Hurricane ~ L. Valdez

2.12 - Buford the Flying Table

       "So that's settled." Annabeth decided, turning to Leo, who was studying his console and listening to Festus creak and click over the intercom. He was biting his cheek, a habit he had absentmindedly picked up when he was concentrating.

       "Leo, how long until we reach Charleston?" I asked, trying to plan our journey and time-frame in my head.

       "Good question," he muttered. "Festus just detected a large group of eagles behind us—long-range radar, still not in sight."

       Piper leaned over the console. "Are you sure they're Roman?" I snorted, and Piper glared at me. Leo rolled his eyes.

       "No, Pipes. It could be a random group of giant eagles flying in perfect formation. Of course they're Roman! I suppose we could turn the ship around and fight—"

       "Which would be a very bad idea," Jason said, "and remove any doubt that we're enemies of Rome."

       "Not to mention," I spoke up, scanning the group, "probably get us killed." I, for one, was not looking to die. (Especially after the promise of cute children and taco garages with my boyfriend.)

       "Or I've got another idea," Leo said. "If we went straight to Charleston, we could be there in a few hours. But the eagles would overtake us, and things would get complicated. Instead, we could send out a decoy to trick the eagles. We take the ship on a detour, go the long way to Charleston, and get there tomorrow morning—"

       My head instantly snapped up to look at Leo. We didn't exactly have time to spare. Leo's brown eyes met my blue ones, as he silently begged me to trust him. As much as I hated it, he had a point. Hazel started to protest, but Leo raised his hand.

      "I know, I know. Nico's in trouble and we have to hurry."

       "It's June twenty-seventh," Hazel said. "After today, four more days. Then he dies."

      "I know! But this might throw the Romans off our trail. We still should have enough time to reach Rome."

       Hazel scowled. "When you say should have enough..." Leo shrugged.

       "How do you feel about barely enough?" I winced. I hated the fact that no matter what we did there was still a chance that Nico might not make it. Hazel put her face in her hands for a count of three.

       "Sounds about typical for us," Hazel finally sighed.

       Annabeth decided to take that as a green light. "Okay, Leo. What kind of decoy are we talking about?"

       "I'm so glad you asked!" He punched a few buttons on the console, rotated the turntable, and repeatedly pressed the A button on his Wii controller really, really fast. I stared with wide eyes, trying to follow his movements. He called into the intercom, "Buford? Report for duty, please."

       Frank took a step back. "There's somebody else on the ship? Who is Buford?" I grinned in anticipation. Leo had been thinking of Buford for ages, and had practically bust with excitement when he finally got to making him. A puff of steam shot from the stairwell, and Leo's (or our as Leo claimed) automatic table climbed on deck. Buford mostly stayed in the engine room, (which Leo insisted was because Buford had a secret crush on the engine.) He was a three-legged table with a mahogany top. His bronze base had several drawers, spinning gears, and a set of steam vents. Buford was toting a bag like a mail sack tied to one of his legs. He clattered to the helm and made a sound like a train whistle.

       "This is Buford," Leo announced.

       "You name your furniture?" Frank asked, causing Leo to snort.