CHAPTER 10 – I TAKE QUITE A BAD FALL TO MY INEVITABLE DEATH
Argus pulled into the airport car park, almost compacting the car behind us into trash metal in the process.
"You kids'll be okay from here, s'pose?" he grunted.
"Sure," Thalia brightened up. "We can handle an airport, can't we? Dad did promise not to blast us out of the sky on our journey."
I hoped he did. I, for one, did not fancy at all becoming a Sunday roast plummeting to Earth. The clouds in the sky looked dark, almost mutinous above us. I wondered whether Zeus had decided to swear that on the River Styx at all.
We got out of the car, unpacked our suitcases from the boot and let Argus speed off erratically. Hundred-eyed giants should never be let near whisky.
Annabeth was still distant and forlorn. She had not uttered a word throughout the day, as it was now getting into late afternoon. There was still hope of her opening he mouth though, whether it being a passionate declaration of love for me (I wish) or asking where terminal two was.
At the entrance to terminal two, Luke was waiting. A gap-toothed grin was spread across his face, and his scar from the dragon crackled with bitter laughter. Annabeth seemed somewhat happy to see him anyway, running into his waiting arms like a lost spaniel. Thalia followed, her hug a little more frozen and cold than Annabeth's.
Arachne was looking very uncomfortable. For reasons she could not understand, she had had her spider's legs forced into fake human legs, and by the look of it, they really did chafe.
Eris was just miserable, snuggled into a heavily padded waterproof coat as the rain began to lash down. She produced a hand-held mirror from her pocket and began to apply a slight dab of make-up.
Grover was chewing pensively on a tin can, a flask of strong coffee sticking out from his jacket's pocket, but he seemed not to care whether Luke was there or not.
I simply narrowed my eyes at the traitor who claimed to be on our side. How did everybody get themselves so convinced, literally overnight, that he was the next step down from a saint?
As we entered the airport, the silence between us grew even more so. Annabeth had let her head lean against Luke's bare muscular arm, exhausted for apparently no reason.
"So," Grover had to swig a large amount of coffee before daring to speak, "where's our flight?"
I looked up on the departures board hanging above us, before my dyslexia scrambled them all up and let the letters float away. My eyes settled upon one that looked just about right:
LDOONN THAETROW – 52:4 – TGAE 25 – LFGIHT B844A5
I knew instinctively that this probably translated as:
LONDON HEATHROW – 2:45 – GATE 25 – FLIGHT BA4845
Don't ask me how. You might as well as me how a realm of all-powerful immortal Greek gods co-exists alongside ours and yet barely anybody seems to notice.
And really, don't ask me that.
"So, gate 25," Luke started, feigning interest. "That'll be that way, wouldn't it?" He pointed down a noisy shopping mall, with an illuminated sign 'GATES 20-29' hanging over it.
"Hey," I said coolly, "I'm the leader of this pack, not you."
"Percy!" came an exasperated cry – it could have been either Thalia or Annabeth. They had seen this one coming, at least.
"Who says you're the leader of anything?" Luke replied equally as coolly.
"I do," I replied, face flushing, "and anybody who says otherwise gets their butt kicked! Alright?"
"You think you're so hard, Percy Jackson," Luke snapped, "when really you're just an insecure little kid with mental problems. I mean, every time you go out to fight you drench yourself in water so you don't get your arse kicked! You let Bianca di Angelo die just to save your skin from a giant made out of scrap! You can't even ask a girl out on a date! You hide behind other people when you should be fighting! You're just a pathetic wimp whose only real talent is running away!"
"Well at least I didn't chuck in my friends for a cranky old megalomaniac (alright, I admit that I decided to use that word because it sounded classy) coffin and try to kill them!" I spat.
Luke backed off. I could sense Thalia and Annabeth staring at me, as if saying I thought we agreed not to mention that. Then I could sense that passers-by were staring at us too, quickly before quickening their pace.
"Geez, take a chill pill," I muttered to myself, before heading towards gate 25.
"Wrong way, Jackson," Luke called to me, sniggering behind my back. I was ready to punch him now, and regret it later. I swivelled around on one foot, and headed towards the gate.
----------------------------------------------------
"Okay," I whispered to Grover, "that man is starting to freak me out now."
"Why?" Grover said, stuffing his face with the in-flight meal. "It's just a businessman, suitcase and all."
"Yeah," I whispered, "but why's he hissing?"
Grover shrugged.
"Some people – like to hiss on an aeroplane?"
"It's just the engines, dumbass," Luke snorted from behind us. "They do that."
"Who asked you?" Yep. Me again.
"Aw, is poor baby Percy fwightened of the big scarwy engines?" Luke mocked me, looking concerned. "Poor poppet."
"Jerk," I muttered, staring somewhere else rather than his repulsive face.
"Ooh, I'm insulted." Luke then caught where I was gazing, and followed it to where Annabeth was sitting, gazing out of the window, silent. "You realise you don't have a chance with her."
"And you do?"
"More than you have!"
"I didn't go stabbing her in the back and over to evil, in case you hadn't noticed," I conceded lightly. "She actually danced with me!"
"Hold on, let me get this straight," Luke smirked, trying to stop himself from laughing. "So if I do the jitterbug with you, that automatically means I have to love you for eternity?"
"He has a point," Grover said mildly.
"Not you too, G-man!" I groaned, falling back in my seat.
"I'm just saying…"
"And he's right – for an enchilada-loving, caffeine-psyched satyr," Luke said. "And besides, I would have thought a girl like Annabeth has standards."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" The school counsellor was right. I was – am still – quite 'confrontational'
"Um, Percy." Grover was tapping me on the shoulder. "I think we've got company."
The hissing businessman had risen from his seat, setting his suitcase down in his place. The air stewardess tried to force him down again (it being unsafe to get out of our seats) but one look from his pale, gaunt face sent her running back to the tray.
The freaky snake-man turned his gaze on me, his snake-like eyes shooting daggers like something out of a Zhang Yimou martial arts film. He opened his shapeless mouth, and hissed:
"Perssseusss Jackson…"
"That'd be me," I said with false confidence, trying to remain somewhat sane. "Did you know that you've got a saliva problem?"
"It is not wisssse to anger the ssssservant of the Crooked One, Lord Kronosssss…"
"Look, when we need a shower, we'll call you," I ssssaid, beginning to crumble under Sssssnake-Man's gazzzzzze. Oops – force of habit.
"Why," the sinister snake-man snapped (how's that for 's' alliteration) "you sssstupid, impudent fool!"
He swung a long sword at me, which I barely just ducked in time as it ssswung (I must stop doing that!) over my head. Crouching behind the hostess' tray, I drew a sharp breath as the Snake-Man exploded, leaving a business suit on the floor, covered in dust.
"Wh-?" I gagged. "Where's Sissy the Snake gone?"
The answer was at my feet.
Thousands of snakes writhed around, chasing terrified passengers from one end of the aircraft to the other. Screams of fear echoed through my eardrums, as I dodged from seat to seat to escape the little devils.
"Perssseusss!" the snakes all screamed as one. "Thisss isss no time for gamesss!"
With a flurry of golden light, the snakes piled into the discarded businessman's suit, and the revived tycoon stood swiftly up again, brandishing the silver sword threateningly.
"Thisss isss no time for hide and ssseek!" he yelled, hacking at the seats in a serpentine frenzy. "Prepare to meet my sssilver sssword!"
Geez. I wasn't sure whether to scream and run away, or burst out laughing at the ludicrous (Annabeth taught me that one) amount of 's's in his ssspeech. I figured not laughing might keep me alive a bit longer.
"Hey!" I yelled, leaping on top of the trolley and waving my arms around like a human windmill. "Hey, you! Snakey guy!"
"It'sss Typhon to you, ignorant half-blood."
I swallowed. Ouch. Typhon? Now my butt was definitely going to get kicked.
"Aren't you meant to be under Etna right now?" I asked.
"It isss none of your busssinesss…" Typhon hissed, swinging his sword.
Instinctively I grabbed onto the end of the sword, cutting my hands badly on the blade, and yanked it from Typhon's hand. He looked slightly surprised, before the snakes returned to looking downright murderous.
With a huge swipe of his hand using a snake as a whip, I was knocked backwards, the trolley colliding and sending my flying through the window. I smashed headlong through.
Using my ADHD as my initiative, I grabbed onto the nearest thing. The ledge of the window, Typhon hissing with triumph.
Typhon cackled, snakes rearing up. I could hear somebody screaming – whether it was Annabeth, Thalia or some other passenger I could not tell.
The Snake Man slowly applied pressure to my gripping fingers. I tried to not let go, but eventually I gave in as pain shot up my arm and into my torso. I fell backwards, yelling and scrabbling at the air.
I tumbled through the atmosphere, to my inevitable death below.
MY, MY... REVIEWS, REVIEWS, WHEREFORE ART THOU REVIEWS?
Please read and review! Means so much to me! I'm going away for Christmas, so I'll be a little slow on the writing front. But it is still being written and planned as we speak - or rather write.
NEXT TIME... on The Chaos Code...
Chapter 11: Fog, Rain and Other English Pests
Will Percy survive his fall? What will happen to Annabeth, Thalia, Grover, Luke, Eris and Arachne now that Typhon has captured them? But first of all, what will Percy make of the traditionally terrible English weather?
Find out next time on THE CHAOS CODE!