Chapter 24: Day 4

Justin Calico, 19, District 7 Mentor

6:45 a.m.

The mentor room had never felt more like a prison. At this hour, with the room half empty, all that could be heard was the ticking of the clock on the wall above Justin's head. Some of the mentors were still asleep, while the ones who were awake were mostly quiet. Mentors were required to stay in the Tribute and Games Center, or TGC, the entire Games period. Access was restricted to three areas of the building; the mentor control room where Justin now sat, their respective district floors where they could sleep, and the lounge where they could eat meals, drink at the bar, or talk to sponsors who gathered to view the Games and place bets.

Like a prisoner, Justin was stuck here. He had so little options, he might as well be a criminal behind bars. His floor was no good. He'd be alone there, with nothing but his thoughts. Adler was no help. He was silent for once around Justin, not making his usual snarky remarks. For once, it seemed the older victor's heart wasn't completely stone cold, and he had been giving Justin looks of pity. Just like everyone else. Justin couldn't take it. Nor could he face the image of his mother sitting on the couch of the District Seven suite, hugging and comforting him when a mentor was meant to comfort their tribute. He couldn't face the nightmares that had been plaguing him ever since his mother had been murdered in cold blood. For three nights now, Justin had barely slept more than an hour or two at a time. How he was still functioning, he didn't know, nor did he give it any thought.

Justin tried spending all his time in the lounge, hoping alcohol would drown his failure and misery. It didn't. All the alcohol gave him was the worst hangover Justin had ever experienced. He didn't get drunk much, trying to set a good example for his younger siblings, but this had been an exception. The alcohol didn't rid him of the guilt and pain, so why even bother?

Worse than the ineffective alcohol was the stares, whispers, and pity. The normally cheerful bartender was silent as he served Justin. When he did speak, his words were awkward and gentle, as if Justin would shatter with one wrong utterance. Capitolites who would normally rush to meet a victor hung back, or if they did approach, told him how sorry they were for his loss. Like hell they were. They weren't sorry for the loss of one district mother, nor were they sorry for the loss of more than 2,000 innocent lives in past Games. Sorry would mean the Games wouldn't have continued for 100 years and counting. Justin was tired of all apologies and no action.

With the District Seven suite and the TGC lounge both out, Justin's only remaining option was the mentor room. Viewing was still mandatory for all citizens, even mentors with no tributes remaining. Dawn was just starting to make its appearance in the arena, so most of the tributes were still inactive. Grief was apparent in several of the tributes. Niels of District Three frantically searched for his district partner for hours even though he likely knew it was no use and collapsed to his knees sobbing when he realized his ally was gone and he was all alone. Calissa and Tre settled in a new camp, both very shaken and neither knowing what to say to one another before Calissa finally fell asleep.

Justin watched the screen, but he did not comprehend. His mind wandered to places he didn't want to travel to, but there were no brakes, no way to stop it. The first night of the Games, some of the other victors tried to offer comfort, but most of them realized he was best left alone, or maybe they decided he was a lost cause. Only Midas Karlen, who was Justin's best friend despite coming from vastly different backgrounds, did not back down, even though Justin pushed him away. He wasn't mad at his friend, but Midas couldn't understand. He was never close to his mother like Justin was. He was also a career, had volunteered for this hell, and although Justin know Midas was a good man, as good as a Hunger Games victor could be, a career tribute still killed his mother. Justin couldn't face Midas right now, for more reasons than one. Someday he would. Every victor needed someone by their side who had been through the same hell, and Midas was that person for Justin. Right now though, he just could not face his best friend. He couldn't face anyone.

The mentor room was quiet, as expected. Some mentors were still in their suites, likely asleep, while others silently watched their tributes' monitors. Only a few talked amongst themselves, their voices so hushed that Justin could not hear their words even if he was interested in the conversations. Justin barely noticed as the door opened, and assumed it was one of his fellow victors coming in to relieve the other mentor from their district so they would get some rest. He was startled when a gentle voice called his name.

"Mr. Calico? I hope I'm not disturbing you."

Justin turned around in his chair, knowing this was a voice he should not ignore. He cleared his throat, his vocal cords feeling awkward and tight from lack of use. "Not at all, Madam President."

President Celestia Snow stood before him, tall and poised, yet with a look of compassion on her face. It wasn't often that President Snow entered the mentor room, so Justin couldn't imagine why she was here now or why she was speaking to him directly. He could see the curious glances of the other mentors, but he ignored them.

"I realize I might be one of the last people you want to be speaking with," President Snow said. "Especially given the circumstances."

"It's alright," Justin said. Of course, nothing was alright now. What else could he say, though? As respected as Celestia Snow was, it would not do well to lash out or behave rudely towards the president of Panem.

"Mr. Karlen requested a meeting with me," President Snow said, keeping her voice low, though Justin was sure all of the victors in the room were listening in. "He was concerned about your well-being. Given that District Seven has no surviving tributes, and one of those tributes was your mother, I will be making an exception to our policy that all mentors must remain in this building for the entire duration of the Games. I have come here in person to relieve you of your mentoring duties."

"I can go home?" Justin asked slowly.

"If that is what you desire, yes."

A sea of emotions flooded Justin. He felt thankfulness for Midas. Even though he had been pushed away, his friend still felt enough concern to try to help him. He felt relief for being able to finally escape this place. However, he also felt terror and dread, unsure of what he would find when he returned home. A broken family, no doubt, one that would seek his comfort when he didn't even know how to comfort himself. How could Justin succeed in comforting his younger siblings when he failed them in bringing home their mother in the first place?

"Thank you," Justin said softly, trying to make himself look the president in the eye out of respect.

"Of course." President Snow hesitated. Justin couldn't place the look in her eyes. Was it sorrow? Regret? Uncertainty? Whatever it was, he had never seen the president look so vulnerable. "I know there is nothing I can say that you haven't already heard or that will bring you comfort, but I wish you and your family the best."

"Thank you."

"Safe travels, Mr. Calico." With that, President Snow turned and left the mentor room as subtly as she had entered it.

After a minute or two of staring off into space, Justin slowly rose from his chair and headed back to the District Seven suite to pack his bags and catch the soonest train back home. He was free, but what good was freedom when his life as he knew it was torn apart?

Tre Eckhart, 29, District 3 Female

8:15 a.m.

Despite Calissa being only three years younger than her, the sleeping woman lying a few feet away from Tre reminded her of her daughter, Jennis. Although, the two looked nothing alike and almost twenty years separated them, Tre felt a sense of familiarity. Calissa's shoulder-length light brown hair was tangled, and dirt covered her light olive skin, mingling with the freckles on her face. Much like Jennis as she slept, Calissa looked peaceful.

Peaceful. Tre didn't think she'd be using that word to describe anything in this arena,especially after last night. The best word to describe the events of the previous night was chaotic. Tre was still shaken up after being discovered by the pair from Four, who she had foolishly pushed to the back of her mind after focusing on worrying about the three remaining tributes of the traditional career pack. Despite not allying with the tributes from One and Two this year, Marin and Meridian were still dangerous, and no tribute could afford to forget that fact. Tre would never forget it again. Even so, the reminder was too late to help Varia.

The trio of women knew danger could be lurking anywhere in the arena, despite trying to evade it. Still, Tre couldn't help but feel they should have been even more careful. There was three of them and two tributes from Four, yet it was Varia that paid the price.

Tre was overwhelmed with guilt. She hadn't stayed behind to help fight, but wa rather the first to start running. She couldn't remember all that was racing through her mind, but she did truly think Calissa and Varia were right behind her, especially since Varia had shouted at them to run. She was startled for a moment when a cannon sounded and slowed down slightly, but she came to her senses and realized she was not yet out of danger. "Come on!" she shouted to her ally, unsure in the dark if it was Calissa or Varia who had fallen. She couldn't allow herself to worry about it at that moment; what mattered was getting to safety before another life was lost.

At some point, Tre and Calissa had emerged from their tropical paradise-turned-hell. They didn't slow down until they came to a fork in the path, where to the left, Tre noticed the faint glow of a fire. She suspected the only tributes bold enough to light a fire in the dark was the careers, or Lucy from Twelve, who seemed to have a fascination with the element. Either way, Tre didn't want to encounter the fire's creator. Naturally, the pair continued on the right fork, eventually coming to a round structure. As they approached, dim lights turned on, revealing the structure to be a carousel, with colorful inanimate animals of various heights attached to poles. Exhausted, Tre and Calissa collapsed behind the carousel, out of range of the lights but still able to see if anyone approached.

It was only when the women had settled down and their racing hearts slowed that Calissa had explained what Tre did not see. She had been about to follow Tre, but realized Varia was not with her. She stopped, horrified to find that the pair from Four had reached Varia. Varia had begged her to go, and Calissa chose to listen to both her and her instincts that were screaming at her to flee.

At first, Calissa held her composure well and was able to recount the story without choking up. After a few minutes of silence though, Calissa suddenly burst. "We shouldn't have run," she had said, and began to sob.

Tre had moved closer and rested a hand on Calissa's back in comfort, not saying a word. She wasn't the most socially savvy person, but she could comfort. In Calissa's case, a comforting hand would do.

The night had been rough for Tre and Calissa. It had taken Calissa several hours to fall asleep, and she had finally passed out maybe two hours previous, perhaps less. Tre hadn't slept a wink, simply too anxious about being attacked again. The sun had just risen, but Tre wanted to let Calissa sleep as long as she could. She needed it.

Tre was restless. Something had to change. Clearly, staying in one place wasn't working. They had been discovered, with no time to fight back and barely any time to escape. They probably wouldn't have, if it wasn't for Varia allowing them to get away. She and Calissa weren't about to go on the offense and seek out tributes, but they couldn't stay in the same place forever and hoped no one would find them. That strategy had failed them. The arena wasn't that big, and Tre was sure the odds of another tribute, or worse, group of tributes stumbling upon them was likely.

Losing Varia was a punch to the gut. Tre hadn't expected to lose an ally so soon. Yet, they had. Tre knew Varia wouldn't want her allies to wallow in grief and guilt. Tre wasn't about to let Varia's sacrifice be in vain.

Tre wasn't a quitter. She didn't quit when her older brother Fuse was killed, leaving her and her older sister, Rhea, alone. She didn't quit when her loving boyfriend Jem disappeared. She swore not to quit when she was reaped, and she vowed to keep her promise to Rhea and Jennis alive.

Movement out of the corner of Tre's eyes caught her attention as Calissa stirred, opened her eyes, and slowly sat up. "How long was I asleep?" she asked groggily.

"Not long," said Tre. "Only a couple of hours at most."

Tre opened the backpack she had on her when they fled and pulled out two of their now limited supply of fruit. She held one out to Calissa. "Mango?"

The other woman stared at the fruit in Tre's hand for a few seconds before nodding slightly and taking it. "Yes, thank you."

The women are quiet as they eat breakfast. What is there to say, when the loss of their ally is fresh in their minds and heavy in their hearts? There are some things that need to be said, though. They can't pretend to hide from the Games horrors any longer.

Tre sighed heavily, causing Calissa to look at her. "We have to decide what to do next."

"I don't want to," Calissa said. "I know we have to, but… after losing Varia, it's kind of hard to think straight. I feel so lost in this arena, and even if we - if I - make it out, will I even have a son to return to? I know I can't give up, just if by some miracle Damien is still alive by the end of these Games. If he is, he'll need me. It's just hard to have hope when I don't even know where to go next or what to do. I can't take some child's mother or father away. What if they need them as much as Damien needs me, or more? Your daughter needs you, and she's healthy."

"All children need their parents," Tre said softly. "Sick or healthy, rich or poor. It doesn't matter. Children have different needs, but they all need love and care from their parents. You're right, though. I don't want to be the one to take the life of a child's mom or dad, but ever since Jennis was born, everything has been about her. I will do all I can to protect her, and I expect you to do the same for Damien, terminal or not. We can't protect them if we're dead. I'm not saying we have to hunt down other tributes, but staying put just isn't working. Staying put is giving up."

Calissa nodded slowly. "I don't want to give up. I haven't given up yet. Why start now?"

Tre managed a small smile. "Exactly. So let's come up with a plan."

Valor Acosta, 39, District 1 Male

3:30 p.m.

"Look at this way, Justus," Valor argued, hoping his hot tempered ally would listen to reason for once. "You're not going to get far. You can't run with a sore leg. How would you catch up to a fleeing tribute like that? Wouldn't it be better to rest that leg and treat it with the supplies that sponsor sent this morning than to risk injuring it again? Besides, maybe some tribute will see you limping around and get a boost of confidence to try to raid our supplies right in front of your nose, and you'll see more action than Arista or I will."

Justus scowled, but his scowl turned into a frown as he realized Valor was right. "Fine, I'll stay back, but I can assure you that tomorrow we will be back to business."

"So to confirm, I will go southeast, and Valor, you will head northwest," said Arista. "We meet back here after sunset."

"Right," Valor said, picking up his spear and a small bag which had his inhaler hidden away. The device may be small, but it could very well save Valor's life. The trick was keeping it hidden from the District Two tributes. He couldn't risk either one of them seeing it.

Valor didn't bother with sentimental goodbyes. He simply left. He could hear a cannon, and wouldn't be bothered in the slightest. A cannon would mean least work for him. He admitted it would be annoying for Justus or Arista to die this early in the Games, especially with Ivory already gone and several threats still remaining. Still, if anyone took out Arista, or even better, Justus, Valor's job would be made much easier.

Part of him hoped Lucy and Hector would plan another attack and take out Justus while he was resting his leg. He wasn't even sure if he'd try to take on Lucy and Hector himself if he found them today. Oh, he knew he could handle them. Ivory may have fallen to them, but Valor was stronger. If he encountered Hector and Lucy, he would not suffer the same fate as his district partner. It was simply that Valor almost wanted to let Hector and Lucy take out Justus for him. The childish rivalry Justus had with Lucy was comical, yet Valor knew it was something the Capitol was eager to see. Why not give them what they want? There would be ample opportunities for Valor to give them a good show later.

Hopefully "later" would come soon. Valor wanted to get this show on the road. Middle of Day Four, and more than half the tributes still remained. The arena was large and spread out, with twisting paths and dense thickets in between fenced-off exhibits that made finding tributes difficult. The last tribute any one in the pack had found was the woman from Ten, who Justus had killed the day before. Other than her, the pack had only killed one other tribute since the end of the bloodbath. Of course, there had only been three deaths total since the end of the bloodbath. Surely the Capitolite viewers were getting restless. Valor couldn't really help the restless though; it wasn't due to lack of trying that Valor hadn't found tributes.

Hunting in the daylight wasn't exactly Valor's first choice. As a trainer, he advised potential volunteers to hunt at night, when most tributes would be most likely to be caught off guard. When he had volunteered, Valor had envisioned hunting tributes in the dark. However, he also envisioned a full career pack. He did not expect half of the traditional career tributes to be reaped, nor for his district partner to be dead before Day Four, nor for the District Four tributes to not want to ally with the rest of the pack. Yet, the unexpected happened, and Valor had to adapt. Valor could not hunt with someone watching his back, but rather had to travel solo to cover more ground. Not that it seemed to be helping move the Games along much.

As he walked, Valor heard a low rumble from somewhere up ahead. Mutts, no doubt. In any other arena, Valor would have been on high alert, ready to defend himself or flee. In this arena, the mutts seemed contained. At the end of the bloodbath, the bear mutts had chased the pack down the hill, but stopped near the bottom, as if held back by an invisible barrier. It seemed the mutts in this arena would only attack if the Gamemakers wanted to.

Valor became more confident in his theory when he reached a clearing in the trees and saw a herd of monstrous beasts slowly patrolling the perimeter of their exhibit. The creatures were gray in color and easily over 10 feet tall. Their noses were like hoses, nearly touching the ground. Even their ears were huge, seemingly even longer than Valor was tall. A brief glance at the sign near the mutts' exhibit told Valor that the creatures were African Bush Elephants, which was all he really cared to know. It didn't take reading a sign for Valor to realize these elephants were powerful beasts. Not only did they have curved, pointed tusks, but they also looked like they could crush a human just by charging at them. The wooden fences would do little to contain the elephants if they wanted to escape.

Still, Valor was curious. Gamemakers could be tricky. Perhaps one of the most fearsome looking mutts in the arena could be gentle giants, and the smaller mutts were the ones to be concerned about. Alternatively, perhaps the mutts could be tamed and used against the other tributes. There would be no stopping Valor then!

Valor also noticed a tree full of bright red fruit inside the elephant exhibit, about 40 or 50 feet from the edge of the fence. He wondered what would happen if he entered the exhibit to try to gather some fruit to have something sweet to take back to camp. It was either a really bold or really stupid idea.

Valor decided it was the former. Carefully, he ducked between the two rails of the fence, into the exhibit. Cautiously, Valor crept towards the tree, his eyes never leaving the elephants. Just when it seemed he would reach the tree undetected, the biggest of all the elephants glanced up, her dark eyes staring at him. For the first time, Valor noticed a small elephant hovering near her legs. A baby mutt. Fitting, in a Games designed for parents. The baby's mother trumpeted angrily and charged at Valor, gaining speed than he would have thought possible for a creature of her size.

Well, shit. Maybe this was a stupid idea after all.

Valor wasted no more time, breaking into a sprint back towards the fence, hoping he could make it before he began gasping for air or the elephant caught up to him, whichever came first. He reached the fence, leaping over it in one stride. He grinned, proud his agility skills were still strong at his age.

Once he was a safe distance away, Valor turned around to ensure the elephant hadn't escaped its exhibit. He was relieved to see that she was still contained, pacing back and forth along the fence, her herd hanging back a short distance away. She could have easily plowed through the fence if she wanted to. Hell, she could have stepped over it! Yet, she did not. The Gamemakers clearly didn't want the mutts out of their exhibits, at least not at this moment. If the mutts were escapable, though, what was their purpose. Valor had a feeling there was more to these mutts than had been revealed. He didn't want to be around to find out. Out of breath, Valor took a dose of his inhaler before heading on his way.

Joshua Yates, 33, District 12 Male

5:45 p.m.

Anita was on the move, which meant Joshua wa slinking after her, close enough to not lose sight of the District Eight woman, but far enough away to not be detected. He had been following Anita for the entirety of the games so far and had surprised himself by the stealth he had managed to maintain. Joshua didn't know where Anita planned on going, but he wished she hadn't waited until sunset to do it. The calls are roars of the various mutts made Joshua uneasy, and he just wanted to settle down again. He couldn't lose Anita though. Following another tribute made Joshua feel as though he was accomplishing something, at least until he had the courage to do step up his game.

Joshua knew he must have looked like a zombie. His gait was shuffling, as if he were in a daze. He wasn't confident that he wasn't in a daze. His shaggy dark blonde hair felt greasy as he ran his fingers through it as a habit. It was a wonder Anita couldn't smell him. Although, perhaps his stench blended in with the mutts.

Joshua could barely keep his eyes open. How much sleep had he gotten these past three nights? Six hours total? More? Less? With no way to measure time in the arena other than the sun, Joshua didn't even have a solid guess. He could barely remember that three nights had passed since they first entered the arena. Joshua wondered how much time would pass before he forgot what day it was all together. His guess was not more than a few days.

If Joshua had been alone, he would have stopped walking a while ago, or even never left the last camp at all. If Anita was his ally, he would have asked her when she intended to rest though. Considering she didn't even know he was there, though, asking her would be a bad idea. So, he trudged on, his body complaining all the while. He pushed away the thoughts of how exhausted he was and instead focused on his family, just like he did hundreds of times a day. Thinking of his husband and children made him keep walking even when he wanted to collapse to the ground and never get up again.

From the hill where the tributes first launched, Anita took a turn south. A glass building lay ahead, looking out of place compared to its surroundings. As Joshua got closer though, he realized the building did fit in, but rather was dedicated to flora rather than fauna like the rest of the arena. Entering the building, Joshua knew immediately that he had stepped into a conservatory filled to the brim with a variety of plants. Short plants, tall plants, green plants, plants of every color. Joshua gazed around the area in amazement, soaking in the beautiful world he had entered.

Joshua's stomach churned. He was in his element. If he was going to make a move, the door was currently wide open. In a conservatory filled with plants, Joshua had the upper hand. There might never be another opportunity.

Joshua still had to tread carefully, though. One wrong move could be disastrous. He doubted Anita would react well to discovering she had company. He had to work quickly, yet cautiously. Staying undetected in an enclosed space was more difficult than it had been before, but it was even more vital. Joshua's mind was frantic, trying to find some way to gather his necessary ingredients before Anita decided she needed to move on. Fortunately, the conservatory was spacious enough for Joshua to stay hidden, but compact enough for him to always know where Anita was. Time to be on his side, but the unknown of just how much time he had made it difficult for Joshua to take a deep breath and get his thoughts in order and focus.

An answer came to Joshua when the sun set. Anita was refilling a water bottle at a fountain in the center of the building when the single glass door near the front slammed shut, causing both herself and Joshua to jump. Anita cautiously approached the door and shook the handle, with no results. It seemed like the pair was now locked inside the conservatory, perhaps due to gamemaker intervention, perhaps due to sheer luck.

"Well, guess I'm not leaving tonight," Anita said to herself with a sigh. She settled down next to the fountain, setting up a small camp for the night. Minutes or hours later, Joshua had no idea, Anita laid down and closed her eyes. She probably had a false sense of security, thinking she was alone in the conservatory.

Heart racing and palms sweaty, Joshua decided to take a risk. He crept around the conservatory, looking for just the right combination of plants. His first choice would be nightlock, a berry that killed faster than any other in Panem. After the tabooed Seventy-Fourth hunger games, though, nightlock had never been seen in an arena. No gamemaker dared use it.

As expected, no nightlock was found in the conservatory. However, several other toxic options were readily available. Deadly Nightshade. Hemlock. Rosary Peas. Oleander. Joshua selected his ingredients with care and precision. He wanted quick. With the right combination, his poison could kill its victim within an hour.

Having fled from the bloodbath, Joshua had very little materials to work with. Making due with the resources surrounding him, he selected two rocks, one pointed one for grinding, and one flat one to serve as a tray. He carefully placed the plants and berries on the flat rock and grinded them with the pointed rock. When everything was prepared, Joshua crept closer to Anita. Her eyes were closed, and her chest rose and fell slowly. Only slightly relaxed, Joshua cautiously twisted off the cap of Anita's water bottle and poured in his toxic mixture into it. As he did, the sleeping woman did not stir. Silently, Joshua replaced the cap of the water bottle and retreated back to his hiding place.

Joshua's heart was racing. He had never used his knowledge of plants for harm before. From the time he was a teenager, Joshua had always used plants for good. The plants he was accustomed to using were healers, used for everything from herbs for teas to alleviate symptoms of the common cold to soothing ointments for burns or whip lashes. Never before had he used a plants toxins. He never could have imagined he'd ever be in this position.

Joshua squeezed his eyes shut. He had to stop thinking about what he had just done. If he didn't, chances of a breakdown were high, and his sobs would definitely wake Anita. If she woke up and discovered him, his efforts would be for nothing.

The night ahead was sure to be long. Joshua knew as soon as the conservatory doors were open, he would be out of there. For now, it was simply a waiting game. Joshua closed his eyes and wished for sleep to come. It never did.

Author's Note: And so we have our second update of 2019! Considering I think I had 2 updates total in 2018, I'd say that's not bad. I have a goal of writing at least a little bit every weekday this summer, so hopefully I can get a few chapters piled up before I officially start my occupational therapy doctorate program in September. My goal is to update another chapter by the end of July, but we'll see how that goes.

No deaths this chapter while I get back in the swing of things, but there is some tension building and I'm looking forward to what comes next! Thank you all for sticking around this long!