Recommended Listening: Shout by Tears for Fears
Amantius Redulite, District 2
"Think he's going to survive?" Cisca asks, crouching over where Yao is crumpled in the snow.
He's the only one left to ask about. Ivan's been gone for a while, and Rica's being scooped up as we speak.
"Dunno," I say. He definitely doesn't look good, but I'm not much of an expert on this. "Do you want him to survive?"
With a sigh, Cisca puts her chin in her hands. "I don't know. I wasn't planning on this happening until after we got Ermine's group, but the best chance just came early." She looks up at me. "Think he'll be able to help with that if he survives?"
I cross my arms. "He was pretty beat up even before this, but I can't say for sure. Probably not."
"Well, that would be the only reason for keeping him." She gnaws on her lip a bit.
"All right, then, no." I plunge my sword through his chest. "I don't think he's going to survive."
Exhaling, Cisca backs away as the cannon fires. I pull out the blade and step back to make room for the hovercraft.
"What, too much blood for you?" I start as she rubs her arms.
"Yeah," she sighs. "But what are you going to do, right?"
I just smirk, watching the hovercraft claw descend. The joints creak miserably as they do their job. Either this isn't the Capitol's best hovercraft, or they don't take to the cold much.
"All for survival's sake," I say with a shrug. "So. Feel like supper?"
She drags a hand through her hair. "Yeah. I'll go make something."
Romania Viorel, District 6
It's especially hard to tell when we can't see where the sun is, but apparently nightfall has come. The anthem has started, and the faces must be starting up. While we don't really want to back away from the fire—we have enough sponsors for a few could-be rungs, but not a whole ladder, apparently—the best view of the sky is just two or three steps away, so we go on ahead.
Four faces tonight. All of them Careers.
Turk whistles. "Wonder what happened."
"Maybe they fell down a hole and died," I snort, starting to pull back towards the fire.
Turk gives me a look. "Seriously?"
I shrug, crouching by the source of heat and watching the flames reflect on the smooth ice behind. Maybe the stuff is melting a little, though I don't think a whole wall is going to come splashing down conveniently.
"Do you think we could melt handholds in the wall?" I start, looking up at the others, who are also by the fire by now.
Turk looks up at the ice surrounding us. "Maybe so."
"We already have handholds," says Egypt. "They're just too slick."
I blink at the Twelve. "Wow, you're just really talkative today."
He doesn't reply.
"I guess they would still be slick if we melted more," Turk says, leaning back against an icy wall for a second.
I exhale, lips close enough together they flap with a sound. "It was worth a shot."
"Yup."
We sit round the fire for a minute before Turk stands back up.
"What now?" I start as he takes a few steps away, looking at the wall a bit above him.
"I have a new idea," he says, cracking his knuckles. "We pretty much can't go up, right? So we just have to bring everything else down instead!"
"And how do we do that?" I respond, though I have a feeling already what he's going to say.
"Like this!" he shouts, pulling back an arm and then slamming a fist into the side of the crevasse. I think a little clod of snow comes tumbling off one of the ridges above.
"Not sure that's going to do it," I say, crossing my legs.
"Is, too!" Turk responds, rubbing his knuckles for a second. "I just have to find the right spot!"
He shuffles a bit farther away and strikes again. There's no better response from the ice. He's still not particularly dissuaded and goes on punching.
"Really not sure that's going to do it," I singsong.
"Shut up," he says, gearing up for the next punch.
"Can you at least stop before you hurt yourself?"
His fist crashes into the ice. "Too late. This stuff is pretty solid." He shakes out his hand and walks to another spot, pulling his arm back.
"Wow," I mouth, deadpan. "Your brother hit you in the head too hard a couple times?"
He strikes the ice again. "Bah! He's too much of a pansy for that."
"Okay... Your parents drop you on the head when you were a baby?"
"Now that is perfectly feasible." He pauses before his next punch. "Not that I have any mental issues."
"Why do you think I'm asking about this?"
He just turns and sticks his tongue out before resuming his punching business. A few more strikes, and Egypt has to scoot out of the way or Turk'll probably kick him or something. Apparently Egypt was in fact not sitting by the sweet spot, so he gets to move back after that.
I just look up at the cloudy but bright sky hoping for more parachutes. If we can't get a ladder, food would be nice. I had some crackers in a coat pocket, but they fell out somewhere during the scramble. Gee, thanks, outfit designer.
I'm snapped out of my thoughts by a loud, crashing pop. Starting, I look back down about me to see Turk's arm sticking through a jagged hole in the ice. I gape, and Turk pulls his fist out, grinning back at me.
"Oh, ye of little faith!" he bellows before plowing his hand through again, a bit further down. More chunks of ice break away and tumble onto the thin layer of snow.
"What is happening right now?" I say blankly, sitting up straight.
"Me being a genius." After a few more strikes to the weirdly thin wall of ice, he kneels down and starts pulling away loose chunks. I pad over, sweeping some of the pieces away and peering into the hole. The floor goes on, but it's too dark to see much more. At any rate there's not just more ice behind it.
Turk rips off some more ice, throwing some more punches around the edges until a clear arch about half my height makes the entryway. Or exitway. He actually keeps punching a bit past that, but he doesn't make any more progress than before.
"Again I say, what is happening right now?"
Turk pokes his head through the arch, but apparently that doesn't give him a much better view since everything's still dark and all.
"I think I found a secret passageway," he says, ducking back out. "Toss me a lit piece of wood and I'll check it out."
I fish out a decently unburnt stick from the fire and hand it over. Then I take another one for myself. Turk glances at me for this, and I shrug.
"Like I've got something better to do down here?"
"True." He looks over his shoulder. "You coming, Egypt?"
Egypt looks at us, up at the sky, and back at the fire before shaking his head.
"Have fun, then," I say, following Turk as he lowers himself and start crawling through the entry.
"Looks like a tunnel for a couple metres," he says as his feet pass out of the main crevasse. "Then I think it opens up."
"Works for me," I say, hunkering down and starting to follow.
I crawl behind him over the ice, keeping enough distance he won't kick me in the face when he moves his knees. We go on quietly—wow, Turk being quiet?—until I'm about two metres in from the entrance. That's when Turk wriggles around, throwing his legs out in front of him and scooting forwards with his hands. He swings the burning stick in front of him, apparently out of the tunnel from the lack of light that follows. And then he just sits there.
"Yet again: what is happening right now?"
After a moment's pause, he says, "Come see" and slides himself down into whatever chamber opens up ahead.
Shivering, I shuffle closer until I can see the edge of the tunnel. A few shafts of light filter down into the area ahead, so I don't really need to swing the flaming wood about to see what we've come upon.