Chapter 10:
Normal Pov
The careers were standing around the cornucopia, trying to make a plan. Bella kept trying to enforce hers, but Cato kept telling her to shut her trap, because its not going to happen.
"Why don't we just temporarily split up? I take some food and water, and I'll cover as much ground as I can in a few hours." Bella said with a smile.
"Shut it." Cato said. Bella sat down on her log with a frown. Clove looked out to the forest, thinking.
"I wish we had some paper. I don't like the idea of drawing a map in the mud." She said, looking down at the ground.
Cato frowned. "Yeah, I know, but its all we got. So guys, if anyone has any ideas, grab the stick and start drawing." Cato said. With a moan, Marvel stood up and grabbed the sharp stick by Cato's side. He started to draw.
"Alright, this large circle is the Arena. Over here," Marvel drew a large 'C' inside a smaller circle, dead center in the middle of the large circle. "Is the cornucopia. Now here's the lake." He said. He said, drawling a large oval shape above the 'C'.
"And now," He said. He drew small trees on ever side of the largest circle. He was smiling. "Here's West, East, North, and South." Marvel said, writing each word on their respective sides. "Let's pick a side and then start hunting there." Marvel said.
"Alright." Everyone nodded. "Nice going Marvel." Bella complimented him, lacing up her sneakers.
"Thanks. So Cato, Mr. Grouchy Pants, you agree with this?" Marvel said with a smile.
"Yes, it seems like a good plan." Cato said with a shrug. Glimmer lifted up a bow and arrow. "When do we set out? I'm eager to use this."
"Well clown face, hopefully your skills have improved." Clove started, and Glimmer scowled at her. She opened her mouth but Cato grabbed Clove's arm and directed her to sit farther away from Glimmer.
"Let's all get profession here, okay? I want to set off now. Before they all have a chance to get too comfortable." Cato said. Everyone stood up and started to grab weapons, but Cato stopped Bella before she could grab hers.
"Wait a minute." He said. Bella turned to him, scowling. "What is it?" She asked him.
"We're going to need someone to stay behind and watch the supplies. I think you should-!"
"Don't even think about it." Bella snarled at him. Cato frowned at her. "Bella, think of it the way I'm thinking it. It would be very easy for tributes to sneak in and take our supplies while we're away. We need someone to guard the cornucopia. Remember the past games? The supplies could be robbed by tributes, animals, flushed out, either way, with no supplies, we're not gonna make it to long. And I need someone trustworthy and efficient enough to guard these. I can't trust Glimmer. Clove and Marvel's aren't going to want to stay behind."
"And you?"
"They need me!" Cato said instantly, crossing his arms. Bella took a deep breath, thinking.
"And so your best plan is to leave the smallest and youngest player behind to guard our stuff?" Bella snarled at him, frowning. Cato groaned.
"Yes."
Bella smirked at him. "Nice choice. I'll stay. But we're going to make a plan on how to guard these supplies so that no one has to stay." She said with a frown. Cato nodded. "Yeah, yeah of course." He said, and then he ran back to the group to tell them to hurry up. Bella grabbed a spear and then balanced it on her arm.
"Alright Bella, we'll only be a few hours." Cato said, grabbing a sword. Bella nodded. "Alright. See you guys when you get back." She said, waving them all off as they started to jog over to the outskirts of the forest.
"Bye." Clove called. She had a belt of knives on her waist, glistening.
"See ya." Bella called out. To her right, Bella saw a bush twitch, and her eyes narrowed. The second they all walked into the forest, Bella threw her spear near a tree on the south side, it slid into a bush, hitting something that she couldn't see.
Boom!
"There's one gone." She said with a smirk. As she ran over to the trees directly opposite to where the Careers had dissapeared. The Hovercraft appeared, and she watched its claw drop down. She saw Cato come crashing back in. "What happened?" He called out. But Bella waved at him from her side on the West. When Cato spotted her, he breathed out with relief.
"Just some tribute." She said, seeing some random male tribute being lifted up into the trees. Cato nodded. "That was fast. Stay here." He called. And then ran back into the trees after the careers.
"You don't need to tell me." She said to herself. Bella walked forward and stopped at the cornucopia, sitting down on the floor.
She was sitting against the cool metal of the cornucopia wall for about an hour, before something interesting finally happened. She saw the District 3 boy down at the lake. He was leaning over, filling his canteen. Bella hadn't exactly been sitting out in plain view, so she could see why he hadn't noticed her. There were two huge bags on either side of her, blocking her view on either side.
She was thinking about grabbing the skinny metal spear and going over to have a visit, but as she was thinking, she started to smile.
He seemed to be about thirteen. She supposed that he would have learned this stuff in school, or maybe even worked in shops. She stood up, grabbing a knife as she went along.
Maybe, she thought to herself as she walked down to the lake. Maybe this kid can fix her problem. If he can do something technical and guard the supplies, Cato would have no reason to keep Bella back here.
She had no idea why the kid wasn't hurrying as fast as he could. Maybe he figured that the careers wouldn't be back for hours. But after all, if she was in his position, she would figure that they would be back any minute, and hurry as if it depended on her life.
"Hey." She started when she reached the base of the lake. The thirteen year old turned around with a snap, his eyes wide.
"I'm not going to hurt you… Yet." Bella added with a smirk. "I remember you from the scores. Your District 3, right?" Bella asked him. He nodded slowly, cautiously moving backwards towards the water.
"So you must know a thing or two about technology."
"Yes." He said.
"Want to be a career? If you can complete this task I'm going to give you, your in for sure." She said, and he stopped moving. He looked up at her, frightened. "Really? Are you sure that they'll let me-!"
"Of course." Bella said, scowling at him. She pointed to the cornucopia. "I need to guard it. You know, for a way that the whole group can go out and hunt, and no one needs to guard it themselves. Can you handle it?" She asked him, raising her knife slowly. The boy looked from Bella, to the knife, and back to the Cornucopia. "Yes." He said.
"And I already have a plan."
….
Eight O'clock
Cato walked into the cornucopia first, a frown on his face and looking very grumpy. He stopped in place. "Bella… Bella what the f-!"
"I've got a plan!" Bella screamed at him, tipping her head back in a smile. The District 3 boy was moving along the outskirts of the Corncupia, starting to plant the mines around.
"What kind of freaking plan? And why didn't you kill him?!" Cato snapped at her. "He's a career now." Bella said plainly. She walked further to meet Cato at the base of the cornucopia. "He's protecting our got that? He's one of us, for now." She finished, and Cato nodded, understanding.
"Yeah. Yes okay." He said, nodding;
"Just make sure you keep him in check." Cato said with a snarl.
"I will."
….
(A/N: You know, once I finished the games, I'm going to delve more into the Cullens and or Jacob and the Pack. You'll see which multiple chapters later! )
…
"Start packing." Cato said with a smile. He had just woken Bella up with a start, and she raised her eyebrows at him. "What?!"
"You head me. I want you to pack a full bag. I made a plan. Pack food, weapons, and matches. We're going to be pulling an overnighter." Cato said. He clapped his hands hard, booming. Everyone got up, squinting.
"What time is it? It must be six in the morning!" Marvel said, causing Cato to drag him to a stand by his ears.
"Get over it Princess. Glimmer!" Cato yelled. He clapped his hands again and everyone hurried to follow his orders.
…
Bella Pov
"Alright," Cato said. We were all laying down after a long night. We killed two of them, nine left. Instead of sleeping on the floor, climed the nearest tree to lay down.
"What are you doing?" Glimmer said, rolling her electric blue shadowed eyes. Her clown makeup was still on, Peeta did not disappoint me.
"I'll belt myself in. I don't know about you guys, but its safer in the air then on the floor." I said with a smirk. After all, that's what I learned during my isolation in the woods. Cato shrugged. "If it suits you."
I laid down on a branch that sat fourty feet high. If I were to guess of course. I didn't wait to see the final countdown in the sky, I instead fell asleep.
…
I awoke with a great fleeting sheet of heat covering me. I look around in bewilderment. It's not yet dawn, but my stinging eyes can see it.
It would be hard to miss the wall of fire descending on us all.
My first impulse is to scramble from the tree, but I'm belted in. Somehow my fumbling fingers release the buckle and I fall to the ground in a heap, still snarled in my sleeping bag. There's no time for any kind of packing. I feel lucky that I was the only one not taking their stuff out in a pile. Fortunately, my backpack and water bottle are already in the bag. I shove in the belt, hoist the bag over my shoulder, and flee.
The world has transformed to flame and smoke.
"Guys!" I screamed, the second I got up on my feet. Everyone woke up with a snap. "Wha-! AHHHHHHH!" Glimmer screamed halfway through her yawn.
"Everyone up! Run!" Clove shouted, kicking Marvel in the side. He hurried up to grab his things.
"Run!" Cato shouted, pushing me ahead. "Don't wait for us, run! Come on! Everyone group up at the Lake!" Cato shouted, cupping his hands on his mouth.
It was chaos.
The fire was zoning in on us, and we were running as fast as we could.
I didn't think that we would all get separated, but we did. There was a lot of shuffling as people fell over, and I had no choice but to run fast and faster, or burn.
Burning branches crack from trees and fall in showers of sparks at my feet. I couldn't see the others, the smoke was starting to get thicker. I've been running for a few minutes, when I see a pack of animals, all running as fast as they can. All I can do is follow the others, the rabbits and deer and I even spot a wild dog pack shooting through the woods. I trust their sense of direction because their instincts are sharper than mine. But they are much faster, flying through the underbrush so gracefully, as my boots catch on roots and fallen tree limbs, that there's no way I can keep apace with them.
The heat is horrible, but worse than the heat is the smoke, which threatens to suffocate me at any moment. I pull the top of my shirt up over my nose, grateful to find it soaked in sweat, and it offers a thin veil of protection. And I run, choking, my bag banging against my back, my face cut with branches that materialize from the gray haze without warning, because I know I am supposed to run. I fell twice in the first two minutes, it was so hard to see!
This was no tribute's campfire gone out of control, no accidental occurrence. The flames that bear down on us all have an unnatural height, a uniformity that marks them as human-made, machine-made, Gamemaker-made. Things have been too quiet today.
No deaths, perhaps no fights at all. The audience in the Capitol will be getting bored, claiming that these Games are verging on dullness. This is the one thing the Games must not do.
It's not hard to follow the Gamemakers' motivation.
There is us, the Career pack and then there are the rest of them, probably spread far and thin across the arena.
This fire is designed to flush us out, to drive us together. It may not be the most original device I've seen, but it's very, very effective.
I hurdle over a burning log. Not high enough. The tail end of my jacket catches on fire and I have to stop to rip it from my body and stamp out the flames. But I don't dare leave the jacket, scorched and smoldering as it is, I take the risk of shoving it in my large pack, hoping the lack of air will quell what I haven't extinguished. This is all I have, what I carry on my back, and it's enough to survive with for now.
In a matter of minutes, my throat and nose are burning. The coughing begins soon after and my lungs begin to feel as if they are actually being cooked. Discomfort turns to distress until each breath sends a searing pain through my chest. I manage to take cover under a stone outcropping just as the vomiting begins, and I lose my meager supper and whatever water has remained in my stomach.
Crouching on my hands and knees, I retch until there's nothing left to come up.
I know I need to keep moving, but I'm trembling and light-headed now, gasping for air. I allow myself about a spoonful of water to rinse my mouth and spit then take a few swallows from my bottle. You get one minute, I tell myself. One minute to rest. I take the time to reorder my supplies, wad up the sleeping bag, and messily stuff everything into the backpack. My minute's up. I know it's time to move on, but the smoke has clouded my thoughts. The swift-footed animals that were my compass have left me behind.
I know I haven't been in this part of the woods before, there were no sizable rocks like the one I'm sheltering against on my earlier travels. Where are the Gamemakers driving me? Back to the lake? To the careers as if the Gamemakers are helping me? Or into the forest with the story tributes, where I'll have to fight. We had all arrive at the pond when this attack began. Would there be any way I could travel parallel to the fire and work my way back there, to a source of water at least? The wall of fire must have an end and it won't burn indefinitely. Not because the Gamemakers couldn't keep it fueled but because, again, that would invite accusations of boredom from the audience. If I could get back behind the fire line, I could avoid meeting up with any old tributes. I've just decided to try and loop back around, although it will require miles of travel away from the inferno and then a very circuitous route back, when the first fireball blasts into the rock about two feet from my head. I spring out from under my ledge, energized by renewed fear.
"Ahhh!" I screamed loudly.
The game has taken a twist. The fire was just to get us moving, now the audience will get to see some real fun. When I hear the next hiss, I flatten on the ground, not taking time to look. The fireball hits a tree off to my left, engulfing it in flames. To remain still is death. I'm barely on my feet before the third ball hits the ground where I was lying, sending a pillar of fire up behind me. Time loses meaning now as I frantically try to dodge the attacks. I can't see where they're being launched from, but it's not a hovercraft. The angles are not extreme enough.
Probably this whole segment of the woods has been armed with precision launchers that are concealed in trees or rocks. Somewhere, in a cool and spotless room, a Gamemaker sits at a set of controls, fingers on the triggers that could end my life in a second. All that is needed is a direct hit.
Whatever vague plan I had conceived regarding returning to my pond is wiped from my mind as I zigzag and dive and leap to avoid the fireballs. Each one is only the size of an apple, but packs tremendous power on contact. Every sense I have goes into overdrive as the need to survive takes over.
There's no time to judge if a move is the correct one.
When there's a hiss, I act or die.
"Cato!" I screamed over the loud noise of the fire. But its too loud and smokey. I can only hear the sound of the fireballs and the flaming roar of the fire wall.
Something keeps me moving forward, though. Twelve whole years of watching the Hunger Games lets me know that certain areas of the arena are rigged for certain attacks. And that if I can just get away from this section, I might be able to move out of reach of the launchers. I might also then fall straight into a pit of vipers, but I can't worry about that now.
How long I scramble along dodging the fireballs I can't say, but the attacks finally begin to abate. Which is good, because I'm retching again. This time it's an acidic substance that scalds my throat and makes its way into my nose as well. I'm forced to stop as my body convulses, trying desperately to rid itself of the poisons I've been sucking in during the attack. I wait for the next hiss, the next signal to bolt. It doesn't come. The force of the retching has squeezed tears out of my stinging eyes. My clothes are drenched in sweat. Somehow, through the smoke and vomit, I pick up the scent of singed hair. My hand fumbles to my braid and finds a fireball has seared off at least six inches of it. Strands of blackened hair crumble in my fingers. I stare at them, fascinated by the transformation, when the hissing registers.
My muscles react, only not fast enough this time. The fireball crashes into the ground at my side, but not before it skids across my right calf. Seeing my pants leg on fire sends me over the edge. I twist and scuttle backward on my hands and feet, shrieking, trying to remove myself from the horror. When I finally regain enough sense, I roll the leg back and forth on the ground, which stifles the worst of it. But then, without thinking, I rip away the remaining fabric with my bare hands.
I sit on the ground, a few yards from the blaze set off by the fireball. My calf is screaming, my hands covered in red welts. I'm shaking too hard to move. If the Gamemakers want to finish me off, now is the time.
"Cato please!" I screamed loudly. But again, there's no one to answer.
I hear Cinna's voice, carrying images of rich fabric and sparkling gems. "Isabella , the little girl who was on fire." What a good laugh the Gamemakers must be having over that one. Perhaps, Cinna's beautiful but too much sparkly costumes have even brought on this particular torture for me. I know he couldn't have foreseen this, must be hurting for me because, in fact, I believe he cares about me. But all in all, maybe showing up stark naked in that chariot would have been safer for me.
The attack is now over. The Gamemakers don't want me dead. Not yet anyway. Everyone knows they could destroy us all within seconds of the opening gong. The real sport of the Hunger Games is watching the tributes kill one another. Every so often, they do kill a tribute just to remind the players they can. But mostly, they manipulate us into confronting one another face-to-face. Which means, if I am no longer being fired at, there is at least one other tribute close at hand.
I open my mouth again, but I grip my throat with terror. I'm mute. The most sound I can make is the wet sound of a throat opening and closing. "Ahhh!" I tried, but it didn't come. My voice was so hoarse and quiet I couldn't make a sound. It was the smoke inhalation. But… It's alright. It should be temporary.
I would drag myself into a tree and take cover now if I could, but the smoke is still thick enough to kill me. I make myself stand and begin to limp away from the wall of flames that lights up the sky. It does not seem to be pursuing me any longer, except with its stinking black clouds.
Another light, daylight, begins to softly emerge. Swirls of smoke catch the sunbeams. My visibility is poor. I can see maybe fifteen yards in any direction. A tribute could easily be concealed from me here. I should draw my knife as a precaution, but I doubt my ability to hold it for long. The pain in my hands can in no way compete with that in my calf. I hate burns, have always hated them, even a small one gotten from pulling a pan of bread from the oven. It is the worst kind of pain to me, but I have never experienced anything like this.
I'm so weary I don't even notice I'm in the pool until I'm ankle-deep. It's spring-fed, bubbling up out of a crevice in some rocks, and blissfully cool. I plunge my hands into the shallow water and feel instant relief.
Isn't that what the nurse back at District 2 always says? The first treatment for a burn is cold water? That it draws out the heat? But she means minor burns. Probably she'd recommend it for my hands. But what of my calf?
Although I have not yet had the courage to examine it, I'm guessing that it's an injury in a whole different class.
Great, I have separated from my fellow Careers. I'm alone and injured, with minimal lifesavers on my hand. And Cato could be dead. And Clove and Marvel too. Forget Glimmer though.
I lie on my stomach at edge of the pool for a while, dangling my hands in the water, examining the little flames on my fingernails that are beginning to chip off.
Good. I've had enough fire for a lifetime.