Author's Note: I got a question on this, so I just want to clarify in case any of the other readers missed it too; Catiline is Snow's right hand man, the one in charge of the Games. Rumor has it the two are fighting each other for power right now.
A thousand thanks to EStrunk for her wonderful beta-work!
Chapter 14.
Empty space. They've emerged into a cavern instead of the tunnel.
That's all I can see at first, and for a second I wonder why that's important enough for Sanderson to draw our attention to it, unless he just wants to interrupt the fight. Then I realize that the kids have all taken off their glasses, let go of the hands, and that the background against the cameras is lighter than before. There's a funny roaring noise crackling through the speakers.
The main camera's been zoomed in close on their expressions, but now that it's clear everyone's watching, it slowly pans out and I can see the light is coming from below, almost at their feet—
Fire.
There's a . . . a . . . I don't know how to describe it except to say that the floor they're on is like a shelf—only a few feet away, it drops into a cliff and both the face and the distant ground below, are covered in flame. The kids' faces are clearly illuminated now, dirt smudged and glistening with sweat, staring at the sight in front of them as if entranced. The heat must be incredible, but it doesn't seem to be giving off smoke and I can't see any sign of fuel. Definitely synthetic.
Kev shrinks away, but I can see Mareen's eyes shining, hungry almost. It's that same strange attraction I've seen people get when they watch lightning dance across a storm black sky, or one of the giant forest trees being felled, the desire for the sheer power they see in front of them.
But in Mareen, it's much more dangerous.
The flames roar up, propelled by the Gamemakers to give a display. They're no longer just lining the surfaces, they're burning off the air itself, forming shapes, pillars. The other kids back off, but Mareen edges forward, straight to the precipice, inches from the flames. Shudders are running through her, tremors of power, temptation singing to her, washing her like waves, like the sweat pouring down her skin.
"Mareen!" Kev calls from the back of the cavern. His face is flushed from heat, but his voice is weak and shaky and I realize he's terrified. "Come on, Mareen, let's get out of here!"
"Hush!" Something flickers in Mareen's face. Her voice is hard and impatient, yes, but for a split second her eyes unlock from the flames, and she seems uncertain, realizes that something's wrong. Then she refocuses, dismisses Kev from her mind.
He steps forward, carefully not looking at the edge, standing as far back from it as he can while reaching her, and taps her shoulder. She shrugs him off.
Kev's face firms, and in one quick movement he grabs her shoulder, spins her, and slaps her hard in the face with his good hand.
Mareen lashes out, seizes him by the arm, yanks him around and forward. Kev goes limp, clutching for something, any sort of hold, but he's at the cliff's edge, toes barely scraping the rock, not falling only because of Mareen's hold, his face locked in a silent scream, and I can see the monster there, dancing in her eyes, thrilled with this, so alive—
The flames soar behind them.
"I'm so tired of red."
Four's boy, Bahari, dribbles a pebble in front of him as he walks. He's coordinated enough that he doesn't need to look down at it, which is a good thing. Even though we're the Careers, even though we have the weapons, supplies, and strength, every one of us feels exposed and vulnerable in this open, alien arena. It should work the other way—we should be reassured that we'll see anything coming long before it reaches us—but it doesn't. It's hard to believe we're on a giant stage, that there's any sort of world outside of this vast red landscape and the single mountain peak in the distance. This is all there is. The Careers. Our prey. Myself. The gift. The rest of Panem doesn't exist.
It doesn't help that we're down to four in our little alliance. Myself, Dannis, Bahari, and Dannis's district partner, Garnet. There are still ten tributes alive, and only three of them are proper Careers at all—it's as if there's a jinx on them this year.
Of course, it's actually that I've killed the others, but they don't realize that.
I feel Dannis's eyes on me as we walk, and wonder again what could possibly be going through his head. The boy's a mystery to me, one I can't waste the time to figure out. Because every time I try, that hungry stirring rises up in my gut. My wariness, curiosity, and even the slight hints of friendship I feel for this boy won't stop me from killing him when it comes time. The gift I was given will see to that.
Because I'm realizing now that it is a gift. The horror, guilt, and pain I first felt when I made my choice—nearly a week ago now—have slowly eroded like water undercutting a stream bank. This gift allows me to do what I need to, when otherwise I'd have broken and died. I still hate it, even fear it a little, but mixed with that is a grudging gratitude.
Even now, though, it's trying to burst loose. I feel this urge in the back of my mind, images dancing in my head the way a hungry man sees food in front of him. I fantasize that I can stab Garnet, whose back is to me, slash Bahari's throat, inject Dannis with one of the poisons from my vials. I find my hand clenching the scalpel in my pocket.
"What's District 4 like?" Garnet asks, breaking the silence and distracting the gift long enough for me to push it away.
"Hot." Bahari says, kicking the pebble across the sand. "But not like this. It's humid. And there's water everywhere. Kids learn to swim before they walk, and most of us grow up on boats, fishing and . . ."
As he keeps talking, my grip on the scalpel slowly loosens. It's easier to remember they're human when they talk.
Not yet, I tell the gift. Soon. Very soon. It growls and grumbles at that. No real kills for five whole days. I hate to admit it, but I don't know how much longer I can keep my control. But I need to. If I'm going to save the kids, I need to kill the Careers first. And Kronos, if he's still alive by that point. Then, and only then, can I afford to stop the gift from hurting one else. Then, I'll be ready to die. That's what I want. Isn't it?
"What's that?"
We all turn as Garnet points to the long shadow to our left. Only, we all know it's not really a shadow. This arena is dotted with small, steep canyons, barely visible from above or far away except as smudges of deep crimson against the scarlet sand. Distances here are deceiving, but I'd guess it's fairly close. A fifteen minute walk maybe.
"What's what?" Dannis asks, shading his hand and looking at the canyon. "I don't see anything there."
"There was a person. I'm sure there was. They scrambled into the canyon just now."
Another person. My stomach drops. So far, we've only come across two tributes. The Gamemakers haven't pushed us together like they usually do, probably because there's enough drama from me trying to kill off the Careers without getting caught. One of the kids was trying to sneak into our camp at night, and Garnet got him before I was even awake. The boy was badly dehydrated, probably trying to steal our water. The other was the girl from District 4. I let them kill her. She was supposed to be a Career before she managed to get kicked out of the group, and I'm here to save an innocent person, not one who was stupid enough to volunteer, no matter how that worked out for them. It should have been a tough decision, but to be honest, the hardest part was resisting tearing her apart worse than Bahari and Garnet did.
But an innocent kid, one who I might actually be able to save. . . .
"I'll check it out," I say. Dannis's eyes flicker to me, expressionless, and I feel confused all over again. What is he up to?
"Why don't we all go investigate?" Bahari asks. "Four pairs of eyes are better than one. And some of the canyon bottoms have streams. Our supplies could use a refill, and I could use a bath."
"Because it could be a trap," I point out. "We could be about to walk straight off a cliff. Literally. I figure if I'm the only one to go and there is some plot to kill anyone who comes by, I'll spring the trap and you guys can come in and rescue me." I'm just trying to go alone, but I realize as I speak that it's partially true. One of the kids could be preparing to kill me. It's a chance I just have to take. Just like I have to risk keeping the gift around.
"I still don't like it." Bahari argues. "This arena's huge. We can get separated easily and—"
"And we all know this alliance isn't going to last much longer anyway.If we get separated, I'll try to get back. And if that doesn't work, I'll say it's fate telling me to strike out on my own."
"Fate? How do we know you aren't—"
"You two are being ridiculous!" Garnet snaps. "Let's just—"
"Liv, you and Bahari go check it out together." Dannis's voice is quiet but, like it's been since day one, firmly in charge. "Call if you get in trouble, and we'll come."
"Fair enough," I say, although I don't feel that way at all. I grab an extra water bottle from Garnet and stride off without another word, but I'm fuming inside. Everything—the gift, the deaths, my plan, all seems so under control. Except Dannis.
Bahari catches up after a minute and it's clear that he's taking his defeat much less gracefully. If he was Garnet, I'd worry that he might revolt against orders and try to kill me, but I've watched him the past week. He's vicious but he's also the good-little-soldier sort who follows the leader. That doesn't stop him from cussing and stamping his feet and glaring at me the whole hike to the canyon, though. If there really is a kid here, he's had ample warning that we're coming. I just hope he's smart and quickenough to hide.
Aside from Bahari's initial grumbling, the walk is largely silent, and when we get to the canyon I don't see anyone except us and, in the distance, Dannis and Garnet. "This was a waste of time," I say. "Come on, let's go."
"No." Bahari points down to the bottom of the canyon and this time it's my turn to swear, although I keep it to myself. Not a kid, but there's a gully stream flowing through the canyon, and to our left what looks like a manageable way down. Garnet's right. There's bound to be someone here; the set up is too nice for nobody to be taking advantage of it. And, of course, Bahari wants to go down there, where we'll either be exposed to a trap or have to kill one of the tributes.
But it's also the perfect place to kill him.
What's the better plan? Go down there and risk a kid's life, but have a shot at Bahari? Or make sure this kid is safe, even if it means letting a Career live?
I could pretend I don't have a choice. Bahari's already working his way down, and it's either follow him or get left behind. I could pretend it's that. Or I could lie to myself and say that I make the rational choice to risk one hypothetical kid for the near-certainty of stopping this murderer. But in the end, it's the gift that takes over, the addiction, the longing for blood, anyone's blood.Trying to hold it back is as futile as replanting a severed tree trunk and hoping it'll grow.
The path is steep, more of a ledge than anything, and for several minutes it's everything I can do to keep from falling off the side. I'm grateful as I never was before that you get used to heights in District 7. I was terrified of them as a kid, but when you live in a forest, climbing trees is something you eventually adapt to. And, even though the ledge is small, it's infinitely better than a swaying, breaking tree branch.
Bahari's not handling things nearly as well. He nearly loses his grip twenty feet from the bottom and yelps like a kicked dog. The second he leaps to the ground he's got his head in his hands and is swallowing like he's trying not to vomit. "Never again . . ." he mutters. "Never ever. . . ."
I almost do it right then. In fact, while he's not looking I stoop down, open my pack. I pretend to be pulling out the empty water bottles, but really I'm using a syringe to draw out the poison from one of my vials. I slide the plastic cap over the needle and cup it in my palm. My hands are completely steady but my breathing's beginning to pick up. I want this, I want this so badly, and he's just crouched over there, waiting, ready for me to attack. The anticipation builds, sweetness and pain and ungodly desire.
The sound of falling rocks startles us both. Our heads jerk up in unison and we see a kid not twenty feet from us scrambling away. Bahari's standing before I can even think, sword in hand, chasing after him.
Damn it! I'm missing my kill! The stupid kid finally figures out that there's nowhere to run in this small canyon and turns to fight. A knife's in my other hand, but it's Bahari who's closer, Bahari who's battling him and his big sword cleaves through the walking stick the boy shoves between them before I even reach the pair.
Bahari knocks the boy to the ground, and it's like I can watch the future splitting in front of me. I see myself saving him, pushing the kid away, taking the blow for him, fighting Bahari and dying while he runs. And I see myself poisoning Bahari, waiting until his back is turned to deliver the death stroke.
Hero or monster?
Bahari hasn't even looked up from the kill when my needle drives into his neck.
"Don't do it! Mareen, help me!"
The change is so fast even I don't see it. Mareen's there, standing over him, about to kill her own brother, the flames flaring, ready to engulf him, and then he's flying forward, yanked back onto the rock shelf, Mareen spinning away, falling onto her hands and knees. The camera zooms in and I can see the tears forming in her eyes, dripping down her cheeks. Her lips are moving, but either the cameras can't hear with all the background noise or it's soundless.
Sanderson clears his throat. "What's she saying?"
"'No.' Over and over again." My voice sounds odd in my own ears. It's quiet, but not with pain. With . . . disbelief. Even here, even in this silent room, I can feel the thrill, the craving. How can she stand it? Fight it off? Stay in control? "She's begging for this not to be real."
"Mareen?" Kev taps her on the shoulder and she flinches back. The reaction looks like a wounded animal's, but I know what it really is. Removing herself from temptation. "Mareen, we have to—"
"Get out of here," Mareen says. "Please, Kev, just—just go."
Kev looks between her and the tunnels and I see his face harden. "Not without you. Come on."
Sanderson swears, and mutters something under his breath. I think it's "Just leave her, kid," but Kev obviously doesn't care what either his mentor or Mareen want because he grabs one of her hands before she can protest and hauls her halfway to her feet.
"I told you. You're staying with me," he says when Mareen tries to pull away. "That means you either let me help you out of here or we all stay and burn like a lightning struck tree."
Mareen shudders and I see the fight, the tension, go out of her. She nods and Kev leads her forward, like a dog on a leash. He looks over at the group of kids. "Come on! Or do you all want to stay alone in here?"
There's silence for several seconds, then one of them—Trek, the boy from 9—steps forward and pokes the others into motion. They all shuffle behind Kev, keeping a good distance from Mareen, Trek in the lead.
The sound is so low I don't even hear it at first. It's more of a vibration deep down in my gut, and I would think I'm imagining it except that I see Trek put a hand to his chest too, looking puzzled. Then it grows, reaching my eardrums, getting louder and louder. The camera shot starts to tremble.
"Hurry up!" Kev breaks into a sprint, Mareen pulled behind him, the other kids following except for one, that injured boy from 3, who's looking around, confused and frightened.
At first I think it's just their group, some Gamemaker booby trap on the room, but then the main camera shows the Careers jumping up, grabbing their supplies, Iana holding Chel close as if to shield her, District 11 trying to climb out of his little gully, pieces of shale falling into his face. It's the arena. The whole arena.
The kids, the cameras, the walls around them, are shaking, shaking so hard I'm almost moving with them. Rocks start to slide, the ground breaks apart in places, splits, boulders crash everywhere, and Mareen and Kev and their group are trying to run, to get away from the flames in time, all the kids sprinting for cover and—
Everything goes black.
Author's Note: And y'all thought last week's ending was a cliffie.
Well, the Irish . . . alright, I'll just admit it, we were creamed. But it was against Stanford and at least we ended the season 8-4. And the NBA's finally looking at restarting! That's always a plus!
Alright, it's a pretty simple drill: you review, I sculpt a statue or compose a sonnet in your honor. Whichever you prefer.