A/N: Woo! Here we go! Day 5!
Also, I'm sorry if there are any speech tags or anything in past tense in this chapter. I was writing in past tense for something else and now I have to get myself to snap out of it.
Enjoy!
Chapter 24 – A Clash of Fishes
Bennett Weiss, District 3 Male
"Avia, do you hear something?" I tilt my head to the side, looking up at dark, smoky sky.
"No," Avia replies, staring as well. "Don't worry, Bennett. We're fine."
I hear the sound again, a strange buzzing sound. It sounds like a flock of cicadas, all buzzing and hissing in unison. The sound jumps, like it's being conducted in an orchestra. "Come on, you heard that."
"I did," Avia admits. "Do you think it's a mutt?"
"Maybe," I say. "We should keep moving." I stand up, gesturing for Avia to follow. "Let's go this way."
"That's toward the Cornucopia," Avia whines. "We can't that go! That's the where the bad guys are!"
"I don't know, maybe we can force the mutts on them," I say with a shrug. "I don't know what kind of mutts they are, but I know I don't want to tangle with them."
Avia looks down, reluctantly following me. "Bennett?" she says eventually.
"Yeah?" I reply.
"Am I going to die?"
For a moment, I'm speechless. Completely unable to say a word. Finally, I splutter, "Of course not! We're fine, we're perfectly f-fine."
Avia looks at me oddly. "But this is the Hunger Games, right? Don't we all have to die?"
"No!" I exclaim more forcefully than I intended. "I mean, no, of course not. Don't worry, Av. I'll protect you. Everything will be okay."
Avia beams. "Okay!" She skips ahead, excited and cheerful once more. How that girl has lived this long, I don't think I'll ever know. I don't really mind it, though. I think I'd go crazy without her company to keep me sane.
The buzzing sound has somewhat receded, but it's still there, like it's trying to lull us into a false sense of security. A shiver involuntarily runs down my spine. Whatever is making that noise, I do not want to meet. I walk faster.
As we hurry along, I mentally go through the tributes I know are still in the arena. Well, I know the girl from 2 is still around, and I think the pair from 1 is… and I think I saw the boy from 10 in the sky last night, and I know Jaz is dead.
Only now do I truly realize that Jaz is dead. She's not just sick, or at home, or injured, or taken out of the Games. She's dead. She, along with twelve other tributes, are actually, truly, really dead. They're gone, forever, never going to return to their families and never going to live full lives. They were twelve for god's sake! Twelve years isn't nearly enough time—there's still things I want to do! There's still so many games I haven't tested, so many things I haven't seen, so many people I haven't met! And I'm not even dead yet. But those tributes are. They will never get a life, and so will eleven of the remaining people in this godforsaken volcanic arena.
I pull in a breath and quickly exhale it, doing it over and over until I start to feel light-headed and Avia rushes over to me. "Bennett!" she exclaims. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did a mutt get you?"
"No—no," I stammer. "I'm f-fine. Just… just scared."
"Oh," Avia breathes, looking at me with a hint of… disgust, on her face? No, no, she's probably just scared, too. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I say, shakily getting to my feet. "Let's keep moving."
"Okay," Avia says uncertainly. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes," I snapped. "I'm perfectly fine. I just kind of panicked."
Avia gave me another weird look, shrugged, and never mentioned the incident again.
Brookley Lepplings, District 4 Male
I'm really thirsty.
And hungry.
And sick.
And just overall swimming in regret.
I couldn't grab supplies from the Cornucopia when I faked my death. Someone might have noticed. And besides, I didn't think I'd need it. After all, I'm popular with the crowds, right? I should have been sponsored a fully-stocked pantry by now, but nothing! Not even a small bottle of water or—or some food, or a blanket or some bandages. Hell, I'd take anything right, just because it would show that I had someone rich on my side!
All I have is a trident. No one else in the Careers uses them, so I figured no one would miss this. Besides, I took this one from four or five identical ones. It won't be missed.
It's a small comfort, though. I did manage to spear this weird-mutt-rabbit yesterday, and it was the only thing I've had to eat since I left the Careers. I really don't know what made me do it. I was scared and all the infighting was making me nervous, and all I could think about was that I needed to get out. I should have stayed with the Careers. If I had stayed with the Careers, I wouldn't be what I am now, stumbling drunkenly through the dark, dying of hunger and dehydration.
You know, I'm starting to understand why I suddenly have no sponsors.
I've just been wandering. I've been around the base of the volcano. I want to see if there's something on the other side of it. Surely there is, right? Or maybe there's just a forcefield there. Either way, it's something to do, and it makes me feel productive.
It's about midday when I pick up on footsteps behind me. I slowly turn around, feeling shaky on my feet, holding my trident best I can and come face to face with my worst fear:
Ariella Winters.
She stands there, on the other end of the clearing with murder clear in her eyes. She has a knife in each hand, and behind her, Wren Willodean from 5 is holding nothing but her fists, looking ready for a fight but not quite as eager as her friend.
Ariella shoves her little pack off her shoulders and into Wren's arms. "Hold this," she demands. "I need to skin someone alive."
I take a shaky step backward, holding my trident in preparation for a fight. We circle each other for a moment, Wren looking on with a look like she doesn't know what she should be doing.
"How did you figure it out?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"Should've covered your footprints," Ariella replies curtly. "Did you make the punji stick trap?"
"Punji stick trap?" I repeat, incredulous. "I don't even know how to make those, Ari."
Ariella's face contorts with rage, and I know I've made a fatal mistake. She raises her knives, and charges.
The next five minutes are a blur of blood, grunting and slashing. She stabs, I dodge, I stab, she dodges. We go around and around and around, and I notice that Ariella is pushing me up the volcano's side…
"Wren, stop standing there and help!" Ariella yells as she makes a stab for my head. I duck in time, sending her off balance, and I try to pin her to the ground.
The next thing I know, someone has their hands around my neck, pulling me away from Ariella and effectively cutting off my air supply. I kick my legs desperately, hearing a muffled, "Shit!", suddenly feeling air rush back into my lungs. I gulp it down greedily. Panting, I stagger to my feet, stumbling further up the caldera, dimly aware of a bleeding stab wound in my stomach…
I tighten my grip on my trident to the point where my knuckles turn white and turn around to face Ariella and Wren. The world sways beneath my feet, spinning and swimming, and I notice how close the edge of the volcano is… the lava bubbling, way down and out of reach, out of mind…
Ariella slowly stalks toward me, and I feel a stab of pride. I really did a number on her. Her shoulder has deep trident marks on it, slowly oozing blood, her shirt is ripped and stained red, and a gash on her forehead is leaking blood into her eyes. Still, she keeps moving, forcing me closer and closer to the magma, certain death. Would I rather die from a stab wound to the stomach or drowning in lava? The latter would be quicker, and I probably wouldn't even feel anything. It would be like falling asleep… I'm so tired… sleep sounds good…
Wren hangs back, looking reluctant to engage in our fight, but Ariella stands before me with hatred burning in her eyes. I take a step back, only to find myself teetering dangerously on the edge of the volcano. The heat rises toward me, practically boiling my brains.
"Nowhere left to run," Ariella whispers, her voice barely audible over the rumble of the volcano. It's not erupting yet—but still, the lava bubbles, making it hardly dormant and safe.
I raise my trident with shaking hands. "Bring it on."
Ariella obliges. She closes the distance between us faster than I thought humanly possible—one second, she's twenty feet away from me, the next, she's right in front of me, prepared to kill. She must have lost one of her knives during our fight, as she now only brandishes one. It's red.
I stab my trident toward her neck at the same time as she pushes she me backward. I lose my footing, my uncoordinated feet skidding along the rough volcano caldera, as the trident spears through her neck.
I seem to fall in slow motion. People talk about your life flashing before your eyes—but all I can think about is the that I'll never see Sereina grow up. She won't know her big brother Brookley. All she'll have is Dariya and Aqua…
The heat rises as fall closer and closer to the lava. I'm inches away when I shut my eyes, exhaling my final breathing, vaguely aware of a cannon firing above me… but it can't be my cannon, not if I'm still aware of it…
The last thing that registers is the heat. And then comes black.
Wren Willodean, District 5 Female
BOOM! BOOM!
The cannons ring out in quick succession, confirming what I already knew: Brookley and Ariella are dead. Could I have saved Ariella? If I had fought more aggressively, would she still be alive? But all I did was stand there… that's not like me at all. Why am I like this now? I fought so well, so hard, back in 5, why should the arena be any different?
I don't know how long I stand here, just staring at Ariella's body, nothing really registering with me. I feel numb. All of that happened so fast—one minute, Ariella and I were talking about our favorite colors, and the next, she's attacking her district partner and pushing him into volcanoes.
This feels wrong.
It's wrong, it's so, so wrong. Everything about these Games are wrong. These people—these children, these twelve-year-old children—shouldn't be dead. Why did I willingly subject myself to this torture? Why did I choose to enter these horrific Games?
Not really seeing where I'm going, I stumble down the caldera, passing a large collection of boulders without really even noticing that it's there. Eventually, I make it to the base of the volcano, to the spot where this fight started.
I thought I was perfectly prepared for this. I thought I was as ready as I could ever be. And I am, at least in physical aspects. But mentally? Mentally, I'm about as useful as a sack of potatoes. I look up at the dark sky. So many unnecessary deaths… twenty-three people that will never see the sun, real or fake, again. Why can't the Gamemakers at least give us the courtesy of sunlight? Or do they just really like watching twelve-year-olds stumble like drunks through the darkness?
I have to circle around half of the volcano. Ariella and I tracked Brookley that far from the Cornucopia, and we never really thought about how we'd get back. Ariella is—was—a more 'do first, as questions later' kind of person. And before the Games, I was too. Before the Games, I fought like a maniac. Before the Games, I was normal. Innocent. Sane. But now… now, I'm none of those things. I'm not normal, I'm not innocent, I'm not anything a twelve-year-old should be.
As I walk, I think back to when I saw Cash kill Alby in the bloodbath. He did is seamlessly, without thinking or hesitation. Of course, Cash was horribly beaten up about it later, but still… he did it. He didn't stand there wondering if it was worth it. And back then, I don't think I would have either.
Goddamnit, why can't I be like the Careers? Killing doesn't bother them! And it didn't bother me… until I'm forced to do it. I haven't killed anyone yet, but how can I ever go home without doing it? In the past one-hundred-fifty years, not a single tribute has gotten out without killing at least one person! I can't do this. I can't do this.
Eventually, I make it back to the Cornucopia. Wake is sitting with her good leg tucked to her chest, the bandaged one sticking straight out in front of her, staring off into space as Coin sifts around the supplies. Cash is seated on the top of the Horn of Plenty, a spear on his lap, lazily drawing circles with his fingers on the obsidian.
At the sound of my footsteps, Wake looks up. "Took you long enough. I would assume you guys got someone." She sees that I'm alone. "Hey, where's 4?"
"Gone," I say simply.
Wake growls. "Great, just great."
"Hey, have you guys seen the water?" Coin calls from within the slowly dwindling sea of supplies. Seas… Ariella… District 4…
"No," Wake says. "It's been five days, Coin, have you really not checked for water?"
"We've been using the stuff from the remaining packs," Coin replies. "I haven't thought to check for the water crate."
Suddenly Wake groans. "10…"
"Huh?" I say, looking around. Has she spotted the girl from 10? …Will I be expected to kill her?
"That stupid boy from 10," Wake snarls, and I breath a sigh of relief. No more child murder today. "He dumped the crate in lava after the Bloodbath."
"What?" Coin exclaims. "Wake, do you understand what that means?"
"We have to find water elsewhere, I know," Wake says off-handedly.
"No," Coin says forcefully, her face pale. "There isn't a place to find water elsewhere. I don't think there's any water left in the Cornucopia."
I blanche. "You're kidding."
"Unfortunately not," Coin says sadly. She sinks to her knees. "So, this is it. We're screwed."
"Sponsors!" I exclaim. "I mean, we could get sponsors."
"Haven't you noticed, Wren?" Coin asks, flopping on the ground and laying spread-eagled. "None of us have gotten any sponsors yet. Nothing. Zilch. Zero. We're dead."
"We just have to make the Games go fast," Wake says. "If we finish it in under three days, we won't die from dehydration—"
"We've been in here for five days, Wake!" Coin cries. "and we haven't found a single tribute. Nobody. And while I'd love to leave it to everyone else, that's not going to happen."
"And it's the cowardly thing to do," Wake says tartly.
"Yes, whatever," Coin says. "Maybe we'll get lucky…"
I want to believe Coin. I want to agree that that is probably what will happen. But so far, the odds have not been in our favor, and I have a feeling that won't be changing anytime soon.
A/N: And here we. Down to just ten tributes left in the arena. Final Eight predictions anyone? Victor predictions? Placing predictions? I always love hearing what you guys think.
Eulogies:
12th Place: Ariella: I'm not going to lie, I considered this girl as my Victor once. But with the fact that some people really didn't like her and that I felt she didn't possess the needed skills to the be the Victor, this is where she ended up. A wrath-filled girl, with a desperate need for revenge, and willing to do anything to gain that, she really was something. Thanks to TeamShadow for this mischievous, snarky Career. RIP.
11th Place: Brookley: I find it ironic that Brookley actually ended placing higher than Ariella. Still, I enjoyed writing this guy immensely. He had just the right amount of cockiness, sass, and love for his family. But he made a fatal mistake in betraying the Careers, putting a very large target on his back, and this is where it led him. Thank you, AnnaBanana, for a sassy, daredevil of a tribute. RIP.
-Amanda