A/N ...
I is sorry. I know it took ages. Writer's block happened. A holiday happened, I didn't have time and when I did I just couldn't write. But here it is anyway! Ch2 of WRA, finally! :D Hope you enjoy!
...
Water lapped at the dock, lit by gentle morning sunlight. Above, the sky resembled the boy's crayon box, a spectacular array of colours set against the sky, growing steadily brighter. Oranges, reds, yellows, pinks, purples. Fiery bursts of colour rushing to meet the crystal clear surface of the lake.
The five-year-old smiled a gap-toothed smile, his thick glasses (that were slightly too big,) slipping down his nose a fraction. He looked up at the young woman standing beside him.
"Can I go with him?"
"Maybe someday, baby."
The boy stared out at the boat growing smaller and smaller in the distance on the lake.
"Maybe someday."
…
A tear fell from the man's chin onto his face, but the boy didn't quite understand why his father was crying. He brushed the tear away and looked up at his papa.
"When's mummy coming home, dad? She promised to read to me."
The man choked back a sob, and knelt down to face his son.
"She won't be back, son, she- she left." He took a shaky breath. When he looked up again, his eyes were rimmed with red, and he had a forced smile on his face.
"But in the meantime, how about I read to you?"
"O- okay." The boy replied, frowning slightly. His mother didn't usually miss out on storytime, something was wrong. But he followed his father to the rather moth-eaten armchair sitting in the corner.
"Now… what book would you like to read?"
"We were reading um, 'Where the Wild Monsters Are'." The boy replied, his eyes magnified behind the glasses lens.
His father laughed half-heartedly, choking back another sob. "'Where the Wild Things Are', son. But how about we try something different… Ah yes, this was one of my favourites."
He pulled out an old, dusty and very thick novel from the bookshelf, titled 'Moby Dick'.
"Okay!" The boy smiled, and settled back in the armchair happily.
…
"Almost, son. Almost. Here, I'll show you again. Under, around, then you loop, okay? Now try it again."
The eight-year-old groaned in frustration and tried tying the two pieces of rope into a Carrick Bend once more.
He showed it to his father after careful examination, wearily, and was finally shown approval.
"Good, son! Try it one more time."
The look of joy that had been on the boy's face previously vanished to a scowl.
His father laughed. "Just to make sure you know what you're doing. These knots could save your life one day, you know!"
The boy sighed and undid the knot.
…
"Morning Dad!" The boy greeted, a ridiculous grin plastered on his face.
His dad whipped around, also smiling. "Happy birthday, son! God, ten years. I never thought I'd see the day…" And with that he scooped the boy up into his arms, ignoring the boy's protests.
"Dad! I'm not five anymore!"
"No, you're not. And that just makes me want to hug you harder!" His dad squeezed him to his chest tighter.
"Okay, any harder and my eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, lay off!"
His father laughed and released him. "I've got something for you, son. I think you're gonna like it.
The boy stopped rubbing his arms in false annoyance and his eyes widened curiously.
"What is it?"
His father laughed and led his son out the door, his hands over the boy's eyes.
"No peeking now, 'kay?"
"Yeah, yeah," The boy replied, trying to stretch his tongue up high enough to lick his father's palms.
"Oi! Gross!" He laughed, and took his hands away, revealing a shiny new boat docked outside their house by the lake.
The boy stared at it, open-mouthed, then looked up at his father.
"Woah! Can I- can I try it out now?"
His father laughed again, grinning down at his son.
"Maybe soon, cake first, eh? On the boat?"
"Cool!" The boy laughed happily, and followed his father back into the house.
…
Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!
"Urghh…" The eleven-year-old groaned, fumbling for the alarm on his bedside table.
"Five more minutes…" He muttered, turning it off.
The boy settled back under the blankets, just before they were ripped off of him.
"Get up, son, first day of school, come on."
"Five more minutes." The boy repeated, trying to snatch the blankets back.
His father smiled stubbornly, as if to say 'you're not going to win, and you know it'.
"Come on." He ordered, and headed off.
The boy stared angrily at his alarm clock for a few moments before wrenching himself upright.
An hour later, he found himself lost in his new school.
His father had dropped him off, waved him goodbye, and left for work, leaving him utterly alone. A few much older kids were hanging around, chatting with each other or staring down at their phones, while he was left to weave among them, completely lost and without friends.
"Oof!" The boy heard a voice exclaim when he felt someone bump into him.
He spun around to see a girl, about his age, lying on the ground. She had dropped her bag, and the spilled contents were scattered all over the ground.
"Sorry." He muttered, and knelt down to help the girl.
"'S okay, I'm just so lost, I was staring down at my map wondering where biology class is and then I guess I kinda bumped into you, I'm really clumsy sometimes, do you think I'm clumsy?" The girl looked up at him. "Sorry, I kinda ramble sometimes."
He smiled, and picked up a book that she had dropped, titled 'Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief'.
"You like Percy Jackson as well?" He asked, taking a good look at her for the first time.
She had light olive skin and chocolate coloured hair with natural highlights. Her eyes were deep brown, and freckles dotted her nose. She was quite pretty. Really pretty, actually.
The girl adjusted her yellow sweater and picked up her bag.
"Oh, yeah, I just started it." she smiled up at him. She looked even prettier when she smiled. "Anyway, um, I'm Leith. Nice to meet you."
…
"Hey, Dad." The fourteen-year-old boy greeted his father, chucking his shoulder bag onto the couch.
"Afternoon, son. How was school?"
The boy hesitated. "Um, it was alright, same old stuff…"
His father glanced up from his papers, his reading glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. "You alright? What happened?"
"Nothing, just… Nothing. I'm, um, I'm gonna go out on the boat, 'kay?"
His father pursed his lips, then nodded. "Alright, just be back home by five."
"Sure."
The boy opened the back door and headed down the narrow dirt path leading to the dock at the back of their house. He kicked a pebble, watching it skip along the path, but it stopped at the very edge just out of his way, so he left it.
Coming to the bottom of the path, he picked up speed as he reached the dock, his sneakers thumping on the wooden boards.
He sighed. "That damn Alex…"
He leapt aboard his boat, getting it ready to set sail.
"Sometimes I just wish…"
The boat gave a slight lurch and started off, out onto the lake.
"I wish she was mine and not his."
Quinn stared out at the horizon. "I wish Alex wasn't a part of our lives."
And as he sailed out further into the middle of the lake, never to be seen again in this world, he was unaware of the pebble teetering on the edge of the path and falling down into the water with a light plop! at exactly the same time as Leith's had.
…
Strawberries.
The soft, delicious scent of the small red fruit filled his nostrils. He felt drowsy, but alive. So very alive. The scent breathed new life into his body, helping him come back. Come back to the world of the living.
He frowned. I'm not dead, am I? And his eyes shot open. He sat bolt upright, and stood. Surrounding him were strawberry plants, heaps of them. In the distance was a white picket fence, and beyond that, a deserted road.
"What the actual fuck?" He gaped.
There were no strawberry fields back in his home town. This environment was completely different to what he was used to.
In his mind, Quinn retraced his steps. He had gotten home from school, said hi to his dad, and then went out onto the lake. But after that, he couldn't remember anything.
After careful thought, he decided what to do.
"This is nuts…" He muttered, and headed toward the road.
…
The fourteen-year-old later found himself standing at the edge of the country road, hitchhiking. He felt so awkward, just standing there with his thumb out to the road, no luggage, just a boy in a blue t shirt, beige cargo shorts and jandals. Not to mention he'd never seen a real hitchhiker that wasn't just off some movie.
He examined his surroundings, looking for anything that looked vaguely familiar. In front of him and to either side stretched the road, soon disappearing into the distance. Beyond it was thick brush. Skeletal trees and brambles, thick dust having choked most of the life from them years ago. And behind him was, of course, the strawberry field. Somehow this seemed the most familiar feature of the harsh landscape, even though he'd never been to a strawberry field. It puzzled him.
"I hate my life…" He said to the wind, sighing. And as he stared down at the pavement, his brows furrowed in hopelessness, he heard the low rumble of a vehicle. Looking up, the boy saw a large truck coming his way, even though he was on a completely deserted country road.
It was huge, an eighteen wheeler with a red truck and a white trailer, stirring up dust with its massive wheels.
Quinn held up his arm hopefully, waving at the truck and ran out onto the road. At first, he was scared that the driver wasn't going to stop, but just before he started to consider getting out of the way, it started to slow. The boy bit his lip nervously, and went around to the passenger door.
Before he had started to reach up to grasp the handle, the door was flung open.
"Hey, sonny." The driver said around a cigarette.
It was a large, hairy man with bulging, tattooed muscles and a thick beard. He was wearing a red checked shirt, jeans and a pink trucker's cap with the words 'On Wednesdays We Wear Pink!' which would've made sense, except it was Friday. Well, Quinn thought it was at least, but then, he had woken up in the middle of a strawberry field.
"Um, hey, I was just wondering if I could get a ride?"
The driver studied him. The way he looked at Quinn made the boy a little uncomfortable. It was almost… hungry.
"That's cool. Get in." He replied, his tone rather dismissive.
Quinn hesitated, but climbed into the passenger seat.
…
"So, sonny, where're ya headed?" The trucker mumbled a few minutes later.
It occurred to Quinn that he was probably supposed to have stated the answer to the trucker's question when he had gotten into the vehicle.
"Oh, um, where are we, exactly?"
At this, the trucker gave him a long look, one eyebrow raised questioningly. Those hungry eyes made Quinn uncomfortable, and he looked away quickly.
"Route twenty-seven, Long Island. Why, boy, you lost your way?"
And what Quinn did next surprised even him. He laughed. "Long Island? That's a good one. So, um, I live in Taupo, y'know, that lakeside town. I don't really know where we are or how far we are from there, but if you do, well, you're at the wheel." He answered, giving a weak smile.
The trucker stared at him again.
"Funny, sonny. Now I never heard of this 'Toe-Paw' place, but whatever this joke is about, I don't find it very funny."
The trucker had leant down close to Quinn's face, so close the boy could smell his hot, sour breath as it was exhaled straight into his face. But then the man moved away and turned his attention back to the road.
"It doesn't matter anyway, sonny. You won't be cracking jokes anymore."
Quinn scrambled back a little, fumbling behind his back for the door handle. "Wh- Why is that?" If he could keep the trucker occupied with conversation, he could escape. How? Out the door? The smarter part of his brain protested. The truck was going way too fast for that. But he could roll when he hit the ground, he'd heard of people surviving if they did that properly. But then where would he go? He still had no idea where he was. But if the truck driver was telling the truth about him being in Long Island, New York…
Quinn looked up to hear the driver answer his question. And he had never heard more menacing words spoken to him.
"Because you'll be dead."
…
The trucker slammed his foot on the brake and locked the doors, unbuckling his seat belt. Quinn screamed and fumbled with the lock, but he realised his seatbelt was still done up. He couldn't get out in time. The boy glanced at the trucker, and when he saw him, Quinn's scream became even louder.
He was still wearing his faded blue jeans and checked shirt, which was still the same. And his thick, muscled arms also still looked as if baseballs were stuffed under his skin. But as Quinn looked higher, he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. The trucker had one eye. A single bloodshot blue eye in the centre of his forehead.
"Cyclops!" Quinn screamed in horror.
The trucker smiled. "Ah, so you can see me, sonny. That settles it. I would have eaten you, mortal or not, but now that I know for sure that you are a half blood, that will just make killing you all the more satisfactory."
At this, Quinn frowned. "H- Half blood? Like, from Percy Jackson?"
"Enough jokes, sonny! I'm hungry!"
And just before the Cyclops could wrap his thick hands around Quinn's neck, all hell broke loose.
Suddenly there was a loud BANG and Quinn felt the weight of the truck shift. Then followed another, and another. The tires were popping. The Cyclops hesitated, smelling the air. Studying Quinn, he muttered "I'll be right back, but just to make sure you don't get any ideas-"
The trucker lifted one of his enormous fists, and Quinn saw stars.
…
While the boy was unconscious, he was dimly aware of people screaming. First he heard the voice of a boy, from outside the truck. He yelled something like 'ATTACK!' and then came the battle cries of many more kids, and hurried footsteps. It sounded like they were charging the Cyclops, whoever they were. But then, that was impossible, said the smarter part of his mind. There was no way a bunch of kids could have appeared on a deserted highway in the middle of nowhere and just happened to know that this truck was carrying a bloodthirsty Cyclops in a pink hat. Nah. He was dreaming.
And Quinn lay there in the truck, listening to the sounds of battle. He thought he heard an explosion at some point, and then thought he saw green flames lick at the doors of the truck. But all of this was impossible. It was all probably just a bad dream, anyway. Yeah. He was close to waking up, and that's why he'd been knocked 'unconscious'. When he woke, he'd be back in his bed at home.
He dreamed the green flames were starting to consume the truck. The window on the driver's side exploded, and fire rolled onto the seat, eating away at the cracked leather. He felt good. The flames were actually just his blankets, and they were so warm. A smile spread across his face. He was happy. He was safe. He was content.
But just as he was getting ready to wake up, he heard banging on the window behind him. Turning weakly, he saw a thin boy pounding on the glass. He seemed to be yelling something at Quinn, but he couldn't hear it. Quinn focussed on the boy's mouth, trying to understand. And it became clear. Get out of the way.
He obediently shuffled away from the passenger door and covered his face. The boy smashed the window, spraying glass all over Quinn. A large piece hit his hand, and when Quinn looked at it, he cried out in alarm. It wasn't a deep cut, but it hurt. Could you feel pain in a dream?
He had no time to think about it, though. When Quinn glanced behind him, he saw the green fire - the Greek fire - had almost consumed the truck.
…
"GET OUT!" The boy screamed, after reaching through the broken window and opening the door. Quinn didn't need telling twice. He jumped out of the vehicle into the other boy's arms, and together the two sprinted down the road, as far away from the burning vehicle as they could. Out of the corner of his eye, Quinn saw others. About ten more boys and girls running alongside him. The youngest was about nine and the oldest about sixteen. They shared similar features. Tousled brown hair, scrawny body types, a mischievous glint in their eyes. Children of Hermes.
"Down!" A girl screamed, and all of the kids hit the pavement as behind them the truck exploded. Looking behind him, Quinn saw green flames ten metres high shooting into the air.
When the smoke cleared, and the kids gave him the go ahead, Quinn stood on shaky legs, staring around at them all.
"Y- you. This… What?" He asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.
A boy, the guy who had broke through the window came over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay, dude. We'll explain it all when we get to camp."
"I- I know you guys. Ki- kids of Hermes, right?"
This caught the boy off guard, and he studied Quinn with a new interest.
"Uhh, yeah. How did you know that?"
"I- umm…" Quinn didn't finish.
The boy shook his head in disbelief. "Well, anyway, what's your name, kid?"
"Q- Quinn. Quinn Watson."
"Well, Quinn, you're lucky we followed that truck. I'm Travis, by the way. Travis Stoll." The boy said, holding a hand out for him to shake.
"Travis." Quinn repeated. "Son of Hermes."
And then he blacked out.
A/N Muhahaha drama once again! Sorry, but you're gonna have to wait another few months to see what happens with Leith! :D (Kidding, I'll post ch3 as soon as I can.) Thanks for reading! :D
P.S. What do you think of the cover photo? :/