Page 63 of The Wild Zone

When no one replied, Benny nodded.

“Okay, then,” he said. “Let’s finish up our chores. In the morning, we find out anything we can. Tomorrow night after KP, we make plans for the Wild Zone. Who knows? Maybe Grant and Silas will be found by then.”

He said it with zero conviction. That was fine; I didn’t believe it either.

When I got back to my cabin, I lay in my bunk and was staring at the ceiling long after everyone else had fallen asleep.

The ring in the fissure, the hooded man, the glowing symbol on the tree, the tunnel entrance, the feather…could it all be connected? If so, I didn’t see how the pieces fit. It sounded more like a twisted version of “The House That Jack Built.”

That gave me an idea. If there was anyone I could talk to about my problems, even the parts I didn’t want to admit to myself, it might be the mysterious little girl at the outdoor hearth.

I’d started to believe I knew who she was. Everyone at camp seemed to give her a wide berth, but not like they were ignoring her—more like they were showing her respect by staying out of her territory. She didn’t do much except tend the flames, but she radiated a sense of kindness and harmony.

If she was Hestia, the goddess of hearth and home, that would make sense. She would be one of the best deities you could run into. And after the last few days, I needed some kindness and godly wisdom.

I got out of bed, tiptoed across the cabin, and slipped out the front door. Before I could make my way to the fire, though, I heard hushed voices from somewhere behind the cabin—Argus’s, and that of a man I didn’t recognize.

I crept to the end of the porch and peeked around the corner. Argus stood with his back to me, blocking my view of the other man’s face, but his shaggy pair of goat legs told me he was a satyr.

“It must mean something, Argus,” the satyr said. “To stumble across these? And so close to each other?”

I couldn’t see what “these” were, but Argus bowed his head to inspect them. He turned the items over in his hand and then sighed. Most of his eyes glanced into the woods.

“Show no one,” he told the old satyr. “Not yet. Keep searching. It’s still possible Silas left for his quest without saying good-bye.”

I clenched my fists. That was exactly what I’d said to Beckendorf, but Argus didn’t sound like he believed what he was saying.

Benny was going to have some competition for the Least Convincing Statement Award.

The satyr started to protest, but Argus stopped him with a raised hand.

“Very well.” The satyr relented, taking back the items. “I will keep looking.”

I retreated into the shadows of the porch as Argus walked past, headed for the Big House. A moment later, the satyr trotted by, illuminated by just enough moonlight that I could see the objects he was holding.

I had to cover my mouth to keep from screaming.

In one hand, the satyr held Silas’s panpipes, a satyr’s most sacred treasure and resource—something he’d never leave behind. I knew they were Silas’s. He’d painted them teal and decorated them with World Wildlife Fund stickers of pandas and tigers.

In the satyr’s other hand gleamed a beautiful blue-and-orange feather. Just like Zuri’s.

If I’d had any doubts before, I didn’t now. Something was abducting people from Camp Half-Blood. And it already had two in its collection.

14

I Throw a Party (and Everything Else) in My Neighbor’s Yard

Dreams are meant to be an escape, but my dreams wouldn’t let me forget.

As I slept, I found myself walking home from soccer practice, rehearsing what I wanted to tell my mom, just as I had on the day everything went wrong.

“Soccer’s for suckers,” I said. “There’s no real-world use for it unless I join a professional team, and I think we can agree that’s never happening.”

I imagined my mom’s scowl, and then I held up my hand and laughed good-naturedly. “I know what you’re gonna say: Soccer’s important to our culture! But there are lots of other great Korean sports, like Go.” I made a face and stopped on the sidewalk. “Ugh. No. She’ll make me practice that with Olivia.”

I hitched my soccer bag higher on my shoulder and approached my street corner, restarting my “I’m quitting soccer” speech from the top.

“Soccer’s— AHHH!” I panic-danced in place.