Advisor's Son

Chapter 2 The Known Fugitive

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I’d love to tell you I had some deep revelation on my way down, that I came to terms with my own mortality, laughed in the face of death, et cetera.

The truth? My only thought was that I was scared and decided to hug Persephone as tight as I could, and she seemed to have the same thought. If I wasn’t plummeting to my death I would be blushing from having my face squished against a girl's breast.

While I couldn’t see us approaching the concrete I could hear the wind ripping past my ears, before suddenly the sound of a large splash filled my ears. Though I was both too scared and surprised to let go of Persephone to figure out what happened and my mind had stopped as it realized I wasn’t dead.

But my impact with the water hadn’t hurt. We were falling slowly now, bubbles trickling up through my fingers. We settled on the river bottom soundlessly. 

At that point, I realized a few things: first, I had not been flattened into a pancake. I had not been barbecued. I was alive, which was good. So… what the hell just happened? How are we in the river?

Second realization: I wasn’t wet. I mean, I could feel the coolness of the water. I also realized that Persephone was no longer clutching my face to her breast and so I was able to look around. We were indeed in the river. Plastic bags, beer bottles and all other manner of trash around us. I could also see where the fire on my clothes had been quenched. But when I touched my own shirt, it felt perfectly dry. Am I actually dead or is this all a bad schizo vision or dream. Maybe I am laying on the sidewalk and am dying or in a coma.

Persephone looked at the garbage floating by and snatched an old cigarette lighter.

She flicked the lighter. It sparked. A tiny flame appeared, right there at the bottom of the Mississippi.

Okay, I’m dreaming. This is a nightmare or weird ass dream.

She grabbed a soggy hamburger wrapper out of the current and immediately the paper turned dry. She lit it with no problem with the lighter. As soon as she let it go, the flames sputtered out. The wrapper turned back into a slimy rag. Weird. 

But the strangest thought occurred to me only last: I was breathing. I was underwater, and I was breathing normally. Though it only made me hug Persephone tighter. This was all freaky.

Persephone must have been strong as she stood up without issue, thigh-deep in mud. We should’ve been dead. The fact that we weren’t seemed like… well, a miracle. 

Um… thanks. Persephone spoke, though underwater she sounded much older. Thank you… Mother.

I couldn’t bring myself to respond. Though part of me did wonder, was her mother really Poseidon? If so then…wait, isn't Poseidon a dude? Though Echidna did say Queen Zeus so what do I know? I really don’t understand what’s going on. Such a weird ass dream.

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Fump-fump-fump. A riverboat’s paddlewheel churned above me, swirling the silt around. 

There, not two meters in front of me, was my sword, its gleaming bronze hilt sticking up in the mud. Though how it landed in the river I had no clue. 

I heard that woman’s voice again: ‘Perse, take the sword. Your mother believes in you.’ This time, I knew the voice wasn’t in my head. I wasn’t imagining it. Her words seemed to come from everywhere, rippling through the water like dolphin sonar.