Jake, Son of Zeus - 24 Chapter Twenty-Three

Memories of Rachel curling around him like a boa constrictor, Jake tried to sleep. It hadn’t been easy with the hammer in the apartment, but he found it particularly hard that night. He finally gave up trying to sleep in his room, and grabbing his pillow and blanket, he went to the living room.

E. E. had fallen asleep watching Frasier reruns, and he was still there on the couch, face down now, one leg and arm thrown up over the back of the couch so that he looked like he was holding on in case the couch tried to buck him off. Jake looked longingly at the soft couch before laying out as well as he could in the gray recliner, but after awhile, as the night stretched on and the sounds from the surrounding apartments faded, Jake was glad that E. E. was so close, even if he did have a whistling nasal snore.

E. E.’s whistling fused into a train as Jake fell asleep. The train was speeding up, even though the conductor could see Jake on the tracks, and without the slightest deceleration, the train hit him, lifting him off his feet as it killed him.

Several moments passed before Jake realized that he really was lifted off his feet, though he wasn’t dead yet. The whistling, both snore and train, had stopped, and Jake saw E. E. sitting up on the couch, staring dazedly at the gorilla man that was holding Jake off the floor by the front of his t-shirt.

Hephaestus was an ugly, car-sized man. His filthy skin could hardly contain the steel globes of muscle that swelled his legs and arms and neck. Wires grew from every pore, and the air became stifled by the smells of sulfur and fire and grease and…cinnamon? Jake sniffed. Definitely cinnamon. His tangled black hair fell down past his shoulders and blended in with clothes so sooty and ripped that their material and original color were unknowable.

“My hammer, Indiana Jones,” the beast growled. Jake’s eyes flicked to the hammer, which seemed small in comparison with its wielder. Hephaestus didn’t turn his head, but Jake wasn’t surprised. He could hardly have missed seeing it. Besides, Jake was smart enough not to assume that Hephaestus was obtuse just because he was a giant god with biceps any boxer would cry for. Jake didn’t accept the stereotype that brains and biceps couldn’t coexist, though he secretly believed that it was a little unfair for the universe to grant so much to one person, like the prom king when Jake was a senior at Llano High—Travis Knox, who was also valedictorian, varsity MVP, and quite a poet. Vicious Tricia had hooked up with Travis after the event. The thought of kicking him in the shins still brought a smile to Jake’s face.

Hephaestus gave Jake one tiny shake with his one-handed grasp, just enough for Jake to hear his vertebrae realign, and threw Jake back onto his recliner, where he wondered if he would be allowed to try to go back to sleep anytime soon.

Hephaestus grabbed his hammer and raised it, lifting it over his head like a kid with a new Happy Meal toy, except the kid had godlike wrath and the Happy Meal toy was seconds from evening out the bumps in Jake’s head.

“Uh, Mr. Hephaestus?” E. E. said tentatively.

Hephaestus turned, lowering his hammer a bit. “Yes?” he asked politely.

“I think there are some extenuating circumstances you should be made aware of.”

“Did your friend steal my hammer?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did you help him?”

“No!” Jake and E. E. said at the same time.

Hephaestus turned to Jake with a why-is-this-guy-bugging-me expression, and Jake blurted in desperation, “I’m Zeus’s son, Jake, and the Fates told me to—”

“You looking for diplomatic immunity? Because it doesn’t work like that on this side of Olympus. Besides, your dad and I don’t exactly get along.” Hephaestus had lowered his hammer a little more while he talked, but he raised it again.

“Why?” E. E. asked. Hephaestus stared at him. “Why don’t you and Zeus get along?”

Jake tried to send E. E. a telepathic message: You’re stalling. I get it. But why? It’s not like the police are going to bust in if we delay long enough. Even if they did, it wouldn’t do much good. As it is, you’re just delaying my death a few minutes, and while I appreciate the effort, it’s really unnecessary. I’ve screwed things up so drastically that a few minutes really isn’t long enough to alter anything. But thanks, all the same.

E. E. didn’t answer, but Hephaestus, after a long minute of contemplation, did put his hammer down and take a seat on the ottoman. “To be honest, we didn’t get along from the beginning. I’m Hera’s son, and I have no father, but I—”

“What, like a virgin birth?” E. E. asked.

Hephaestus snorted. “Nah, just like a lot of willpower. Anyway, it’s not like Zeus was my dad, and I know that Hera gave me life just to tick him off, but what’s a little boy to do without a father figure? Then there was the time I split his skull open with an axe. And the time my sentient golden plow made a maze in his marijuana field.”

“You have a long history of not getting along,” E. E. said, nodding in sympathy. “But how much of that is Zeus’s fault? It seems like Hera probably influenced how you thought of Zeus, at least in the beginning. I mean, from what I understand, she bad-mouths him a lot.” E. E. glanced at Jake, who gave a small nod.

Hephaestus stared at his hands. “Yeah. That’s right.”

E. E.’s eyes scanned the carpet, as though looking for something else to say. He almost bounced in his seat when he found it, and for the first time, Jake appreciated the fact that E. E. had wasted four years getting a degree in psychology. “Zeus and Hera, though,” he said. “They have quite a history. Now, it’s awful that they used you against each other, but parents aren’t perfect. Sometimes they do things that they shouldn’t. I’m sure if you asked Hera, she would tell you that she was sorry—”

Jake coughed to get E. E.’s attention and shook his head emphatically.

“And Zeus,” E. E. rushed on. “He should have been there while you were growing up, but you have to forgive him for that. Your anger isn’t hurting him. It’s hurting you. He may not even have realized you needed a dad or thought of him that way.”

Hephaestus put his head in his hands. “Do you have any beer?” he mumbled through his fingers.

E. E. replied, “No. But Jake has a couple of wine coolers. He’ll grab you one.” E. E. looked across Hephaestus’s hulking back and made a phone signal, his thumb to his ear, his little finger to his mouth, the other fingers curled.

Jake waved his hand at E. E.’s signal and mouthed, “No, I’m a moron. I obviously can’t think for myself,” even though E. E. would have no idea what he was trying to say.

Jake walked quietly to the kitchen. They would be able to hear everything he did, so after he grabbed the wine coolers from the refrigerator, he put his hand with the phone in the refrigerator and closed the door as far as he could to muffle the sound and dialed Z-E-U-S. He couldn’t risk talking, but he left the phone in the doorway as he carried the wine coolers back to the living room. He just had to make sure that his father heard enough to know he was in trouble.

“Here you go, Hephaestus,” Jake said loudly, handing over the wine cooler. “Please don’t kill me.”