The Son of Neptune (The Heroes of Olympus 2) - Page 90

Ella made a horrible, painful wail like she was being burned.

Percy held up his hands in exasperation. “What do we do? We can’t force her. ”

“No,” Frank agreed. The ogres were three hundred yards out.

“She’s too valuable to leave behind,” Hazel said. Then she winced at her own words. “Gods, I’m sorry, Ella. I sound as bad as Phineas. You’re a living thing, not a treasure. ”“No planes. N-n-no planes. ” Ella was hyperventilating.

The ogres were almost in throwing distance.

Percy’s eyes lit up. “I’ve got an idea. Ella, can you hide in the woods? Will you be safe from the ogres?”

“Hide,” she agreed. “Safe. Hiding is good for harpies. Ellais quick. And small. And fast. ”

“Okay,” Percy said. “Just stay around this area. I can send a friend to meet you and take you to Camp Jupiter. ”

Frank unslung his bow and nocked an arrow. “A friend?”

Percy waved his hand in a tell you later gesture. “Ella, would you like that? Would you like my friend to take you to Camp Jupiter and show you our home?”

“Camp,” Ella muttered. Then in Latin: “‘Wisdom’s daughter walks alone, the Mark of Athena burns through Rome. ’”

“Uh, right,” Percy said. “That sounds important, but we can talk about that later. You’ll be safe at camp. All the books and food you want. ”

“No planes,” she insisted.

“No planes,” Percy agreed.

“Ella will hide now. ” Just like that, she was gone—a red streak disappearing into the woods.

“I’ll miss her,” Hazel said sadly.

“We’ll see her again,” Percy promised, but he frowned uneasily, as if he were really troubled by that last bit of prophecy—the thing about Athena.

An explosion sent the airfield’s gate spinning into the air.

Frank tossed his grandmother’s letter to Percy. “Show that to the pilot! Show him your letter from Reyna too! We’ve got to take off now. ”

Percy nodded. He and Hazel ran for the plane.

Frank took cover behind the Cadillac and started firing at the ogres. He targeted the largest clump of enemies and shot a tulip-shaped arrow. Just as he’d hoped, it was a hydra.

Ropes lashed out like squid tentacles, and the entire front row of ogres plowed face first into the dirt.

Frank heard the plane’s engines rev.

He shot three more arrows as fast as he could, blasting enormous craters in the ogres’ ranks. The survivors were only a hundred yards away, and some of the brighter ones stumbled to a stop, realizing that they were now within hurling range.

“Frank!” Hazel shrieked. “Come on!”

A fiery cannonball hurtled toward him in a slow arc. Frank knew instantly it was going to hit the plane. He nocked an arrow. I can do this, he thought. He let the arrow fly. It intercepted the cannonball midair, detonating a massive fireball. Another two cannonballs sailed toward him. Frank ran.

Behind him, metal groaned as the Cadillac exploded. He dove into the plane just as the stairs started to rise.

The pilot must’ve understood the situation just fine. There was no safety announcement, no pre-flight drink, and no waiting for clearance. He pushed the throttle, and the plane shot down the runway. Another blast ripped through the runway behind them, but then they were in the air.

Frank looked down and saw the airstrip riddled with craters like a piece of burning Swiss cheese. Swaths of Lynn Canyon Park were on fire. A few miles to the south, a swirling pyre of flames and black smoke was all that remained of the Zhang family mansion.

So much for Frank being impressive. He’d failed to save his grandmother. He’d failed to use his powers. He hadn’t even saved their harpy friend. When Vancouver disappeared in the clouds below, Frank buried his head in his hands and started to cry.

The plane banked to the left.

Over the intercom, the pilot’s voice said, “Senatus Populusque Romanus, my friends. Welcome aboard. Next stop: Anchorage, Alaska. ”

XXXVII Percy

AIRPLANES OR CANNIBALS? NO CONTEST.

Percy would’ve preferred driving Grandma Zhang’s

Cadillac all the way to Alaska with fireball-throwing ogres on his tail rather than sitting in a luxury Gulf stream.

He’d flown before. The details were hazy, but he remembered a pegasus named Blackjack. He’d even been in a plane once or twice. But a son of Neptune (Poseidon, whatever)didn’t belong in the air. Every time the plane hit a spot of turbulence, Percy’s heart raced, and he was sure Jupiter was slapping them around.

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