We were pretty miserable that night.
We camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast food wrappers.
We'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but we didn't dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. We didn't want to attract anything else.
We decided to sleep in shifts. Percy volunteered to take the first watch.
Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk and stared at the night sky.
"Go ahead and sleep," Percy told him. "I'll wake you if there's trouble."
He nodded, but still didn't close his eyes. "It makes me sad."
"What does? The fact that you signed up for this stupid quest?" Percy guessed.
"No. This makes him sad." I pointed to all the garbage on the ground. "And the sky. You can't even see the stars. We've polluted the sky. It's a terrible time to be a satyr."
"You're an environmentalist?" Grover asked.
I nodded. "A little bit. Yeah. Part of why I have Dean's respect." I showed my backpack. "Always carry my own bag and a reusable water bottle with me at all times. But I didn't want to lose it so I left it in our cabin. When I do use a plastic bottle or if I have trash, I hold onto it until I find a trash or recycle can."
"Well, you've now earned my respect, Molly." Grover glared at Percy. "Most humans wouldn't be. Your species is clogging up the world so fast... ah, nevermind. It's useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I'll never find Pan."
"Pam? Like the cooking spray?" I asked.
"Pan!" he cried indignantly. "P-A-N. The great god Pan! What do you think I want a searcher's license for?"
A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and muck. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rainwater, things that might have once been in these woods.
"Tell me about the search," Percy said.
Grover looked at him cautiously, as if he were afraid I was just making fun.
"The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he told us. "A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, 'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden and wake him from his sleep."
"And you want to be a searcher." Percy said.
"It's my life's dream," Grover said. "My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand... the statue you saw back there-"
"Oh, right, sorry." Percy apologized.
Grover shook his head. "Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first searcher to return alive."
I got wide eyed. "Hang on- the first?"
Grover took his reed pipes out of his pocket. "No searcher has ever come back. Once they set out, they disappear. They're never seen alive again."
"Not once in two thousand years?" Percy asked.
"No."
"And your dad? You have no idea what happened to him?" Percy asked.
"None."
"But you still want to go," Percy said, amazed. "I mean, you really think you'll be the one to find Pan?"
"I have to believe that. Every searcher does. It's the only thing that keeps us from despair when we look at what humans have done to the world. I have to believe Pan can still be awakened."
Percy stared at the orange haze of the sky.
"How are we going to get into the Underworld?" Percy asked. "I mean, what chance do we have against a god?"
"I don't know," Grover admitted. "But back at Medusa's, when you were searching her office? Annabeth was telling me-"
"Oh, I forgot. Annabeth will have a plan all figured out." Percy interrupted.
"Don't be so hard on her, Percy. She's had a tough life, but she's a good person. After all, she forgave me..." His voice faltered.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Forgave you for what?"
Suddenly, Grover seemed very interested in playing notes on his pipes.
"Wait a minute," Percy said. "Your first keeper job was five years ago. Annabeth has been at camp five years. She wasn't... I mean, your first assignment that went wrong-"
"I can't talk about it," Grover said, his quivering lower lip suggesting he'd start crying if we pressed him. "But I was saying, back at Medusa's, Annabeth and I agreed there's something strange going on with this quest. Something isn't what it seems.'
"Well, duh." I said sarcastically. "Percy and I are getting blamed for stealing a thunderbolt that Hades took."
"That's not what I mean," Grover said. "The Fur- The Kindly Ones were sort of holding back. Like Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy... why did she wait so long to try to kill you? Then on the bus, they just weren't as aggressive as they could've been."
"They seemed pretty aggressive to me." Percy said.
Grover shook his head. "They were screeching at us: 'Where is it? Where?'"
"Asking about us," I said.
"Maybe... but Annabeth and I, we both got the feeling they weren't asking about people. They said 'Where is it?' They seemed to be asking about an object."
"That doesn't make sense." I said.
"I know. But if we've misunderstood something about this quest and we only have nine days to find the master bolt..." He looked at us like he was hoping for an answer, but we didn't have any.
I thought about what Medusa had said: we were being used by the gods. What lay ahead of us was worse than being a statue.
"I haven't been straight with you," Percy told Grover. "We don't care about the master bolt. We agreed to go to the Underworld so we could bring back our mother."
I nodded in conformation.
Grover blew a soft note on his pipes. "I know that. But are you sure that's the only reason?"
"I'm not doing it to help our father." Percy said. "He doesn't care about us. We don't care about him."
I shook my head in conformation.
Grover gazed down from his tree branch. "Look, Percy, I'm not as smart as Annabeth. I'm not as brave as you. But I'm pretty good at reading emotions. You're glad your dad is alive. You feel good that he's claimed you and part of you wants to make him proud. That's why you mailed Medusa's head to Olympus. You wanted him to notice what you'd done."
"Yeah?" Percy said. "Well maybe satyr emotions work differently than human emotions. Because you're wrong. I don't care what he thinks."
Grover pulled his feet up onto the branch. "Okay, Percy. Whatever."
"Besides, we haven't done anything worth bragging about." I said. "We barely got out of New York and we're stuck here with no money and no way west."
Grover looked at the night sky, like he was thinking about that problem. "How about I take the first watch, huh? You get some sleep."
Percy started to speak, but Grover started to play Mozart, soft and sweet and my eyes started to get heavy. After a few bars of Piano Concerto no. 12, I was asleep.
In my dreams, I stood in a dark cavern before a gaping pit. Gray mist creatures churned all around me, whispering rags of smoke that I somehow knew were the spirits of the dead.
They tugged at my clothes, trying to pull me back, but I felt compelled to walk forward to the very edge of the chasm.
Looking down made me dizzy.
The pit yawned so wide and was so completely black, I knew it must be bottomless. Yet I had a feeling that something was trying to rise from the abyss, something huge and evil.
The little heroes, an amused voice echoed far down in the darkness. Too weak, too young, but perhaps you will do.
Heroes? Plural? I looked around and to my left I saw Percy. He looked scared, worried. And I'm pretty sure why.
Anyway, back to the voice. It felt ancient- cold and heavy. It wrapped around us like sheets of lead.
They have misled you, it said. Barter with me. I will give you what you want.
I'm not the smartest person, but I don't think making a deal with an ancient, cold, heavy voice coming from a bottomless pit is a good idea.
A shimmering image hovered over the void: my mother, frozen at the moment she'd dissolved in a shower of gold. It scared me so much I didn't even want to look at it anymore. Her face was distorted with pain, as if the Minotaur were still squeezing her neck. Her eyes looked directly at us, pleading: Go!
I tried to cry out, but my voice wouldn't work.
Cold laughter echoed from the chasm.
An invisible force pulled us forward. It would drag us into the pit unless we stood firm.
Help me rise. The voice became hungrier. Bring me the bolt. Strike a blow against the treacherous gods!
The spirits of the dead whispered around us, No! Wake!
The image of my mother began to fade. The thing in the pit tightened its unseen grip around us.
Only then did I realize it wasn't interested in pulling me in. It was using us to pull itself out.
Good, it murmured. Good.
Wake! The dead whispered. Wake!
Someone was shaking me.
My eyes opened and the daylight woke me up.
"Well," Annabeth said, "the zombies live."
I held onto my necklace and Percy's arm. He felt cold like the voice.
"How long were we asleep?" Percy asked.
"Long enough for me to cook breakfast." Annabeth tossed us a bag of nacho flavored corn chips from Aunty Em's snack bar. "And Grover went exploring. Look, he even found a friend."
I blinked the sun out of my eyes.
Grover was sitting criss cross on a blanket with something fuzzy in his lap, a dirty, unnaturally pink stuffed animal.
No. It wasn't a stuffed animal. It was a poodle.
"Poodle!" I ecstatically. "Hi poodle!"
I went to pet it, but the poodle seemed to have a different reaction. It yapped at us suspiciously. Grover said, "No, he's not."
Percy blinked. "Are you... talking to that thing?"
The poodle growled.
"This thing," Grover warned, "is our ticket west. Be nice to him."
"You can talk to animals?" Percy said.
Grover ignored the question. "Percy, Molly, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy and Molly."
"Hi Gladiola! Can I pet you?"
She jumped from Grover's lap and curled up on mine.
Percy stared at Annabeth, maybe figuring she'd crack up thinking it was a joke they're playing, but she looked deadly serious.
"I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," Percy said. "Forget it."
"Percy," Annabeth said. "I said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle."
Gladiola started growling and I pet him to make sure he didn't attack.
Percy said hello to the poodle.
Grover explained that he'd come across Gladiola in the woods and they'd struck up a conversation. Gladiola had run away from a rich local family, who'd posted a $200 reward for his return. Gladiola didn't really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover.
I looked down at Gladiola. "He's not a pet, he's a hostage."
"How does Gladiola know about the reward?" Percy asked.
"He read the signs," Grover said. "Duh."
"Of course," Percy said. "Silly me."
"So we turn in Gladiola," Annabeth explained in her best strategy voice, "we get money and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."
I thought about last night's dream- the whispering voices of the dead, the thing in the chasm and my mother's face, shimmering as it dissolved into gold. All that might be waiting for us in the West.
"Not another bus," Percy said warily.
"No," Annabeth agreed.
She pointed downhill, toward train tracks I hadn't been able to see last night in the dark. "There's an Amtrack station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon."