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chapter xiv.
( the lightning thief )
❝ d.o.a ❞
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THE ENTRANCE TO THE UNDERWORLD looked rather boring. I was expecting something horrifying and huge. Something dreadful looking and full of ghosts drifting around – perhaps even zombies. Not a mortal-looking building with boring painted grey bricks and boring glass doors.
I shared a glance with my friends, "This is the entrance to the Underworld? – I expected ... you know, something more."
Percy arched a brow at her and grinned, "Oh, all right Sunshine, brighten up."
I glared at him, "I will hit you."
We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters in black marble reading: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS. And underneath, stencilled on the boring glass doors was: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING. It was almost midnight, but the building lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.
Percy turned towards us. "Okay. Remember the plan."
"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."
"Sure – great," Annabeth swallowed hard.
"What happens if the plan doesn't work," I raised my hand slightly as if I were in a class.
Percy rolled his eyes, "Don't think negative."
"Right," I said sarcastically. "We're ending the Land of the Dead and I shouldn't think negative."
He took the pearls out of his pocket, four milky spheres as smaller than marbles. They were our backup, and they didn't seem much. I just realised how much this worried him. Percy was so close to getting his Mom back, and here I was making fun of his plan and saying it won't work. I sighed and covered the pearls in his hand with my own, "Look, Percy, I'm sorry. You're right, we'll make it."
Annabeth nodded, "It'll be fine."
She nudged Grover.
"Oh, right!" He chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."
Percy gave us a grateful smile, and we returned it. He slipped the pearls back into his pocket, and together, the four of us walked side by side into the DOA lobby.
Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel grey. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather and each and every seat was taken. There were people sitting, standing, staring out of the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody talked, or moved, or did anything. They all looked like the dullest batch of people I have ever seen. They matched the whole place: dull, dead-looking and boring.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they seemed transparent, and I could see right through their bodies.
"Oh, jeebies," I whispered to Annabeth, hoping no one could hear me. "I'm in a room with dead people."
The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him. He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-brown skin and bleached blond hair shaved military style. I could tell he didn't get around much, since he wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black Rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.
Percy read the name tag, then looked at the man with bewilderment, "Your name is Chiron?"
He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see his eyes, hidden behind his colourful glasses. But his smile was a sickly sweet – horrible and terrifying. "What a precious young lad." He seemed to have a British accent, but also as if English was his second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"
"N-no."
"Sir," he added smoothly.
"Sir," Percy said.
He pinched the name tag and shook in front of Percy's face. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."
"Charon."
"Amazing! Now: Mr Charon."
"Mr Charon."
"Well done," he sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horseman. And now, how may I help you little dead ones."
Percy froze, he glanced at me. I pursed my lips and turned to Annabeth. She gave me a look saying, really? Before looking at Mr Charon. "We want to go to the Underworld."
Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."
"Is it?" She asked.
"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No, "There must be a mistake, Mr Charon"." He looked us over. "How did you die then?"
"Uh ..." I was put on the spot. "We – er – oh! We drowned!"
Once again, I winced at how enthusiastic I sounded. Percy gave me an exasperated look.
Charon narrowed his eyes, "Drowned?"
Grover stepped in this time, "Uh ... in the – um – in the bathtub."
Percy looked like he wanted to slam his head on a desk. Annabeth raised a brow at the satyr.
"All four of you?" Charon asked.
"Yeah," I said. "We were having a ... uh ... spa bath ...?"
I shared a shrug with Percy, Annabeth and Grover. Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children ... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."
"Oh, but we have coins." Percy set four golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash he had found at Crusty's.
"Well, now ..." Charon licked his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in ..."
His fingers hovered greedily over the coins. We were so close. He looked at Percy with a cold stare. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"
"No," Percy said flatly. "I'm dead."
Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead! I should've known. You're a godling."
A weird noise escaped my throat, "Ah – I'd think I'd know whether I was dead or not."
"We have to get to the Underworld," Percy insisted when Charon sent me a glare. He made a growling sound deep in his throat.
Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing. They looked agitated – lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their watches.
"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you—"
Percy snatched the drachmas before he could reach them.
"No service, no trip." He said.
Charon growled again — a deep, blood-chilling growl. The ghosts started pounding on the elevator door. My hand slowly reached up towards my necklace.
"It's a shame too," Percy sighed. "We had more to offer." He held up the entire back from Crusty's. He took out a fistful of drachmas and let the gold spill through his fingers.
Charon's growl changed to more of a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh ... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there."
"A lot," Percy told him. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."
"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always, "Please, don't let me be dead" or "Please let me across for free". I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"
"You deserve better," Percy agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay." With each word, he stacked another gold coin on the counter.
Charon glanced down at his suit, as if imagining himself in something better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."
Percy stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm taking to Hades ..."
He sighed. "The boats almost full, anyway. I might as well add you four and be off."
Charon stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come on."
We pushed through the crowd of dead people waiting at the elevator. They grabbed at our clothes like the wind, whispering things I couldn't hear. Charon shoved them out of the way, muttering, "Freeloaders."
He escorted us into the elevator, which was already filled with the spirits of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get in with us and pushed them back into the lobby. The sight of them all watching with such longing and hope – to see the desperation some of them felt, it made me feel sad.
"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," Charon announced to the room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"
He shut the doors, put a key card into a slot and we started going downwards. I looked for a hand-hold, but we were in the middle of a bunch of transparent bodies, and I didn't know what would happen if I moved through one.
"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.
"Nothing," Charon said.
"For how long?"
"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."
"Oh," she said. "That's ... fair."
Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."
"We'll get out alive," Percy interjected.
"Ha."
We suddenly started going forward, and a sudden wave of nausea washed over me and I stumbled to the side. I caught myself before I could fall as the air turned misty. The spirits around us started shifting, their modern clothes disappearing and turning into long grey robes with hoods covering their heads. The floor of the elevator began swaying, "Oh, I don't like this," I said, taking hold of Annabeth's arm.
I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again, Charon's creamy Italian suit was now a long black hooded robe. His tortoiseshell sunglasses were no more. Where his eyes should have been, were pits of darkness, full of night and death and despair.
He saw me looking and said, "What?"
"Er – nothing," I managed.
I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull. I understood why everyone was scared of the Underworld.
The floor kept swaying, and Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."
I blinked again, and the elevator was no longer an elevator. We were standing on a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish and other, horrible, and strange things – plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas and gilt edges.
"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so ..."
"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across – hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Impossible waste management, if you ask me."
Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom that surrounded us, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the colour of poison. It felt so wrong ... I was around a bunch of dead people. Panic rose up in my throat, and I almost forgot that I was on a quest with my friends, and for a second I thought that I was like them too ... until I reached beside me and took his hand, not looking at him. I linked out fingers and squeezed. I needed to know, I needed reassurance that Percy was beside me, that someone else was alive. On my other side, I took Annabeth's hand as well, and she took Grover's.
The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about fifty metres to the base of a high stone wall, which stretched off in either direction as far as I could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones – the howl of a large animal.
"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the green light, washing him out and making him look even more ghostly. "Black luck for you, godlings."
The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand, and the dead began to disembark. A mother holding her daughter's hand, an elderly couple hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his grey robe.
"I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise." Charon sent us off. He counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.
I glanced at my friends before we followed the spirits up a well-worn path.
The entrance looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike. There were three separate gateways under one huge black archway that said: YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector mounted with security cameras. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robes ghouls like Charon.
The howling of the hungry animal was really loud, but I couldn't see where the three-headed dog, Cerberus ( who guarded Hades' door ) was. The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked: ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked: EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.
Percy turned to Annabeth, "What do you figure?"
"The fast line must go straight to Asphodel," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."
"There's a court for dead people?"
"Oh, sure," I said. "There are three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare ... you know, people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward – the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived." I shrugged. "Nothing special, good or bad. So they're sent to the Fields of Asphodel."
"And do what?"
"Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever," Grover said.
"Harsh."
"Not as harsh as that," the satyr muttered. "Look."
A couple of black-robed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk.
"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?"
I didn't know of a news-breaking preacher. His face didn't look familiar to me. But that is probably because growing up in Camp Half-Blood means little connection to the outside world around us.
Percy snapped in fingers and pointed to the ghost in realisation, "Oh, yeah. That dude who drove off a cliff in the police chase? What're they doing to him?"
"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fu – the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."
I could see Percy stiffen at the realisation that we were in the Fury's domain now. But he quickly hid it, "But if he's a preacher," he said, "and he believes in a different hell ..."
Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. They're very stubborn – er, persistent, that way."
We got closer to the gates and the howling was now so loud it shook the ground at our feet. But Cerberus was still nowhere to be seen. Until the green mist in front of us shifted and shimmered. Standing before us just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy, three-headed hound. I hadn't seen him before, because like all the other spirits surrounded us, he was transparent and blended in with whatever was behind it when it moved. The only solid thing about it was his beady eyes and long, sharp teeth.
Percy, being the idiot, like always, said with an hung-open jaw, "He's a Rottweiler."
I rolled my eyes.
The dead walked right up to him with no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. the EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his humongous belly, which they could do without even crouching.
"I'm starting to see him better," Percy frowned. "Why is that?"
"I think ..." Annabeth licked her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."
"Oh, great," I mumbled.
Cerberus's middle head craned towards us. He sniffed the air and growled.
"It can smell the living," I said.
"But that's okay," said Grover, trembling next to Annabeth. "Because we have a plan."
"Right," Annabeth said, and I don't think I've ever heard her voice so small. "A plan."
Together, we moved towards the monster. The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud it hurt my ears. Percy whispered to Grover, "Can you understand it?"
"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."
"What's it saying?"
"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."
Percy started rummaging through his back. I was about to ask what he was doing before he pulled out a snapped bedpost from Crusty's. He held it up to Cerberus and gave a wide, happy smile that on his terrified face looked strange. He waved the stick.
"Hey, Big Fella," he called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."
Cerberus's growl was almost like a roar.
"Good boy," Percy said weakly.
He waved the bedpost once more, and the dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. He had Cerberus's undivided attention, and I wasn't quite sure whether that was a good thing. "Fetch!" Percy threw the stick into the gloom. A ker-sploosh told me it had fallen into the River Styx. Cerberus glared at him, unimpressed. His eyes were hateful and cold.
"Great, just great," I said to Percy sarcastically. "Absolutely brilliant."
"Well, did you have any better ideas?"
"Yeah, well, you're plan was stupid and now, we're going to die! Said from the daughter of the god of prophecies herself."
"Oh, thank you!" His response was sarcastically cheerful.
"Um," Grover's voice was nervous. "Percy?"
We stopped fighting and turned to him, "Yeah?"
"I just thought you'd want to know."
"Yeah?"
"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that ... well ... he's hungry."
I sent Percy a look.
"Wait!" Annabeth exclaimed. She started rifling through her pack.
"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now ...?"
Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labelled: WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before any of us could stop her, she raised the ball up and marched towards Cerberus. She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"
Cerberus looked just as stunned as we were.
All three of his heads cocked sideways, his six nostrils dilated.
"Sit!" Annabeth repeated.
My fingers itched towards my necklace, ready to attack when the dog decided that Annabeth would be a good large-sized dog biscuit. But instead, Cerberus liked his lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits beneath him. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated like the air let out of tires.
Annabeth said, "Good boy!"
She threw Cerberus the ball. He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.
"Drop it!" She ordered. The heads stopped fighting and looked at her. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud whimper before dropping the ball at Annabeth's feet, now nearly bit in half and covered in saliva.
She picked it up, ignoring the slimy spit. "Good boy." She turned to us. "Go now. EZ DEATH line – it's faster."
I frowned, "But—"
"Now!" Her tone was similar to the one she used for the dog.
Percy, Grover and I exchanged looks before we inched forward warily. The dog began to growl, and I flinched backwards.
"Stay!" Annabeth told the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"
He whimpered, but he stayed where he was.
"What about you?" Percy asked her as we passed.
"I know what I'm doing, Percy," she muttered. "At least, I'm pretty sure ..."
Percy, Grover and I walked under the dog's legs, and I hoped that Annabeth wouldn't tell him to sit again. I felt my whole body shake as we passed through, and I thought I might collapse with relief when we made it out the other side.
"Good dog!" Annabeth praised.
She held up the tattered ball and faltered. She probably realised that if she rewarded Cerberus, there would be nothing left for another trick. But Annabeth threw the ball anyway. The monster's left head immediately snatched it up. The middle fought for it, while the dog's right head whined in protest. While the monster was distracted, Annabeth walked briskly in between his legs and met us on the other side.
I couldn't help but grin, "How did you do that?"
"Obedience school," she said breathlessly, there were tears in her eyes. "When I was little, at my Dad's house, we had a Doberman ..."
"Never mind that," Grover tugged Percy's shirt. "Come on!"
We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when a mournful whimper came from behind us. Annabeth stopped and turned to face Cerberus. He had done a one-eighty to face us. He panted expectantly, the little red ball in pieces at his feet.
"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.
His three heads turned sideways, as if worried about her.
"I'll bring you another ball soon," she promised faintly. "Would you like that?'
Cerberus whimpered, still waiting for the ball.
"Good dog. I'll come and visit you soon. I-I promise." Annabeth turned to us. "Let's go."
We pushed through the metal detector, which started screaming and setting off flashing red lights, "Unauthorised possessions! Magic detected!"
Cerberus started to bark. We barged through the EZ DEATH gate and even more alarms started blaring as we ran into the Underworld. Behind us, the three-headed dog called mournfully for his new friend, and I tried not to watch as Annabeth shed a tear.