CH 14: Swing Low
The water hole was really that in name only. Stagnant mud pit was more befitting. But, there was a little water still baking on the top of the muddy crust; that was if the solitary deer or antelope or whatever it was didn't drain the last drop. A little water was better than no water. There had been a minor downpour the previous day. Not really even enough to take the burn out of the air and when it had stopped the arena had gone from just plain hot to sweltering and humid.
Rondo pulled the twig out of his mouth and regarded the end he had been gnawing on. At least it gave him the feeling of something in his mouth, the chewing sensation helping to convince his mind and his belly that he was eating. An old trick from back in District 11 where the workdays were long, hot, and humid, the water was rationed and the meals were small. It occurred to him the orchard workers must have had it the worst. All day picking fruit that they couldn't eat while their stomachs growled and begged for just one morsel. He had been reaped in his last eligible year having already spent what seemed a lifetime in the cotton fields. There wasn't any temptation to eat cotton, so they chewed on the sticks to help pass the hours between lunch in the field and whatever meager meal waited at home for dinner.
The monthly victor's allowance was more than enough food for one person. He gave most of it away. And though he didn't have to he still spent his days in the cotton fields, singing. The songs had been passed down in District 11 for generations. He'd always been the singer in his field and the other hands would hum in chorus. That helped pass the time too. The scythe had been his weapon all those years ago in the arena, it was light and familiar in his hand and it spilled blood with ease…so much blood. Very little gave him happiness after that, save for the singing, that's why he returned to the fields.
Now, he had no weapon, he'd done well just to get away from the melee at the Cornucopia unscathed. He had no food, save for some wild fruit he'd scavenged over the past few days. And he had no canteen. When it had rained he had dropped to his back on the ground and opened his mouth and drank all he could until the pathetic sprinkle had ceased.
Rondo smiled, gave a light chuckle and took a deep breath as he let his heavy baritone float from his perch on the small hill down to the mud hole:
Deep river,
My home is over Jordan.
Deep river, Lord.
I want to cross over into campground.
Deep river,
My home is over Jordan.
Deep river, Lord.
I want to cross over into campground.
Oh, don't you want to go,
To the Gospel feast;
That Promised Land,
Where all is peace?
Oh, deep river, Lord.
I want to cross over into campground.
The stag at the water listened, raising his head at the first note as muddy water dripped from his mouth. Enthralled, much as the other workers had been the first day in the field when he'd opened that boyish mouth and a man's voice had filled the air, the creature listened until the last note.
"You go on, now," Rondo warned as he approached the hole, "and beware of men with steel."
He sank to his knees in the quickly drying oasis and skimmed his hand across the top of the small pool of water and brought it to his parched and expectant lips. "Deep river…you are not."
The water was hot and slimy with silt, dead gnats, and no telling what else. He drank it anyway, handful after handful. He froze, the water in his cupped hand that was almost to his lips dripped free from between his fingers. "Only a man with a blade walks so loud his footsteps can be heard." Rondo stood and turned.
Blight had become a man of few words over the course of the Quarter Quell proceedings. Rondo's eyes traveled down from his stern and emotionless face to the tomahawk he gripped in his right hand. He put the stick back in his mouth and chewed. "I know you don't wanna do this, man. Still Careers out there. You could save old Rondo for last. Chances are I'll probably starve to death or die of dehydration first. Maybe end up on the pointy end of Ian Faulkner's spear before you even get back round to me."
Blight didn't flinch except to tighten his grip on the weapon. He didn't want to do it. He hadn't wanted to do it the first time and he especially didn't want to now…not to the victors he'd come to call friends over the years. But, a man will do things he doesn't want to do, things that appall him, when the only other choice is dying.
Rondo nodded and spat the twig out. He could try to run, but he was old and didn't figure his chances were good against a victor from the lumber district wielding a throwing ax. End of the road. All those years ago, the first time around, he could still remember how the other children ran, pleaded, and screamed even when the end was inevitable. He wasn't a child this time. "Just…" he held up one hand slowly, "…I don't want to see it coming."
He turned his back on the other victor, took a deep breath and let it go with words:
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home,
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me…
The light rain three days ago had been just enough to fill their canteens but that supply like the one before it dwindled with each hesitant sip as the days turned over. It had been tempting to head back into the charred section of the arena that the fire had consumed. Jane doubted anyone would come there, what with there being no shelter and all plant and animal life having gone up in the conflagration. It was an unenviable decision: less likelihood of encountering another tribute…even less likelihood of finding sustenance. They headed east instead, trying to keep distance between themselves and the Cornucopia where the Careers were likely camped nearby.
Maura plopped to the ground under a scarce bit of shade from an acacia and retrieved the last baobab fruit from her pack. The tree they had sheltered in from the fire was tall enough that some of the fruit survived the scorching flames. But, the fruit was large and only a few fit in their packs. She handed it to Jane to split with her knife and they shared the dry pulpy contents mixed with a little water to make the acidic contents easier to choke down.
"There's the map…with the lake," Maura started. They had already had this conversation.
"I don't trust it," Jane countered immediately. "Why would he give that to you? He could have killed you…me…with ease."
"The look in his eyes…"
"Maura." Jane sighed and ran her hands through her hair as she tightened her ponytail.
"You've never not trusted me."
Jane turned and cupped Maura's face in her hands, "I trust you. Absolutely. But, not him. Not this Giovanni. This is the arena. As long as we can find water every few days, we're fine. Ok?"
Maura nodded. "I can't believe it's been a week."
Jane set the empty husk of her half of the fruit aside, "Hey," she wrapped one hand around the back of Maura's neck as the other stroked her cheek and drew her into a kiss. In that moment she could forget the terrible world that surrounded them; she could vanquish for just a few seconds the constant jitter of fear that flurried in her chest. The kiss waned and Jane pressed her lips to Maura's cheek and pulled her in close. "The opportunity to do that is all I need to keep going."
Living through the Games once had given Jane somewhat of a sixth sense. At least, that's what she thought of it as. Maura, with her unyielding rationality and logic had countered that she was just adept at identifying patterns in the game and expecting when a Gamemakers' manipulation was due. Maybe that was it. Either way as the day wore on Jane grew increasingly plagued by an unsettling feeling.
"It's been too long since someone died," she said, coming to a halt in a particularly brushy grove. "What night was it the picture of Rondo was shown in the sky?"
"Night before last," Maura answered. Too quiet. She's right.
She couldn't hear anything but the hair on her arms raised and she could feel herself sweating more profusely in anticipation. Jane scanned the grove, once, twice, and on the third time…she caught sight of the trident hurtling through the air with the corner of her eye. Launching into Maura she slammed them to the ground as the projectile glanced over them. Jane jumped to her feet just as Silas from District 4 was on them.
"Maura! Run!" she yelled as she grappled with the man some fifteen years her junior.
Jane had just managed to loose a dagger from her belt when he had collided with her. Now, they struggled for control of the blade. He was wrenching it from her grasp, little by little, his body heavy and debilitating on top of her. Silas jerked it free and turned the blade on Jane. A guttural howl tore from her throat as she summoned every ounce of strength to keep the dagger from her own throat. The sharp steel sliced with ease through her palms as she deflected her attacker. The lacerations stretched and burned as she continued to work her hands in her own defense.
"Dammit! Maura! Run!" Jane yelled again.
But, Maura didn't run, Jane gasped as the tip of the blade came within an inch of piercing her throat as Silas lurched forward from the weight of Maura on his back.
"Get…off…of her!" Maura shrieked, her arm tightening around his neck in a chokehold as he growled and snorted, still trying to press the dagger to Jane's throat against her unexpectedly strong resistance.
The action was so quick Jane could only watch as he let go of her and stabbed the knife blindly behind him. Maura fell to the ground.
"NO!" Jane bellowed, finally free of the brunt of his weight she grabbed for the spare dagger on her belt and let out a blood-curdling scream as she slashed wildly towards him. The first swipe connected under his ear and opened his face with a gaping cut from his jaw, over his cheek and up to the corner of his eye. Silas threw his head back and reached for his face and Jane caught his throat on the down stroke. She threw her body into him, knocking him back and straddling him as she plunged the blade into his chest over and over until his last gurgling attempt at a breath froze in his throat and his blue eyes stilled and glassed over.
BOOM. The canon fired.
"Maura…" Jane muttered as she crawled towards her. "Lemme see."
Maura's hands trembled as she let them slide, bloodied, away from the wound in her side. Her eyes blinked rapidly and she fought the panic that made her throat feel like it was closing in. A tear crept out and she reached for it, not wanting Jane to see her cry, the blood from her hand cleared the salty drop away and left a streak of crimson in its place.
"How deep did it go?" Jane's voice shook as she rolled Maura's tank and jacket up to see the blood oozing out of the wound.
"I don't know," Maura whispered, gasping and digging her fingers into the earth as Jane covered the wound with her own hands and applied pressure.
"Tell me what to do, Maura. Tell me what to do."
"Gotta…stop the bleeding," she couldn't stop the tears this time as Jane pressed down harder. "Based on…the location…the blade could have pierced the large or small intestine. If that's the case…chances are…I'll bleed to death internally or possibly develop bacteremia or sepsis. Either of which in this environment, untreated, would be fatal…"
"No," Jane choked, shaking her head. "That's not gonna happen. I'm not going to let that happen."
Maura smiled and settled her hands on top of Jane's, "I love you."
"No!" Jane protested, "Don't you dare say that like you're dying."
"Silas!" The name cut through the grove from a distance. Ian or Casey, Jane couldn't be sure.
"Dammit!" Jane scrambled for their supplies; slinging the packs on backwards so that they were on her chest she fastened them around her back. "UP!" Maura yelped as Jane pulled her to her feet, squatted and hoisted her onto her back. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, Jane ran.
She remembered Maura's demo, how easily a single blade of elephant grass had sliced through skin, as she approached the more than six-foot tall field of it. It was the only cover; it would have to do.
"Maura, I want you to tuck your face into my neck, ok?" Jane waited until Maura complied before pushing into the dense grass. Her hands were already cut from the fight; she put them out ahead of herself to push the grass aside, hoping to avoid taking the brunt of it with her face.
The clumps of grass were dense but finally Jane came to a small clearing. She eased Maura off her back and settled her on the ground. Stripping off her own jacket she wadded it up and propped Maura's head on it. "Drink some water," Jane put the edge of the canteen to Maura's lips.
"We don't have that much left."
Jane tilted the canteen anyway, helping Maura lift her head to drink. "It's not bleeding that much, Maura. That's a good sign right?"
Maura managed a feeble smile. She didn't have the heart to tell her that the pressure from being pressed against Jane's back might have helped the external portion of the wound to clot. She could still be bleeding internally; there was no way to know. If there wasn't significant internal damage and barring infection, there was a chance the wound was survivable. Given the circumstances, Maura had difficulty grasping at that small flicker of hope. "Yes, Jane. It's a good sign."
Rooting through the backpack Jane produced the ointment a sponsor had sent after the fire, "We have some of this left. Would that help?"
"It would do better for your hands," Maura reached for Jane's wrist and turned her palm over where she could see deep cuts from the struggle and the smaller lacerations from wading through the grass.
"Don't worry about my hands," Jane unscrewed the top and scooped up the remaining ointment.
Maura's grip was surprisingly strong on her arm, "Please, Jane. You need your hands." She swiped her finger through the ointment, dragging it down to Jane's palm and rubbing it in. She gathered more and treated the other hand as well.
Jane's face softened as she stroked Maura's cheek with her free hand, "Ever the healer. And always taking care of me."
"It's what I do," Maura sniffled, releasing her grip on Jane after the ointment was rubbed in.
"Now, let me take care of you for once," Jane spread the wound slightly as Maura stifled a scream and applied the last of the ointment as far in where the blade had gored her as possible.
President Hoyt strode with a satisfied smirk on his face through the control room. "Jane, Jane, Jane," he clucked, watching the screen with something vaguely resembling admiration. "You are a determined one!"
"A formidable group of victors and tributes," Gabriel Dean added as he stepped up next to the President.
Hoyt turned his head slowly and let his sinister gaze drag down the length of his Head Gamemaker's body, "A shame really. That only one can live."
Dean tried to hide the shiver the soul-baring look gave him. "For some reason, Sir, I don't believe you when you say that."
Hoyt laughed his tinny and wheezing laugh and reached for the image of Jane on the screen, "Jaaaane. So beautiful. So defiant. So…in love. And when did that ever serve anyone well?" He turned and faced Dean. "The elephant grass field sits in a flood plain, does it not?"
Dean swiped his hand across the screen and brought up a topographical rendering of the arena, "It does."
Hoyt smiled, "A few days ago…you promised me a thunderstorm."
You've got to be kidding me. Jane looked up and watched as the early evening sky grew black, not from the setting sun but from ominous clouds that appeared out of nowhere.
"That doesn't look good," Maura noted as the clouds continued to darken and roll overhead.
"No, it doesn't." Jane sat up and pulled the tarp from one of the packs. The rain began to fall, lightly at first, just a drizzle. Jane swung her leg over Maura and straddled her as she unfurled the tarp, staking it to the ground with her daggers a few feet out on each side of Maura's body as she used herself as the center pole to create a makeshift tent over them.
"Creative," Maura murmured, looking up at Jane with a smirk.
The sky opened with a jarring clap and the rain began to fall in heavy sheets; yet, for the time being, the tarp deflected the giant drops and kept them dry.
"Look on the bright side," Maura turned her head and reached for the canteen, "We needed water anyway."
Jane held the canteen out where a steady stream of rainwater flooded off the tarp. When it was full she filled the other. Small favors, she thought. This rain was heavier than the last and the thunder exploded above them shooting out bright streaks of lightning that illuminated everything in the darkness around them. Yet another reminder of how the arena was an exercise in surviving the extreme.
Only utter exhaustion could have dragged her into sleep with the rain pelting down from above and the thunder mimicking the sound of a war zone. But, sleep she had, her chin slumping forward to her chest as she straddled Maura in an effort to keep the tarp aloft and the rain off of them. Maura shouting her name pulled her abruptly from that slumber.
Jane gasped, her eyes flashing open into darkness. It was then she could feel the water, feel Maura trying to shake her awake, and hear Maura coughing and choking. A streak of lightning lit the arena just long enough for Jane to see the floodwaters nearly covering Maura's face. She grabbed her and pulled her into a sitting position as Maura cried out in pain.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Jane panted as she struggled to calm her breathing from the shock. She wrapped her arms around Maura and hugged her close, "I'm sorry. I fell asleep."
Maura nodded, "The water…it's still rising."
Jane pulled the daggers free and felt blindly through the muddy water around them for the packs and the canteens. The water continued to rush past as they stood, creeping higher and higher. It was surprisingly cold and only then did Jane realize that the one thing she hadn't retrieved was her jacket that she had placed under Maura's head. The water was mid thigh in depth now and she figured the jacket for lost, swept away in the current that seemed to be flowing in the direction from which they had entered the grass earlier that evening.
Maura shivered, her teeth chattering as she pressed herself flush against Jane. "Drought…fire…now flood. It can't get any worse."
The water was nearly to her hips now. Jane tightened her grip around Maura and pressed her lips to wet and plastered hair at Maura's temple. "It's the arena. There's always something worse." Jane tried to move her feet, contemplated hoisting Maura back on her back and trying to make for higher ground. She couldn't remember how far into the field they had fled and the mud beneath her was thick and sticky. As slow as we'd be moving…we won't make it to higher ground if it keeps rising.
"How high could it possibly get," Maura knew it was a stupid question as soon as it slipped out. This wasn't some random flood, after all.
Jane's body shook as she laughed, "Well, I'm 5'9. I'd guess…at least that high."
"Jane…I can't swim."
Jane lifted Maura's chin and kissed her softly on the lips, "Neither can I."
There were no pools in District 8. There were empty concrete rectangles in the ground surrounded by fences where pools once existed, but in all their lives those holes had never been filled with water. There were no lakes in District 8 either, no creeks and no river.
The water rose. It parted at Maura's back and rippled around her ribs as the rain continued to fall. "Jane…" she said softly, "…when it's over our heads, I'm not going to fight it, ok? Just…don't let go. I want to stay in your arms."
Jane reached for the chain around her neck and ripped it, breaking the clasp so she could slide the ring off. In the dark she fumbled for Maura's left hand, bringing it to her mouth, she kissed it before guiding Maura's fingers to touch the circle of silver. "This was my token for the arena. Your…your biological father came to me in the Justice Building after the Reaping."
"My…father? But only your mother, Korsak and Patrick…" her voice trailed off as the realization set in.
Jane sniffled as she nodded against Maura's cheek on the last name, "He gave this to me. He wanted to marry her, your mother…he carried this in his pocket every day she was alive hoping it would be the day he could ask her. And he carried it every day after she died wishing he had. I don't want to carry it anymore."
She slid the ring onto Maura's finger and kissed her, over and over, murmuring "I love you," in between each one.
Maura wrestled with a sob, trying to restrain it but failing, she dug her nails into the back of Jane's neck as she cried, "Don't you dare say that like you're dying."
The water rose, licking at Maura's chin as she strained to keep her head above water. She could feel Jane squat down, her long arms hooking around her backside as she hoisted her up.
If it weren't for the familiar beeping noise and the red light blinking in the dark, Maura wouldn't have known what it was that made a small splash off to her right. She reached for the object, her fingers searching the black void ahead until they closed around wet metal. Unzipping the pack on Jane's back she pulled out the night vision glasses.
"Maura…" Jane struggled to speak over the water that was cresting near her mouth. "Please tell me a boat just dropped out of the sky next to us."
There was a pop and then a hiss of air. "Jane!" Maura could barely contain the laugher, "It's a life vest!" She reached back in the sponsor's pot but came out empty handed. "But…there's only one."
"Put it on Maura," Jane commanded gruffly, spitting water as she tried to talk.
"Jane…"
"Maura! Put the damn vest on! It will either float both of us or it won't and if it won't…" Jane took a deep breath, perhaps the last, she thought. "Put on the vest, Maura."