Merry Christmas everyone! Continued thanks for all your kind reviews. I'll be without a computer or internet for a few days next week, so this may be the last update until around New Year's. Anyways, on to the story. As usual, I don't own anything. Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games. Caisha702 and BNTN inspired me with their stories, and I probably would never have gotten this far without their support.
Chapter 7
Complete and utter shock. That is my reaction to Beetee's proposal. Me? Ally with the Careers? Those are the six people in all of Panem that I most desperately want to avoid! Not to mention, at least half of them have already threatened me with a painful death if I were to cross paths with them in the arena. My mentor has lost his mind. No, check that – he never intended to help me all along. He just wants to get me killed.
When I finally locate my voice, this is what I say: "You're joking."
"Certainly not. Allow me to explain the logic behind my decision. Firstly, we are banking our hopes on your ability to retrieve certain items that will be located at the Cornucopia. Can you acquire these items immediately and flee the Bloodbath?"
Of course not. The items in question are buried in a vast circle around the Cornucopia.
"No."
"No. You will not survive the Bloodbath if you attempt to acquire these items immediately. So you must return to the Cornucopia later and hope to access them. Now, where does the Career alliance almost always make camp for the first few days?"
"Near the Cornucopia."
"And why is that?"
"Because all the supplies are there."
"Correct. The Gamemakers generally provide enough supplies for all twenty four tributes to last several days. However, because of the Bloodbath, the supplies are not distributed evenly. Over ninety percent of the supplies will be controlled by six tributes. It would take much effort to move all the supplies to a remote location."
"Sometimes they have to." When the Gamemakers have been cruel enough to provide no water source in the vicinity of the Cornucopia, forcing all tributes to locate water, the Careers set up camp at the first water location they can find. Then there's hours of trudging back and forth moving all the food and most of the weapons and other supplies. Of course, this takes time and energy away from the Careers, which would otherwise be spent hunting tributes. Since it's rare for Others to fight amongst themselves in the first few days, it makes for pretty boring television. Unless the arena itself is interesting enough to make up for it. So usually the Gamemakers keep things easy for the Careers.
"Are you willing to commit your survival on the remote possibility that the Careers will set up camp elsewhere? What will you do if that doesn't happen?"
"Wait for them to leave?" I suggest without much hope.
"Well, the Careers certainly will leave to go hunting. But will they be foolish enough not to leave a guard for their supplies? The odds are almost nil." Beetee speaks with the authority of one who has anticipated all my objections and has prepared a rebuttal for each of them. "This would leave you with two possibilities. Either you create a diversion of sufficient intensity to occupy the guard for the length of time required for you to obtain what you need, or you defeat the guard in single combat. Are either of these feasible?"
I shake my head. I would need fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to dig up just one of the land mines and flee the scene. Working alone with virtually no supplies, there's no way I could engineer something that could buy me that much time. And the idea of me ambushing and killing a trained Career is laughable. Besides, even if by some miracle I managed it, the unexpected cannon would probably bring the rest of the pack back to the Cornucopia immediately.
"It is true that later on in the Games, once much of the food has been consumed, the Careers will abandon their camp and go on the hunt full time. However, you would have to both survive on your own in the wild, and avoid the Careers long enough to implement your plan. How do you intend to do so? You have demonstrated very little in terms of both survival skills and fighting techniques. Our sponsorship prospects are poor, at least until you reveal your plan to the audience."
With that, Beetee has swiftly eliminated all my other options.
"Now let us consider the benefits of my proposed plan. If you are accepted into the Career alliance, you will not have to worry about them hunting you. You will also gain access to their food and water. Most importantly, you will have all the time you need to tinker with your weapons and get them to work."
"But why would they agree to ally with me?"
"You can provide an invaluable service to them. You can offer protection for their supplies, allowing all of them to hunt."
This may be true, but Careers have protected their supplies just fine for years without the help of land mines. "How can we be sure they'll say 'yes'?"
"We cannot be sure of anything in the Games. However, we have systematically ruled out your alternatives. Sometimes the greatest reward comes with the highest risk. Have you heard of the term 'gambit'?"
I shake my head.
"It is a strategic move sometimes used in a game of chess. The player sacrifices a pawn early in the game in order to gain an advantage later. It is a high-risk maneuver, but the rewards can be high. Let us consider your situation. If the Careers accept our proposal, you gain the advantages that we have discussed. If they reject it, you die immediately. However, if you choose an alternate strategy, you will still almost certainly die. So what are you actually risking?"
A couple of extra days of life. Maybe. Spent in hunger and thirst. And in fear of the inevitable end when the Careers or some wild predator discovers me. Beetee has a point.
Beetee continues with his lecture. "We cannot be sure, but I believe our gambit has a good chance of success. Remember, the Games will be an ordeal for the Careers as well. The more efficient they can be in hunting down and eliminating the other tributes, the sooner they will be able to sit in the Victor's Chair. That is how they think."
At the mention of this, a potential problem occurs to me. "Eventually, they'll turn on me."
"Not if you betray them first. It may take all of your wits, but I believe an opportunity will arise for you to eliminate all of them in a single blow. Remember what we discussed about sponsors?" I nod. "One or two gifts of the proper strategic value may be all you need to incapacitate the Careers long enough for you to take them out."
It's tempting, so tempting. The idea that I could be the one to wipe out the hated Careers. I would become a hero amongst the Other districts. Even if I were to die later on, I would never be forgotten. But the thought of trying to match wits with the six most dangerous tributes in the Games is terrifying. Especially Psycho Knife Girl. This plan is crazy. Can it really be my only option? I'm overwhelmed with the conflicting emotions.
"This can't be the only way."
"I have yet to think of a better one."
"Then keep thinking!" He can't really be telling me to do this. I'll never survive being around the Careers. I don't know why, but I feel a sudden urge to be anywhere else but here. Without even thinking, I stand up and bolt for the door. But Beetee has other plans. Moving with surprising speed for someone his age, he cuts me off at the doorway and forces me to sit back down.
"Calm down, Maxell. We can consider other options, but the decisions we make now must be based on logic and not emotion."
Easy for you to say. You're not the one who will be risking his life.
"I know that I am asking a lot from you, but I truly believe that this is the best course of action." Beetee sighs. "Perhaps we should adjourn for the evening. You can think about it overnight, see if there's something I overlooked. Then you can make a final decision tomorrow morning."
"I have a choice?"
"Of course. I am your mentor, not your master. It is my duty to prepare you and assist you in your endeavor, but it is your life that is at risk, not mine. Once you enter the arena, you will have to make decisions on your own. You will have to decide whether to trust the plan wholeheartedly, because you will not execute it properly if you do not. I prefer that you make the decision beforehand, so we can work on alternative options if you really think that they have a better likelihood of success."
Beetee escorts me to my room and leaves me to my thoughts. As I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take me, I play through all the different possible scenarios in my head. Running away from the Cornucopia and trying to survive on my own for more than a week before coming back and hoping the Careers have departed. Hiding out in the vicinity of the Cornucopia so I can try to sneak in and steal a mine. Or even trying to dig one up right away and hope I'm overlooked in the chaos of the Bloodbath. But no matter how farfetched the idea, I can't shake the feeling that Beetee probably has already considered and rejected it.
After I fall asleep, the scenarios come to life in the form of my dreams. Time and again, the alternatives end in my death, whether at the hands of the Careers, or the teeth of wild animals, or by starvation or thirst. The inescapable conclusion is that Beetee's plan is the only one with any possibility of success. It goes against every one of my instincts, but by the time I wake in the morning, I realize that I must trust Beetee's wisdom and devote myself to following his plan.
Breakfast is a quiet affair. Pixie has a dead look in her eyes again, and there's nothing that Beetee and I can discuss in front of the others. Today is the third and final day of training, and we will be having our private workouts for the Gamemakers this afternoon. The strategy for me is to deliberately aim for a low score, but that's not something that I am going to share with Pixie. If Wiress has given her any kind of plan, she isn't going to share it with me, either. We are one day closer to the Games, which means we are one day closer to becoming adversaries.
When we split up for the private mentoring session after breakfast, I tell Beetee that I have accepted his plan. We spend most of the hour discussing how best to approach the Careers and give them our proposal. Talking to them before the Games start is out of the question, because I must not tip off the Gamemakers about my land mine idea. There will be no opportunity to talk at the Bloodbath – amidst the chaos, the Careers kill first and ask questions later. We finally decide that the best course of action will be to flee the Bloodbath immediately and attempt to survive for a day or two with whatever minor items I might be able to acquire. Then I will aim to return to the Cornucopia while the majority of the Careers are out hunting, and make my proposal to the one left guarding the supplies. If he rejects my proposal, I will almost certainly die, but the odds of my escape would be slightly better than if I were surrounded by the entire pack.
All too soon, it's ten o'clock and time to head down to the gymnasium. Beetee reminds me of our plan to go for a low training score. I now understand why this is important; the weaker I seem to the Careers, the less they will suspect that I am capable of having a plan to turn the tables on them.
I spend much of the morning at a station for making your own weapons out of materials that might be available in the arena. For those who do not have the stomach to brave the Bloodbath, being able to make your own spears out of tree branches or even fashioning a crude bow could mean the difference in your survival. The tiny girl from District 11 joins me at the station and practices making slingshots out of vines. I do my usual peek around the room. The feud between boys from Two and Four has continued to grow; several times they are literally on the verge of breaking the rules and physically fighting, before being stopped by assistants. Vincent is chatting up the boy from District 9; at this rate, by the time the Games start he may have treaties with every single Other in the arena. I scan the rest of the tributes and don't see anything of note.
A whistle from the head trainer signals the end of our two and half days of training. I have attempted less than half of the available stations. The lunchroom is filled with tension as we all await our turn to show off our skills to the Gamemakers. Even the Career table is uncharacteristically silent. It suddenly occurs to me that I might be the most relaxed tribute in the entire room – a pleasant side effect of Beetee's plan. Everyone else is feeling the pressure of having to perform their best in order to impress the Gamemakers, because their lives may depend on their training scores. My goal is to make a fool of myself, so I have nothing to worry about.
Before long, an assistant appears and calls the name of the boy from District 1. We are going in district order again, so that means I'll be fifth. Right after District 2. The private sessions average around fifteen minutes each, so it takes a little over an hour before they call my name. None of the tributes who have completed their sessions return to the dining room.
Finally an assistant calls "Maxell Dyson!" Mindful that all remaining eyes are on me, I try to act as hesitant as possible as I approach the door to the gymnasium. It's not that hard to pretend, since I'm not exactly looking forward to embarrassing myself in front of the Gamemakers.
As I walk through the doors into the training room, I am greeted by a sight of absolute chaos. Avoxes are frantically scrubbing the far wall clean of what looks to be brightly colored paint of some sort. Assistants at most of the weapons stations are slumped in chairs, breathing heavily as though they were trying to recover from great exertion. As I watch with wide eyes, an Avox pulls a knife out of the dummy at the spear-throwing station, which is nowhere near the knife station. I look up at the Gamemakers, and see no sign that they are even aware of my arrival. Most are scribbling furiously away at their notes or jabbering excitedly to each other about what score to give "her".
Oh. They're talking about Psycho Knife Girl.
Knife Girl must have really put on a show for them to get so excited. Or, judging from the wall that the Avoxes have just finished cleaning, she broke down and went completely mental. Thinking about her cold confidence in all her interactions so far during training, however, I decide that the second possibility is highly unlikely.
At this moment, it occurs to me what a ridiculous disadvantage it is being from District 3. If my goal had been to try and get a good training score, I would have been totally doomed by my position. The Gamemakers have just seen four Careers show off their lifetime of training, and the other two will perform right after Pixie finishes. No wonder Beetee's been trying for years to get people to train ahead of time. Even if you were the best of the Others, your score would be weakened in comparison to the Careers. And if you were somewhere in the middle, you'd be completely forgotten. At least if District 12 shows something impressive, they'll have the advantage of being the last thing the Gamemakers saw. My thoughts drift to Matt, and Haier, and my other friends back home. If my some miracle I do win this, the first thing I'm going to do when I get home is to make them all start training.
I'm brought back to reality by one of the assistants signaling for me to start. I look up at the Gamemakers one more time. They seem to have stopped discussing Knife Girl, but now most of them are getting more food from the buffet table. I sigh to myself. Let's get this debacle over.
I go to the survival stations first, figuring that even if my goal was to get a low score, I could at least use the practice. I'm actually pretty confident about the edible plants, but I deliberately mix up a couple to ensure that I won't accidentally get a perfect score on that test. I build a decent shelter, but I fail completely at trying to light a fire.
My next step is the weapons stations. They're about as humiliating as I expect them to be. It would be one thing if I had a particular skill and was deliberately hiding it, but the Gamemakers are probably used to that tactic. No, I try my hardest, and end up getting my butt thoroughly kicked by assistants who are only partially recovered from District 2. I only manage to hit the dummy with one out of five spears, and the hit is so weak that it bounces off and clatters to the ground. The worst is the knife throwing. I don't hit a single target, and most of my knives hit the wall handle-first so they wouldn't have caused damaged even if they were on target.
Having finished with the weapons, I look at the Gamemakers again. Most are still not paying any attention to me, and the few faces aimed in my direction have looks of embarrassment and pity for me. Finally one of them nods to dismiss me, and an Avox beckons me to the elevator. I leave the room quickly, pondering whether I might have just achieved the impossible and earned a training score of One. The one positive is that I might have been so dismal that Pixie's performance might appear better in comparison. I know only one of us can win, but I can't help wishing the best for my district partner. In the very likely event that I fail, she's the one that I would want to win. But then the realist in me reminds me that she has even less of a chance than I do.
Beetee, Wiress and Verity Phillips are waiting for me when I reach the third floor. "So, how did it go?" Verity asks.
Everything went according to plan. But I'm not sure whether I should discuss the plan with Wiress and Verity around. I look at Beetee. He gives a very slight shake of his head, as if in answer to my unspoken question.
I try to make my voice glum. "I think I'm going to get a bad score."
"Now, now, don't think like that! If you focus some positive energy on the Gamemakers, I'm sure you'll get a decent score!" Are all Capitol escorts as out of touch with reality as Verity is? I ponder.
A few minutes later, the elevator bell rings. I only get one glimpse of Pixie as she rushes down the hall and slams the door to her room. She's completely in tears. Verity Phillips and Wiress head down the hall to try to talk her out, leaving me alone in the sitting room with Beetee. "Well?" he asks.
I tell him everything: what stations I did, how poorly the weapons went, and how many of the Gamemakers didn't even pay attention because they were so excited about District 2. "I think I might have the worst score." I manage a half smile.
"Very good. Everything is going according to plan. Now we wait to see how everyone else scored."
With 18 more tributes yet to perform, we have several hours of free time. Beetee and I discuss details of our plan for a while. When Verity and Wiress return to the sitting room after failing to retrieve Pixie, however, Beetee dismisses me so the mentoring team can discuss what to do about her.
I spend the rest of the afternoon laying in my bed, eating fancy snacks that I ordered off the menu board in my room. My thoughts keep turning to Pixie, though. I know I shouldn't care about her, but I can't help it. I've grown accustomed to her in the past few days, and I just wish I could do something to give her a little bit of hope.
By dinner Pixie seems to have cried herself out. She's very subdued as we move to the television room to watch the training scores. The seal of Panem appears on the screen while the anthem plays. Then a Capitol announcer comes on the screen and starts babbling for what seems like an eternity. Then another announcer is introduced who shares his predictions for the scores, and gives us the betting statistics so we all know "what Panem thinks!" If there's one thing that Capitol television is good at, it's wasting time. Why can't they just get on with it? I know. Because they have a half-hour timeslot to fill, and just showing the scores would take less than five minutes.
After an excruciatingly long time, they cut away from the announcers and the boy from District 1 appears on screen. Then they flash his score underneath. Eight. That's usually a great score for the Others, but not particularly impressive for a Career. Doll Face scores a nine. Then the pair from District 2 upstage her by each scoring tens.
Then it's our turn. I know that it's all part of the plan, but the three that flashes up under my photograph is still like a punch to my gut. Pixie's matching three is a far worse blow to her, however. I tense myself in anticipation of more waterworks from her, but instead she just gets an empty expression on her face. Like a corpse. As if all the life had drained out of her.
District 4 is next, and both tributes score eights. That means each of the Careers can singlehandedly beat our district's combined score by 33%. This is why none of us ever seem to live past the Bloodbath.
The boy from District 5 matches the threes scored by Pixie and me, but the redhead scores a six. That's a very good score for a girl who according to Pixie failed every single station that she tried. The tributes from Districts 6 through 10 all score between four and six. I notice Vincent's on the high end of that group with a six.
Then the surprises begin. The giant boy from District 11 scores a ten, putting him in a three-way tie with District 2 for the highest training score. I know his size gives him an advantage, but I can't recall a single notable thing that he did during training. Then the tiny girl scores a seven. A seven! From a twelve-year-old! She has more than doubled our scores. I'm beginning to feel less and less confident about my chances, even if everything goes according to plan.
The Boy on Fire is next, and he scores an eight, which is an exceptional score coming from District 12. That score puts him level with half the Careers! But I don't have much time to ponder the boy, because the next thing I know it's the girl's turn. And for the third time since I got on the train from District 3, her image on the television screen is directly connected to an event that rocks my world:
The Girl on Fire scores an eleven.