The Heir of Olympus and the Forest Realm (4 page)

“Give me time,” he said.

“As you wish. Farewell.” Hermes flashed one last winning smile and turned about-face. He extended his arm with his hand open—the caduceus he held upon his arrival was resting on the ground where Gordie had first attacked its master. In response to his call it rocketed towards Hermes who snatched it out of the air. The little wings on his shoes and cap began to beat as he rose into the air and he suddenly streaked off due east, followed by Gordie’s slack-jawed stare.

***

Gordie continued to stare into the rising sun. It had been less than an hour since a lightning bolt upheaved his life. He had experienced so many emotions since then, but still, the overriding feeling was one of grief and loss. He didn’t know what to do at the moment. He was standing in the middle of a barren landscape that had been his farm a few hours earlier. He looked down at his hands, contemplating the dormant power within them. They were clean. Not even a drop of blood stained them. Apparently he had done less damage to Hermes than he had thought.

He was still skeptical; skeptical that he had been in the presence of a Greek god; skeptical that he truly possessed some type of super human power; skeptical that his father was killed by a lightning bolt thrown by the God of Olympus. But the evidence was mounting.

“
Seek out your mother,
” Hermes’s parting words rang in his head. How could his mother know of any of this? Hermes said he had spoken with her. Did
she
believe he was a real god? His only option was to ask her. His car was a hundred yards away. Between it and him was the concrete foundation of his house, or what was once his house. The structure had been eradicated. He was hesitant to approach the remains of his home, afraid of what emotions it would spark.

There was nothing for it. He could not stand there all day, so Gordie decided to make for his car and inspect the basement on the way. He had to will his legs to carry him, but once he got moving, he was walking with purpose. He wondered how much of the basement was intact as it seemed that the eruption had only damaged the surface of the landscape.

When Gordie reached the border of the subterranean chamber, he looked down upon its contents with a slight shock. It appeared everything that was in the basement that morning was still in its rightful place, undisturbed by the explosion. The Christmas decorations were in their usual corner; his old toy box and clothes from his childhood were piled against the far wall; even the boxes of his mom’s China seemed unharmed in their spot right below his feet. A little snort of laughter escaped him, for which he immediately felt guilty.

But he received another pleasant surprise when he saw his grandfather’s baseball bat lying in the middle of the basement floor. This gave him pause, as he knew for a fact the bat had been in his room when he left that morning. Why, then, did it not disintegrate with everything else? To his left the cellar stairs seemed to be in one piece, although the doors had gone extinct with everything else above ground.

Gordie descended the stairs and crossed to the middle of the room to retrieve the bat. He picked it up and inspected it. There did not seem to be a scratch on it, or any damage whatsoever. The bat was a family heirloom his great-grandfather had given to his son, who in turn gave it to Gordie, his daughter’s son. He could not understand why the bat was unscathed, but decided to take it with him.

As he made his way back to the stairs, a picture sticking out of a nearby box caught his eye. He plucked it from atop the other loose photos and looked at his younger self holding a calf. It was his favorite cow, Io, who he now realized must have been killed in the explosion. A tear came to his eye, accompanied by another stab of guilt for not lamenting her loss sooner.

Rekindled anger surged through him. He screamed and punched the concrete wall. His hand broke through the rock as if he had been punching a wall of sand. He pulled his hand out and wondered at it as it curled into a trembling fist. He closed his eyes and let the anger consume him. This anger was different though: it had the effect of fortifying his resolve. It was the desire for revenge on some ethereal being, to which he could only put a face due to his origins in lore. And he became confused again. Was there really some all-powerful deity out there towards whom this anger was directed? Gordie made a choice to embrace the fury. It strengthened him. If nothing else, it might keep him afloat in a sea of sadness.

He climbed back up the stairs and started towards his car, giving the basement one last parting look. “Goodbye,” he whispered.

He resumed his trek back to the car, and began to fear the drive to Madison. It was only fifteen miles away, yet the thought of being contained in a vehicle with nothing to accompany him but his thoughts was horrifying. He reached the driver side door and paused to collect himself. In a strange way it was almost a relief to be bombarded by so many terrible thoughts because it made it impossible to fixate on just one.

As Gordie reached for the door handle, he saw a pickup truck approaching from the east. He recognized the truck at once as Coach Erickson’s and dread gripped him. He could not recount Noah’s death, and he didn’t even know if his younger sister, Jessica, had survived the blast. There was nothing he could say to console Noah’s father. Gordie envisioned his coach screaming at him for surviving when his son had not, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

It was too late now, though. Gordie would have to confront him because he knew Coach Erickson would not drive by without checking on his well-being. As Gordie expected, the pickup began to slow, and in a few seconds was turning onto the lot and parking next to Gordie’s car. The expression on Coach Erickson’s face was difficult to read: it was as serious as Gordie had ever seen it, not at all consistent with his usual light-hearted demeanor. Erickson hopped out of the truck, left the door hanging open as the engine continued to rumble, ran around the Charger, and wrapped Gordie in a loving embrace. Gordie dropped his bat, wrapped his arms around Noah’s father, and began to cry once again.

Tears streaming down his face and shuddering, Gordie managed to choke out, “I’m so sorry, Coach.”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me, son. I’m just glad to see you’re okay.” Gordie realized that the coach must have known about Noah because he understood the apology.

“Jessica?” Gordie asked.

“She’s fine. I got a call from school about her . . . and Noah.” His voice quivered with the mention of his late son.

They stood there entwined for what seemed like hours, Gordie’s head buried in his coach’s chest as the middle-aged father of one held him. Gordie felt a warm drop land on the side of his neck and realized that his coach was crying with him. After a few minutes, Coach Erickson spoke.

“Have you seen your mom and dad? Are they okay?”

“Mom’s fine. She’s in Madison. Dad is . . .” Gordie’s voice trailed off. Coach Erickson tightened his grip, while patting Gordie’s head.

“He was a good man,” Coach said aloud. He had grown up with Gordie’s dad. It was kind of ironic, Gordie thought miserably: he had lost his best friend, his Coach’s son, and Coach Erickson had lost a close friend in Gordie’s father. It was a strange and terrible balance.

“What happened here, Gordie?” Coach Erickson asked after a few more minutes of silence.

Gordie knew he was going to ask this at some point, but he did not have an answer for him. What was he supposed to say?
Well, Greek gods might actually be real, and Zeus is trying to kill me so he threw a lightning bolt at my house.
Something told him that his coach might not believe such a tale.

“I don’t know,” Gordie said. “There was some kind of explosion.”

“That was no ordinary explosion. It damaged our house a mile away.” Fortunately, it seemed Coach Erickson had assumed Gordie knew as little as he did on the subject.

“What are you gonna do now?” Gordie asked him.

“I’m heading to town to pick up Jessica,” he said. “Do you wanna come with me?”

“No thanks.” Gordie appreciated his invitation, but had too much on his plate. Besides, he didn’t want to see that school ever again. “I need to go see my mom.”

Right on cue, her car came barreling down the highway from the direction of town.  Gordie’s heart rose like a balloon. For the first time since that morning, his cheeks lifted in a genuine smile, and he was flooded with relief.

“Good timing,” Coach breathed. Gordie thought that his coach was relieved to see her too.

In a few seconds, Ellie was pulling onto the lot next to Coach’s truck, gravel crunching beneath her tires. She slammed the door as she hurried around the vehicles to get to them. She was not crying, which surprised Gordie at first, but his mom had always been very stoic. Pulling him into a deliberate hug she asked, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m okay, Mom.” If she could be strong, then he could, too. Her composure was infectious. She wrapped her hands around Gordie’s neck and kissed his forehead. She did not need to stretch as she was a couple inches taller than her son.

She turned to address Coach Erickson. “Thank you, Jerry. Are the kids okay?” Gordie’s nerve wavered in anticipation of his coach’s reaction.

“Jessica is fine, but Noah . . . didn’t make it.” The anguish of this admission had shown on Jerry Erickson’s face and Gordie faltered, but Ellie pulled the coach into a hug, and he felt confident that her strong, reassuring embrace would strengthen him. A single tear rolled down his face as she held him. Gordie looked away. Ellie said nothing—she just waited for Jerry’s cue. After thirty seconds they broke apart, and Jerry looked her in the eye.

“Thank you, Ellie.” Coach Erickson’s use of his mom’s name was strange to Gordie. Under such circumstances he could only view her as Mom, not an individual of a community.

“No problem,” Ellie patted him on the shoulder. “Go pick up Jessica. If you need anything don’t hesitate to call.”

Jerry nodded and turned to climb into his truck. The door groaned as he pulled it closed, and the struts squeaked as he shifted his weight inside the cab. Gordie and his mother watched as Jerry Erickson pulled onto the road and drove towards town.

Ellie turned back to her son, put her hand up to his face, and stroked his cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay, honey?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m all right.” Her arrival
had
improved his mental state. But just then, he remembered that he would have to inform her about his dad, and his mood plummeted again. Gordie steeled himself.

“Dad—”

“I know,” Ellie cut him off. They locked eyes and there was a moment of silent understanding between them. “Let’s go say goodbye.” It was not a question. Gordie wanted to argue. He wanted to tell her that he could not see his father again, but as strong as his mom was he knew that she still wanted him with her. “Lead the way,” she said.

Resigned to his fate, Gordie turned back towards the lightning bolt, which stood like a beacon of horror glistening in the sun. They walked in silence towards his father’s body, save for the crunch of charred ground beneath their feet. They reached the ring of grass that encircled Robert Leonhart sooner than Gordie wanted. Ellie was standing to his left and he heard a nearly imperceptible intake of breath. In fact, it was so subtle that he wondered if he had heard it at all, or if he had just
sensed
it. He focused his entire will on maintaining composure.

Gordie stood at the edge of the ring as his mom walked over to his dad and knelt down beside his head. She leaned over and kissed his lips as she whispered something Gordie could not make out. He saw a tear drop onto his father’s cheek and he tensed. He had never seen his mom cry. But he was selfishly grateful that when she turned back to him there was only a single streak on her face, which she wiped away.

“What do we do?” Gordie asked. What he meant was: ‘What do we do with his body?’ But he could not bring himself to use those words. Thankfully, she understood his meaning.

“I think we should leave him here. This is the only patch of grass left as far as I can see.” She looked out across the burnt fields.

“And what do we do with that?” Gordie inclined his head in the direction of the solid bolt. She looked at it and anger flashed across her face, but she quickly wiped her expression clean.

“We’ll leave it,” Ellie responded. “It will be a monument to him and an ever-present reminder of what we lost.”

Gordie didn’t need or want a reminder but, for her sake, he just nodded in agreement, and the frozen lightning bolt stood glistening in the morning sun.

3

The Family Secret

The mother-son pair stood in silence for some time. Ellie’s gaze was fixed on her deceased husband while Gordie stared off into nothingness, occasionally casting sideways glances at her. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but he would not interrupt her. She deserved this moment of meditation. Gordie’s grief was still very present, but some of its effects had started to diminish. He still felt sadness, though it was now more of a hollow, empty feeling rather than unbearable pain.

After a few more minutes, Ellie returned from her place of transcendence with a small sigh and addressed her son. “Well . . . we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

All of the questions Gordie had had for Hermes returned in an instant. There were so many things he needed to ask that he did not know where to start, so he just blurted out, “What is going on, Mom?”

“A lot,” she said, “but let’s not stay here to discuss it. We’re going to Grandpa’s house.”

Gordie was a little surprised by her definitive response, but it seemed as good an idea as any, so he accepted it at face value.

Gordie’s grandfather—Ellie’s dad—lived on the west side of Madison. Atalo Anastasios was in his late seventies, but still an impressive physical specimen. He was six and a half feet tall and weighed in at two-hundred-fifty pounds of solid muscle. Atalo was so ripped that he often harassed Gordie about his ‘slight’ figure. It was all in good fun, though. Gordie and his grandfather had always had a close relationship. Atalo attended almost all of Gordie’s baseball games and hung around the house quite often.

Gordie never knew his grandmother because she had died giving birth to his mom. He figured that was the reason his grandpa spent as much time with them as he could: he was lonely. He never asked his mom how she felt about her mother dying from labor complications; it seemed like it would be a sensitive issue. He assumed it was different than losing a mother you never knew, though. He could not bear the thought of losing his mom, especially not now.

“Do you want to drive? Or should I?” Ellie asked. It seemed like such a simple question, but it tasked Gordie. On one hand, he had been so shaken on this day that he was afraid his driving would be unfocused and erratic. On the other hand, he wanted to help his mom, do anything to ease her stress.

She seemed to sense his dilemma and offered to drive, for which he was very thankful. As they headed over to her Honda Accord, he remembered to retrieve his bat. He wasn’t sure why, but he just felt safer having it with him. They settled into Ellie’s sedan and she pulled off the lot to head towards the highway. As they drove away, Gordie took a last look at his car, wondering if he was ever going to come back for it. He sighed, then realized that his mother and he were alone, and he could interrogate her about all that had happened that day.

“Mom, is Hermes actually real? Do the Olympic gods exist?”

“It would seem so, wouldn’t it?”

“He said that he talked to you today,” Gordie continued. “Hermes,” he added in response to her quizzical look.

“Yes, he stopped in to see me. It was the second time we met,” she said, as casually as if she were predicting rain.

“You’ve met him before?!” Gordie asked. “How is that possible? When? Where? Why?”

“A couple days after you were born. He met me on the street as I took my first walk with you. I remember it vividly because I thought he was a crazy homeless man. He told me that I had to keep you safe and that you . . . were special,” she paused, clearly deep in thought. Gordie waited for her to continue her story.

“Of course I didn’t believe him at first, but over time your . . .” she searched for the right word again, “
uniqueness
. . . has become harder and harder to ignore. Even so, I didn’t truly believe him until today.” The look on her face made Gordie question if she did indeed believe.

He waited for her to continue, but she went silent as they mounted the on-ramp to Interstate-90. “What do you mean, my ‘uniqueness?’” he asked, making air quotes.

“You don’t know what I mean?” she asked. “You must’ve noticed that you aren’t a normal teenager.” This stung him a little, which she realized and backtracked. “I don’t mean that you’re weird. You are a sweet, kind, caring, wonderful boy, and I love you desperately. But your strength is not normal. That was clear from your infancy. Every once in a while I would catch you doing pull-ups or handstands, even as young as three months! I couldn’t believe it. One time—I think you were about six months old—you literally jumped into your high chair. Your dad loved it. ‘My boy’s an athlete!’ he yelled.”

Ellie stopped speaking again, but this time Gordie was not waiting to hear more. Her mention of his dad sent the image of his lifeless body flashing across Gordie’s mind, and a fresh bout of grief overtook him. He looked up at her and she was stone-faced again. He thought that reminiscing about his dad had rattled her a little, too. Gordie forced himself to ask more questions to distract them both.

“So I only did these things occasionally? I mean, how often?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “From time to time. They weren’t regular occurrences I guess.”

“Would you say these ‘occurrences’ happened about every twelve days?”

Ellie glanced at him, looking puzzled. “I really don’t know. Why every twelve days? Have you noticed some sort of pattern?”

“Well, not until today. Hermes actually said it . . . something about my ‘being on his calendar every twelve days.’ Is it possible this is some kind of elaborate, insane joke?” Gordie was disappointed by the possibility of this notion.

“No,” she said curtly. “I think that we have to accept that this is real. Or at least labor under the belief that it is until proven otherwise. That’s why we’re going to see my dad.”

“What?!” Gordie’s eyes bulged. “Grandpa knows about this stuff?”

“He raised me on tales of the Olympians. Where did you think I got all those bedtime stories from? He never intimated to me that he believed these myths to be real, though. I’m starting to wonder if there’s something he never told me.”

Gordie couldn’t help but be titillated by the prospect of his grandpa confirming the existence of the Greek pantheon. He had seen his true power that day and wanted nothing more than for it to be real. If his grandfather could affirm this for him, then that would mean he, Gordie, was some kind of
superhero
. Wild visions of jumping over buildings and beating up bad guys swirled in his head. The elation from these fantasies registered on his face, and Ellie must have noticed, because she addressed him with a note of concern in her voice.

“I don’t want you getting carried away, Gordon.” Her use of his name brought him plummeting back to reality. “We have no idea what we are getting into. Before you start dreaming about being Superman just think of what you’ve seen today.”

Gordie could not imagine why she would say such a thing to him. Why would she want to remind him of the horror he had witnessed that day? Why would she want him to dwell on it? The gruesome images came rushing back to him all over again. Gordie squeezed his eyes together so hard to ward them off that the darkness behind his eyelids transformed into a blinding white light. His eyes flew open again and he gasped for air, not realizing that he had been holding his breath. A tear rolled down his cheek.

Ellie said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you, but I want you to remember that this is not a movie. These aren’t comic books. Bad things have already happened to good people and that is something that you can never forget. Don’t allow yourself to be consumed by childish fantasies of glory. There is no glory to be had. I love you and my only purpose in life is to protect you from harm. I will do whatever it takes to do that, even if that means keeping you level-headed. I know what that noggin of yours can do.” She knocked on his head. “You’ve always had a vibrant imagination.” She wrapped up her speech with a loving smile, which made Gordie feel a little better.

“You said I need to think about what I’ve seen today . . .” he pieced his thoughts together as he spoke. “Do you know about what happened at school?”

“I do,” she said. “Hermes told me. He said he watched you pull children from piles of bodies.” Gordie heard this statement catch in her throat and she paused to gather herself. “Then he said he was going to go ‘confer’ with you and told me to wait for you to come meet me. Something made me uneasy. So, after he flew off,” she briefly reflected on this phrase with a slight disbelieving shake of her head, “I hopped in the car and raced straight home.” After another short pause she said, “If what he said about the situation at your school is true, then I’m very sorry you were subjected to that.”

“It is true,” Gordie said with a spark of anger returning. “It was horrible.” He stared out the window, trying to keep a lid on his emotions.

“Then I am very proud of how you handled yourself,” Ellie said. “You’re strong, like your father.” For the first time that day, the thought of Gordie’s father did not slingshot him into despair. Rather, it buoyed his spirits and filled him with pride.

“I am strong,” he acknowledged, “like both my parents.” He smiled at his mom and gave her hand a fleeting grasp. They were now on the highway in Madison, just a few miles away from his grandpa’s house, and would be arriving in less than ten minutes.

They exited the highway and embarked on the last short leg of their journey. They rode in silence as Gordie was deep in thought about so many things, and it appeared his mother was, too. There was one thing he was focused on, which he did not understand. “How does Hermes know about me? And why would he try to protect me?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Ellie replied. “I have the same concern, though. Remember, we are possibly dealing with the supernatural here—it may not do us any good to question the whys and hows. But maybe Grandpa can shed some light on our predicament.” They turned right onto Atalo Anastasios’s street.

His grandpa’s was a nice neighborhood bordered by a small pseudo-forest, almost creating the illusion of a rural setting, despite being a few blocks from a bustling mall. He lived in a modern ranch with white siding and gray trim. It was one of the smaller houses in the neighborhood, but Gordie liked its modernity much more than his family’s old yellow Victorian. Still, his home was home and he had loved it. It pained him to accept the fact that he would never see it again.

They parked in the driveway, and Ellie turned to her son before they exited the car. “You ready?” she asked. The question surprised Gordie. What did he have to be ready for? As far as he was concerned, they were just stopping at his grandpa’s house to talk.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he told her with confidence.

Gordie gripped his bat as they climbed out of the Honda and walked the curving path from the driveway to the front step. They rang the doorbell and heard Atalo’s imposing voice boom from within, “Just a minute!” Gordie wondered if his grandpa thought they were some kind of solicitors. He did not think his grandfather cared much for those touting religion, but he doubted he would be too upset to open the door for Girl Scouts and the delicious treats they’re always hawking.

Atalo opened the door and filled most of the opening. His shirt was covered in sawdust; it seemed he had been doing some woodworking in the garage. Atalo’s face broke into a broad grin when he saw his family. “What a nice surprise,” he chortled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Gordie was delighted to be greeted with a happy voice for the first time in hours. But as he watched his grandfather’s face, the grin disappeared and was replaced with a look of grave concern. He didn’t realize what caused the change at first—until he glanced at his mom and saw the tears streaming down her face.

Now he understood why she had asked if he was ready. Seeing the anguish on his mom’s face shattered Gordie’s world all over again. He would have done anything to take the pain from her. What hurt him even more was that she felt she had to conceal it from him. He thought he was being strong for her, but did not appreciate how strong she was being for him.

Atalo wrapped his daughter in a hug and stroked her hair. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked in alarm, yet with great sweetness. He could be astoundingly gentle for a man of his stature. Ellie was sobbing into his chest with her face in her hands. Gordie willed himself to muster his courage once again because he knew how painful it would be to verbalize the words that were swimming in their heads.

“Dad’s dead.” Gordie had tried to say it casually and calmly, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Atalo’s eyes widened with shock. He reached out an enormous hand and pulled Gordie into the hug. Gordie and his mom remained in Atalo’s embrace, sobbing for five, ten, fifteen minutes. He didn’t say anything. He just held them until they both started to regain composure.

Their collective convulsions became more and more controlled. After their hysteria was reduced to just sniffles, Atalo released them, took a step back, and invited them inside. Gordie and Ellie followed him past the living room, Gordie’s bat still in hand, and into the kitchen/dining room—such a conversation as the one upcoming was not meant for sofas and recliners. Ellie and her son sat at the table, against which Gordie rested his club. She shot him an apologetic look. He looked back at her and said, “I love you, Mom. Everything is gonna be okay.” He doubted that he was very convincing, tear-stained as he was, but she smiled all the same.