My throat and nose both sting terribly when I wake up, and my skin is coated in a mixture of sweat and ash. I feel like crap.
I start to sit up, racking my brain to figure out just what happened, then stiffen and lay back down immediately when I remember the feeling of being dragged off. I know for a fact that Gaston was too tired to do that.
"Don't bother. I saw you move."
Oh shit. No, no, no, no, no. I know that voice.
With a groan, I push myself into a sitting position, tearing my eyes open for the first time, slightly startled to see how dark it is. That doesn't mean that I can't see that shining blue eyes, the golden blond hair, though. My heart drops into the pit of my stomach. I suppose that I should be surprised, maybe glad for the wonderful family reunion, but I'm more numb than anything.
"You're supposed to be dead," I mutter, not able to look at him in the fear that I'll see the weapon that he's going to use to kill me.
"You took out a good chunk of people, I'll give you that, but your precious fire didn't touch me."
"Chunk of people. How many?" I asked dazedly.
"Seven. There are seven left now."
Seven. In one go. I don't know if I should be proud of myself, or disgusted. Seven people who will never see their families again because of me. Right before I die, too. That's a sure ticket to hell. But a part of myself can't help but think that I already have one of the highest kill totals in these Games. The person who no one would have expected to make it past the first day.
Then I wonder if I'll actually get the kills, or if Gaston will because he did all the work. That's when I realize that he isn't here.
"Dylan, you didn't kill Gaston, did you?" I ask, scared to hear the answer. I don't know why, but I don't want him dead yet, especially not when it would be my fault that he was so weak in the first place.
Dylan snorts.
"If I did, you would be dead right now. I couldn't see him right away, but I was forced to leave because of the smoke." He stands up and walks over to me with long, even strides. "He is the only one left in these Games who is a danger to me, Alessia. The only one. If you can take me to him, I am almost guaranteed a trip home. Don't you want that, for your family?"
He kept me alive to show him where Gaston is. And I almost certainly know where he is. I had our pack, all of our supplies, so there's no doubt in my mind that he was forced to go back to our little overhang.
Only I don't want Dylan to kill him. I'd rather my own brother die than sell Gaston out. Somewhere in the last three or four days or however long it's been, I've grown to respect him more than I ever could Dylan.
Would Gaston trust me enough to help me if I took him in the general direction of the overhang? Would he see me with Dylan and automatically think that I'd switched sides, or would he know that I was being held hostage?
I don't know. I have very little idea how Gaston's mind works. I don't know if he'd even care whether I was dead or not. All that I know is that I'm not going to sell him out, that it would be a dirty move, and not worth it at all.
"Fine," I spit, like I have no choice but to agree with him. "On one condition."
Dylan snorted.
"This should be good."
"Just fill me in," I say. "I have no idea what's happened over the last…"
"Two days," he answers. "You've been out for two days."
"So you'll tell me?"
"Yes. I'll tell you, on the way. Are you good to walk?"
"Would you give a crap if I wasn't?" I ask waspishly. He lets out a low whistle.
"It's nice to see your real personality start to come out. I always knew you were a bitch." I take a deep breath, biting my tongue against the flood of retorts that I would like nothing more than to spit in his face. "And no, I wouldn't give a crap. I was just asking. Now come on. I want to take that scumbag out before he has time to get healthy."
"Um. Where are we?" I ask as I stumble onto my feet. It's too dark to see anything very clearly.
"Over the mountain," he tells me. "Like everyone else who's still alive. Your fire worked like a charm, it burned right up until it started raining last night. That entire half of the arena is burnt to a crisp."
At least I got something right.
"Who did it kill off?"
Dylan starts walking, and I follow after him, really wishing that I still had a pack or a knife, or something. I glare at his back, taking in his enormous sword, much bigger than Gaston's, the bow slung over his shoulder, and the thick bag that he is carrying on his back.
"The only ones who I cared to remember are the girls from 1 and 4," he says.
"Weren't they the last two in your little pack?" I ask, already falling behind. He slows down to allow me to catch up. "How'd they die if you're still alive?"
"I ditched them," he answered. "When I saw the hovercraft coming down over the trees the day you started the fire, I figured that it was probably your rebel friend, so I ran off and decided to chase the two of you instead. I had to veer off course once I saw the fire, but I caught up to you eventually. Too bad that the stupid creep ditched you."
Except that he didn't ditch me. He could hardly walk. I shake my head, clueless as to what happened to him.
"That's all I wanted to know," I finally say.
"Good. Now, do you recognize this place?"
I look around. I honestly don't have any idea where I'm at, but that may be because it's dark, too.
"Not at all. Where are we in relation to the cornucopia?"
"Probably a mile to the left of it. We're straight back from where the fire started," he answered. So that's about a half mile of going to the right, or North, I think. I wonder if Dylan has any idea how close we are to where we need to be.
"I have kind of an idea where we are, but I think that we should wait until morning. I can't really see, and-"
He grabs something from his pack and thrusts them into my hands. I look down hesitantly and see a pair of sunglasses with dark green lenses. For seeing at night. How wonderful.
"Thanks," I say unenthusiastically as I put the glasses on.
"Just hurry up."
Right. Hurry up.
I sigh and continue on in the general direction of the overhang, my steps slow and hesitant. I know that if Gaston isn't ready, Dylan is going to kill the both of us. I just don't know of any way to warn him that we're approaching.
"I'm just going to warn you that I only know one place where he might be, but it's been two days, and if he's packed up from there, I have no idea where he is," I try, pretty sure that Gaston hasn't been in any condition to pack up and move, unless he got help from his sponsors, which I suppose isn't too out of the question.
"We're going to look anyway, and if he isn't there, you had better figure out another place, or else you're useless to me."
"And then I'm going to die?" I ask. "I bet that you're looking forward to that, aren't you? Finish what you tried in the elevator that day."
He stiffens.
"I don't want to kill you, Ally."
Ally. What he called me when I was six, back before he got really into his training and we completely grew apart. I hardly even remember that long ago. The only memories that I have are flashes of my first year of school, about bragging about everything that I was doing to Dylan. Because his approval was all that I wanted back then.
I grit my teeth and push the memories away.
"Could've fooled me."
"It's necessary," he says.
"Why? Why is it necessary? Why didn't you just forget about volunteering after I got picked? Why didn't you just choose to trust me about the whole Gaston thing? And why are you going to kill me as soon as I show you where he is?"
He turns back to face me then, his face red with anger, his blue eyes frozen solid.
"Put yourself in my place for just a moment," he growls. "Think about how it would feel if you had a younger sister who had everything her entire life, if she got private schooling, tutors from the Capitol, presents and attention, and everything she could ever want. And while she was getting pampered and loved, you were forced to spend every second of your childhood working your ass off so that you could go to the Hunger Games, where there was a good chance that you would die. Picture that, Alessia."
"I- It wasn't like that," I protest.
"But it was," he spits. "Except then it gets worse. Because then that pampered princess of a little sister decides to poke her head into the one thing that was yours. Do you think that you would want to step back and let her get that too, all while you lose the only thing that you ever lived for?"
I look at my feet.
"But I didn't want to go to the Games," I whisper, even though I can see exactly why he was so mad at me, why he hates me so much. He's right. I never thought of it like that before, but our parents more or less raised him for slaughter, all while they were giving me everything that I ever wanted.
"That's not the point," he tosses back.
And I know that he's right, so I don't argue anymore. Because if I take this away from him, he's going to die with nothing.
Yet, I still don't want to betray Gaston because something in my gut tells me that he deserves winning more than Dylan does, despite everything. A part of me does want Dylan to get home, but for the most part, I know that my only chance to get out of here lies with Gaston, that sticking with Dylan means death. Because the Gamemakers don't want Gaston to get out, and if he can kill Dylan for me, then I am almost guaranteed to win.
The two of us walk on in silence, and I know that we're nearing the overhang. I'm actually starting to recognize some of my surroundings. I begin stomping my feet more than necessary, keep my eyes peeled for a sign of Gaston.
Then I almost want to cry out in relief. The slightest of movements catches my eye, and when I look very closely, I see a pair of eyes, dark as midnight, looking out at me. Those dark eyes flash in the general direction of the overhang, and he shakes his head, just slightly.
He doesn't want me to show Dylan the overhang, for whatever reason.
If I take my brother to some place with absolutely no sign of human occupation, he is going to be mad. He may possibly kill me. But Gaston is right here, it looks like he's not going to ditch me, and I can't have him thinking that I've betrayed him.
Basically, I have two choices. I can either trust Gaston to help me, or I can decide not to trust him and take Dylan to the overhang, or even just sell Gaston out now.
"Did you see something?" Dylan asks me harshly. "What are you looking at?"
"Just a funny looking bird," I answer, making my decision. Then I veer to the right, away from the overhang. "I recognize that tree. I think it should be this way."
A/N-
Bet ya didn't see that one coming, huh? I couldn't just have Dylan fizzle out of the story, though. Besides, this adds lots of tension. This is actually getting to be my favorite story to update at the moment just because it's getting so down to the fire. Kind of.
Whatever. Thanks to solid as a cloud (I seriously started freaking out when I checked my emails and I had a chunk of like ten reviews from you for all my stories. I was happy all day), brooke13243546, Sabs97 (thanks for pointing that out, and I did change my summary), Hahukum Konn, silver cat 777, and Seulement Moi Cl.
Also thanks to all of my readers, and everyone who's favorited the story.
Lastly, I have a big track meet this weekend, far, far away, so for everyone who reads Spreading the Fire, my update may not be until Monday or Tuesday.
I hope you liked the chapter, and pleeeeaaaassssseee review
~bballgirl32~
