Here's chapter 13 for all you lovely readers. :) I'm taking off tomorrow for Australia with no access to a computer for nine days, so you're in for a bit of a wait after this one, sorry. But I will be back!
It's hard, but for a moment I can forget myself and return to a place I haven't seen in weeks. In my head, I am not crouching at the mercy of two killers. Instead, when I look up and see the stout branches of the fruit tree I imagine that I'm looking into the thick foliage of the forest back home. I've never loved that place - all I've ever done is work there - but now just thinking about it makes me feel like I'm home.
Day is sniffling and quivering, holding her breath and bracing herself as if that would make the impeding pain any easier to bear. I feel like snapping at her and telling her that dying is going to hurt no matter how hard she cries, and that she should already know that, but then I realize that I'm no different. Here I am, staring up at the tree and thinking happier thoughts when I should be hauling myself to my feet and fighting the tributes off.
Day seems to sense my change of heart and stiffens, breaking off her sobbing. The world is eerily quiet as the two tributes exchange weapons, the skinny one handing the bigger one his knife. They watch me for a second, as if ensuring that I won't spring up and attack them, before the skinny one nods and the other guy picks his way toward me with a silent tread.
This is the only chance I'm going to get. I blink back waves of exhaustion and clutch the grass harder, bracing myself for the task ahead. I can hardly tell what's up and what's down anymore because of the pain screwing with my equilibrium, but I force myself to a wobbly standing position. Now, just to grab that branch and-
He's on me in a second, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing me back to my knees. I struggle wildly, kicking and grasping for his face so that maybe I could gouge his eyes out, but he holds me firmly with meaty fingers. Day's hopes crash at the same time mine do. I hadn't thought that the tribute would move that fast; I guess I had expected them to be charitable enough to let me reach my weapon and defend myself. As he fumbles with his knife to press it against my chest I know that I won't be able to fight free. I thrash anyway, making his knife knick the shirt plastered to my skin.
"You didn't even think to defend this fruit, did you?" He breathes heavily, obviously winded from the attack. "You idiot." His chuckle is low and wheezing. He's right, though; I'd never considered that other tributes might want this easy food source. I don't want to pay for that mistake with my life, but it seems I don't have a choice. I glare back at him, considering spitting right at his pudgy nose. I would probably do it if I hadn't seen countless tributes gouged to pieces over the years for antagonizing their killers right before they died.
"We'll take over that job now. Thanks for making this so easy for us." He grins. I hope that someone does this to him when the Careers find out about this tree and come after it. These two won't stand a chance against the pack. Two against four is a terrible set of odds. They must know it, too, considering the way the smaller guy keeps glancing over his shoulder. He looks like he's expecting an ambush at any second.
"Wait," I command suddenly and stop squirming. "How long do you expect to hold this platform? An hour? If there's no other food in the arena the Careers are going to take it from you. They probably won't just push you off, either. You know how they love a good show."
His face doesn't contort in the uncertainty I had hoped for. He looks calm as he replies that that shouldn't matter to a dead tribute like myself.
I grit my teeth, frustrated. I'm no good at playing mind games, and obviously this guy isn't going to fall for my inexperienced tactics.
"You're not even a little worried?" I ask with a smirk, as if I'm confident that I'll get to watch him die from somewhere beyond this world.
"No," he says with a shrug. "But you probably should be."
I've been so preoccupied with our little struggle that I've forgotten that it only ends one way - with my death. His lame threat isn't enough to scare me, but it reminds me that I am about to disappear from this world forever. That thought sends bolts of fear straight to my stomach. I hope desperately that whatever comes after this isn't just the absence of me. Whatever may come, hell or heaven, I want to be around to experience it. I find it impossible to think that I could just stop existing.
"I could help you." The words fly out of my mouth, unbidden, and I realize that all of Day's pent-up terror has just burst out in real words. Furious and more than a little worried that she was able to take control of me like that, I rush to fight her back. I wish that she was as real as this boy so that I could really hurt her, but for now I have to be content with furiously blocking her from my mind.
No! Arden, wait! Her little shriek is faint, and I realize that I have actually diminished her presence in my head. Tell them that you'll help them defend the tree so that the Careers don't kill them. Tell them, she begs.
Without thinking first, I do as she says. "You don't want to die, do you? I'll help. I'll defend the tree for you so the Careers don't kill you. Three against four is better than two against four."
I feel dirty as soon as the words leave my mouth. To me, it sounds as if I'm begging for my life. They'll probably just kill me anyway and splatter my pieces across the grass. I'll go down as the almost-bloodbath who begged for his life before being ripped to shreds by two other guys over a tree.
When my attacker hesitates, biting his lip, I realize just how scared the two guys are of the Careers. I take advantage of his pause to rip his hands off me with my good arm and jump to my feet. The two boys immediately advance toward me, weapons hovering in the air between us, but I throw out my good arm to stop them. "I just wanted to stand up," I snap. "I'll still help you. You don't feel like getting slaughtered by the Career pack, and I don't feel like dying right now."
"He's not even armed," the skinny one laughs. "Don't get your hackles all raised, Greene."
The big guy lowers his knife, glaring at the other boy. "How do we know you won't attack us in our sleep?" He asks suspiciously.
"There are two of you," I reply flatly. After today's performance, and with a broken arm, I have no illusions of adding two more kills to my tally. I grip my twisted forearm lightly, holding it up so that it doesn't bang painfully against my side.
They seem to take notice of the arm once I hold it up and decide I'm no threat.
"Did I break that?" The big guy asks, looking almost giddy.
"Yes," I hiss out between clenched teeth. "Fix it and I might be able to defend you a little better."
"It's settled, then." The skinnier boy, who looks about 18, walks closer and appraises my bruised face. Flat black hair sweeps across his forehead, looking stark against his pale skin. His small blue eyes are sharp, mirroring the pointy angle of every joint in his body. "I'm Ray Perce, from Three."
"Tham Greene, District Ten," the big guy rumbles, following suit.
"Arden. Seven." I tell them shortly. I reach up and pluck my bags out of the tree, wrapping the cords securely around my shoulders.
Thank you, Day whispers fervently.
"Woah, dude here scored some bags," Greene pipes up. "Let us have a look, huh?"
I pull the bags closer to my body. "I'll help you, but I'm not giving you my bags," I snarl, fixing him with a long glare until he looks to his buddy for assistance.
"What's in them?" Ray asks coolly. He's still the one with the weapon, so after a moment a force the answer out.
"Little water bottles, some bandages. And some of the fruit." I purposely leave out the matches and vitamins, though I don't really see what good the vitamins will do.
"Nothing good," Ray shrugs. "Greene, teach him how to splint his arm. I don't want him blundering around and whimpering every time he moves his arm."
I narrow my eyes at him but allow Greene to pluck a small, straight branch from the fruit tree and explain the process of splinting a broken bone. It's clear that he doesn't know much about it, but I take what advice he can give and wrap the stick close to my arm with the rest of the bandages. The old slice on my arm objects to having the stick wrapped so closely, but I tie the stick on anyway. It doesn't feel any better - dark purple splotches are currently spreading across my skin - but I assume that this will keep it from getting worse.
Daylight is just peaking over the horizon when Ray speaks up again. "Know anything about the Careers?" He grunts, and I realize that he's talking to me.
"No," I mutter back around the mouthful of fruit I am chewing on. Except that I killed one.
"I only saw three at the Cornucopia when I was leaving," Greene interjects, bobbing his head.
"But only two were killed in the bloodbath," Ray muses. "So either one was late to the party or decided to skip out on an alliance with bloodthirsty Careers they didn't know."
The thought of one less Career makes my head spin. Without a secure pack the Careers are in danger, and any large alliance of other tributes could take them down. Then I could have a chance. In a fight against malnourished kids that haven't been trained their whole lives, I might win.
"Looks like Arden here evened the stakes nicely," Ray says, flashing me a loose grin that makes my flesh crawl. The way he slithers over my name reminds me that I'm pretty much a prisoner now, and that this is no alliance. I don't actually have two people on my side. They'll feed me to the Careers without a second thought.
Sizing them up now, though, I wonder how they ever could have trapped me like this. Ray, who looks like he's running the show, is twig-skinny and, despite the intelligence in his eyes, is clearly nothing more than the average tribute from Three. Greene's bigger than me, but most of his bulk isn't muscle. He's obviously too stupid to make his own decisions, though his eager bloodlust is a little worrisome. Really, they're just a subpar version of the brains and the brawn.
Even with numbers on their side, I could probably take them. That is, I could if my arm wasn't completely mutilated. Right now I don't even have a fighting chance.
So what is there to do? I'm completely at their mercy here on our little island, with nowhere to run. I may have bought a few more days, but when the Careers come or when these two grow tired of me, I'm finished. Ray gives me a close look, as if reading my thoughts, and I decide that I'll keep as close to them as I can and watch their every move until I find a way out of this mess.
At least we're still alive, Day thinks, and her voice sounds genuinely happy for a moment. One more day, for me, is just prolonging the inevitable. For me, a day in this arena is just another stretch of time to worry about when and how I'll die. But to her, after being killed once, just being alive up in my head must be a miracle.
Yeah, I concede grudgingly. For now.