The Heir of Olympus and the Forest Realm (12 page)

“Damn! I look good!” The images had an uplifting effect on Gordie’s spirits. Although these events had not actually taken place, a piece of him knew that they would. It appeared that he would at least live long enough to become an adult.

The images started to become blurred and almost completely unrecognizable. The last discernible visual was the laughing face of an old, venerable deity, who Gordie recognized from his dream.

“That is enough,” Lachesis told Clotho, who stopped weaving. The vision of Zeus’s mocking face disappeared from the loom, but it remained burned on his retinas, floating on the black air, causing anger to swell once more within Gordie. He had seen a part of what his future held; a portion of the skill and strength that he would possess, and hope sparked inside him. A belief in himself was growing before he had even set out on his quest. He stared down at his open hands, looking for some visible sign of the latent power within him.

“What will you do, Gordon?” Lachesis nudged him from his contemplation. “Will you avenge your father? Will you stop Zeus from destroying your world?”

“Plus, you want me to save you, right?” Gordie asked. “After all you’ve done. Why should I?” he growled, still furious at these string-pullers.

“Not at all. It is time for our race to pass.” Gordie was taken aback by her cavalier attitude towards death. “We have left our mark on this world, but have been fading into insignificance for centuries. That is true of all the Olympians, though you may find some are less willing to accept that than others,” she said, which he found disconcerting.

“As you can see, Clotho has grown fond of the humans.” And again, Gordie was softened by the sweet caress of the spinner’s gentle eyes. “She would ask you to save your people for their sake. To me it makes no difference. If you should save the humans, then perhaps they deserve it. If you fail, then it was not meant to be. With no purpose left in this world I am ready to fade. Do what you will Gordon Leonhart, but remember that this world depends on you now.
That
is your fate.”

Atropos lifted a thread in her gnarled hands, and before Gordie had time to process what she was doing, she cut it.

6

Layover in Hades

“No!” Gordie shouted, exploding into consciousness and lunging forward in his seat. A few passengers looked around worriedly, producing a mixture of snickers and grumbles. Her hand was patting Gordie’s arm as he realized, with a start, that Bridget was attempting to calm him.

“It’s okay,” she giggled. “You were just having a bad dream.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said as he looked around for the old woman whose seat was now occupied by her antithesis. There was no sign of her anywhere, but he wasn’t surprised. Gordie did not realize until just then that he hadn’t fully accepted the reality of his predicament, but now his certainty was absolute.

“What are you looking for?” Bridget asked. As he looked up into her green eyes his woes began to melt away. He was intensely aware that her hand was still on his arm, and the familiar feeling of butterflies migrating to his stomach returned.

“Nothing, I’m just glad you’re here,” he said, trying to sound smooth, but feeling like a total cheeseball.   

“Me too.” She smiled, thankfully not repulsed by his corniness. “So, what were you dreaming about?”

“Oh, I don’t really remember.”

“Too bad, I kinda hoped it was about me,” she whispered in his ear with a tender brush of his hair. Gordie shared this sentiment with interest. He was too aware that his mom was just two rows ahead of him, not to mention the countless other individuals in plain sight. But he could smell the intoxicating aroma coming off of Bridget. She smelled like vanilla, citrus, cinnamon, deliciousness. But then another thought came to mind: he still didn’t understand how their little romance had blossomed so fast.

“Bridget?”

“Yeah?” she asked, running her fingers through his hair in a delicate figure eight circuit just above his ear. It was very distracting. He looked down at his fidgety hands to try to gather his thoughts.

“How did this happen?” Gordie looked back at her and motioned between the two of them to reinforce his meaning. “I mean, we didn’t exactly get along. I kinda thought you hated me.” The hair stroking stopped. Bridget rubbed her hands together uncomfortably, and leaned away from him.
NO!
his head was screaming at him.
Just shut up! Shut the hell up, now!

“I didn’t hate you I just . . . I don’t know. It’s just, when Christy started liking you, ya know, I kinda . . . started noticing you.”

That stung.

“I got ya,” Gordie said, looking back down at his hands. The tone of this conversation had taken a nose-dive and he didn’t know how to pull up.

“I don’t mean it like that,” she said. “I just didn’t really know much about you. You didn’t like me either.” And now there was a definite note of coldness in her voice that sent Gordie spiraling into despair.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I was just wondering, like, what was going on here. What are we? What will happen if I come back?”

“
If
you come back? What does that mean?”

“I meant when,” he said. “Never mind, just forget it. Let’s just go back to what we were doing.” He tried to sound playful as he reached for her hand, but she pulled away.

“Yeah, let’s go back to what we were doing. Maybe this
was
a huge mistake. Have fun in Greece.” She rose from her seat and desperation started clawing in Gordie’s chest. “Maybe I’ll see you in school next semester . . .
if
you come back,” she said, and turned to walk away.

“No. Wait! I’m sorry! Let’s just forget it. Bridget!” But she was halfway up the aisle with clearly no intention of returning. Gordie was on his feet in the aisle looking like a battered puppy. A couple people were staring at him with poorly concealed curiosity, excited about the live reality show to staunch the monotony of the seven-hour-flight. Atalo leaned out into the aisle, looking in Bridget’s direction before he turned his attention back to Gordie to give him an ‘oh crap, sorry dude’ type of look. Gordie just shook his head in response before he sat back down in his lonely section.

The butterflies in his stomach had transformed into Mothras. “You freakin’ moron!” he said to himself. “What were you thinking? You never question it! Idiot!” He smacked his forehead, disgusted with himself.

After that, Gordie wallowed in self-pity for over an hour, replaying the confrontation in his head over and over again. Then he started reminiscing about the two kisses he got out of her in the airport, hating himself for blowing it after such a pitifully short run. The current in-flight movie was
The Notebook
.

Time ticked away as he watched the beautiful people on the screen go through silent ups and downs. Gordie had no headphones to listen. Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams were yelling at each other in a downpour. He grabbed her and kissed her.
Man, I wish it was that easy,
Gordie thought to himself.

He remained in a time-devouring, yet time-slowing state of self-loathing for a few more hours. The animated superhero movie
The Incredibles
came and went, and was replaced by some indiscernible romantic comedy starring Jennifer Lopez. Gordie cringed at the prospect of watching another love story ending happily-ever-after when he was sure he would never find love again. Sure enough, things seemed to work out for Jenny-from-the-block and Mr. McConaughey. Gordie rolled his eyes and scoffed.

Some semblance of mercy arrived in the form of
Transformers
—he thought indiscriminant explosions should at least take his mind off his woes for a while. However, a few minutes into the movie, he noticed his mom rise from her seat ahead of him, and knew where she was destined.

As she occupied the empty seat next to Gordie, Ellie asked, “What are you watching?”

“
Transformers
.”

“Cool.” She bobbed her head awkwardly, clearly trying to find a way to broach the subject of his shattered feelings. “So, how ya doin’?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“Okay,” she started, but he knew she wasn’t done. “Listen sweetie, I know it’s difficult growing up and—”

“Oh my God, Mom! I said I’m fine! Just drop it!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m
fine
.”

“All right, I’ll leave you alone. We’re gonna be landing soon. Just make sure you’re ready to go.” She rose again and walked back to her seat. He saw his grandpa turn towards her, and she shook her head.

Gordie rolled his eyes and scoffed again. “Old people,” he muttered. His attention reverted to the giant alien robots—unsure of whether the mechanized changelings or Megan Fox had a tighter grip on him—but his focus was held throughout the remainder of the film regardless.

As Megatron fell amidst a hail of gunfire, the pilot came over the loud speaker. “Attention passengers, it’s about 12:15 am local time, we are right on schedule.” He paused to let them appreciate his timeliness. “We’re approximately thirty miles outside of London and will be landing in ten minutes. Please prepare for landing.” As the tinny echo dissipated, the flight attendants began collecting garbage and headed to their stations. Fortunately, the descent was uneventful, and the ensuing taxi to the gate was as mind-numbing and destructive to one’s patience as ever.

When the seatbelt light finally turned off, everyone shot to their feet in unison, and the rifling through the overhead compartments began. Ellie kept looking back at Gordie, turning to check up on him every thirty seconds. He gave her a ‘just-freakin’-relax’ look. Of course, she was not comfortable until they had funneled through the jet-way and were reunited in the concourse after twenty minutes of uncomfortable jostling in the hot metal tube. 

Gordie was surprised at the modernity of Heathrow Airport. Somehow he had expected every structure in London to look like their parliament building. Instead, the sleek curvature of the architecture with metal and glass infused in a vaulted spider web was just like O’Hare. For that matter, it made Chicago’s hub look outdated. He wondered why everything in airports was so white.

As Gordie was marveling at the futuristic aesthetics of the terminal, a mane of flowing maple hair caught his eye, and he saw Bridget fix him with one last indiscernible look before she headed off with her family. Was it disgust? Or did he possibly see regret and embarrassment? He hoped it had been the latter because it could be a good sign for him. Regardless, she was gone now and he wasn’t sure he would ever see her again.

He sighed and turned to his family. “So, which gate are we headed to?”

“Looks like we’re going to gate B4, but we have four hours until our next flight leaves, so we’re in no hurry,” Ellie said.

“Four hours? That’s bullsh—”

“Oh relax, you knew it was gonna be that long. I’m
so
sorry that traveling to a continent on the other side of an ocean takes half a day.” Ellie’s logic was inescapable, but Gordie would never admit that.

“Still think four hours is too long,” he grumbled under his breath.

“It could be longer. We’re lucky that they have a flight as early as four-thirty in the morning. Just be grateful.” 

With a newfound and
sincere
gratitude, Gordie fell in line as they headed off towards their new gate. He was hungry, but all of the shops and restaurants were closed; this did nothing to improve his mood—the inflight meal was not sufficient to stave off grumpiness for long.

Airports were creepy at night. The most abundant people were maintenance workers, and whether or not it was Gordie’s imagination, scraggly travelers seemed shiftier at night. Individuals were milling around here and there. It was somehow disconcerting, unlike the hustle and bustle of thousands of angry people rushing past one another at midday.  After five full minutes of walking, he started to get crabbier.

“Are we almost there?” Even Gordie was annoyed by how whiney he sounded.

“Jeez, kid,” Atalo said, “if a leisurely jaunt through the airport is overwhelming you, then I’m seriously concerned with your ability to cope with the task ahead.”

This remark had an effect so sobering that Gordie felt like he had been slapped in the face—forehand followed by a solid backhand, for good measure. His impending tantrum (for which even he recognized he was too old) took a back seat as he once again reflected on the path ahead of him, now further complicated by new information, namely, his encounter with the Fates. It occurred to him that this was probably something he should share with his family, but some part of him didn’t want to. A little voice in his head told him this was between Zeus and him, so Gordie decided, for better or worse, to keep his tea party with the sisters to himself.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said.

Ellie gave him an approving nod. “That’s okay. It’s already been a long day and we still have more ahead of us. Let’s just get to our seats and take it easy for a while.”

They fell silent for the remaining two minutes of their walk as Gordie listened to their foot falls. Atalo’s long strides required fewer steps than Ellie’s and Gordie’s.

They took their seats when they reached the empty gate. Thankfully there was a television, but he was disappointed when he realized it was a twenty-four-hour news channel. He listened to the accents more than the words, catching key terms like “
Syria,
” or “
North Korea
.” He got lost in the cycle of the same stories for a couple hours, while replaying the images in his mind shown to him by the Fates, scored by an ancient and maniacal laugh echoing over the wrinkles of his brain. Then something caught his eye.

The scroll on the bottom of the screen read brief synopses of stories from around the world, but one in particular resonated with Gordie.
Previously thought inactive underwater volcano erupts in Mediterranean Sea.
His mind was wiped clean of preoccupations with his future and was replaced by a slew of pertinent questions for the present:
Is it Hephaestus’s Volcano? What caused it? Was he in it? Would that kill him?
If it
was
the immortal metallurgist’s volatile home, Gordie didn’t think an eruption would kill him because he was supposed to be immune to fire. Still, he wasn’t sure that this was a good omen.

“Did you guys see that?” he asked in hushed tones, despite their being alone in the desolate terminal.

“Huh? What?” Atalo asked, jolted out of a nap.

“No, what was it?” Ellie asked as she looked up from her magazine.

“The news line just said that an underwater volcano erupted in the Mediterranean,” Gordie continued in a whisper like he was telling a ghost story around a camp fire. Ellie’s eyes narrowed as she began a relentless scrutiny of the news, while her father’s reaction was far less reserved.

“No way!” Atalo said. “You don’t think it’s Hephaestus? What is
that
about?” he said, his eyes wide and alive as he also turned his attention to the TV.

“I have no idea, but I doubt it’s a coincidence,” Gordie said. Atalo was watching the TV with glee while Ellie’s look was far more troubled. She began chewing her nails, occasionally glancing at her son, yet not so stealthily that Gordie was unable to recognize the reawakened angst in her eyes. He chided himself for letting this slip—
too late now
. They all watched the scroll stream past for fifteen minutes. Finally, Ellie broke the silence.