𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 • 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯

Monster Doughnuts

~

An hour later we spotted land—a long stretch of beach lined with high-rise hotels. The water became crowded with fishing boats and tankers. A coast guard cruiser passed on our starboard side, then turned like it wanted a second look. I guess it isn't every day they see a yellow lifeboat with no engine going a hundred knots an hour, manned by three kids. 

"That's Virginia Beach!" I said as we approached the shoreline. "Oh my gods, how did the Princess Andromeda travel so far overnight? That's like—" 

"Five hundred and thirty nautical miles," Percy said. 

I stared at him. "How did you know that?" 

"I—I'm not sure." 

Maybe it's because we're in the sea...

"Percy, what's our position?" I asked him.

"36 degrees, 44 minutes north, 76 degrees, 2 minutes west," Percy said immediately. Then he shook his head. "Whoa. How did I know that?" 

"Because of your dad," I guessed. "When you're at sea, you have perfect bearings. That is so cool." 

Tyson tapped his shoulder. "Other boat is coming." 

I looked back. The coast guard vessel was definitely on our tail now. Its lights were flashing and it was gaining speed. 

"We can't let them catch us," Percy said. "They'll ask too many questions." 

"Keep going into Chesapeake Bay," Annabeth said. "I know a place we can hide." 

I didn't ask what she meant, or how she knew the area so well. I risked loosening the thermos cap a little more, and a fresh burst of wind sent us rocketing around the northern tip of Virginia Beach into Chesapeake Bay. The coast guard boat fell farther and farther behind. We didn't slow down until the shores of the bay narrowed on either side, and I realized we'd entered the mouth of a river. 

Suddenly I was tired and frazzled like I was coming down off a sugar high. I didn't know where I was anymore, or which way to steer the boat. It was a good thing Annabeth was directing me. 

"There," she said. "Past that sandbar." 

We veered into a swampy area choked with marsh grass. 

I beached the lifeboat at the foot of a giant cypress. Somehow, being under the cypress felt like home. Most probably because the cypress is mother's sacred tree.

Vine-covered trees loomed above us. Insects chirred in the woods. The air was muggy and hot, and steam curled off the river. It wasn't Manhattan, and I didn't like it.

"Come on," Annabeth said. "It's just down the bank."

"What is?" I asked.

"Just follow." She grabbed a duffel bag. "And we'd better cover the boat. We don't want to draw attention."

After burying the lifeboat with branches, Tyson and I followed Annabeth along the shore, our feet sinking in red mud. A snake slithered past my shoe and disappeared into the grass.

"Not a good place," Tyson said. He swatted the mosquitoes that were forming a buffet line on his arm.

After another few minutes, Annabeth said, "Here."

All I saw was a patch of brambles. Then Annabeth moved aside a woven circle of branches, like a door, and I realized I was looking into a camouflaged shelter.

The inside was big enough for four, even with Tyson being the fourth. The walls were woven from plant material, like a Native American hut, but they looked pretty waterproof. Stacked in the corner was everything you could want for a campout—sleeping bags, blankets, an ice chest, and a kerosene lamp. There were demigod provisions, too—bronze javelin tips, a quiver full of arrows, an extra sword, and a box of ambrosia. The place smelled musty like it had been vacant for a long time.