It was a toss-up to say who was more startled at the other group's appearance, but the one to take home the prize for fastest reaction time was Olathe as she matched blades with Enobaria, saving Stele from getting his nose chopped off by Enobaria's sword. Enid threw her knife at Tyrek to buy them some time as the the bigger man charged them, but he blocked her attack with laughable ease and closed in on her. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her into his arms, positioning them to snap her neck.
"No, wait!" August cried. "Wait! Leave her, take me instead!"
Apart from Olathe and Enobaria who were still battling on either side of the doorway, everyone else froze. Katniss held her bow on Tyrek, but he strategically placed Enid's face in front of his own to shield himself. The terrified look that came over Enid reminded Haymitch of how very young she still was and the fact that she and Katniss were still teenagers, not adults. She had never been this close to death before and though she knew the risks when she volunteered to die so that Katniss could live, she wasn't ready for the end. She called out to her uncle and August sounded close to tears as he begged for her life.
"Let her go, I'll throw down my weapons now. Just—just don't hurt her."
The most microscopic flinch of regret flittered across the veteran victor's face and though it only lasted a moment, Haymitch saw the world flash by in that half-second. Tyrek would kill Enid and Haymitch's group would retaliate, but the Gamemakers had programmed this meet-up because Haymitch's group was too strong. The Careers were separated and they would be picked off unless their opponents' numbers decreased.
The only fight we have is the one they give us, over and over.
"Please…" said August in the most natural tone Haymitch had ever heard him use. This girl was his niece, practically his daughter in how close they were, how he had provided for her and cared for her, mentored her into her first victory. She understood him better than anyone because they shared in nightmares, in survivor's guilt. Almost no one in all of Panem was lucky enough to have a family member know the horrors of the Game and understand them. Enid was everything to August. And she was about to die.
"That's not how the Game works, my friend," said Tyrek, the sympathy now gone from his face. "Better for her to die now than later when the Gamemakers have something worse in store. It'll be painless, I promise." And he snapped her neck.
August gave a wounded cry as Enid's lifeless body toppled from Tyrek's arms and landed on the narrow walkway, her terrified eyes still open, looking at her uncle without seeing him. District 8's tribute went for his sword again to take on Zelic and Amara, but his approach was entirely offensive and they had no room to breathe as Tyrek stepped over Enid's body and advanced on them. Stele attempted to come to Olathe's aid, but the battle between her and Enobaria was too close for him to interfere.
Katniss backed up, leading the rest of the group that couldn't fit into either fight between the battling couples. Olathe dropped onto her back and Enobaria rushed her, but the former tossed her bigger opponent up and over so that Enobaria went crashing into Haymitch who still had a hold on Caesar's wetsuit, which was a good thing, otherwise Caesar would have gone over the ledge. Cutting her way through them, Enobaria got a good slice of Katniss's arm and Beetee's cheek before she took off running.
Now abandoned, Tyrek pressed Zelic and Amara back into Haymitch so that they all ended up in a pile of confused limbs and sharp objects. Tyrek went for the kill, gripping Zelic's throat as he prepared to skewer him through the mouth, but he was pulled up short by August's blade parrying the attack. Stele came at him from behind and shoved him hard before going in for the final strike where both his and August's swords slid into Tyrek at the same time, one into his sternum and the other into his gut, then August pushed his body away from the blades so that they could watch it topple out of sight and disappear beneath the clouds.
In the silence following the fight, the wind died out completely just for a moment so that the entire arena could hear August's heartbreaking cry of loss. Zelic massaged his throat and his hand came away bloody, not with his own blood, but Tyrek's from where the impact of both blades had made it splatter out onto his would-be victim. He then took a knee beside Enid's motionless form and turned her over to close her still wide-open eyes.
August set his niece's head in his lap and kissed her forehead as the others stood as much around him as they could to block out the wind. Haymitch didn't know where the cameras were situated this high up with nothing but artificial sky above them, but he knew Plutarch was watching their every move. Enid made ten and it was time for Plutarch to make good on his promise. Haymitch hoped that the very obvious direct stare at the cameras would tell Plutarch that Haymitch expected him to keep his end of the bargain and prevent any more bloodshed, but he almost had to laugh at that.
Gamemakers didn't abide by the laws of fair play.
"You have to leave her now," said Olathe when it seemed that August had let out the last of his infuriated shouts. She and Stele took either side of August's arms and made him stand, stepping gingerly over Enid's body as they kept moving toward the end of the walkway. Haymitch stuck out his hand behind him and felt Caesar grab it, then they brought up the rear once again as they passed back into the world of repetitive metal corridors. As soon as the doors shut behind them, the corridor lit up in red.
Haymitch looked about wildly for an exit, preferring to take his chances back out on the walkway, but the only way out was the door at the other end of the room, which was about a quarter mile away. He reached to activate the grilles behind him, but a section of the wall peeled off and then slammed behind him where he had almost put his hand. He took a wary step back and then another section of the wall slammed together.
"Oh, shit…"
"Book it, go now!" shouted Finnick. He made a big deal about being the last go, but when it was just him and Caesar, Caesar hit him in the gut to make him start running. Haymitch glanced back every fifth footfall to ensure that the others were following, but then he saw the walls come together between Finnick and Caesar, which pulled him up short. He waited, for a cannon, a scream, something…
Then the walls parted and somehow, Caesar was several yards back from where he had last been. Apparently the walls had pushed him back so that this last sprint for safety would be a spectacle—or a very short disappointment.
Caesar took one cautious step forward to see if the walls would cave in in front of him, but when they didn't, he took another measured step and another until the solid metal behind him clamped together just shy of his heel. His swallow was visible from where Haymitch stood just beside the door.
Sinking forward into a sprinter's stance, Caesar took off. It would not have been considered a skill worthy of a high score during his private sessions if he had been afforded such a thing, but if Caesar had any skill to speak of, it was his speed. Other than Kilo, he was easily the smallest male in these Games. Short, skinny, and slippery, he could sustain his sprint for longer than Haymitch could, that was for sure, and Haymitch had never seen a person that age have such stamina. The walls began to collide behind him, but he kept ahead of them, his legs a blur as he pumped his arms madly to outrun the timer. If it had been anyone else, Haymitch would have taken them for crushed meat as soon as the first walls came together.
Haymitch was more or less yanked through the doorway by Katniss and Olathe, but just as he went through, a red beam began to flash where the doors would naturally come together. Haymitch stuck the bare minimum of his knife handle in the beam and watched it crumple into ash before him. The timing between the beams was sporadic and in no way predictable, but the walls kept closing in.
Caesar overtook Finnick and both of them ran for the doorway, only pulling up short when Haymitch screamed at them to stop before they stepped in the beam.
"You can't time it, you just have to go!"
"That'll slice us in half," said Finnick, dancing in place as the boom of the walls shutting behind him came closer.
"No, there's a pattern to it," insisted Beetee. "You have half a second every fifteen flashes. About thirty seconds to the next opening."
"We don't have thirty seconds," said Caesar. He had a firm grip on Finnick as if preparing to push the younger man through the beam and hope for the best.
Finnick stared at the beam, eyes vacant but remarkably, clear. He put his hands on the back of Caesar's wetsuit and gave one almighty shove that sent Caesar sprawling through the doorway between beams just as the walls reached him.
But the walls didn't come together. The beam stayed up so that Finnick couldn't proceed, but the walls stopped with only enough room for Finnick to stretch his arms out on either side of him. An exhaust pipe burst above, dousing him in hot steam and he shrieked, his voice confined to what remained of the once enormous room. And all at once, Haymitch knew what was about to happen and found that he couldn't look away.
With a groan and an unbearable screech, the walls began to move together, slowly, gratuitously for the audience watching at home.
Plutarch, you bastard.
Finnick glanced at the ceiling, felt along the walls for a weak spot, and examined the beam again, but it was to no avail. He looked to Haymitch for a way out, but Haymitch had none to give. Already it was too confined for Finnick to spread his arms out anymore and standing abreast was almost impossible. Finnick turned his body sideways, and seeing that the others were watching him with their grief already present, he moved as far back as he could as if to lessen the sight of gore about to greet them.
There was no room left for him, and he was occupying the space the walls needed, so the walls began to crush him. At first it was a whimper of what was to come, but as more pressure was applied to all sides of him, the greater his cries grew. Through the beam, Haymitch heard the first bones begin to crack. Finnick's face had screwed up in agony, his shrieks filling the small available space in the room. There was blood squirting out of various body parts now and the tension in his features had gone lax as the overwhelming pressure on his body began to shut him down from the inside.
Haymitch couldn't watch anymore, wrenching his eyes away from the gruesome sight. He looked instead to where Caesar had backed into the corner of the hallway, hand over his mouth as he gazed in horror at what was occurring through the window.
It was Katniss's voice alone that reached them all.
"Come on," she said, pulling at Olathe who was screaming with her hands clawing at her face. "Don't watch anymore, keep moving!"
Knowing that if he looked back, he would see an eye pop out or some other horrific detail, Haymitch kept his eyes closed as he reached for Amara and dragged her along. He thanked God that Finnick had stopped screaming, but the cries of despair from his teammates were just as soul-destroying. He couldn't run anymore; every compartment was a race to exit, praying that no one would get stuck inside but knowing that wasn't how the Game worked and now they had lost how many to the damned death traps? Johanna, Mags, Finnick…no more.
He stopped, pulling Amara and by extension, Zelic, to a halt as he did so. He called out to the others that he was turning left instead of right, activated the pad that would open the double doors, and hollered every obscenity in his head to the cameras as they passed into a moonlit world painted with more stars than Haymitch had ever seen from home. Fluorescent plants grew around them unlike any Haymitch knew—except for in a replay of Games he was too young to have seen live the first time. This was a replica of Tyrek's arena, a land of eternal night.
"Are you done?" Haymitch shouted at the nearest bushes. "Is that enough for one day, or do you need more? You bastards, you heartless pieces of shit, come on!"
He knew that only the Gamemakers could hear him, that his voice was either being muted or the cameras had panned away from him to the audiences across Panem watching, but he wanted Plutarch and Snow to hear him. It would do less than nothing, but being able to curse them both to hell and let them see his true rage was a luxury he had waited so long to be able to afford. He hacked his sword into a nearby tree stump and began to shred it to strips of bark, not caring what mutts or enemies he brought down on them. Then he was being pulled to the ground, not forcibly in a way to make him shut up, but to comfort him.
He waited to hear Katniss speaking in an undertone to him about how they still had a job to do, but instead her heard Olathe humming. He tried to sit up, but she was surprisingly strong, curling her arms around his waist and pulling him to her so that he almost lay atop her with her nose pressing into the back of his neck. She sat up slightly and nestled him close even as he continued to fight her and then her fingers were combing through his hair, trickling one by one through his filthy blonde strands. A shiver went through him that he'd felt just once before—when Effie kissed him, and the feeling was so bizarre to be having right here and now in the arena toward a women who he had had no prior relationship with, that he stopped fighting just to try and comprehend it.
He let her continue to run her fingers through his hair until he knew he had nothing left to combat the Gamemakers with. Gradually, she released her hold from him and set his head on the grass. Then she and Stele volunteered to take first watch. Haymitch remained where she had left him, but rolled over to see the state of the rest of the crew.
Zelic and Amara were sitting hand-in-hand, whispering to one another while not far away, August had his head bowed almost as if he was asleep. Beetee was cleaning his glasses, Kilo had taken to adding iodine to his water from a nearby spring, and Katniss was watching Haymitch for signs of disturbance almost as if he were a wild animal that she would need to put down if he made any sudden movements. Haymitch shook his head at her to let her know that she need not watch over him like that, but she didn't look reassured.
Behind her, Caesar had his hands clasped at his mouth, his knees pulled to his chest. Beetee noticed his self-silencing posture and questioned him, more likely to break the silence that lingered after Finnick's demise than anything else.
"You're quite fast," said Beetee.
"What?" asked Caesar as if just noticing that he was in the company of others.
"I said that you're fast. I wouldn't have expected someone of your, um, comfortable background to be so agile."
"Not agile, just speedy," Caesar corrected. "I'm not as nimble as you'd think, and it comes at a price." Without seeming to care that everyone could see him, Caesar opened his wetsuit safe compartment, took another quarter of his precious pill sent by an anonymous donor, and popped it into the back of his throat. "I'll take next watch."
And this time, Haymitch didn't worry about leaving this Capitol infiltrator to stand guard over the rest of them.
Another four deaths in one day. Four. In one day, and that number was monumental considering that Haymitch knew them all. Enid was supposed to be the last, but two more had gone just as quickly. He couldn't say that he grieved for Tyrek other than it being a tragedy that any of the victors had to die in the first place. But Finnick was always a contender for the win. Everyone who wasn't betting on Katniss was betting on Brutus, Enobaria, or Finnick and yet, he was gone, leaving weaker players in his place.
No one would be betting on Kilo and maybe just a handful were still considering Beetee's intelligence over the other victors' brute strength, but absolutely no one would be staking any odds on Caesar. Even as he showed them time and again that he was a worthy opponent to any of these victors, he was a traitor and Snow would more than likely punish those people who dared to place bets on him. And if he somehow won this thing…
No one would win this. Plutarch had promised, given Haymitch evidence, convinced him…
Was Haymitch really that blind? Had Plutarch just pulled off the grandest scheme in all of Panem in convincing Haymitch that an outside life existed that could shield Katniss and Peeta from the Capitol? Was this all just a plot to create an unforgettable year in the Games and secure Plutarch's reign as Head Gamemaker? No one would go through that much careful planning and secrecy just to make a bang in the Games, and this was the only factor Haymitch had to rely on to not go to pieces right now.
What he needed—and he was ashamed to admit it—was that gentle touch Olathe had given him, but he didn't ask for it.
He expected to hear crying during the night, but he was not expecting it from who it came from, which was Kilo. The bioluminescent plants showed him on his side, hugging his chest, and he looked no larger than a child as he lay shivering and weeping in his wetsuit, though Haymitch didn't know exactly what for. There was no way to warm him, and no way to console him, so Haymitch could only sit by and watch, useless as a protector of these people that he was responsible for in more ways than one.
Caesar went to sit beside him, rubbing at Kilo's arms to circulate some blood. Here he was, a wild card in the Games who had no idea of Plutarch's plan, and he was making better use of himself than Haymitch. He was risking life and limb for people who had faked their hospitality toward him because what else could he do? Some chose to go savage in the end with death so near, some chose to give up and let insanity consume them, but Caesar was choosing to just remain human because it was his one opportunity to do so when he had missed out on all the children he had sent off to the arena.
Kilo leaned into him and clung to him like a child holding tightly to its parent in the wake of some terrifying nightmare. If anyone else was awake and watching, they said nothing but as Haymitch was about to feign sleep, Caesar caught his eye and shrugged.
"It's what Mags would have done."
It was exactly what Mags would have done, refusing to let anyone go to sleep in tears and Haymitch ached for her to the point where it physically hurt to feel his heart beating in his chest. He sat up, knowing that sleep would not come back now and so he moved closer to Caesar and Kilo, the latter of whom was biting down on a knife handle to try and quiet himself.
"She watched me host for thirty-seven years," said Caesar without being prompted. "I sent so many children to their deaths, but she was always amicable toward me. And even after being thrown into the Games with her where she could have slipped a knife into my ribs while I slept, she didn't. She helped me so selflessly, not because she thought I could help keep her alive, but because she wanted to. Because it's humane to want to help a dying person and barbaric if you watch and don't do anything about it. And now she's dead along with two young people who still had full lives ahead of them. One step closer to my own mortality and I'm not afraid—I'm angry. Angry at my foster parents for adopting me and forcing me into a life of plenty and taking me away from my people."
Haymitch didn't even have to ask him the question. What did Caesar want to do about it, now that he witnessed the Capitol's sadism firsthand?
"You keep going because the other option is to curl up and die on terms that aren't yours," said Caesar with a hardness to his voice now. "If you don't have control of your fate, at least you should be able to control when fate arrives. Those people who died today didn't have that option and I refuse to be so unlucky. I'm not going to let Death come for me when the Gamemakers call him and I'm not letting anyone else sit around and wait for him either."
Caesar set Kilo's head on the grass and started to stride off with purpose.
"Are you going on this righteous crusade now?" called Haymitch somewhat jokingly after him.
"No, I am, in fact, going to urinate because I happened to swallow a lot of saltwater today and I've been holding it. So since you're up, keep watch for a few moments," Caesar called back over his shoulder.
Haymitch almost laughed, but felt that he might be sick if he did, so he watched the unnaturally lit world around him while Caesar relieved himself and when the ex-host returned, the two sat in silence for a while, soaking in the beauty around them and enjoying nature, however bizarre for what could be the last time. When it came time to relieve Katniss for her shift, Haymitch noticed an unusual heat coming up through what had moments before been cool, damp earth.
With a hiss and a burst of steam, the ground beneath them opened up and Haymitch felt himself falling away…
