Enmity
Rippel (D4)
"Do you want any food?" I ask Lucian, chewing a handful of somewhat disgusting 'healthy food'. The package says it's guaranteed to give me energy, which I'll need to deal with Lucian.
"No."
He hasn't even looked up from the little bug skittering across the pavement. Lucian seems to like ants, or killing them, at least.
"Well, you haven't eaten all day, and goodness knows, you don't sleep, either."
"I sleep when I need to."
"But that's never when I'm watching!" I huff out a breath of air and try to concentrate on chewing.
"You are distracting me."
"From what?"
"From what I want to be doing."
I'm not even going to ask. I will never get anywhere with Lucian. Why couldn't Chalice have stayed? I wish Auroch could have managed another shot to the head… I wish I still had Gull. I miss him.
At least he entertains himself. There are so many worse people I could be with. Though I can't think of any of them. I shut my eyes against the glare of the sun on the asphalt. Five days. It's been five days. And half of us are dead. Halfway home. I am halfway home.
Eddy will be happy to see me, and he'll hopefully give me some time to recover before he starts driving me up the wall again. The twins will get their own rooms, and I will be far, far away from the ant-killing invalid who can't seem to make himself useful.
"Lucian," I say, keeping my voice even as he inevitably doesn't look up. "Lucian, I'm going scouting. I won't be more than a shout away."
He pays no attention to me.
"That means that if someone or something is about to shoot you, run you through, club you to death, eat you, or trample you, you call for me."
There- at the mention of those lovely ideas, an almost imperceptible nod.
"I'll be going, then."
Of course, he doesn't wish me luck, which would slightly lessen how much I despise him. He doesn't tell me to throw myself off a cliff, either. Drat. Then I would have a legitimate reason to club him to death.
I don't know why I hate him so much. It isn't as if he's really given me a reason to. In fact, he tends to act as if I'm nowhere near him. It's like being with a cat. He expects me to feed him and keep him safe, but gives nothing in return. He isn't human. I'd rather be alone than around someone so… wrong. What is he thinking? Planning my death? Planning for us all to die? Or just thinking about ants, as he says he is?
"Rippel," a thin voice from behind me calls. "Rippel, there are ants."
"I know that!" I reply, straining to keep the irritated note from my voice. Not that he would recognize it.
"More of them."
"How many more?" I ask, feeling the panic begin to well up in the base of my skull.
"I haven't counted. But I estimate between three thousand and three thousand five hundred."
"Don't count them!" I cry. "Don't count them! I'm coming! Are they on the supplies? Lucian, keep them away from the supplies!"
"Why not? It would be useful to know their numbers."
"Kill them, Lucian!"
I'm too far away, but getting closer. Close enough to see them swarming around his feet, him completely oblivious but for the few that have made it to his hand.
"They don't bite," he says. "They die easily."
"Kill them! Kill more!" I am close to screaming now. We need that food. He may not need it, but I do. He may not be human, but I am.
He carefully smashes one at a time between his fingers, with surprising speed. I reach the supplies a few seconds before the ants do. We don't have much, and everything fits in one huge blanket that Dylan devised into a sort of pack before he left. I can lift it, but not easily.
A few inches off the ground is all I need.
With a stilted, awkward gait as the pack bruises the backs of my calves, I begin to run, the wave of insects behind me. I don't stop for Lucian. The ants don't bite, but I would stake my life on the fact that they do eat.
No cannon sounds from behind me, which could be a good or bad sign depending on how you see Lucian.
I reach an achievable level of the Cornucopia, towards the tail. Only five feet. I've climbed up a rope ten times the height, hand over hand. I can do this.
No, I can't. The pack sends me toppling off balance, diminishing my lead on the ants. I scramble back to my feet, knees and dignity bruised. Every motion I make sends me reeling with a wave of adrenaline. I have got to save this food. There is no option. I have got to climb this thing.
My brain conveniently filters out the idea that ants may be able to climb as well.
Hand over hand, I drag myself and the satchel up the hot metal wall. Not as hot as it has been, though. Clouds are beginning to blot out the harsh sunlight. I manage to get my feet off the ground, hopefully smashing a few ants as I do so. They've reached my toes.
I climb higher, stretching every muscle in my body further. It takes several minutes for me to make it to the mouth, twenty feet high. From there, I can see Lucian.
Methodically smashing one ant at a time.
He is barely visible beneath the insects, but, two fingers held out, he continues on the course of action that, apparently, he has been repeating since I began my assent.
The adrenaline begins to drain from my system, and I want to scream. I was saving our butts, possibly falling under the weight of our pack, possibly getting myself killed, and he just sat there!
Thunder peals across the sky, which has turned grey and downy with clouds. No more sun. I should be thankful for the respite from the heat, but all I can think about are the thousands of insects that must smell the food on the Cornucopia and will come climbing up to get it any second.
And I can't do anything! I am so powerless, up here, weighted down by survival which rests squarely on my back.
Lucian continues to pinch ant after ant, and I shiver in the cold burst of air that accompanies the change in the weather. A fat droplet of rain hits me square in the eye. Another lands on my knee. All around me, I hear the pattering of water on… everything. The ants begin to change. Their calculated movements become frantic and erratic. The rain falls faster, soaking me as I attempt to shield the supplies with my body.
He doesn't seem to notice. The ants, gone insane in the falling water, fall one by one from his outstretched fingertips. I can see his eyes again. They are retreating, who knows where to. The tide of tiny bodies is ebbing away.
A few are left squirming, caught in raindrops or puddles and abandoned by their fellows. Lucian stands up, kills the two ants stuck on his wet shirt and bends down, squishing the stragglers one by one.
I nearly fall off the Cornucopia, partly with relief, and partly because the rain has made it slick. I climb down carefully, which is not easy. I'm tired, wet, and sore.
"Where were you?" I hiss, depositing the supplies in the still-dry mouth of the Cornucopia, thankful that the ants have not retreated there. "Where were you?"
"Down here," he replies, looking utterly bemused. "I was killing them."
"Why weren't you helping me?" I am not willing to let go of… of… everything! He left me to save both our skins!
"I killed them. Was that not helpful?"
"No! No it wasn't!" I sputter, though he has me at that. I did tell him to kill the ants.
"I did what you said," he reminds me, looking down at the little bodies. "I killed four hundred thirty-six."
I heave a sigh of resignation.
"Okay, yes, Lucian, you did exactly what I said. Congratulations. Excuse me if I'm not setting up a victory party in your honor."
"It doesn't merit a celebration. I just killed four hundred thirty-six. That's all."
How am I supposed to live with him?
"Do you want some dinner, Lucian?" I ask, walking over to the pack.
"No, thank you," he replies. Of course not.
-x
Lectic (D3)
"No deaths," she sighs. "No more deaths. They'll be getting restless. I can only hope we're interesting enough. You don't happen to know how to juggle, do you?"
"I'm trying to drive, Demetra."
"And you're doing a hell of a job of it. See? You're about to run over that… thing."
As if to prove her point, whatever it is makes an ugly thump as I drive over it. Demetra smirks in a self-satisfied way.
"The rain makes it hard to see, okay? I've got, like, no visibility at all."
She's rolling her eyes, but I look away. My last nerve is wearing thin, and the rain has me tense at the slickness of the road. We haven't had a chance to discuss the games of the past, though, for me, at least, they are a wild dog waiting patiently in the back seat of the , and the whumpta-whumpta noise coming from the tire that blew out a few hours ago, contibutes the the air that is thick with nervous energy. It's right cacophonous outside the car, with the drumming of the rain, the whumping of the exploded tire, and a new sound.
It sizzles.
"What's that?"I ask Demetra, at the same time as she asks me.
It isn't like air hissing out of a tire. It's more like acid eating through aluminum-steel composite, which I've seen before, in an experiment in school. The stuff just ate a hole clean through the sheet of metal, all the while making that awful noise, like cooking meat.
That is definitely the noise I am hearing now.
"We have to get out of the car," I say, as calmly as possible, which is not very.
"Whyyyy?" Demetra whines. "It's cold and wet and the car is nice and warm and what if my flamethrower dies?"
"Get out of the car!"
"Fine! You're such a jerk! If you were anyone else, I would seriously set you on fire!"
I open the door, slamming it behind me. The rain is frigid on my skin, and the cold cuts through to my bones. I shiver. It's getting dark. The sizzling noise is coming from the side of the car that I hit the animal think with, and it is accompanied by the terrible smell of burning rubber.
"Holy-" Demetra murmurs.
"What is it," I ask cautiously. "Is there a fire?"
Of course there isn't a fire. Not in this rain. But if I'm on edge, she's got to be seconds away from chucking her flamethrower at my head.
"What the hell did you run over," she breathes. "The tire… you need to see this."
I walk around the front of the car as a bolt of lightning tears through the sky.
"Shoot," I mutter. "What is this?"
Whatever I ran over was once some kind of animal. The greasy red-brown stains must be blood. There are a few smoking strands of brown fur stuck in the tire treads.
Blood doesn't dissolve rubber. Blood shouldn't be eating through the tires. Blood doesn't smell like all the cat sick in the world set on fire.
This stuff does.
Demetra bends down with one finger outstretched.
"Wait!"
She freezes.
"Don't… touch it," I caution.
"What do we do?" She says plaintively. "I have no clue how to fix this. I'm so tired. It's wet. It's cold."
She buries her head in her hands.
"Lectic, I want to go home."
What am I supposed to say to that? She's suddenly sobbing into her hands, and I know she's still perfectly capable of killing me if I put a toe out of line and, say, pat her shoulder. It's hard to think of Demetra as a person when she's so unlike me. But everyone has a moment when everything is wrong, I guess.
I got mine out of the way a few seconds after I volunteered.
"I'll fix it," I say. "The rain will stop. We'll dry up. We'll get a new tire. Two new tires. I can fix it. I promise, I can."
There's not much more that I can do, other than watch her cry.
"I will get them," she hiccups. "Those miserable bastards. I will kill them all."
"If anyone can do that, it's you," I sigh, not knowing whether she is talking about the Gamemakers or the other contestants.
"You're alright, Lectic."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I'll let someone else take care of you."
"That's right sentimental of you."
"Don't think I'm going soft," she warns, straightening up. I catch a glimpse of her face, which is mottled pink and slightly tearstained. "I'm not. I'll still organize it. But I won't be the one to do it, 'kay?"
"I think that's the best offer I'll get."
She sighs, and smiles a tight lipped smile.
"Where are we, anyway?" she asks suddenly. Our little friendship-bonding moment is definitely over.
"I don't know. I can take a look at the car while you look around, but I haven't really had time to take a good look at our surroundings."
"Well, there's something yellow and red and glowing over that way. I think I'll go check it out," says Demetra, sniffing into her sleeve. "I hope it involves food. I'm starved."
I'm about to remind her that we have plenty to eat when she picks up her flamethrower and disappears into the rain and the darkness. For the first time in the arena, I am well and truly alone.
It's a little frightening.
The tire continues to sizzle, and I bend down to inspect it. The red-brown stain is smoking around the edges, and air is beginning to hiss from the wheel. Before I can really begin to judge what it is, and excited whoop distracts me.
"What is it, Demetra?" I call into the darkness. "Find something?"
"Sure as hell did! Do you think we can push the car about five hundred feet?" she replies excitedly. "It's a gas station! Just off the highway! They have tires! Come on, I'll help you get the car going!"
The air crackles with energy as another bolt of lightning singes the sky, but I manage to ignore it, getting behind the car with Demetra as she runs up.
"Should this work?" she asks, shouldering up to the car.
"I don't know… the ground is mildly sloping down, and the surface is very slick, so… maybe." I can't keep the excitement out of my voice. "If we're careful not to push it too fast. But I've never even tried to push a car before. I have no clue how this works."
"All the better." She grins. "We get to make it up as we go along. I'm good at that."
With a groan and a hiss of air, the car moves about an inch forward.
"I think we can do this. I actually think we can do this!"
-x
Auroch (D10)
It's very cold. Wet. I can't move. My skin and clothing are stiff with dried blood, even as I am pounded by cold rain. Why can't I move?
Yesterday comes back to me.
How am I alive? How did I survive? Did she?
My blood has congealed over my torso, but I can feel the tips of my fingers. They hurt. I try to flex my hands, but I can't. I am cold to the bone. My face feels like ice. I can barely feel my nose, and blinking is a chore.
How am I alive? How am I alive? How am I alive?
How can I kill her, now? I failed before, when I was intact. But now, I might as well be dead myself, lying in the wet leaves. Wet… I can feel how wet it is. I can feel the cold. I am still alive. As long as I can feel the cold, the wet, the pain coursing through my abdomen, I am alive.
I feel dizzy, and I attach myself to that feeling. While I can feel, I can live.
With effort, I can move my fingers. It takes a long time, though, and makes me dizzier. I don't think I will be able to move again for a while.
Something lands on my stomach. I can't see very well in the dark and the driving rain, but it does not seem malicious. Slowly, slowly, inch by inch, I make myself move to grab it. The first time, my fingers, still slick with blood, slide off. Eventually, though, I manage to gain a purchase on the paper- the wrapping paper- the silver wrapping paper.
I rip it open with difficulty, bringing my other hand carefully up to my chest to complete the task. There is a bottle of cloudy brown liquid that smells something like the chocolate milk I had at one point in the Capitol, but only faintly. I don't know if that is because my senses are failing, or because the drink is mild.
The drink is difficult to swallow because of its overwhelming richness. While I have been subsisting on water for the last… few days, at least, before my failed attempt at killing her, this is even thicker than the Capitol confection.
I drain the bottle, but slowly. It takes a long time for the silky liquid, mixing with rain water, to slide down my throat. Then, I feel tired. Even more so than before.
My eyes are getting heavy, even blinking away the gelid rainwater. I am so tired… the world is spinning… I want to sleep. And I will.
Lissom Henley can wait to die until tomorrow.
-x
Kind of a long chapter. This took me a while to write, as I seem to have acquired a social life. How did that happen?
This update's question: Auroch or Lissom?