Hi everyone I hope you like this chapter! Check out my new SYOT Before the Berries! It's almost as awesome as this, and will be continued in the second book of Whispers :O
The Horde
Despite us being allies, it did not mean that we liked each other. After that very brief connection the two of us had, it took every ounce of our will power to not kill each other. Turns out she stripped me down to my panties to make me more freaked out than I already was and just to fuck with my head. At this, I threatened to stab her in the back. Again. In response she set fire to the house we were camped in, burning our supplies and her life saving medicine. I doused it before it could spread.
It seems that the two of us were just too much of an opposing force. Fire cannot burn because of water getting in the way, and fire evaporates water. The two of us were literally built for mutual destruction.
Two days. Two days since that incident and the two of us haven't spoken. Our mutual survival has just become methodical. She will settle down to sleep for half the night while I stay up and guard. Half way through we will swap and I will rest. Then we wake up at dawn. A breakfast consisting of a tin of corn beef and peaches. Pack up our weapons. I have two knives, long and wicked, and a huge meat cleaver. India carries no weapon, cocky bitch. If we were speaking, I would have yelled at her idiocy. I decided against it though, probably made it so much easier for when the alliance ends. After we packed our supplies we would take it in turns to have a shower, get dressed in new clothes in the house that we had stayed in. Once ready, we left to hunt. And the process repeated for two days.
On the third day, we didn't see a tribute.
We saw a pack of people.
We were casually walking down the street, in broad daylight. The sun was out, pleasantly warm. My black dress kept my coolish, a small breeze on my legs. I still had on my boots from the feast, having lost the dress when India put me in my underwear. India was dressed in some shorts and a t-shirt, seeming a lot more accustomed to the heat than I was. I was unsure if it was due to her powers or the conditions of her district, and I was afraid to ask. India was setting her hands on fire and watching the flames, mesmerized. I was doing nothing of any importance, just walking along, planning ways to kill Theo.
It started as me drowning him, watching his black wings flap against the water helplessly. The weight of them dragging him down down down. Deeper into the depths of my realm.
Cutting off his head with a wonderful shiny axe, him begging for his life. Promising it was all a lie, all the things he said down in our cave. He was my friend. His head rolls away, far from his body.
India helps me flay Cinder and Theo alive, both propped up on a wooden post like the old executions of being burned at the stake. I douse them before they die, and they beg me for mercy, only to burn them all over again. Smoke clouds the sky and the air smells like bacon.
And then the first person came round the next corner.
I freeze, thinking it was another tribute. My two knives were drawn. India carried on walking, oblivious. One hiss from me had her stopping, shocked.
We both stared at the slowly approaching figure. Dressed in rags and limping slightly the figure made its way towards us. Neither one of us dared to move. Too tall to be a tribute. As he approached slowly, something else came out of the corner in which the first figure emerged. But not one person. Not 2 or 3.
A horde.
A huge mass of bodies, pulsating together as if controlled by one being. All similar to the first figure. Dressed in rags, moving slowly as though they had no purpose. I didn't know what it was, India and I both tensed. We were both trained now to be able to tell when danger was near, and at the sight of these freaks the air became thick with menace.
The first figure noticed us then, dull dead eyes locking onto us. India shouted into the loud street and I ignored her, I wasn't sure if it was a shout of fear or empowerment, I didn't care. There was more than hundred freaks to fight off. Even if we could take some of them down, the capitol could always make more.
I take a couple of steps backwards tentatively, and that's when the horde began to run.
All thought of a battle left my mind, thoughts lost before they had even fully formed. Fear clenched my organs in a sickly knot, threatening to make me vomit. My limbs trembled with anticipation and fear. I could not beat this.
I ran, leaving India. I just ran for my life.
With my powers I needed the extra boost. Buildings became a blur at my sides in a sea of pastel colours. I wish I could say that during my run I felt some profound, deep feeling of my purpose of existence. That I could even take in my scenery at least. That wasn't the case. The only thought I had in my mind was to get away, because I knew if one of those freaks ever touched me or grabbed onto me it would be almost impossible for me to get free. Buildings blur past me in a smear of bright colours. I don't dare to look behind me. At some point, India had caught up, her breathing much heavier than mine. I turn a corner, India follows, and so does the horde. I try to lose them but it's almost like we have tracking devices. And then I realise…
They're probably pushing us all together. I wasn't sure if I had the energy to fight off the horde and other tributes too.
This makes me put on an extra burst of speed, but I don't know how long I could go.
I think that I have a death sentence. The heat suddenly is vamped up and the air is dry and hot. There is no gradual change and the sudden contrast has me feeling limp and heaving to breathe. My throat burns as I try to take in deep breaths of the hot air and maintain my speed. Within seconds, I am sweating. Salty droplets coat my upper lip, back and brow. Moisture is leaving my body too quickly and I fear death of dehydration. I don't know if I could survive in this climate! I ditch my bag and rip off my leather jacket. I want to rip off my dress due to the heat, but I cannot afford to stop. I sputter and am forced to slow down. India races on ahead, oblivious to the lack of moisture in the air.
I can't help it. I fall to my knees, grazing them on the concrete below me, skin ripping in a burn far cooler than the heat of the sun. I dare to look over my shoulder, and see the beginning of the horde come towards me. I notice a few have weapons in their hands, ready to bludgeon me to death.
I sob, my throat dry heaving to acclimatize to the sudden heat. Somewhere to my left, grass burns and begins to set fire. India is long gone, leaving me to die.
No one is coming to save me. I am going to die alone.
The thought of death doesn't shock me as much as I thought it would. It is almost a relief. To get away from this hell on earth. I would no longer suffer. I could be sent home in a wooden box, free from all the horrors that this world inflicts upon its people.
At least I would die on my feet.
The horde is almost upon me as I struggle to my feet. Black dots dance on the edge of my vision and my body sways without any intention. I stagger. Breathe. It is easier to breathe through my nose. I withdraw one knife and my cleaver.
I know the cameras are on me, seeing my final battle in this game. I grin manically.
"Bring it on, bitch."
Everything is a blur. I vaguely realise that I am yelling and grunting and screaming throughout. The freaks are completely silent, the only sound is the wet thump and squelch of their flesh being cut up. As I fight the enemy I recognize three things. One, they are not human. They rot in the heat of the sun, their flesh melting like candlewax and leaving a stench so awful that it threatens to choke me more than the air. I know I have to rely on my skill if I am to ever make it out of here alive.
Secondly, they were mindless. They had no pattern, no organization. And thirdly, they wanted to eat me.
I slash and hack at the freaks, cutting off limbs and slashing wounds into the freaks that would have killed any person. Sweat coats me like I had just been in a shower, my clothes dripping as though I have taken a dive. They weigh me down and I heave heave heave. Trying to breathe in the heat. But I can't. I back up away from them, darting forwards only to attack and pulling away from them before they could grab onto me. Black spots dance around my vision and it takes all my energy to even keep myself from passing out. I am dehydrating faster than normal. The heat… the heat is unbearable.
I endured.
I finally killed one of them, slicing a section of their skull with a meat cleaver. So the brain was the key. After that, I killed a lot more, reducing the horde little by little. I slip on their blood, trying to scramble safely away from them. The smell of sweat is thick in the air, making me want to gag. They had slowed down, letting a few attack at a time. Disorganized, bad battle plan. As though they are toying with me, playing with their food before they eat it. If they all rushed at once I knew I was a goner. The road narrowed and less were able to come at me at once. They stuck to the road, avoiding the path and the gardens of the houses. Absently, a part of me wondered while that was. The other parts were slowly dying from the heat and trying to keep those fucking freaks away from me. I reach the corner where I saw India turn, and she is fighting off her own horde from the other end of the street. She acknowledges me, using her power to burn the freaks. They light up as though they are doused in gasoline and the air above is thick with smoke. The smell of burning flesh stings my eyes and I retch onto myself due to the smell. She must not have the energy to burn them all at once, and I see the unhealthy gleam in her skin. She is on her last legs too.
I almost make another break for it. There were two other roads in which I could run down. My horde might take more interest in India than me. I almost do it, and then I see Iowan galloping down the road like a mad man.
I know it is useless then. The horde is going to drive us together. I am not even surprised when Hart is backed up into the last road, tearing apart his victims in half-wolf form.
I remove my attention from them. They are not the threat right now. The freaks are.
I hack and slash at the soft flesh of the freaks, bits of brain littering the ground. The narrow road begins to fill up more and more. A scary pile of bodies lay at my feet, and I get an idea. As I kill, I drag the bodies to lay on top of each other in a line of defence, like a barrier. I macabre smile lights up my crazed face, blood and dirt smearing onto me like face paint. Piled up the smell is overwhelming, and when I get a break I am heaving up all the contents of my meagre meal. I hand grabbed me, razor sharp nails digging into my flesh. Blood weeps immediately, and I can't help it. I screech hysterically, and I hack at the arm with my cleaver. Brittle bones crack and the severed limp is dismembered from its owner. Shocked, the freak stumbles away and I climb onto the barrier of bodies to get closer to him. With every ounce of strength I had left I plunged it into the top of his skull. Soft, grey flesh spluttered out with a spray of red that coated my clothes and my face. The heat of the battle is nothing on the heat of the sun. The brief moment of respite has me slicing open my dress, exposing my skin so I have a brief moment of cool air before it too becomes as hot as the fire blazing around me.
Small gardens catch flame because of the heat. Clothes of some of the freaks catch fire, burning them without any help from India.
And with one wordless scream of frustration, I kill.
I stand on top of the bodies of my dead, boots squelching in the fast decaying mess of flesh and bone.
Knife jabbing and cleaver slicing into every single skull of the horders from my new vantage point. The wall builds up, the pile beneath me becomes higher and higher. Sweat and blood streaks my face, scales coat my skin like armour and the amount of freaks left alive are reduced more and more.
Until there is one, lone freak left. She is a couple of meters away, blocked from me due to the fallen, arms outstretched trying to grab me. Her skin is droopy and her dress is a mess of rags. Dirty fingernails reach out to claw me and dead, lifeless eyes focus on me as a target.
"YOU DISGUSTING FREAK!"
With one final screech of fear and pain and anger, I launch one of my knives, plunging it hilt deep into her eye socket she falls to the ground, dead. I stand there for some time, staring at the destruction and death that I have wrought. A mass of dead bodies litter the floor in front of me. I know they were not human, and yet the thought of me ending that many people has me heaving up bile and acid, nothing left in my stomach for me to throw up.
The sick makes my throat burn even more than the sun.
During the fight I hadn't realised that my breathing had gotten slightly easier, and I very briefly felt reassured that I wouldn't die because of the weather.
The fires still raged but they didn't catch onto the blood of the freaks, so the flames were kept tame in the front gardens.
I jump away from the wall of bodies I built, I run into the middle of the road where the four others are still fighting. I lay onto the floor of the concrete, not caring how the hot tarmac burns my skin. I cry. No tears leak from my eyes, I am too dehydrated and exhausted. Dry sobs wrack my body like earthquakes set in the centre of my heart, shaking me and unhinging me more than I ever had in my life.
I had never been more brutal in my life, or afraid.
The mountain of bodies littered in front of me is a picture of a nightmare.
I push away my emotions to deal with later. I hadn't survived an army of freaks only to have one tribute end me now. Armed with my last night and cleaver, I move to kill the tributes.
I stand in the middle of the four intersections, sweat dripping down me like a waterfall. They all finish killing the freaks off about the same time, and all look at me in turn. Exhaustion and pain is plain on all of their faces. Even Hart looks like he wants to cry, and somewhere in a dark corner of my heart, it breaks to see these people forced through such horror.
"LISTEN you dumb fucks." I say, putting as much power into my voice as I can. "THIS IS WHERE YOU DIE." I scream. My hair shoots out around my head menacingly, and I am sure that the three tributes know I mean to go to war. This spurs the three into action; before they are even onto me I throw my final knife.
It hits its target and Iowan goes down.
His horse body continues to give him momentum and before he slams into me I leap with my remaining strength out of the way. Iowan crashes into Hart, sending the animalistic monstrosities flying in a mess of blood and gore. Hooves and claws go flying and they land in a mess of tangled limbs, neither one of them moving.
A cannon goes off. I don't know if it is my fault, I don't even know who it is of the two of them that is dead.
India stares at the boys, a few feet away from me. Her gaze lifts, to stare at me. Dark brown eyes mirror my exhaustion and fear, but determination too. Her hands raise and I know what she is thinking.
"NO!" I scream, and before she can direct the flame coating her hand like a torch, I throw my meat cleaver. So unlike a knife, it spirals clumsily through the air. The two of us stare at it, and India doesn't even try to move out of the way. She is frozen. It hits flesh, a spout of blood. A scream so filled with pain I have never known emits from her mouth as she stares at the bloody stump of her hand.
And she runs, screaming all the way.
I don't even know which way she goes, the last of my energy leaves me. My weakened body tumbles to the ground, hitting the tarmac with bone shattering force. Fires burn around me and I am aware that one of those boys is alive. The darkness pulls me under, and I stop struggling. I succumb to the cool, darkness of what I hoped was my death.
It seemed I was continually being proven wrong.