To Imagine Coldplay- The sense of humour in these books... *YES*

Asclepius had once explained to him the purpose of physical shock. He said it was a safety mechanism for coping with trauma. When the human brain experiences something too violent and frightening to process, it just stops recording. Minutes, hours, even days, can be a complete blank in the victim's memory. Apollo remembered this, because he could not remember the Chevy crashing. After hurtling through the guardrail, the next thing he knew, he was stumbling around the parking lot of a Target store, pushing a three-wheeled shopping trolley filled with Meg. He was muttering the lyrics to (Sittin' on) The Dock of the Bay; Meg, semi-conscious, was listlessly waving one hand in an attempt to conduct.

His cart bumped into a steaming crumpled heap of metal- a red Chevy Silverado with popped tires, a broken windshield and deployed airbags. It had landed right on top of the trolley park, crushing a dozen trollies under its weight.

Growling caught his attention. A few car-lengths away, two metal greyhounds stood protectively over their master, keeping a small crowd of spectators at bay. A young woman in maroon and gold was propped on her elbows. Apollo remembered her! She liked to laugh at him! She wasn't laughing now, wearing a sickly grimace as she contemplated her left leg, bent at an unnatural angle.

"Reyna!" Apollo wedged Meg's shopping trolley against the truck and ran to help the praetor. The dogs let him through. "Oh, oh, oh." He didn't know what else to say. He should've known what to do, he was a healer. Or… had been.

"I'm alive." Reyna groaned through gritted teeth. "Meg?"

"She's conducting."

"I called nine-one-one." One of the Target shoppers informed, inching their way forward. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"She'll be fine!" Apollo yelped. "Thank you! I- I am a doctor?"

"Are… you asking me?"

"No. No! I am a doctor!"

"OK, you look like you're fourteen-"

"Hey, your other friend is rolling away."

"Meg!" Apollo scrambled after her. She was giggling feebly to herself and cheering loopily as her trolley picked up speed. He grabbed the handles navigated her back to Reyna's side. "No, no moving!" Apollo ordered. Reyna glared at him, but was near choking on the pain. "I can help, just… just let me think." Should they wait for the mortal paramedics, who knew nothing of ambrosia and nectar? Should he check Meg's belt for more first-aid supplies?

"Thank you, everybody!" A familiar voice yelled, cutting through his thoughts. "We'll take it from here!"

Lavinia Asimov jogged towards them, a dozen naiads and fauns in her wake, many of whom Apollo recognised from People's Park. Most were dressed in camouflage, covered with vines and branches like they had just arrived via beanstalk. Lavinia wore pink camo pants and a green tank top, her manubalista clanking against her shoulder. With her spiky pink hair and pink eyebrows, her jaw working furiously on a wad of bubblegum, she just radiated authority figure.

She marched forward, spreading her hands to disperse the mortals. "This is now an active investigation scene! Thank you, Target shoppers! Please move along!"

Either the tone of her voice or the barking of the greyhounds finally convinced the onlookers to go away, or perhaps the Mist had come into play with the presence of some many magical creatures. Nevertheless, sirens were blaring in the distance. Soon, they would be surrounded by paramedics, or the highway patrol, or both. Mortals weren't nearly as used to vehicles hurtling off highway overpasses as Apollo was.

He stared at their pink-haired friend.

"Lavinia, what are you doing here?"

"Secret mission." She grinned slyly.

"That's cacaseca." Reyna grumbled. "You left your post. You're in so much trouble."

"With all due respect, praetor, it looks like you're in more trouble than I am at the moment. Harold, Felipe, stabilise her leg and let's get out of this parking lot before more mortals arrive." Something cold splashed on Apollo's head. Lavinia turned her hand towards the sky. "Mm. The rain's coming this way too. Let's be quick about this, people. Reginald, push Meg's trolley. Lotoya, retrieve whatever supplies they have in the truck please. I'll help Apollo. We make for those woods. Now!"

Lavinia's definition of woods was generous. Apollo would have called it a gulley where shopping trolleys went to die. Still, her People's Park platoon worked with surprising efficiency. In a matter of minutes, they had safely hidden the car-crashers in the ditch among broken trolleys and trash-festooned trees, just as the emergency vehicles came wailing into the parking lot.

Harold and Felipe had splinted Reyna's leg, which only made her scream and throw up a little. Two other fauns constructed a stretcher for her out of branches and old clothing, while her dogs tried to help by bringing them sticks. Or to play fetch, it was unsure. Reginald extracted Meg from her shopping trolley and revived her with hand-fed bits of ambrosia.

A couple of dryads checked Apollo over for injuries- more injuries than he had before- but there wasn't much they could do. They didn't like the look of his zombie-infected face, or the way the undead infection made him smell. As they moved away, Apollo could hear them whispering to each other:

"Once it gets fully dark…"

"I know. And with a blood moon tonight? Poor guy…"

Apollo elected to ignore them. It seemed the best way to avoid bursting into tears.

Lotoya- who must have been a redwood dryad, judging from her burgundy complexion and impressive size- crouched next to him and deposited all the supplies she had recovered. Apollo grabbed frantically at the pile, searching for his backpack. He almost fainted with relief when he found the jar inside, still intact.

"Thank you." He said, managing a shaky, miniscule nod at the dryad. She nodded sombrely, patting his shoulder.

"A good jar is hard to find."

"Uh… yeah."

"No, let me- let me move!" Reyna swore again. She was struggling to sit up among the fauns fussing over her. "We're wasting time, we have to get back to camp and I have to smack Lou!" Lavinia arched an eyebrow at her.

"You're not going anywhere with that leg, praetor. Even if you could, you wouldn't be much help. We can heal you faster if you just relax-"

"Relax?" Reyna demanded. "The legion needs me! It needs you too, Lavinia! How could you desert?"

"OK, firstly, I didn't desert. You don't know all the facts."

"You left camp without leave, you-" Reyna leaned forward too fast and ended up heaving. The fauns took her shoulders and helped her sit back, easing her onto the new stretcher with its lovely padding of moss, trash and old tie-dyed T-shirts. "You left your comrades." Reyna croaked. "Your friends."

"I'm right here." Lavinia said. "I'm going to ask Felipe to lull you to sleep now, so you can rest and heal. Don't worry about Lou, I'll smack her for you."

"No! You… you can't run away! And don't- Lou, you don't know what mindset she's in, she could-"

"Who said anything about running away? Remember, Reyna, this was your back-up plan. Plan L for Lavinia! When we all get back to camp, you're going to thank me. You'll tell everybody this was your idea."

"What? I would never… I didn't give you any such… this is mutiny!"

"Your girlfriend is mutiny. Felipe, make her sleep."

"I'll have to bring you up on desertion charges!" Reyna argued. "Don't do this, don't make me-" Felipe raised his panpipes and played a soft lullaby, right next to Reyna's head. "Can't!" Reyna struggled to keep her eyes open. "Won't. Ahhggghhh." She fell back and began to snore.

"That's better." Lavinia sighed. She turned to Apollo. "Don't worry, we'll leave her someplace safe. The fauns will look after her." Aurum and Argentum snarled. "And the dogs. She'll be taken care of while she heals. You and Meg, do what you need to do." Apollo blinked at her. Her confident stance and her take-charge tone made her almost unrecognisable as the gawky, nervous legionnaire they had met at Lake Temescal. She reminded him more of Reyna, and of Meg. Mostly, though, she seemed like a stronger version of herself- a Lavinia who had decided what she needed to do and would not rest until she did it.

"Where are you going?" He asked, muddling through his utter confusion. "Why won't you come back to camp with us?" Meg staggered over, ambrosia crumbs on her cheeks.

"Don't pester her." She swatted weakly at Apollo. Then to Lavinia, "Is Peaches…?"

"He and Don are with the advance group, making contact with the nereids."

"Yeah." Meg pouted. "OK. The emperors' ground forces?"

"Mm." Lavinia's expression tightened, pained. "They already passed by. We hid and watched. It's… it's not good. I'm sure they'll be in combat with the legion by the time you get there. You remember the path I told you about?"

"Yeah." Meg nodded. "Good luck."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Apollo butted in, trying to make a time-out sign with unhelpful hands. He ended up with a wonky tent shape. "What are you talking about? What path? Why would you come out here just to hide as the enemy army passes by? Why are Peaches and Don talking to… wait, nereids?" The information came to him almost instantly- nereids, spirits of the sea. The nearest ones would be… oh.

As if on cue, thunder came from over the Bay. A gust of wind charged with the scent of a storm rustled through the trees. The rain was getting heavier. Apollo couldn't see much of the Bay from the trash-filled gully. He could not see San Francisco or the string of yachts taking up position to fire on the camp. But they were close enough to hear the roaring of waves and the screeching splintering of metal.

He looked at Lavinia, unsure if it was with newfound respect or disrespect. "Lavinia, you are not planning-"

"Stop right there, or I'll have Felipe put you down for a nap too."

"But Michael Kahale-"

"They were supposed to be on the bridge. There was a change of plans, they went with Lou instead. I don't… know more than that right now." She rubbed at her temples. "The emperors' troops were bragging about how much trouble the 'idiot demigods' were going to be in, I just hope-" She didn't finish the sentence, but they all knew. I just hope it's not too late.

She remained calm, composed, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of worry; she was more terrified than she let on. She was battling to keep up her own courage and preventing her makeshift troops from losing their nerve. She did not need him reminding her how insane her plan was.

A raindrop slid down Apollo's back, near parallel with his spine. He looked up as thunder crashed through the heavens. Lavinia did too.

"What are you going to do about her?" He asked.

"Leave her be." Lavinia replied simply. "She knows what she's doing, she'll know we're friendly." She sighed. "Anyway, we've all got a lot to do, so… good luck." She ruffled Meg's hair, which did not need any more ruffling. "Dryads and fauns! Let's move!"

Harold and Felipe picked up Reyna's makeshift stretcher and jogged off down the gully. Aurum and Argentum bounded around them, excited at yet another hike. Lavinia and the others followed. Soon, they were lost in the undergrowth, vanishing into the terrain as only nature spirits and girls with bright pink hair can do.

Meg studied Apollo's face, picking crumbs from her cheeks.

"You whole?" Apollo bit back a laugh. Where had she picked up that expression? He had zombie poison coursing through his body and up into his face. The dryads thought he would turn into a shambling, undead minion of Tarquin as soon as it got fully dark. He was shaking from exhaustion and fear. They apparently had an enemy army between them and camp. And to top it all off, Lavinia was leading a suicide attack on the imperial fleet in the midst of a storm and ship-shredding waves with inexperienced nature spirits when an actual elite commando force had already failed.

When had he last felt 'whole'? He wanted to believe it was back when he had been a god, but that wasn't true. He hadn't been completely himself for centuries, maybe millennia.

"I'll manage." He said.

"Good, because look." Meg pointed towards the Oakland Hills. He thought he was seeing fog, but fog didn't rise vertically from hillsides. Close to the perimeter of Camp Jupiter, fires were burning. "We need wheels."