❝ Stretching To Death ❞

    It was Annabeth's idea.

She loaded us into the back of a Vegas taxi as if we actually had money, and told the driver,

"Los Angeles, please."

The cabbie chewed his cigar and sized us up.

"That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay upfront."

"You accept casino debit cards?" Annabeth asked.

He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first."

Annabeth handed him her green Lotus Cash card. He looked at it skeptically.

"Swipe it," Annabeth invited. He did. His meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally, an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign.

The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth. He looked back at us, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles...uh, Your Highness?"

"The Santa Monica Pier." Annabeth sat up a little straighter. I could tell she liked the title "Your Highness" "Get us there fast, and you can keep the change."

Maybe she shouldn't have told him that. The cab's speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert. On the road, we had plenty of time to talk. Percy told us about a strange dream he had.

"My lord" is some special name or title... "The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades."

"Maybe..." he said, though neither sounded quite right.

"That throne room sounds like Hades's," I recalled. "That's the way it's usually described."

He shook his head. "Something's wrong. The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice from the pit...I don't know. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."

Annabeth's eyes widened.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh...nothing. I was just-no, it has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong-"

"Like what?"

"I-I don't know," she said. "But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt."

I wasn't sure what was wrong with her. She looked pale, maybe she knew what that was, the voice... could it be Krios? I wanted to tell them about my encounter with the Titan, but I didn't want to add more worry. We had enough on our plate excluding Krios.

"But if I'd already retrieved the bolt," Percy said, "why would I be traveling to the Underworld?"

"To threaten Hades," Grover suggested. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your mom back."

Percy whistled. "You have evil thoughts for a goat." I snorted.

"Why, thank you."

"But the thing in the pit said it was waiting for two items," he said. "If the master bolt is one, what's the other?"

Grover shook his head, clearly mystified. Annabeth was looking at him as if she knew his next question and was silently willing him not to ask it.

"You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you?" he asked her. "I mean, if it isn't Hades?"

"Percy...let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades...No. It has to be Hades."

Wasteland rolled by. We passed a sign that said CALIFORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES. I got the feeling I was missing one simple, critical piece of information. It was like when I stared at a common word I should know, but I couldn't make sense of it. The more I thought about this quest, the more I was sure that confronting Hades wasn't the real answer. There was something else going on, something even more dangerous.

The problem was: we were hurtling toward the Underworld at ninety-five miles an hour, betting that Hades had the master bolt. If we got there and found out we were wrong, we wouldn't have time to correct ourselves. The solstice deadline would pass and war would begin.

"The answer is in the Underworld," Annabeth assured Percy. "You saw spirits of the dead, Percy. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing."

She tried to boost our morale by suggesting clever strategies for getting into the Land of the Dead, but my heart wasn't in it. There were just too many unknown factors.

The cab sped west. Every gust of wind through Death Valley sounded like a spirit of the dead. Every time the brakes hissed on an eighteen-wheeler, It reminded me of Echidna's reptilian voice. At sunset, the taxi dropped us at the beach in Santa Monica.

It looked exactly the way L.A. beaches do in the movies, only it smelled worse. There were carnival rides lining the Pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless people sleeping in the sand dunes, and surfer men waiting for the perfect wave. Percy, Grover, Annabeth, and I walked down to the edge of the surf.

"What now?" Annabeth asked.

The Pacific was turning gold in the setting sun. Percy stepped into the surf.

"Percy?" I called out. "What are you doing?"

He kept walking until the water reached his waist, then his chest.

Annabeth called after him, "You know how polluted that water is? There're all kinds of toxic-"

That's when his head went under the water.

"Hey, Percy! If you are going to do something stupid warn us beforehand!" I yelled with all my might, hoping my voice would reach underwater, but no reply came... Everything seemed a little too silent until Annabeth broke it saying,

"Someone has to go after him, it's been long since he went under there." We all looked at each other, but no one volunteered. I didn't know how to swim.

I cleared my throat. "I mean, it's unlikely for a son of Poseidon to drown, right?" I didn't sound so sure.

Annabeth bit her lip and then we heard water rippling, Percy was back.

Soon he reached the beach, his clothes dried instantly. He told us that he had met a nereid and she gave him some advice and four pearls.

Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price."

"They were free."

"No." She shook her head. "'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait."

On that happy thought, we turned our backs on the sea. With some spare change from Ares's backpack, we took the bus into West Hollywood. Percy showed the driver the Underworld address slip I'd taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios.

"You remind me of somebody I saw on TV," he told Percy. "You a child actor or something?"

"Uh...I'm a stunt double...for a lot of child actors."

"Oh! That explains it."

We thanked him and got off quickly at the next stop. We wandered for miles on foot, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was. It didn't appear in the phone book.

Twice, we ducked into alleys to avoid cop cars. Percy froze in front of an appliance store window because the television was playing an interview with somebody. He was talking to a woman. She was interviewing him in an apartment, in the middle of a poker game, and there was a young blond lady sitting next to him, patting his hand.

A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife...my Camaro...I-I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it."

"There you have it, America." Ms. Walters turned to the camera. "A man is torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver." The screen cut to a badly posed shot of Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and me standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares.

"Who are the other children in this photo?" Ms. Walters asked dramatically.

"Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America."

"C'mon," I told him and hauled him away before he could punch a hole in the appliance store window. That must've been his stepfather, Gabe.

It got dark, and hungry-looking characters started coming out on the streets to play. I knew nothing about New York, I couldn't believe I was relying on Percy Jackson to lead us in a huge city. He seemed to know more than me anyway. One thing I know was, there was a system to how things worked. A child could be safe as long as they weren't stupid.

I didn't know how we were ever going to find the entrance to the Underworld by tomorrow, the summer solstice. We walked past a lot of ....Rascal looking people, they were eyeing us as if thinking that we had something valuable.

As we hurried passed the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you."

Like idiots, We stopped. Before I knew it, we were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled us. Six of them in all-white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. Percy uncapped Riptide.

When the sword appeared out of nowhere, the kids backed off, but their leader was either really stupid or really brave because he kept coming at us with a switchblade.

He made the mistake of swinging. The kid yelped. But he must've been one hundred percent mortal because the blade passed harmlessly right through his chest. He looked down.

"What the..."

I quickly unsheathed my sword and stood before them, the boy thinking mine was just like Percy's, came closer.

In one swift movement, I attacked him, Whoosh! He yelped as blood poured out of his arm.

I figured we had about three seconds before his shock turned to anger.

"Run!" I screamed at them.

We pushed two kids out of the way and raced down the street, not knowing where we were going. We turned a sharp corner.

"There!" Annabeth shouted. Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon.

"Crusty's Water Bed Palace?" Grover translated.

It didn't sound like a place I'd ever go except in an emergency, but this definitely qualified. We burst through the doors, ran behind a water bed, and ducked. A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside.

"I think we lost them," I panted.

"I didn't know you could do that," Percy and Grover looked bewildered.

"Do what?" I breathed, sheathing my sword.

"Your sword, it could harm mortals?"

"Oh, yeah, it's not celestial bronze,"

"I can see that but how?"

"It's Astrean Silver, deadly to anyone but the wielder." I almost laughed at Percy's surprise.

"Your dad gave you?" He guessed. I nodded.

A voice behind us boomed, "Gave what?" We all jumped.

Standing behind us was a man who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had gray, leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold, reptilian smile.

He moved toward us slowly, but I got the feeling he could move fast if he needed to. His suit might've come from the Lotus Casino. It belonged back in the seventies, big-time. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips.

The silver chains around his neck-I couldn't even count them.

"I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile.

"Sorry to barge in," Percy told him.

"We were just, um, browsing," I said.

"You mean hiding from those no-good kids," he grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?"

I was about to say No, thanks, but he put a huge paw on Percy's shoulder and steered him deeper into the showroom. There was every kind of water bed you could imagine: different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen-size, king-size, emperor-of-the-universe-size.

"This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil-flavored Jell-O.

"Million-hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, anyway."

"Um," I said, "I don't think..."

"Million-hand massage!" Grover cried, and dove in. "Oh, you guys! This is cool."

"Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost."

"Almost what?" I asked.

He looked at Annabeth. "Do me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit."

Annabeth said, "But what-"

He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and led her over to the Safari Deluxe model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned comforter. When Annabeth didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed her.

"Hey!" she protested.

Crusty snapped his fingers. "Ergo!"

Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Annabeth, holding her to the mattress.

Grover tried to get up, but ropes sprang from his black-satin bed, too, and lashed him down.

"N-not c-c-cool!" he yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "N-not c-cool a-at all!"

The giant looked at Annabeth, then turned toward me and Percy and he grinned.

"Almost, darn it."

I tried to step away, but his hand shot out and clamped around the back of my neck. "Whoa, sweetie. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec."

"Let my friends go," Percy said.

"Oh, sure I will. But I got to make them fit, first."

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to reach for my sword.

"All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit."

Annabeth and Grover kept struggling.

"Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered.

"Ergo!"A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around Grover and Annabeth's ankles, and then around their armpits.

The ropes started tightening, pulling my friends from both ends.

"Don't worry," Crusty told us. "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?"

"Percy!" Grover yelled. "Aquila!"

My mind was racing. Crusty led me to another huge bed. I knew We couldn't take on this giant water-bed dalesman. He would snap our neck before I ever got our sword out.

Frustrated I yelled, "Merlin! That's painful, If I had been allowed, I would've cast incedio and watched you burn to a crisp!"

"Who is Merlin?" Percy asked.

"Shut up and think!"

"Your real name's not Crusty, is it?" Percy asked.

"Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted.

"The Stretcher," I said. I remembered the story: the giant who'd tried to kill Theseus with excess hospitality on his way to Athens.

"Yeah," the salesman said. "But who can pronounce Procrustes? Bad for business. Now 'Crusty,' anybody can say that."

"You're right. It's got a good ring to it."

His eyes lit up. "You think so?"

"Oh, absolutely," Percy said, deciding to play along. "And the workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!"

The giant didn't loosen his grip on my neck but he stopped, too interested in Percy.

He grinned hugely. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?"

"Not too many."

"That's right!"

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "What are you doing?"

"Don't mind her," he told Procrustes. "She's impossible."

The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting."

"What do you do if they're longer than six feet?"

"Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix."

He let go of my neck, but before I could react, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double-bladed brass axe. He said,

"I just center the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end."

"Ah," I said, swallowing hard. "Sensible."

"I'm so glad to come across intelligent customers!"

The ropes were really stretching my friends now. Annabeth was turning pale. Grover made gurgling sounds, like a strangled goose.

"So, Crusty..." I said, trying to keep my voice light. I glanced at the sales tag on the valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?"

"Absolutely. Try it out."

"Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?"

"Guaranteed."

"No way."

"Way."

"Show me."

He sat down eagerly on the bed and patted the mattress. "No waves. See?" I understood Percy's plan, I snapped my fingers. "Ergo."

Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress.

"Hey!" he yelled.

"Center him just right," I said. The ropes readjusted themselves at my command. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet stuck out the bottom.

"No!" he said. "Wait! This is just a demo."

Percy uncapped Riptide. "A few simple adjustments..."

"You drive a hard bargain," he told me. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models!"

"I think I'll start with the top." Percy raised his sword.

"No money down! No interest for six months!"

He swung the sword. Crusty stopped making offers.

He cut the ropes on the other beds. Annabeth and Grover got to their feet, groaning and wincing and cursing us a lot.

"You look taller," he said.

"Very funny," Annabeth said. "Be faster next time."

"Sorry," We muttered simultaneously.

I looked at the bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk. There was an advertisement for Hermes Delivery Service and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters-

"The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!" Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map.

"Come on," Percy said.

"Give us a minute," Grover complained. "We were almost stretched to death!"

"Then you're ready for the Underworld," I said. "It's only a block from here."