P. Hoover - Solstice

Clay cakes under my feet, pulling at my sandals until I toss them aside altogether, letting my toes sink into the oozing redness. Along the shore lie skeletons of boats marooned in the thick clay, falling to pieces. It’s a dead world and a dead river with nothing alive except the monsters waiting for us. In a way, it reminds me of how my world will look should the Global Heating Crisis continue. And there’s no reason to think it won’t. I imagine the Botanical Haven as a singular oasis amid a world of barren desert because I know my mom would never move to a city below ground. And I know she’d want me by her side.

Will the world really come to that? Will my life really come to that?

Shayne and I walk to the dock; its piers aren’t even submerged until halfway out, and when we reach the water, thankfully the monsters stay away from Shayne. It’s like he’s got an invisible force field surrounding him, and I happen to be lucky enough to be ensconced in it.

I motion to the monsters. “They never bother you?”

Shayne unclips the Helm of Darkness and holds it out. Around us, the monsters move back, increasing the distance between them and us. “The Helm makes the wearer invisible, Piper, but it also helps maintain control of the evils here in the Underworld. It’s one of the final remaining gifts from the Cyclops. One of the only few that still exists.” As he moves it, the monsters shift, keeping the distance even.

“They’re more active than the others.” And I let out a small laugh that even to me sounds like my throat is shaking.

“They’re fed well.” Shayne steps down into the mud-caked boat, and I follow, not waiting for his hand. I don’t want to spend even a second too far from him with these things flying around.

“More sorrows?” Like the monsters in the River Acheron, I figure these monsters must eat sorrows.

But Shayne shakes his head and shoves the boat off from the dock. He hoists the rope in, and it drops on the floor of the boat with a thud.

I scoot away, not wanting a drop of the tarnished water to touch me.

“Memories,” he says. “When souls head to Asphodel, they leave everything behind. And the monsters eat it all.”

“Everything?”

“Everything. Names. Happiness. Fears. Goals. Every piece of thought which makes a soul what it is stays behind in the River Lethe.” Shayne clips the Helm of Darkness back onto his belt. The monsters edge back in, but still stay outside our boundary.

“And that’s what happened to Randy?”

Shayne motions back to the red river. “He left everything here. Randy doesn’t even remember who he was.”

I bite my lip, trying to piece this out. “Then I can’t talk to him?”

“Why would you want to?” Shayne asks.

I push the lump in my throat back down. “To tell him I’m sorry.”

Shayne shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”

But I know it is. Even if Shayne wants to deny it, I cursed Randy to this place as surely as if I’ve killed him myself. And somehow I’ll make it up to him. “Does the Helm only work here?” I ask.

“It works anywhere. The sea. The Earth. The Underworld.” He links his fingers with mine. “And trust me—there are monsters everywhere.”

We ride in silence. The only sound is the snapping of the monsters’ jaws. They bump against the boat, some hidden below the thick red of the river and some jumping until I fear they may join us in the boat. But none do. Overhead, the sky is as lifeless as the world around me. There’s no sun to speak of. No light, but also no darkness. Only that in between gray of a lifeless world.

I lean against Shayne, feeling the muscles of his arm holding me. I try not to focus on the death around me, but my mind can’t help the comparisons that keep forming.

“Do you think Earth is going to die?” I ask.

He brushes his cheek against my hair. “From the Global Heating Crisis? Yeah. I do.” There’s not a bit of doubt in his voice.

“What about the other gods? What do they think?”

Shayne looks out across the red water. “They’re divided. They have been for years. Some of the members of the assembly fight to do everything in their power to restore the world to how it was. And others…they think the crisis is a good thing. They think change on any kind of massive scale is needed to keep humanity moving forward. They relish the struggles for power, and they enjoy choosing sides.”

“Like Ares,” I say.

“Yeah, like Ares.”

I turn so I can see him better, but he’s not looking at me. “So which side are you on?”

Shayne lets out a low chuckle. “Neither, which is the root of my problems with the assembly.”

“Why neither?” Because if I had to guess, I’d have been sure that Shayne wants to restore Earth to how it had been before the Global Heating Crisis ever started.

“Because I have enough problems of my own, Piper. The Underworld keeps me plenty busy. I don’t need two worlds to take care of.”

I’m not sure this is valid reasoning, but I don’t argue. Who am I to tell Shayne he should do more? But maybe he can read my mind.

“You think I’m horrible,” he says.

“No. Not horrible. Just…” I struggle to come up with the right word.

“Obsessed?” he suggests.

“Dedicated,” I say. “You’re dedicated to the Underworld.”

“Someone has to be,” he says.

I look back across the water, and soon I see the opposite shore, and Asphodel there beyond it. We’re almost to the dock, and the souls wait for us. As we pull up to the dock, empty stares surround us. One grabs the rope Shayne throws, tying it to a wooden pier. Another clears the path in front of us.

Shayne walks like he is Lord of the Underworld. He holds his head high, and he doesn’t look anyone in the face. I make the mistake of doing so and am met with eyes which seem to penetrate right through me without seeing me. But then one face in the crowd catches my eye, and I gasp when her eyes meet mine.

“Chloe!”

Shayne turns to face me. “What?”

I point into the mass of faces, but she’s gone. “Chloe. She was right over there.”

Shayne looks, craning his neck over the crowds, searching. “Chloe isn’t here, Piper.”

I realize I haven’t taken a breath since I saw her, so I inhale. “I saw her. She looked right at me.”

He shakes his head. “You couldn’t have, Piper. Chloe is back above. Alive. You know that.”

I do know that. But it had looked so much like her. And there had been recognition in those eyes. It had been Chloe. “She knew who I was.”

Shayne takes my hand. “She couldn’t have. Even if it were Chloe, people here don’t have memories, remember?”

“But she looked right at me.”

Shayne narrows his eyes and searches the crowd again. I see the same thing he does. An ocean of empty faces. Thousands of them, pressed in on each other. None of them familiar. And none of them meeting my eyes. I must have been wrong. Chloe is still alive. Back on Earth and waiting for me. And then I catch the scent.

“He’s here,” I say.

Shayne’s face turns away from mine and back to the crowd. He’s smelled it to. Reese’s aroma hangs in the air like thick, dry acid. I hold my ground, promising myself I will not show my emotions. I will keep Reese out of my mind. And then I spot Randy Conner’s face looking back at me.

“There.” I point to Randy Conner, but when Shayne turns to look, Randy disappears. And the scent shifts to the right. My head snaps over, and again I see Chloe. But instead of casual recognition, her face is painted with malice. Cold. Hatred. She despises me with those eyes. She blames me for her death. A death which never came. A death I helped prevent. But her face is steel. And her look is poison. It’s a look I never want to see on Chloe’s face.