Percy and his friends call Cerberus "it" and I've changed it to him because Cerberus is the best good boy and deserves more than being called an "it".
Chapter eighteen: Annabeth Does Obedience School
We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING SUDIOS.
Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING!
It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.
I turned to my sister and our friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."
Atlanta and Ermis gave a nervous smiles and thumbs up.
"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."
Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"
"Don't think negative."
"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."
I took the pearls out of my pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given me in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case sometimes went wrong.
Annabeth out her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."
She gave Grover, Atlanta, and Ermis a nudge.
"Yeah totally," Ermis said.
"We got this," Atlanta said.
"Oh right!" Grover chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."
I looked at Annabeth, Grover, and Ermis gratefully. Atlanta and I couldn't have gotten this far without them. We had crazy encounters that almost got us killed several times, and they were trying to be brave for our sake, trying to make me feel better.
I slipped the pearls back in my pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."
We walked inside the DOA lobby.
Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the window or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. 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 started looking…transparent. I could see right through their bodies.
The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so had to look up at him.
He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a sliver name tag.
I read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"
Atlanta elbowed be in the side. He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except mine and Atlanta's reflection., but his smile was sweet and cold, like a python right before it eats you.
"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent, British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"
"N-no."
"Sir," he added smoothly.
"Sir."
He pinched the name tag and ran his fingers under the letters. "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 horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead one?"
I clutched my fist so I wouldn't snap at him for talking about Chiron like that. His question caught in my stomach like a fastball. I looked at Annabeth for support.
"We want to go to the Underworld," She said.
Maybe I should have looked at Atlanta for support. Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."
"it is?" Atlanta asked in disbelief.
"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"
I nudged Grover.
"Oh," he said. "Um…drown-"
"What he means is, we got stretched by some guy name Crusty," Ermis interrupted.
"Old Procrustes at it again, huh," Charon looked amused. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the furry price to your last cable bill. But with children…alas, you never prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."
"Oh, we have cash," Atlanta said. She took out all the cash from her backpack and placed it on the counter. A golden drachma was mixed in.
"Well now…" Charon moistened his lips, "Real drachma. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in…"
His fingers hovered greedily over the coin.
We were so close.
Then Charon looked at Atlanta. He had this cold star behind his sunglasses which would burn a hole into my chest, but Atlanta was calm.
Here now," Charon said. " the boy couldn't read my name correctly. He dyslexic?"
"No," I said. "I'm dead."
Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're godlings."
"We have to get to the Underworld," I insisted.
Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.
Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lightning cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.
"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll take these and forget I saw you."
He put his hand on the cash and drachma, and started sliding it to him, but Atlanta slammed her prostic hand on his. Charon flinched taking his hand way.
"No way, buddy you failed to serve, thus you don't see a single drachma." Atlanta was always braver sounding then I could ever manage to.
Charon growled again-a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.
"It's a shame, too," Atlanta signed.
"We have more to offer," I sighed.
I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.
Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godlings? Eh…just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"
"A lot," I said. "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 rise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"
"You deserve better," Atlanta agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."
With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.
Charon glanced down his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad and lassie, you're making some sense now. Just a little."
I stacked another few coins.
"My brother and I could mention a pay raise when we're talking to Hades," Atlanta said.
Charon signed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you five and be off."
He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."
We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their vices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."
He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowed with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.
"Right. Now, on one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moved the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"
He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.
"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.
"Nothing," Charon said.
"For how long?" Ermis asked.
"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous," Charon said.
"Got it," Ermis said.
"Oh," Annabeth 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're going."
"We'll get out alive," I said.
"Ha," Charon laughed.
I got a dizzy feeling. We weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.
I blinked hard. When I opened my eyes, Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets-like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.
He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"
"Nothing," I managed.
I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flash of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.
The floor kept swaying.
Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."
When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things, plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with glit edges.
"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so…"
"Polluted," Ermis said.
"For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across-hopes, dreams, wishes that never come true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."
Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.
Panic closed my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me…they were dead.
From the corner of my eyes I saw Grover and Ermis holding on to each other. Annabeth and Atlanta grabbed hold of my hands. Under normal circumstances, another girl besides my sister grabbing my hand would've embarrassed me, but I understood how she felt. She wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.
I found myself muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was one I had come to confront.
The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones-the howl of a large animal.
"Was…was that Cerberus?" Atlanta asked.
"Sure was," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Old Three-Face is hungry. Bad luck for you, godlings."
The bottom of our boat slid into the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than us was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.
Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mates, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."
He counted our gold coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song he ferried the empty barge back across the river.
We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.
I'm not sure what I was expecting-Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.
There were three separate entrance under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS, each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.
The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.
The dead queued up in 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.
"What do you figure?" I asked Annabeth.
"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgement from the court, because it might go against them."
"There's a court for dead people?"
"Yeah, Three judges. The switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare-people like that. Sometimes they took at a life and decided that person needs a special reward-the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good, or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."
"To do what?" Atlanta asked.
Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."
"Harsh," I said.
"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."
A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar."
"Is that who I think it is," Atlanta said.
"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.
"Oh I remember hearing about him," Ermis said.
I did remember now. We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff. Atlanta hated people like that, raising money for a good cause then use it for their own personal gain. She was always spending time at orphanages and spending time with the kids there. This hit a little close to her life before Mom and me.
"Think he'll let me take a swing at him?" Atlanta asked glaring at the priest.
I said, "What are they doing to him?"
"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur-The Kindly One will set up an eternal torture for him."
The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized we were in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds would be licking her lips with anticipation.
"But if he's a preacher," I 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. You're very stubborn-er, persistent, that way."
We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, but I still couldn't figure out where it was coming from.
Then, about fifty feet in front of us, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.
I hadn't seen it before because it was half transparent, like the dead. Until it moved, it blended with whatever was behind it. Only its eyes and teeth looked solid. And it was straight at us.
My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."
I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, mostly invisible, and had three heads.
The dead walked right up to him-no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lined parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which could do without even crouching.
"I'm starting to see him better," I muttered. "Why is that?"
"I think…" Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."
The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.
"He can smell the living," Atlanta said.
"Of course he can," Ermis said.
"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to me. "Because we have a plan."
"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sounded quite so small. "A plan."
We moved toward the monster.
The middle heard snarled at us, then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.
"Can you understand him?" I asked Grover.
"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand him."
"Do we want to know what he's saying?" Atlanta asked.
"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly," Grover said.
"That would be a no, we don't want to know," Ermis said.
I took the big stick out of my backpack-a bedpost I'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. I held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts towards Cerberus-Alpo commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants. I tried to smile, like I wasn't about to die.
"Hey, Big Fella," I called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."
"GROWWWLLLL!"
"Good boy," I said weakly.
I waved the stick. Cerberus's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on me, completely ignoring the spirits. I had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.
"Fetch!" I threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx."
Cerberus glared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.
So much for the plan.
Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.
"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"
"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."
"Of course," Ermis said. "Think Athena would answer the son of Medusa?"
"Worth a shot," I said.
"I think I'll ask Demeter for help," Atlanta said.
"I'll stick to Pan," Grover said.
"Wait!" Annabeth said, She started rifling through her pack."
Uh-oh, I thought.
"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"
Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.
She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"
Cerberus looked stunned as we were.
All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.
"Sit!" Annabeth called again.
I was sure that any moment she would become the world's largest Milkbone dog biscuit.
But instead, Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hissing as they dissipated, like 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!" Annabeth ordered.
Cerberus's head 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, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.
"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the dog spit all over it.
She turned towards us. "Go now. EZ DEATH line-it's faster."
I said, "But-"
"Now!" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.
Grover and I inched forward warily.
Cerberus started to growl.
"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the dog. "If you want the ball, stay!"
Cerberus whimpered, but stayed where he was.
"What about you?" Ermis asked Annabeth as we passed her.
"I know what I'm doing," She snapped. "Just go."
"Wanna try that again, Annabeth?" Atlanta snapped.
I know for a fact, Atlanta would not let that slide, so I started pushing her between the dog's legs.
Please Annabeth, I prayed. Don't tell him to sit again.
We made it through. Cerberus wasn't any less scary looking from the back.
Annabeth said, "Good dog!"
She held up the tattered red ball, and probably came to the same conclusion I did-if she rewarded Cerberus, there's be nothing left for another trick.
She threw the ball anyway. The dog's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.
While the dog was distracted, Annabeth walked briskly under his belly and joined us at the metal detector.
"How did you did you do that?" I asked her, amazed.
"Obedience school," she said breathlessly, and I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman…"
"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at my shirt. "Come on!"
We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths.
Annabeth stopped.
She turned to face the dog, which had done a one eighty to look at us.
Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.
"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voiced sounded melancholy and uncertain.
The dog's heads turned sideways, as if worried about her.
"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"
The dog whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.
"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I-I promise," Annabeth turned to us. "Let's go."
Atlanta, Ermis, and I pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"
Cerberus started to bark.
We burst though the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.
A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security should scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.
Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"
"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"
"No," Grover told me. We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"
I wasn't sure about that. I thought maybe Annabeth and I had both the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody-even mythical creatures- needed a little attention once in a while.
I thought about that as we waited for the ghoul to pass. I pretended not to see Annabeth wipe a tear from her cheek as she listened to the mournful keening Cerberus in the Distance, longing for his new friend.
