11
Sixty seconds. That's how long we have to wait. Step off the plate before that, and you'll be blown to pieces by the explosives buried in the dirt.
I said before I'm always aware of where she is when we're in the same vicinity, and now, it comes in more useful than ever before. Katniss is about five tributes to my left, and she's staring at the golden horn with longing in her eyes. She's practically drooling over the thing.
Oh no, I think, oh no no no!
I shake my head, praying she'll look at me, and maybe take the hint. She's not getting near that thing. Not if I can help it. And then she does look at me with five seconds to go, but the sun's in her eyes and she can't quite see me clearly. The gong rings, and she hesitates. I know I've distracted her enough for her to rethink whatever plan she had of diving in. She looks furious, but recovers quickly enough to grab a sheet of plastic, and then reach for an orange backpack at the same time the boy from 9 does. They struggle for a moment and I watch, terrified, then a knife appears in his back. I whip around, looking for the thrower.
The girl from Two, Clove, has the knives in her hand and a gleam in her eye, and I know exactly who her next target will be. I sprint to her, and slam into her at the exact instant she throws the next knife. And all I can do is pray it hasn't hit Katniss, because Clove is now on top of me, scrabbling for another knife, her hands around my throat. I struggle to breathe for a few moments and to get her hands off of me, her grip is tight, but I'm stronger than her, and I throw her off. I look over to find Katniss, and I see her disappear into the woods with the orange backpack.
I sigh in relief, but my distraction has been enough for Clove to get the upper hand. She slams on top of me, pinning me to the ground face-down. I struggle, but she's got both my arms pinned with her knee in the middle of my back and her hand gripping my hair, pulling my head up painfully, her nails digging in my scalp.
"Well, lover boy," she says nastily in my ear, pressing her knife to my throat. I wince, waiting to see the blood spurt from my neck. "Let's see how heroically you die, then, shall we?"
The blade presses itself into my skin, and I feel the sting of the cut and warm blood trickle down my neck.
"Clove, no!" shouts a boy. "We need him alive!"
Clove growls irritably, but does not release me nor withdraw her knife, and for a moment I'm scared she's not going to listen to a word the boy says, but then she draws her knife back with a grunt.
"You lucked out this time, lover boy," she growls, slamming my face into the ground and releasing me, then thumping the knife into the ground between my fingers. I scrabble up quickly, grab the knife, slap my hand over my neck. I spring back, readying myself for a fight. Clove's already moved on and has killed two more tributes, leaving a pile of bodies in her wake.
I steady myself, and look around. There's blood all over the place. It's not an exaggeration that they call it the bloodbath. My boots are already a quarter of an inch deep in the stuff. The boy who shouted, Cato, is hacking away at the boy from 7 with a sword, who's putting up a pretty good fight, but is doomed to fail because a second later is beheaded. I turn my head away, feeling sickened at the sight.
Then I'm attacked. The boy from 8. His flashing white teeth are all I see for a moment as he tackles me. He tries to bring me down, but I've managed to hold steady and push him off. He backs away, snarling at me. I've got a knife, and so does he. He's about the same size as me. We're on level footing. But I bet he hasn't been chucking around hundred pound bags of flour his whole life.
We circle one another, each looking for an opening. He snarls, and jumps at me, stabbing his knife, I bring my arm up, and block him, but the knife has brushed my skin, and broken it. I gasp in pain, and the boy punches me in the face, knocking me back.
I get a running start and push him back, almost knocking him over. But he's as solid as a rock. I'm able to hold him there, hand gripped tightly around the hand holding his knife. One slice. Two. I've cut him in the back of the leg and the back before he can retaliate. He howls in pain, and pushes me off him. He snarls, and throws himself at me again.
We wrestle for a few minutes, each struggling desperately to get the upper hand and avoid the other's knife, until I slip on the blood on the ground, and he falls on top of me. I've got ahold of the hand his knife is in, and I try to knock it from him, but he's got a good grip on it. I knee him in the abdomen, and he wheezes, winded, and drops the knife. I take advantage and roll on top of him, slamming him into the ground. I bring the knife to his throat. His eyes go wide with terror, and I hesitate.
For a moment we stare at each other, neither knowing if I will actually kill him or not. It's like my hand has frozen. Do it! I tell myself fiercely. Kill him! He'd kill you! But still my hand will not draw the blade across his throat. "I'm sure I'll kill like anyone else when the time comes. I can't go down without a fight." My words on the roof come back to me now, taunting me.
My hesitation is all he needs to turn this around on me, and wraps his leg around mine, twisting it painfully, and slams me back into the ground. I gasp in pain, surprised at how quickly the tables have turned, and he grins, knowing he's got me. I stare up at him in disbelief. His hands close around my throat . . .
And then an arrow whizzes through the back of his head and out his eye, and I'm splattered with blood. I stare in shock, then recover enough to throw him off me. I look up to see who's saved me. Glimmer, the girl from 1. She snarls at me, trying, I think, to smile, but she looks more angry than anything. She walks to the boy to retrieve her arrow and I get up, gripping my leg as a wave of pain hits my knee. It's twisted and is probably going to hurt for a while.
"Watch your ass," she growls. I nod in agreement. That's twice now I've had to have a Career save me. I've been careless. They must want me pretty bad. Not me, I correct myself, Katniss.
Glimmer turns away from me, and raises the bloody arrow. She lets it fly, and it hits the girl from 7 in the chest. She drops the dagger and pack she had been holding, and stares at us in shock before the life goes out of her eyes and she falls over, dead.
Glimmer and I back into each other, preparing to fight back-to-back. I'm surprised she wants to work with me, given Clove's earlier attitude. But I guess her desire to stay alive, or keep me alive, is stronger than her disgust at a boy from 12.
"Here she comes," says Glimmer in a sing-song voice, and I hear the twang! of her bow twice. I look over my shoulder to see the girl from 3 with arrows sticking out of her head and her chest before she falls to the ground. A shudder runs through me that has nothing to do with the death that surrounds me. I realize that these people really are cold-blooded killers. And Glimmer has reminded me of a twisted version of Katniss, what with the singing and the bow and arrows.
I turn back around and examine the area around the Cornucopia. The boys from 4 and 5 are fighting viciously. They're pretty evenly matched, though the Career is a lot less bloodthirsty than the boy from 5, and it's all the advantage 5 needs. He stabs the Career in the shoulder, blood spurting all over his face, laughing manically. The Career drops to the ground, dead as a doornail.
And then Five turns to me, his face wild, an insane look in his eye. I freeze, shocked and terrified. This boy no longer looks human. He sprints at me, his knife raised, howling wildly. Before he can even touch me I react out of instinct, and stab him in the throat.
He chokes, coughing blood in my face, staring at me with just as much shock as I stare at him. His face is burned into my memory forever. Wide blue eyes. Muddy brown hair. Pale skin, growing paler as the blood spills from him. He's human once again now that he's dying. The first person, the first living thing, I have ever killed in my life.
Slowly, he raises his hand to the knife in his neck, and realizes he's going to die. I'll never forget his expression. It will haunt me until my dying day. His hand grips at my jacket, his eyes pleading, terrified, blood pouring from his mouth and his neck. But there's nothing I can do that's not already done. And then he goes limp, and slides to the ground, dead. I stare in shock, not able to breathe. His blood is all over me. My face. My jacket. My hands. His blood is on my hands.
Glimmer turns around, and I realize she's been watching me.
"Welcome to the club," she says, grinning.
I can't look at her. I can't tear my eyes off the body at my feet. The blood pools around my boots, and I take a step away, horrified at what I've done.
Glimmer kneels down, and takes the knife from the dead boy's neck. She hands it to me. It's slippery and warm with blood.
"Breathe," she says firmly. I do as she commands, gasping for air, and some of the shock wears off. I'm able to look away from the boy to Glimmer, who looks amused. "You've never killed anything before, have you?" she says. I shake my head numbly. She laughs and pats me on the back. "First time for everything." And I wonder if she's ever killed anything before the last few minutes.
I look around, and notice that the bloodbath is over. Everyone's dead except the Careers, myself, and oddly the boy from 3. I wonder why they left him alive. He must have some kind of value to the Careers, like myself, or they would have killed him, but I can't think what that might be.
Cato and Marvel are picking over the bodies for anything useful, and Clove is pulling a knife out of the dead body of the boy from 6. The boy from 3 is sitting on the ground, panting, trying to catch his breath. The girl from four is kneeling besides her dead counterpart, her head down.
I wipe the blood off my face, though it does little good. My arm throbs in pain, and I look down to see the cut bleeding profusely. I grasp it tightly.
Glimmer's noticed.
"Marvel!" she shouts. The hulking boy turns around from where he is at the Cornucopia. "Toss me a first aid kit, will ya?"
Marvel scowls, and turns back to the pile, digs for a minute, then brings over a case. Glimmer opens it.
"Here," she says, taking out some bandages and turning to me. She takes my arm, rolls up my sleeve, and bandages the cut carefully. Now she really reminds me of Katniss and it's freaking me out a little bit. She's like if Katniss had an evil twin sister.
"Thanks," I say when she's finished. She grunts in acknowledgement, and goes to the pile. Marvel gives me a contemptuous look, and follows her.
Then the cannons go off. Eleven dead in all. One by my own hand.
"Let's clear out so they can clean this mess up," says Cato when the final bang goes off. He leads us away, to the lake, and we all turn back to watch the hovercrafts appear out of thin air. It will take them a while to pick up all the bodies…and pieces… so Cato turns away, disinterested, and scoops up some water from the lake, washing his face of blood and sweat.
I look back. The hovercraft's pulled up the lone head of the boy Cato killed. I feel sick to my stomach and barely keep myself from puking at the sight.
"Toughen up, buttercup," hisses Glimmer in my ear. "The wolves watch for weakness."
I swallow hard, and turn away from the Cornucopia. She's right. Clove is watching me, clearly frustrated. She's going to be a problem. She obviously wants me dead, and it's only Cato's insistence I stay alive keeping her from killing me. I keep my face hard, and kneel, wiping my blade clean in the grass, staining the green leaves red.
I look up to see Cato staring at me, frowning.
"Take a picture," I say irritably. "It'll last longer."
Instead of punching me, like I expect him to, he grins, though it does not reach his eyes.
"Sadly, I don't think they put any cameras in the Cornucopia . . . at least, any they're not using."
Cato watches me as I get up, stick the knife in my belt, and go to the lake. I watch them all for any signs of sudden movement out of the corner of my eye. Even if Cato wants me alive, there's no guarantee the rest of them won't stick a knife in my back. I remove the bandages from my hands and wash the blood off them in the water. They're already healed except for tiny, puckering scars. The Capitol has some pretty powerful medicine.
I turn back around to find all the Careers staring at me.
"You best mind your p's and q's, Lover Boy," says Cato, twirling his sword as he tosses it in the air. "I doubt I could stop any of my friends killing you right now. You've used your get out of jail free card. Give me one good reason I shouldn't slice you right here and now."
"Well—"
"Let me answer that for you," he says, and I barely have time to react. I draw my knife just in time and it collides with his sword with a loud metallic clang. My heart thumps wildly with the rush of adrenaline. He's swung the sword at my neck, almost beheading me. His teeth gleam as he leers at me. "And if your answer doesn't match mine, then you're dead."
I tense, nervous. If it comes down to a fight, I'm at a serious disadvantage. Not only does Cato have a sword and I have only a knife, I'm outnumbered six to one. My only chance lies in answering his question exactly the way he wants. And I think I know what it is.
"Okay," I say. I keep my face hard, staring him down so he doesn't think he scares me. He pushes against my knife aggressively, snarling.
"Your answer better be 'I'll lead you to that silly, spinning, airheaded girl from my district, or, I'll lead her to you.'" I open my mouth to answer, but he stops me, pushing against me again. His sword is so close now it brushes my scalp. "Remember, you're dead."
"I will," I lie smoothly. I know what I'm about to say might possibly blow the whole star-crossed lovers thing, but I'm sure I can make up for it later. If I live that long. I place my face closer to his, putting a convincing look of hate on my face, and snarl "I want the bitch dead more than you do."
I'm relieved when he looks satisfied. He slides his sword off my knife flashily, and swings it a couple of times in his hand, turning away me. I look around to see the Careers are smirking.
"Well, well, well," says Clove, who seems the most amused by my statement. "Mister high-and-mighty is just as human as the rest of us. What happen, she reject you?"
I don't answer. Clove bursts out in hysterical laughter.
"They're finished," says the boy from three, pointing towards the Cornucopia. We all look to it, and, sure enough, the air above it is clear. Three is the first to get up and go to it. We follow him.
I take up the rear, and, now that I know no one can see me but the cameras, and I know they're most likely on my face given what I said, I let my true feelings show on my face. I try to look relieved enough with just a touch of worry so the audience might believe I lied when I said I wanted Katniss dead.
"Alright," says Cato when we get to the Cornucopia and stand before the hoard of supplies. "If Three here," he points at Three with his sword, "can get the explosives reactivated like he said he could—"
"Reactivated?" I ask, somewhat shocked and confused. "Wait, what do you mean, reactivated? You can do that?"
Three looks amused, but doesn't answer. He kneels down near where I'm sure there was a plate that held a tribute, and Cato tosses him a small shovel from the pile. Three starts to dig, and dig . . . until he's about two or three inches into the ground. Then he sticks his hand into the upturned soil, and pulls out a shiny object about the size of a lemon.
Everyone's quiet as we watch him fiddle with it. After a few minutes, we hear a tiny beep and a light comes on. Three smiles in triumph and the Careers let out celebratory whoops, thumping Three on the back.
"Alright then!" says Cato loudly, pumping his fist in the air. "Here's what we're going to do. My boy from three here, and Glimmer, are going to dig up the rest of the bombs. The rest of us are going to move the supplies over to the lake, except for Clove. I want you to take the first watch."
Clove nods her assent and the rest of us follow suit.
"Good," says Cato. He gestures to the lake. "We're going to put them near the lake in one, big, organized pile surrounded by the explosives when Three's got them all reactivated. We've got to sort them first, though. We'll make four piles—one for food, one for medicine, one for supplies like containers and bags or miscellaneous items, and one for weapons. Got it?"
We all nod again. I wonder what the audience must make of this, especially the Capitol. They can't be too pleased with the fact that we've outsmarted them and managed to reactivate the explosives, but maybe the plan for keeping the supplies safe has enough entertainment potential for the Gamemakers to leave it alone.
"Good, then, let's get going."
Our work takes up most of the day. It's tedious and slow-going. Slowly but surely, piles of supplies start to form, and every time we return to the Cornucopia the mound of shiny bombs grows bigger. We stop twice to eat, and switch guards whenever someone needs a break. The sun moves across the sky, and I can't help but wonder where Katniss is. If she's alright. If she's safe. If she found water like Haymitch told us to. I know she's alive because I haven't heard a canon blast, and she's too much of a survivor to die on the first day.
When the sun's at the horizon, turning everything a brilliant orange, we've finally finished. We stand by to admire our handiwork.
Most of the supplies are in a pile, surrounded by the hidden explosives. Seven backpacks containing essentials like food and water have been set aside, one for each of us.
"Now what?" I ask, after the sun's disappeared behind the horizon.
"Now," says Cato, pulling out a pair of what I thought were sunglasses, but are apparently really night-vision glasses, and putting them on. "We go hunting."
'Hunting,' as it turns out, doesn't mean for food. It means for other tributes. We leave Three to keep watch over the supplies, and we start our search in the woods. The direction Katniss went. I want to tell them we should start somewhere else, but I know I'm not the only one who knows that's where she went.
"First," explains Glimmer to me in a low voice as we walk. "We'll have to weed out the idiots. The easy pickings. The young ones, the ones who scored low in training . . . the ones that are stupid enough to start fires tonight."
We've been walking for about an hour when we hear the anthem. We all stop despite the fact we already know who's dead, and look up to the sky. To the giant screen that displays first the seal of Panem and then the faces of the dead tributes. When the face of the boy I killed pops into the sky, I feel a jolt of powerful guilt that doesn't fade even when the screen goes dark and the stars show up again.
We keep walking, and walking, and walking. I'm incredibly tired. I didn't get much sleep last night. But I don't complain. Besides, there's no way I could sleep anyway. Not when they're hunting for tirbutes, and despite what Glimmer said I know they'll keep an eye out for Katniss and kill her if they get the chance. And then me, because I'll have run out my usefulness.
"Bingo," whispers Cato, and from the light of our flashlights and torches I can see his grin. I look up ahead, and there's a bright, dancing fire.
The Careers draw their weapons, and I follow suit, though the last thing I want to do is kill someone else. But what choice do I have? What if this person is Katniss? I doubt that. Katniss is too smart to be lighting a fire when the Careers are on the prowl. But does she know that?
I prepare myself to fight, not this person who lit a fire, but the Careers. Just in case.
The Careers break into a run when a shadow moves across the fire. I follow suit and bring up the rear again. The person who lit the fire's a girl, and she squeals when she hears us coming. Instead of running, she stupidly tries to put out the fire with her boot. I'm relieved when we get closer. It's clearly not Katniss. Or Rue, who I was also worried it might be. I'd hate to have to kill that little girl or watch her die.
At the last minute, the girl comes to her senses and tries to flee, screaming, but it's too late. Marvel speeds up, and catches her, throwing her down roughly. The Careers circle around her, but I hang back, hoping not to be noticed either by the girl or the Careers, who have quite clearly forgotten me at the prospect of fresh blood.
"Well, well, look what we have here," says Cato, leering down at the girl, grabbing her roughly by her jacket. She starts crying. I look away from the scene, feeling incredibly guilty.
"You're not cold, are you?" taunts Clove.
"P-Please—" the girl whimpers. "Please, d-don't hurt me!"
The Careers laugh, and Cato unsheathes his sword, waving it in the girl's face.
"P-Please!"
But her pleading is not going to do any good. Cato stabs her in the stomach, and she screams in agony. Cato drops her unceremoniously on the ground, and they start congratulating one another.
"Twelve down and eleven to go!" says Marvel triumphantly.
"Let's see if she's got anything good," says Glimmer, checking the girl over, and scowling when she finds nothing. "Stupid little bitch," she grumbles, kicking the girl in the side. I thought she was dead, but she winces, and I know she thinks her only chance of survival at the moment is to play dead. She's smarter than I gave her credit for.
Luckily I'm the only one that noticed, the others are too busy congratulating themselves. I can't stop the thought that I hope the wound is fatal. But I can't bring myself to feel guilty about it, either. One less between Katniss and District Twelve.
We move on into a clearing. I look up into the trees, goosebumps rising on my flesh. I get the distinct feeling of being watched. I think we're not alone, but I refrain from speaking out in case it's who I'm afraid it is. Then Glimmer stops, bringing the rest of us to a halt.
"Shouldn't we have heard a canon by now?" she asks.
"I'd say yes," says Clove, glancing back at the fire. "Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately."
"Unless she isn't dead."
The beam of my flashlight flickers over a tree nearly ten yards away, and my heart nearly stops at the quick flash of what I've seen.
"She's dead. I stuck her myself."
There's the bundle of a black sleeping bag perched high in the tree, and . . . is that . . . Oh God . . . that's a long braid falling out of the side of it.
"Then where's the cannon?"
"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done."
A whine of panic is filling my ears.
"Yeah, we don't want to have to track her down twice."
"I said she's dead!"
The Careers start arguing. I have to do something, fast, before someone else does the same thing I just did, and they notice who I'm positive is Katniss hiding in that tree. Then I realize the only thing that is going to get them to move on, and the thought drops into my stomach like lead. But I have to do it. What choice do I have?
"We're wasting time!" I say, silencing the others. "I'll go finish her and let's move on!"
