Percy Jackson's Greek Gods (Percy Jackson and the Olympians companion #5.5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,69

Deucalion and Pyrrha were nice people that way. Unfortunately, most of the servants didn’t listen. The king and the queen were getting old, so the servants figured they’d gone senile.

Deucalion and Pyrrha emptied all the old clothes and knickknacks out of the chest to make room for their provisions. The rain started to fall. Within minutes, the sky was nothing but sheets of gray water. Lightning flashed. Thunder shook the earth. In less than an hour, the whole kingdom of Thessaly was swallowed by the flood. Decalion and Pyrrha closed their chest full of supplies, lashed themselves to the lid, and floated right out the attic window.

It wasn’t a comfortable ride, shooting up and down forty-foot swells while the storm raged, chunks of debris swirled past, and the entire world was drowning. The king and queen got salt water up their noses like, a million times. But the wooden chest acted like a life preserver and kept them from going under.

After what seemed like forever, the rain stopped. The clouds broke and the sun came out. The flood slowly receded, and Deucalion and Pyrrha landed their chest on the slopes of Mount Parnassus.

At this point, some of you may be thinking: Hey, a guy escapes a big flood and floats to safety while the rest of the wicked human race drowns. Wasn’t there another story like that? Some dude named Noah?

Yeah, well, every ancient culture seems to have a flood story. I guess it was a pretty massive disaster. Different people remembered it different ways. Maybe Noah and Deucalion passed each other on the sea, and Deucalion was like, “An ark! Two animals of every kind! Why didn’t we think of that?”

And his wife Pyrrha would be like, “Because they wouldn’t fit in this chest, ya moron!”

But I’m just guessing.

Finally the waters sank back into the sea, and the land started to dry out.

Deucalion looked around at the empty hills of Greece and said, “Great. What do we do now?”

“First,” Pyrrha said, “we make a sacrifice to Zeus and ask him never to do this again.”

Deucalion agreed that that was a good idea, because another flood would really suck.

They sacrificed all their remaining food, along with the chest, in a big fire and pleaded with Zeus to spare them from any more power-washings.

Up on Olympus, Zeus was pleased. He was surprised that anyone had survived, but since the first thing Deucalion and Pyrrha did was honor him, he was cool with that.

NO MORE FLOODS, he voice boomed from above. BECAUSE YOU ARE PIOUS PEOPLE AND I LIKE YOU, YOU MAY ASK ANY FAVOR, AND I WILL GRANT IT.

Deucalion groveled appropriately. “Thank you, Lord Zeus! We beg you, tell us how to repopulate the earth! My wife and I are too old to have kids, and we don’t want to be the last humans alive. Let the humans come back, and this time they’ll behave. I promise!”

The sky rumbled. GO TO THE ORACLE AT DELPHI. THEY WILL ADVISE YOU.

It was a long distance, but Deucalion and Pyrrha walked all the way to the Oracle. As it happened, the people of Delphi had been warned about the flood by a bunch of howling wolves. Which god sent the wolves, I don’t know; but the people had climbed the tallest mountain near Delphi and survived the flood, so now they were back in business, dispensing prophecies and whatnot.

Deucalion and Pyrrha went into the cave of the Oracle, where an old lady sat on a three-legged stool, shrouded in green mist.

“Oh, Oracle,” Deucalion said. “Please, tell us how to repopulate the earth. And I don’t mean by having kids, because we’re too old for that nonsense!”

The Oracle’s voice was like the hissing of snakes: When you leave this place, cover your heads and throw the bones of your mother behind you as you go, and do not look back.

“The bones of my mother?” Deucalion was outraged. “She’s dead and buried. I don’t carry her bones around with me!”

I just pronounce the prophecies, the Oracle muttered. I don’t explain them. Now, shoo!

Deucalion and Pyrrha weren’t very satisfied, but they left the Oracle.

“How are we supposed to throw the bones of our mother behind us?” Deucalion asked.

Pyrrha wasn’t sure, but she covered her head with a shawl, then gave her husband an extra scarf so he could do the same, just as the Oracle had ordered. As they walked away, heads bowed, Pyrrha realized that with her shawl over her head, she could only see the