A/N: Hello to my faithful readers! Sorry it took me so long to post this! I just got back to school this week, and I've been really busy with school stuff. I hope you like it! As always, review, and send me any questions!
We decide to leave the backpack at the house today. If we need to get away for any reason, I really don't want to be carrying it around. The plan is to sneak into the woods and loop around the back of the justice building, and get as close as possible from there. Before we head out though, I stop Lehma.
"You do whatever I tell you to, got it?" I say seriously. "I'm letting you screw this up for me." Instead of just nodding like her old self, Lehma looks me fiercely in the eyes.
"Sure," she says. "If what you're saying is what I was already thinking. And don't try and convince me otherwise."
"You'll do whatever I say." I snarl. "Or we're not leaving this house. We can wait for someone to come along and kill us." The self-sure monster just shrugs her shoulders.
"Guess you won't kill Derick then," she smiles. "Your loss." Damn. She's changed since I met her. I pull her out of her chair and drag her towards the door. Her leg probably hasn't fully healed, but it's not like we're going to get into a fight with Derick today. Unless we get lucky.
"Just so you know, the second Derick is dead, our little alliance is done for," I hiss. It's a cold day, the coldest since we arrived in the arena. The Gamemakers, or whoever planned out outfits, didn't include anything to keep out the chill and I resent them for it. There are plenty of other things to hate them for, but at this moment, hating them for the cold seems most logical.
Lehma rubs her arms, desperately trying to warm herself. She slides her dark eyes over to my face. "That was what I was thinking," she says. "I hope you know how to hide."
"As if," I laugh. There's no chance Lehma is going to be alive even an hour after Derick is dead. She's dragging her leg slightly, but makes no complaints. Maybe I've been underestimating her. I wonder how old she is exactly, but I'm not going to bother asking. All I know is that it's the same age she'll be on the day she dies.
We go as quickly as Lehma's leg will allow us. Pausing at the edge of the woods, I turn to Lehma. We're just out of view of the Justice Building.
"I think if we stay low to the ground we can get in the back," I whisper. "Let's just hope that they're in the front." I look at her face, which has drained of color. "Ready?"
Her answer comes as quietly as the wind. "No." Then she begins to army crawl out of the bushes and towards the people who would like nothing better than to kill her. It's really too bad that I'm going to kill her. She's got spunk.
Just as I anticipated, Derick and Shon are oblivious to anything happening around them. We safely reach the crumbled marble building and I'm struck again by how much detail the Gamemakers put into the arena. Each boulder of the white stone is carefully placed, the windows shattered just so. I'd bet anything that this matches the real thirteen perfectly.
The back doors of the Justice Building swing open at Lehma's light touch. The hinges on the door don't squeak like I expected them to. The interior is nothing like I expected. At our Justice Building in four, every room I saw was practically dripping with jewels and crystal, painted glass and satiny materials. The room we've just walked into is entirely trashed.
Bottles of alcohol litter the floor, and a smashed table lies in the corner. Maybe our Justice Building had a room like this, but I seriously doubt it. We're very proud of our cleanliness in four. I guess thirteen was pretty slovenly. Or someone wants it to look like that. Lehma nudges my arms and points to something on the floor. A dead mouse. To be exact, the skeleton of what I believe to be a mouse.
We advance very slowly into the building. It's not organized anything like the one in four. Where there was a staircase in my Justice Building, there's a supply closet here. The rubble and broken walls makes navigating even more difficult than it already was. I'm trying as hard as possible to make no noise, but it's virtually impossible to Lehma. Her wounded leg gives out at random moments, so I wonder if it was injured worse than we originally assumed. A muscle could have easily been severed.
We crawl through a dank hallway towards the front of the building. A strange smell wafts towards us, borne on a gust of wind that came in through a hole in the ceiling. It's stale, and metallic. It smells like death.
Once we've made significant progress to our goal, Lehma stops me. "We can't just walk out there. Or poke our heads around the doorway. Let's find somewhere to hide."
"I thought I called the shots around here," I growl. "But yes. Let's try upstairs. Even if we can just hear them it's better than nothing." She gives me a smug smile as we slide our hands along the walls, looking for an exit. There's no light in the hallway, and the walls are damp. I'm glad I can't see what I'm touching.
Eventually I find a stairwell. We crawl up it blindly, grasping each step, desperately trying to gain traction. Each step is slick with the same moisture that coated the walls downstairs. It's sticky.
A thin ray of light sparkles in the darkness up above me. I reach backwards, and grab Lehma's arm, trying to hurry for the light. I'm horrified when we reach the sunlight.
Lehma's covered in blood. The stuff drips off her hands, and dyes her light skin a horrifying shade of crimson. The carmine blood is spread across her arms and clothing. Her face expresses pure horror. "What the hell happened?" I whisper. She doesn't seem injured except for the blood everywhere.
"I was going to ask you the same thing," she says, reaching up to touch my face. "You're covered in blood, but I didn't hear you scream or anything." I lift my hands up in front of my face and see the red streaks that run across them.
"Where did all this come from?" I say, trying to think. "No one attacked us in the hall or anything…" Then it hits me. The hall. The strange moisture. The sticky surface of the stairwell. "They covered everything in blood."
Lehma's eyes widen in fear. "Whose blood?" We haven't heard any cannon shots lately that weren't because of us. And it's not like they drained their victims' blood just to coat their home in it.
"Maybe it's animal blood," I whisper to her. "Maybe they were trying to scare people off." It's nowhere near my actual suspicions which involve some very merciless Gamemakers. Lehma nods, and then motions me forward. The area we've just stumbled into is beautiful, like I expect Justice Buildings to be like. The floors are made of some satiny wood. Thick, plush carpets are splayed our randomly across the floor.
"I think I hear something," Lehma says. We crawl silently across the floor to a place where the roof has been blasted away, bringing a chunk of the floor with it. I take a deep breath and look down through the gaping hole.
Below us is a massive room. There's rubble lying all over the place. A chandelier has crashed to the floor, and the small crystals are scattered everywhere, casting rainbows on everything in the room. The most striking aspect of the room is the bones.
There are piles of bones everywhere. A mound of skulls. Stacks of femurs. Ribs have been splayed out across the floor in a strange pattern. All as if someone carefully arranged them all. I guess we know what Derick and Shon have been doing all this time, while the rest of us struggled to stay alive. They were playing with bones. Lehma looks up and meets my eyes.
A clatter comes from below, and I seek out the source. In front of the wide-open doors, Derick is playing a game with Shon. Derick wields a long bone in his hands that looks as though he stole it from a giant. Shon tosses a skull towards Derick, high in the air, and Derick uses his bone to hit the skull. More often than not, the skull shatters into a million tiny pieces, flying through the air. The leg bone Derick has is holding up pretty well.
Who the hell came up with a game like that? They're very obviously enjoying themselves, laughing and gamboling about. And I thought I had a sick mind.
"Come on, throw another!" Derick shouts across the room to Shon. Shon shakes his head and collapses into a chair. "What are you doing? I said throw another one!" He stomps across the room to his ally and smacks Shon over the head.
"I'm bored, Derick." Shon complains. "You said she'd show up for a fight. We been holed up here for a week almost. I want to go home."
"You idiot," Derick growls. "She will show up. And what makes you think you're going home? Now throw another skull, I'm practicing." Now I know who's in charge down there. For now. Derick takes a few practice swings through the air with the leg bone, waiting for Shon. "Why aren't you getting up?" He shouts.
"Because I'm not just going to do what you say Derick," Shon says, standing up. He's positively frightful, towering over even Derick, who stands at 6 foot 3. His muscles ripple as he leans down towards Derick. "I have a mind of my own. And if anybody's gonna make it out, it's me. No one wants you back at home, why even bother?"
"I have a sister and a father at home," Derick hisses back. "And I have a job lined up at home." The boys begin to circle each other, glaring.
"Like they really want you. You're a creep," Shon says.
"Shut the hell up. I have family." Derick yells loud enough to wake the creatures living on the upper floor. The bats flap out of a darkened room and swoop straight over our heads. I nearly scream, but manage to hold it in.
"Stop lying to yourself Derick. You heard what your sister said at the reaping. No one fell for your interview. The whole country thinks you're a monster!" Shon laughs. "At least they just think I'm stupid! They can't hate me!"
"You ARE an idiot," Derick says, shaking his head. "You just admitted to everyone that you've been playing stupid. And I'm not a monster. But you're gonna be dead soon." He launches himself at Shon, knocking his former ally to the ground. He wields the bone expertly, smacking Shon's head hard enough to make a terrible cracking sound.
Shon really is stronger, though, and flips Derick to the ground. The sound of bones breaking echoes through the building and both boys scream in pain. Derick reaches up and attempts to throttle Shon, who knocks away Derick's hands easily.
"Stop it Derick," Shon threatens. "You know you wouldn't win this fight. I don't wanna kill you just yet anyway." He drops his arms and Shon does the same. Neither of them is out of breath from their fight, and I wonder how many times this has happened since the games started. The testosterone levels must run pretty high in this building.
"Fine," Derick huffs, then coughs. "Fine. But I'm telling you, she'll come for me. I can guarantee it." Then they're back to being friends. Or as close to friends as you can be with someone who wants to kill you. I begin to formulate some plans for their deaths. We could wait for another fight to break out. They're both vulnerable at moments like that.
I'm just about to whisper the plan to Lehma when Derick changes tack. Shon has wandered over to the window and watches the empty city, his back to the room. Derick picks up a new bone from the floor, a particularly thick one. He walks up behind Shon, slowly, carefully. Then he lifts it high above his head and whips the bone around Shon's neck. Shon makes a strangled noise as he falls to the dirty floor.
Derick laughs as blood drips from Shon's mouth. It's the most gruesome sight I've seen yet in the games. How is the audience, in the capitol and in the districts reacting to this murder? One boy had his back turned when he was attacked. They're surrounded by stacks of bones, hallways smeared with blood, and Lehma and I watch from above.
Bruises are beginning to show on Shon's neck. They're a disgusting yellow color, and he chokes in air. For the first time in the games, I see fear in his eyes.
Derick circles his prey, a cold smile playing upon his lips. "Who's not going home now, Shon?" He places the tip of his boot gently on Shon's nose, and then stamps down hard. Blood spurts everywhere on the marble tiles. There is no cannon shot yet, though.
Derick plays with the last minutes of Shon's life. He picks up a boulder and drops it on Shon's legs. The sound of bones breaking rockets through the building, displacing dust, shaking us to our core. He pulls a sinister knife out from behind the ripped velvet couch, and begins to draw strange symbols on his victim's arms. Beautiful scarlet patterns seep from Shon's arms as he slips away from the world.
"Now, let's roll you out for the hovercraft to get you," Derick says cheerfully, throwing the knife against the far wall. His former friend's eyes are glassy, staring up at the ceiling, towards Lehma and me. But he's not dead. He sees us. We're possibly the last thing he sees before Derick uses a sharp piece of bone to slit his throat.
As the cannon shot rings out, Lehma and I scramble for the stairwell. We don't care about the bloody trail we will inevitably leave behind us. We just don't want to be caught in a house with a madman. Lehma trips at the last stair, but keeps going although her leg is beginning to fail her again.
The drone of the hovercraft cuts through the air, and we double our speed. Derick will be back inside soon. He's finally snapped. Now I'm going to be hunted like a dog, without a moment's respite. I trip over a broken bottle in the back room, and land in thousands of shards of glass. I ignore the pain and race from the building, eager to put as much distance between Derick and I as possible.
Of course, we're leaving destruction behind us, and therefore a path, but I don't care. He'll find me anyway, and I just want to be ready. It's a good thing we left the backpack in the house. It would have held us up inside the justice building.
Once outside, we crash into the trees and run straight forward. Just keep moving forward. Away from Derick. Has he found the marks we left behind? Is he beginning his chase now? There's no doubt that he will begin looking for me, leaving a path of destruction in his wake.
We sprint for hours through the trees, until Lehma's leg finally gives in. She begins to cry as she slumps to the ground.
"That's just sick," she hiccups through the tears. "I'm so scared." Well, I am too. But crying about it won't save your life when a psychopath wants to kill you. My throat is dry, burning. I begin to search for a water source, keeping Lehma in my sight.
Maybe using her as bait isn't the best idea. She'd die pretty brutally, because Derick apparently likes to play with his food. But do I really care about how she dies? Do I care if she suffers? No, I realize. Not really. Because if Derick were to come through the forest right now and kill us, it would be her fault. She's not helping me.
There's no water near us, so I explain to Lehma that we need to get moving. She's reluctant, and is refusing to move when we hear twigs snapping in the woods. I grab her arm and pull her behind me. We roll under a bush just as the fighting boys come into the clearing.
Derick's not one of them- they're too small- but they're also too big to be Micah. By process of elimination, I quickly determine they're the boys from districts seven and eight. The boy from seven is named Zane, I think. He's unrecognizable without his beard. I remember how Leonel said his mother didn't like facial hair. I guess it's a Capitol thing, because the beard is gone. There's not even stubble on his chin. Weird for 6 days in a forest, where a razor blade his better employ, such as killing people.
The boy from eight punches Zane in the throat, forcing his opponent to the ground. But Zane's pretty tough. As he pushes off the ground, he pulls a knife from his belt and slashes through the air. He catches 8 on the arm, and blood flies through the air. A drop lands on Lehma's face, and I have to slap a hand over her mouth to stop the scream.
It's a real fight going on in the clearing, as unlike what happened between Derick and Shon in every way. I wonder how long it will go on, considering how close a match it is. Both of them got a nine for training scores. They're roughly the same size.
It goes on for about half an hour. Punches are thrown, and blood sprays the trees around us. Finally, the boy from 8 manages to turn Zane's own knife on him. One quick motion, and Zane's throat is sliced open. He lies bleeding onto the hard ground, eyes staring unseeing at the bright blue sky. Dusk is settling in as the boy from eight crouches down next to him.
"I am so sorry," eight whispers to the dying boy next to him. "I just want to go home." He reaches for Zane's hand and grips it tightly in his own hand. "I'll stay here until you're…home." It's so strange, seeing someone who hasn't entirely lost their humanity in this forsaken arena.
It doesn't take long for Zane to fade completely from the world. When he does, the boy from eight closes Zane's eyes and steps back respectfully, head bowed as the hovercraft appears in the sky. He's badly injured, but stays standing as the claw drops down and takes Zane back to the Capitol, where he'll be prepared for burial.
Two faces will appear in the sky tonight. I knew both of their names. Yet I've never thought of them as humans, just as opponents. The boy from eight makes me feel as low as an earthworm. And I hate him for it.
He's looking to the sky. I see tears sliding down his light brown skin as he whispers one more apology to Zane and district seven. He slumps down on the ground, head in his hands, and begins to cry in earnest. Remorse. That's something new in the arena. If you don't count Micah. And I don't.
It's really too bad I'll have to kill him. He seems like such a nice boy. Maybe I'll just make it quick. As painless as possible. But I don't have very many tools to work with. Slashing his throat will probably work the best, like how he killed Zane. I'll wait until the anthem, so he doesn't know what's happening.
He doesn't look up at the sky when the anthem comes on. I pull myself slowly out from under the bush, and Lehma tries to follow me.
"Just let me do this on my own," I whisper as quietly as I can. The pictures flash onto the sky, casting a blue light over the arena, and I walk over to the boy from eight. Of course he doesn't hear me because of the sound of the anthem. But I step lightly, trying to not disturb him.
My knife is sharp, so the blade slices his throat easily. As close to painless as I can hope to give him. But he just won't die.
As he looks into my eyes, I don't feel any pity for him. Just weariness. Why can't he die easily? With him gone, I'll only have five people to kill. With him gone, I'll be closer to home.
His eyes search my face, perhaps hoping for me to say sorry like he did to Zane. Maybe he thinks I feel remorse. But I don't.
Unceremoniously, I lift my knife and stab him multiple times in the face. It's a terrible sight, but it does the job. The cannon blasts and I wipe the blood off of my hands and onto his shirt.
"Sorry," I say, shrugging my shoulders as the hovercraft lifts him away. "Not my problem anymore."