Bloodbath
All In
All In: Fully committed to or involved in something. In poker, to go all in is to bet everything on a hand.
Izzy Thatcher, 12
District Seven
Three. Two. One.
As soon as the gong sounded, Izzy turned and ran. Away from the cornucopia, away from what was about to happen. Away from the weapons, the supplies, and most importantly, the Careers. It wasn't until she was well past the cart of food that she remembered she'd meant to grab something. Crap.
But she certainly wasn't going to go back and get anything now. Whatever else she needed could wait until later. Right now, she just wanted to get away. She just wanted to get to safety.
Behind her, she could hear noises. Fighting. A scream, and some sort of … explosion? Maybe. She didn't want to turn and look. She just wanted to get away. As far away as she could. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, sprinting towards the field of corn. It hadn't looked this far away before.
Maybe that was a good thing. It would put more distance between her and the Careers once she finally reached it. And it would give Garth and Ichabod a chance to catch up. Garth had been motioning towards the corn field when they were on their pedestals. That meant he'd wanted to run this way. Didn't it?
But where was he? Where was Ichabod? Izzy fought back a churning in the pit of her stomach. She had left them. She had left them both – both of her allies. They were still back there somewhere. Had she left them to die?
Decima Clear, 17
District Two
Three. Two. One.
As soon as the gong sounded, Decima took off towards the nearest tribute – the little girl from Five. She didn't need a weapon to handle a little kid, even if she had gotten a higher training score. As soon as she got her hands around the girl's scrawny little neck, she could choke the life out of her and then go get a weapon.
The girl from Five took off immediately when she saw Decima coming towards her. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit," she muttered as she ran. She had a bit of a head start, but Decima was faster. It was only a matter of time before she caught up.
Suddenly, Decima heard something off to her left. A train, coming down the tracks ahead of her. The little girl saw it, too, and immediately bolted towards the tracks. Good. Whether she ended up choking the girl to death or whether the kid ended up splattered on the front of a train didn't make much difference to her. There was no way she was going to make it over the train tracks in time.
The train rumbled closer. Closer. The younger girl reached the tracks and threw herself across, screaming. Decima stopped short, he train blowing her hair back and forth as it rumbled past. Shit. The little girl had made it, and now she had no choice but to wait for the train to pass. She couldn't go back to the bloodbath now. Not without something to show for it. She would just have to wait.
Emerson Watt, 13
District Five
She certainly wasn't going to wait around and see whether the girl from Two was going to keep up the chase. Emerson immediately bolted towards the carousel in the distance, then veered sharply towards the left and into a brightly-colored tent. No. No, that wasn't a good idea. If the girl was still following her and couldn't see her, that was the first place she would look. She had to get farther away.
But if she kept going, how were the others supposed to find her? Wade and Dexter – how was she supposed to find them? How would they know which way she had gone?
Stop it. None of that mattered if she got herself killed trying to wait for them. She would just have to find them later. Later. Right now, she had to get away. She had to get somewhere safe.
The train was still rumbling behind her. That meant the girl couldn't see her yet. If only she wasn't wearing something so ridiculously bright. Even in this colorful arena, their outfits would stand out. She just needed something else – something that would blend in.
But she didn't have time to look for something. Emerson glanced around frantically for a moment before zigzagging her way back towards the carousel. Maybe there would be something useful there. Maybe the train would be longer than she thought, and the girl from Two would decide it wasn't worth it to stick around and wait to catch up with her. Maybe she would get lucky. Maybe.
Owen Askoya, 14
District Eight
Three. Two. One.
As soon as the gong sounded, Owen bolted forward. He had to get a weapon – that was the first order of business. Anything else could wait. He had to have a way to defend himself if someone attacked. And it was only a matter of time before someone attacked.
But that didn't mean he was in a position to be choosy. Owen reached down and grabbed the first weapon he found – a dagger that was lying nearby on the ground. That would have to do for now. Maybe it wasn't much, but it would probably be enough to deter any of the other tributes from attacking him.
A quick glance around the cornucopia told him it was time to run. He wasn't going to be able to get much closer to the supplies at the center without drawing attention to himself. Better to run. He took off towards the edge of the cornucopia, but, as he ran, he spotted a boy. A boy still standing on his pedestal, staring in horror at what was happening in front of him.
Easy pickings. There wasn't much near the boy – just a few colorful baseballs and bottles of water strewn about the ground. But that would be enough. He could swing by, kill the boy, and grab a few of the water bottles on his way away from the cornucopia. That would be good enough.
Troy Arrowhead, 15
District Twelve
The boy was running towards him! Troy took a step back, startled, as the boy from Eight ran closer and closer. What was he supposed to do? Would he be able to outrun him? Panicked, Troy reached down and picked up one of the nearby baseballs, which was colored a bright red. He didn't have to hurt the boy. All he had to do was distract him enough to give himself a head start.
Troy heaved the ball as hard as he could in the boy's direction. The boy, startled, didn't have time to dodge as the ball hit him squarely in the chest.
Crack!
The sound that ripped through the air caught Troy completely off-guard as something came flying towards him. Something warm and wet and sticky. Blood. Blood from the boy he had hit with the ball. The boy who had been standing maybe twenty feet away from him.
The boy who wasn't standing there anymore.
It took him a moment to put the pieces together. The ball – it hadn't been an ordinary baseball. Some sort of explosive, maybe. He hadn't known. He hadn't. He never would have. He hadn't meant to…
Troy doubled over, collapsing to the ground as his stomach churned, lurched, and vomit spewed from his mouth. He hadn't meant to kill the boy. He hadn't meant to kill anyone.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed him. Pulled him to his feet. "Get up," insisted a voice, dragging him away from the bloodbath. Emilia? No, the voice wasn't quite theirs. Martha? But when Troy looked up, it wasn't either of his allies who was looking back down at him, pulling him away to safety.
Alexia Wright, 17
District Ten
The boy obviously hadn't meant to kill anyone. Alexia pulled him a little farther before he finally staggered to his feet and started moving under his own power. Maybe it was stupid – pulling him away from the bloodbath. But she couldn't just leave him there, puking, to be killed by whoever happened to find him next.
She'd been passing his way, anyway, after grabbing a trident, a pair of daggers, and a backpack that she could only hope contained something useful. Not bad, all things considered. And now she had … what? An ally? She seemed to remember he'd been working with his district partner, along with the girl from Nine.
But where were they? Clearly, none of them had bothered to find where he was before getting themselves away from the bloodbath. He was probably better off with her. And she was probably better off with him than by herself. Whether he'd meant to or not, he'd killed a boy. The first kill of the Hunger Games. That had to count for something with the sponsors.
"Troy," the boy gasped as the pair of them made their way away from the bloodbath. "My name … my name is Troy."
"Good for you. I'm Alexia. Now let's get out of here." She gave him another tug in the right direction – towards a tent in the distance. Hopefully, that would be enough shelter to keep anyone else from coming after them.
Cosima Byte, 18
District Three
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Cosima gasped for breath as the explosion on the other side of the cornucopia shook the air. She shouldn't have run into the bloodbath. What was she doing here? But it was too late to turn and run the other way now. She would just have to hope she could make it to the cornucopia. Just a little farther…
As quickly as she could, she ducked inside. Weapons. There were plenty of weapons. But that wasn't what she wanted now. She just wanted to hide.
Racing to the back of the cornucopia, she ducked down as low as she could. "Quiet," hissed a voice, and Cosima nearly screamed. There was someone already there! A boy – one of the younger boys. District Ten, she was pretty sure. Maybe he'd had the same thought she had – that they could wait out the bloodbath and then run away with a weapon or two and some supplies when there was a break in the action.
Just then, a shadow appeared at the mouth of the cornucopia. One of the Careers. The boy from District Four. Cosima froze, gripping the nearest thing she could find – a long, thin spear. "Don't come any closer," she hissed, positioning herself between him and the younger boy. "Just take what you want and leave."
The boy held up his hands. "I didn't come to take anything." He took a few steps closer, glancing frantically at the mouth of the cornucopia. "I came to join you. Get back down. Come on. Just duck."
She did, still gripping the spear tightly as he joined them at the back of the cornucopia. What was he doing? He was a Career. He was supposed to be out there, killing other tributes, not hiding in the cornucopia with the two of them. What was he thinking?
Isabella Thatcher, 18
District Eight
She wasn't going to win any races if someone decided to come after her, so Isabella figured she might as well gather what she could. Once the gong rang, she used one of her crutches to slide a bottle over towards her, and scooped it up along with a nearby rag. She quickly stuffed the pair of items in one of her pockets. Maybe it wasn't much, but at least she wouldn't be walking away from the bloodbath empty-handed.
Suddenly, some sort of explosion echoed through the air. Isabella looked up in time to see what was left of her district partner splattering all over the boy from Twelve. Well, shit. She and Owen hadn't been particularly close, but she had been hoping that if she didn't make it, maybe District Eight would still have a shot at bringing home a Victor. In fact, most people had probably assumed that he was their best shot at bringing home a winner.
Anyone who had made that assumption had clearly been mistaken. Not that she was going to do much better if she didn't get out of here – and quickly. Isabella turned and swung her crutches away from the cornucopia, moving as quickly as she could. Which wasn't particularly quickly, but no one seemed interested in coming after her.
Martha Cabott, 15
District Nine
There was no way she was leaving the cornucopia empty-handed – not when Troy had already picked up a kill. Sure, he hadn't meant to kill the boy from Eight, but whether he'd meant to or not wouldn't matter to the sponsors. It would only matter that he had killed, and she hadn't. But if she wasn't going to get a kill this early on, she could at least gather some supplies. And there was a bag not too far away…
Just as she reached it, however, another hand reached down to grab the bag. The boy from Seven – one of the younger ones. Martha couldn't help a smile. She could handle him. She gripped the bag tightly, wrenching it from his grasp and swinging it around again, smacking him hard. Whatever was in the bag was pretty heavy; the boy stumbled backwards a little.
Right into the girl from One.
The girl from One chuckled a little, then swung her blade across the boy's chest. He staggered backwards, bleeding, as the girl from One advanced on Martha. Shit. There wasn't any time to run as the blade swung towards her. All she could do was swing the backpack again, hoping whatever was inside would be able to deflect the blade.
It did – but only once. The pack went flying from her hand as the blade swung again – this time connecting with her chest. Martha crumpled to the ground, clutching her chest, as if that would somehow keep it from bleeding. But there was nothing she could do to stop the sword as it came swinging down towards her neck.
Ichabod Garjan, 13
District Seven
This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. Ichabod gasped for air as he lay writhing on the ground, grasping at his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. They were supposed to help each other. Protect each other. Izzy and Garth – they were supposed to help him.
Where were they?
He hoped they were safe. He hoped they had made it away. It was too late for him – the amount of blood on the ground was enough to tell him that. It was warm and sticky, but he was already growing cold. Was that what blood loss felt like? All the warmth just draining out of you?
Maybe. Maybe that wasn't so bad. It meant the pain would be over soon – that was something. He hadn't expected it to be so … so quick. Everything was growing dark even before he closed his eyes. Even before he felt the sword stab through him one more time. A noise escaped his lips, but it was barely a gasp. Certainly not a scream. He didn't have the energy left to scream.
He was just so tired…
Emilia Rey Fumero, 14
District Twelve
There was nothing they could do for Martha. Not now. Out of the corner of their eye, they could see Troy, still standing, shell-shocked, puking his guts out until the girl from Ten came to drag him away. For a moment, Emilia considered running after them. But what good would that do? Troy was obviously out of it. Martha was dead.
They needed a new plan.
They'd already been running towards the cornucopia when they'd noticed Martha fighting the boy from Seven. Quickly, they reached for the first thing they could grab – a shield leaning against the side of the cornucopia. Emilia quickly grabbed it, then scooped up a backpack and ran as quickly as they could. Back towards the outer edge of the fighting. Back towards safety.
Safety. As if anywhere was really safe. But there was one person most of the others seemed to be ignoring. Emilia slowed down a little as they fell into stride with the girl from Eight. "Mind if I join you?" they asked casually.
The girl wouldn't say no. Couldn't say no. She had probably been assuming that no one would want an alliance with her because of her broken leg, but apparently no one wanted to attack her for the same reason. High training scores were completely forgotten now that they were actually in the Games; the other tributes only saw a cripple. Someone they could deal with later.
Emilia gripped the shield they'd grabbed. A part of them didn't like the idea of taking advantage of that. Of taking advantage of another person. It made them a little sick just thinking about it like that. But not sick enough to reconsider.
Confidence Best, 16
District One
The two little twerps were already dead. Confidence let out a snort as he saw the blood on Thalia's katana. She had two kills already, while he hadn't even picked up one. He swung the flail he'd snatched from the mouth of the cornucopia, running in the direction of the boy from Eleven.
But the girl from Six reached the boy first, shoving a backpack into his arms and pulling him away from the bloodbath. For a moment, Confidence considered chasing them, but they were already too far away. They already had too much of a head start.
"Looks like it's two to none," Thalia smirked as he joined her. Confidence rolled his eyes. Let her brag for now. The Games weren't decided based on who picked up the most kills during the bloodbath. Between the two of them, the audience would at least know that they were better than their training scores had indicated. For now, that would have to be good enough.
Clemence Aldrin, 14
District Six
"Why did you do that?" the boy gasped as they ran, swinging the backpack she'd shoved into his hands over his back. She was already wearing a second one that she'd grabbed from near the cornucopia. "Why did you help me?"
"Why not?" Clemence asked, shrugging. She didn't really have a better answer. They didn't really know each other. They certainly weren't allies. She didn't even know his name. But he had just been standing there, watching. Watching as one of his allies had been killed. Maybe he'd wanted to die, too. But if he'd wanted to be killed, he could simply have stayed there. He didn't have to follow her.
Unless he thought he was protecting her now. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. She'd thought about trying to find an ally or two during training, but none of them had ever seemed quite right. Not that this boy seemed right, either. If he couldn't even pull himself together enough to run away from the bloodbath on his own, was he really going to be able to help her?
But he had run away. He'd just needed a little push first. Clemence took a deep breath. It couldn't hurt to introduce herself. "I'm Clemence."
"Garth."
"Want to stay together for a little while?"
Garth Kain, 15
District Eleven
Part of him wanted to say yes. It wasn't as if he was going to be able to meet up with his allies. Ichabod was dead. And Izzy … he was pretty sure she had run towards the corn field in the distance. He could probably head back in that direction once things calmed down a bit. But how could he tell her? How could he explain that he'd simply stood there, watching helplessly, while the girl from One had killed Ichabod.
He hadn't done anything. He'd wanted to. He'd wanted to sprint over to his friend, grab a weapon, and defend him with his own life. But by the time it was clear that Ichabod was in danger, he'd been too far away. He hadn't moved quickly enough.
He hadn't even tried. He'd been frozen, scared stiff, until the moment Clemence had shoved a backpack into his hands. If she hadn't done that, he would probably still be standing there.
No. No, he wouldn't be standing there. He would be dead. Maybe he should have been dead. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he'd died along with Ichabod. Garth swallowed hard. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say that he would stay with Clemence, that he would help her. Maybe even that he would protect her, the way he hadn't been able to protect Ichabod.
But he couldn't. Because he knew the truth. The truth was, he would do exactly the same thing if she was in danger. He would freeze. He would panic. He wouldn't be able to help her. So maybe it was better not to bother pretending otherwise. Garth shook his head and, without another word, broke off and headed off to the right. Clemence didn't follow.
Part of him wished she had.
Freya Clearwater, 17
District Four
It was too late to go back now. Too late to turn around and run now that she was already halfway to the cornucopia. Freya glanced down, spotting a backpack almost directly in front of her now. That would be good enough.
Just as she reached for the bag, however, so did another tribute. Freya glanced up, startled, at the boy from Six. He grabbed one strap of the bag just as she grabbed another. He pulled – hard – dragging her towards him. She ducked as he swung a fist towards her face.
Not worth it. She let go, and he stumbled backwards, surprised at the sudden jolt. Before he could react, Freya ran, scooping up a small bottle of water on the way. Get out. Just get out. She could worry about supplies later. She had a little water. Right now, her next priority was to get to safety.
Safety. Right. She could see a few bushes in the distance; that would have to be good enough for now. Freya glanced around as she ran. Where had Stanley gone?
Stanley Newton, 18
District Three
He'd lost track of Freya when she'd decided to run towards the cornucopia. Maybe she'd decided that her training score was high enough to prove that she was a Career, after all, and she might as well act like one. He certainly wasn't waiting around to see if she was up to the task. He'd grabbed a nearby canteen of water and then run like hell.
Stanley finally slowed down a little as he neared a set of railroad tracks. Did that make him a coward? Maybe it did. But if being a coward was what it took to keep him alive – if it meant that he got away from the bloodbath unharmed – then maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Right now, he had no idea whether his ally was alive or not. But he was alive.
And right now, that was all that mattered.
Carlisle Talbot, 18
District Six
All that mattered was that he was safe. He was alive. Carlisle gripped the bag he had grabbed as he fled from the cornucopia, stopping only once to grab a small sickle that lay in his path. He hadn't seen Cosima since the gong had sounded, but he couldn't worry about that right now. Once he was safely away from the other tributes – safely away from the Careers – then he could worry about finding his ally.
If she was still alive. He could only hope that she was. Carlisle sprinted as quickly as he could towards the building in the distance. It seemed to lie at the end of the train tracks that lay in his path. Maybe some sort of train station. Yes, that was what it looked like from here. Maybe Cosima would be able to figure out that that's where he was heading. District Six. Train stations. It made sense.
Or, at least, he hoped it made sense. As much sense as anything was likely to make now. And if she didn't find him … well, at least he had enough supplies to be able to make it on his own for a while. Assuming there was something useful in the bag he was carrying. It certainly felt heavy enough to be holding a good amount of supplies. And a sickle might not have been his first choice of weapon, but it would do. It was good enough.
It would have to be good enough. He certainly wasn't going back into the bloodbath to try to find something better. Maybe once the Careers had left, he could try to sneak back to get a few more supplies, but for now, he would have to make do with what he had. For now, he could just count himself lucky to have made it out of the bloodbath alive.
Wade Larthey, 12
District Five
He was seriously beginning to doubt whether he was going to make it out of the bloodbath alive. Wade glanced around frantically as two tributes approached. Once Emerson had taken off, trying to outrun the girl from Two, he'd decided he might as well try to get some supplies while one of the Careers was distracted.
Unfortuantely, one of the two boys approaching him now was a Career. The boy from Two. Maybe it was poetic – the pair from Two finishing off the pair from Five. Wade reached down and grabbed the nearest thing he could reach – a backpack. Not much as far as defending himself, but maybe it would do him some good.
Wade's mind raced. The other boy near him was the boy from Nine. As quickly as he could, Wade tossed the backpack to him, hoping that might be enough to give the Career pause. Maybe he would think that the two of them were working together. Maybe he would think he was outnumbered. Maybe.
The Career reached down, picking up something from the ground. A coil of rope. Wade froze for a moment. What was he planning to do with that? But, to his surprise, the boy tossed the rope to him. Without thinking, Wade immediately took off. What might have possessed the Career to toss him supplies instead of trying to kill him, he wasn't entirely sure, but he certainly wasn't going to argue with a stroke of good luck.
Beside him, he could see the boy from Nine running, as well, the backpack Wade had tossed him still clutched tightly in his arms even as he reached down to pick up another one. Wade couldn't help a small smile as the pair of them ran. Maybe things were going to work out after all.
Shasta Evans, 17
District Nine
That certainly wasn't how he'd been expecting that to go. Not that he was complaining. Shasta slowed down a little as soon as he and the younger boy were a safe distance away from the bloodbath. "Thanks," he gasped. "I don't know what made you throw me this backpack, and I don't know what that Career was thinking, but … nice work." He tossed one of the backpacks to the younger boy. "I think you deserve this."
The boy hesitated. "Why don't we see what's inside them, and then split whatever's there?"
Shasta nodded. That seemed a bit more fair. Together, he and the younger boy opened the packs and spread the contents on the ground. There were three bottles of water, an assortment of crackers and nuts, two knives, and the coil of rope. Shasta watched as the younger boy split up the supplies, careful to give them each an equal amount of crackers and nuts, as well as one of the knives. "What should we do with the rope?" he asked. "Do you want to split it, or…"
"You can have it," Shasta suggested. "He tossed it to you, after all."
The younger boy nodded. "Then you can have the extra bottle of water."
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it." He hurriedly packed up his share of the supplies. "Good luck."
"You, too." Shasta hesitated, then called after the younger boy. "What's your name?"
"Wade."
"I'm Shasta."
"Hope I don't see you around, Shasta!" the boy called as he hurried off.
Shasta chuckled a little as the boy disappeared into the distance. "Same to you."
Deimos Martel, 18
District Two
He still wasn't sure what had come over him. Deimos shook his head as he hurried off in the last direction he'd seen Decima. The younger boy had caught him off guard – that was all. He'd expected him to reach for a weapon or something – not throw a backpack. But why the hell had he tossed him the coil of rope?
Deimos shook the thought from his head. It didn't matter now. It was too late to go after the pair of them, even if he'd wanted to. Right now, his concern was his district partner. She'd run off after the girl from Five, but she'd been gone far too long. It shouldn't have taken her that long to catch and kill a little girl.
Unless the kid really did have something up her sleeve. She was one of the ones who had scored high during training, after all. Come to think of it, so were the two boys who he had just let escape. Maybe that was why he hadn't wanted to fight both of them. But he hadn't really been afraid. He just hadn't wanted to.
It wasn't worth it. Not at the moment. Not when he had bigger things to take care of. If Decima needed his help, he couldn't afford to waste any more time. If something had happened to her, she might need him – even if she wouldn't want to admit it. That was a good enough reason to leave the two boys well enough alone. He just wished it didn't sound like he was making excuses.
Cherry Thatch, 16
District Eleven
She just wished she had some idea of where Shasta had ended up. She had thought he was going to run away, but then he had run towards the cornucopia, and she … she had just run. Off to her right, away from the bloodbath. Away from him. She hoped he was okay, but…
But even if he was, would he really be looking for her? She had abandoned him, left him to fend for himself. That wasn't what allies were supposed to do. But she had been afraid. She hadn't wanted to risk her life rushing into the bloodbath like he had. They could always find supplies later.
Cherry slowed down a little as she neared what appeared to be a railroad station. She could always find him later, if he was still alive. And if he wasn't … well, then maybe it was better that she had left while she could. Despite her high training score – and his – she wasn't exactly eager to get into a fight with the Careers. Or any of the other tributes, for that matter. She just wanted to find somewhere safe. Somewhere where she could rest for a while.
But not for too long. It was only a matter of time before the Careers would come hunting. They rarely stayed around the cornucopia for long after the bloodbath. The audience expected them to hunt, to keep the Games moving, to keep things interesting. She would just have to hope they decided to head off in some other direction.
Merric Belgrave, 18
District Four
Things were beginning to quiet down outside the cornucopia. Merric stood up slowly, then put a finger to his lips and motioned to the other two to lie still. Then he banged the spear he had grabbed against the wall of the cornucopia before heading out to join the others. "I got two!" he called. "They were hiding inside the cornucopia!" He tossed the spear back inside the cornucopia, hiding the fact that there wasn't a drop of blood on it. "The girl from Three and the boy from Ten. Thought they could wait out the bloodbath inside the cornucopia. Not a bad plan, if I hadn't found them."
Thalia and Confidence were still a good distance away from the cornucopia. "Great!" Thalia called, beaming. "I got two, too."
Confidence rolled his eyes. "It's still early."
"Fair enough," Merric agreed. "How many others?"
Thalia shrugged. "The boy from Twelve killed the boy from Eight. It looks like that's pretty much it."
Merric nodded. A small bloodbath – especially considering he wasn't telling the truth. He'd been hoping that there would be a few more dead to account for. As it was, as soon as the cannons sounded, the other two would know he was lying. He would just have to hope they would have a chance to escape before then.
Dexter Guernsey, 13
District Ten
He and Cosima glanced at each other, waiting as the Careers outside the cornucopia continued to discuss how many of them were dead. He still wasn't sure why the boy from Four hadn't killed them, but he wasn't about to complain. He just hoped they would have a chance to make it away from the cornucopia before—
Boom. The sound of a cannon broke his train of thought. "Now," he whispered to Cosima, and the pair of them took off running. The pair of tributes from One were facing the other way. He would just have to hope it took them a little while to realize.
Boom. A second cannon. Dexter held his breath, trying desperately not to make too much noise as he and Cosima ran. They split up as soon as they could, Cosima heading off to the left as he veered off to the right.
Boom. A third cannon. Three tributes dead. But that was all. He and Cosima were still alive. But it was only a matter of time before the other Careers realized that the boy from Four hadn't killed them. That he had let them live, let them escape. Dexter still wasn't sure why, but maybe it didn't matter why. Maybe all that mattered was that somehow, for some reason, he had gotten lucky.
Thalia Gold, 17
District One
Three cannons. Thalia raised an eyebrow and glanced around. Only three cannons. "Are you sure those two are dead?" Merric asked, confused. Thalia nodded. She had stabbed one of the younger tributes through the chest and sliced off the other's head. But if the ones she had killed were dead…
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, something caught her attention. A figure running away in from the cornucopia. The girl from … what? Three? And not quite as far away, the boy from Ten, sprinting in another direction. Thalia whirled around to face Merric, only to find that he, too, was gone – running off to the south, towards the corn field in the distance.
"Damn it," Thalia muttered, grabbing a few of the knives that lay nearby. All three of them were too far away to catch up with now, but that didn't mean that they were out of range. She would have preferred a bow, but she hadn't found one outside the cornucopia, and by the time she checked inside, they would be too far away.
She threw a knife at Merric first, but he was already too far away to hit. But the other boy – the younger one – was beginning to slow down. Maybe he thought he was safe. Maybe he was getting tired. Either way, she raced towards him, knives in hand. All she needed was one good shot. Just one.
The first knife missed him by a hair. He whirled around, startled, and then began running faster. She would only get one more chance. Thalia stopped. Aimed. Let the knife loose. It struck the boy in the leg, bringing him to his knees. That was all she needed. Thalia raced towards where the boy lay, scrambling to his feet – but not quickly enough. This was going to be all too easy.
Whew. And that's the bloodbath. So one of the things I didn't think all the way through when deciding to randomize my story like this was the fact that this particular simulator gives each tribute one thing to do during each day and night. Since everyone is doing something, that means everyone got a point of view ... which is going to, by extension, make these chapters longer than the previous ones - at least until the number of tributes starts to drop off a bit.
Speaking of tributes dropping off, here's how things stand so far...
24th - Owen Askoya, D8. Killed by Troy Arrowhead with an explosive baseball.
23rd - Martha Cabott, D9. Decapitated by Thalia Gold.
22nd - Ichabod Garjan, D7. Stabbed through the chest by Thalia Gold.
Thank you so much to their submitters! All three of these would likely have lasted longer if not for the more random nature of this story, as I was enjoying all three and looking forward to seeing where they would go. Unfortunately, the odds were not in their favor, and this is where they ended up.
Little summaries of each chapter will be posted on the website - basically I just screenshotted the generator I'm using - and the tribute pages and map will be updated regularly.