the brim and Fidi wasn't appreciating the smell before it was emptied by the train service lady.

Percy was on edge the whole time like he was being watched and scarcely leaned back in his cushioned seat, but we were not attacked once. I was thankful for that because I wouldn't have been much help.

Riding Fidi a few times on our trip to camp felt natural even though I was thrown side to side like a leaf in a hurricane but how the train made you feel pressure in your head and was too smooth of a ride for comfort killed me.

Percy was trying to hide from any mortals because a new image of him was taken by a bus rider back when fighting the Kindly ones and placed everywhere with his sword at his side but blurry like it was something beside a sword.

"Don't worry," Annabeth told Percy who was reading a wanted poster for him offering a cash reward from his father by law for his return. "Mortal police could never find us." Percy could not sit still after that and paced our cabin crammed with four people and two medium sized dogs or stared out the windows intently.

"Look," I belched, waving to the group for their attention. There was a herd of Centaurs galloping over a hillside with massive long bows out, hunting.

They moved down the hill and closer to us, as the youngest boy Centaur who was no bigger than a toddler on a pony caught Percy's gaze and waved at us but accidentally loosed an arrow. The arrow apparently brought down whatever they were hunting in a further treeline because the boy was praised and lifted up by his herd before they fell out of view.

Percy muttered something about a lion in the woods one evening as he looked out the window and I looked but there was only a small glint of gold disappearing into the woods.

When we did arrive at our destination to the grace of any and all gods and returned Gladiola to his owners we only made enough money as a reward and the cash we still had from the emporium to buy tickets as far as Denver.

I reluctantly got back onto a train, said goodbye to the ground and dirt, took our less than comfortable seats, and asked for a can.

I did not sleep well from Grover bleating in his sleep next to me, Annabeth giggling at Percy who drooled in his sleep even when trying not to, and Fidi swiping the air at his nose to drive away the smell of my breath.

"So," Annabeth started, "who wants your help?" She turned to Percy after they both rushed to shove Grover's fake foot back onto him after it slipped off after one powerful bleating snore.

"What do you mean?" Percy asked.

"In your sleep a little ago you said so. You said 'I won't help you'. Who were you dreaming about?" I looked at Annabeth and tried to make out her tone and thought it was almost nervous but also kind of jealous.

Percy reluctantly spoke about his dream about a deep dark voice speaking to him and I cut off my superstitions about how Annabeth sounded.

"That doesn't sound like Hades," Annabeth said after Percy told what it wanted from him and described how the voice felt like it had spoken before for the first time you heard it, then how it made you feel grounded to time like it was all stopping, but then echoed onto further sentences but bellowed deeply from below. I couldn't imagine a better way to describe the voice that I heard in my dreams than that way.