I spend the night hovering somewhere between asleep and awake, slipping into snatched minutes of sleep now and again, and eventually dawn creeps up on me, ending the best, worst, most comforting and sleepless night of my life. The light has the strange, muted glow that tells me the sun is planning on rising soon, but for the next hour at least the light will shimmer, milky grey and shadowy. Perfect.
I feel my stomach take a dive as I acknowledge that this is the time to move, and I allow myself to stay there for just a few more seconds, safe in Caleb's arms, before I reluctantly shift into a sitting position. He makes a mumbling noise in his throat, frowning in objection as he rolls over, his arms feeling for me. I ignore the stab of delight I feel that he's searching for me and shake him roughly on the shoulder.
"Caleb. It's time, wake up."
I say it as loud as I dare, as even though I know we are out of earshot the silent morning air makes me instinctively lower my voice. Caleb blinks sleepily, his eyes groggy as he looks up at me, and then suddenly I see realisation click in as his expression clears.
"Already? Jeez, I feel like I only just fell asleep, don't you?"
I feel like I never went to sleep, I think, but I simply smile a little, zipping my jacket up to my neck and standing up as he watches me, biting his lip.
"You don't have to do this you know, Ty. We can think of something else."
I ignore him, reaching for the bow. I had prepared myself for a last minute attempt to change my mind, and I refuse to even discuss it. Mainly because I'm convinced he could talk me out if it in a heartbeat.
"Here you go," I say, handing him the bow and sheath of arrows.
"I know you're not much better than me, but you can easily reach their base from here. If they wake up I'll try and stay out of sight; just aim for the water and hopefully they'll write off any splashes they may have heard as misfires."
It's a wafer thin plan, we both know it, but we have to do something. Caleb nods grimly, then suddenly wraps his arms around me, holding me close.
"Careful, Ty. Be really, bloody careful. And quiet. Careful and quiet."
He smiles a little, but his eyes are strained, and he sighs suddenly, shaking his head.
"Is there any chance this can work? Are we being crazy?"
"Definitely."
I smile, and then, feeling brave, I reach up to kiss him on the cheek before I turn and walk out. It's so out of character, but I can't deny the possibility that it was the last time we would have seen each other, and I couldn't resist. My heart is still hammering from my moment of madness as I hit the ground and begin walking in the direction of the lake, where it soon begins hammering for a different reason.
I slink back against the rocks, keeping myself hidden behind the shrubs that line the base of the cliff, my eyes fixed upon the bough of trees that I know hold the careers. I should be out if sight, and able to remain that way until I reach the point at which the cliff meets the lake. From there I estimate there's only a few minutes in which I will be swimming in view of the careers before I swim behind the coverage of the rocks and am out of sight again. It's not good odds, but if I swim as fast as I can I should be able to make it, leaving me out of sight to raid their storage. My stomach jerks a little at the realisation I'll be in water, and I push it aside, focusing on moving forward as slowly and quietly as I can.
The arena is silent and peaceful, almost beautiful; the perfect contrast to the mission I'm about to undertake. My stomach dives again as the bracken parts, leaving a few metres of dead space between me and the lake. I pause, glancing over at the trees that hold the careers, but it's silent. I have no way of knowing of course, but I imagine they would have come after me by now if they had seen movement. But they haven't, meaning they're fast asleep and oblivious and the only person watching me right now is Caleb. The thought spurs me on and I emerge from the bushes, moving quickly and quietly towards the water's edge.
I don't stop when I reach it, wading silently into the lake, feeling a rush of revulsion wash over me as the water laps up my legs, my trousers clinging to me. I shudder, unable to stop myself from pausing for a moment, my skin genuinely crawling as I feel the water dance around me. For a brief, foolish minute I contemplate getting out, robbing the careers for the items they have around them, risking the fight that will break out if they wake up, but I'm kidding myself. The only way to survive is to get to those supplies; I know it, I'm just delaying the inevitable. But I can't delay, not now. The chances are they will sleep another few hours, but I can't guarantee it, and besides, who knows where the other tributes are? I'm risking them too, by being out in the open. I have to go now. With this in mind, I steel myself and wade the last few steps into the lake until the water caps my shoulders.
I gasp silently as the cold water hits me, feeling my chest tighten slightly in panic, but I force myself to relax, to focus. Fixing my eyes on the storage raft I begin to swim towards it, my strokes as smooth and silent as possible. I dare not look behind me to see if anyone has spotted me, dare not do anything but keep my gaze locked forward and keep moving. I tell myself I'm back in the clearing, simply swimming the pool like I've done a hundred times before, and that even though it's unsettling it's bearable. I tell myself this, but it doesn't change the fact that I know it's not true, and soon the enormity of my situation begins to hit me and my heart starts to pound.
I curse my foolishness, forcing myself to swim on. I'm managing it, swimming fine; it's just my own idiotic, irrational fear that's causing my panic. If I keep going, slowly, stroke for stroke, then I'll be ok. I'll be fine. I repeat this, over and over in my head, taking it one stroke at a time and ignoring the pressure that seems to be building around my chest; although now I've noticed it, it's all I can think about, and my heart hammers even harder inside me. The tightness in my chest, the irrational beating of my heart; it reminds me of being in the water filled cavern, back when Asha attacked me, and this realisation makes me immediately decide I've been poisoned.
As soon as the thought hits me I feel breathless, my chest seizing in fear and panic, and I flounder, pulling my arm back to place it over my pounding heart and knocking myself off balance as I do. I'm swimming to my death. The Gamemakers have poisoned the lake. I know it, as surely as if I had done it myself, and I immediately know I have to get out. I gasp a little, turning wildly to look behind me, and my heart lifts and sinks at the same time. It lifts because I realise I'm now out of sight of the careers; in fact, I estimate I'm over halfway. The reason it sinks is because I now realise the only way to go now is forward. To keep going. The thought makes me panic even more and I struggle, my feet instinctively feeling for the ground like they do back in the pond in the clearing, but I find nothing. I can't touch the ground, can't go back, have no choice but to go onwards.
I pinch my eyes closed, trying to focus, and take a few experimental strokes forward. My limbs are shaking, both from panic and cold, and my weak strokes aren't enough to hold me, pulling me under. I desperately push back to the surface, spitting out water as silently as I can as my heart hammers in my chest. I'm going to die. Right here. I know it. I struggle as I'm submerged again, forcing my head out as I take quick gulps of air.
Focus. Focus. I say it on repeat in my head, trying to get a grip on myself, control the situation. The lake is not poisoned, I know this; I've seen Jaden swim in it. I can swim this distance; I swim in the clearing all the time, and I've already done half of it. There's nothing wrong with me here that's not in my mind; it's all just fear.
Fear is useless. Accept it and forget it.
Peyton's words slice into my brain, and miraculously I can feel myself clinging to them. She and Benton will be watching, willing me on same as Caleb, and I can't let this be the last thing they see me do. Not now.
The games were meant to be my triumphant battle, but instead nothing has gone the way I planned. Right from my name being called, scuppering my chances to volunteer, through to the revelation about my parents throwing my world off its axis, I've never once felt in control. It's the ultimate reminder that the Capitol are in charge of everything, that they always will be. Well not this. This is a plan, a proper plan; my first since entering the arena, and I'm determined to see it through. For once, I can be in charge of something, and that means I have to control my fear. And, somehow, I do.
I manage to steel myself, regain my rhythm, and slowly, stiffly I swim on, pulling myself closer to the raft with each stroke. I keep my eyes fixed on it, keep my brain fixed on Peyton's words, and soon it's within reaching distance. Unable to stop myself I frantically splash the last few paces, pulling myself desperately towards my sanctuary. My entire body relaxes with relief as my hands finally close over the raft, and for a second I just cling to it, gasping as quietly as possibly, panic subsiding as my hands hold on to this solid piece of land. I made it. I'm safe.
I feel a leap of joy and pride in my chest, and I use this boost to grasp at the raft, heaving myself gratefully out of the water and onto the platform. It's strong, well made, woven so perfectly it could have been done by machine. I put this mastery down to Jaden, and for once I'm grateful to him; it feels secure, sturdy, and it's protecting me from the water. I heave myself back until I am leaning against the stack of prizes, tugging my feet right up beside me, eager to separate myself entirely from the water, be on some form of land, even if is only for a moment.
I'll just get my breath back, I tell myself. Steel myself, just for a moment, before I load up and make the swim back. My stomach dives at the thought of getting back in, making that journey again, only this time weighed down with metal weapons, and the idea of them pulling me under almost makes me vomit. I close my eyes, breathing heavily, and try to calm my mind, to focus. I think of Caleb, waiting for me in the mountains, and immediately feel clearer. Whatever happens, I have to do this, have to get back to him. He may not survive another day without me, and neither of us will survive without weapons, supplies. I have to do this for Caleb. The thought gives me a hollow kind of strength, and I am just readying myself to search the stack of bounty when I hear a tiny splash. It's the unmistakable sound of something landing in the water, and that can only mean Caleb's arrow. The careers are awake.
My eyes snap open, fear and adrenaline pulsing through my body, and immediately land on the item in front of me. And it's not an arrow. Maybe two feet away, bobbing almost humorously on the water, is a silver canister attached to a parachute. I don't think for a second before I reach out and haul it too me, clutching it tightly to my chest. Even now I've found the source of the noise, I can't ignore the spike of fear at the thought that I may have been discovered, and I listen desperately until I start to relax, the silence reassuring me that the careers are still oblivious. It's only then that I allow myself to look down at the canister, my fingers fumbling with the clasp. My first sponsor gift. The timing can't be coincidence, immediately after my struggle to cross, and the message could not be clearer; bravery will be rewarded.
I find my hands are shaking as I heave the lid off, and a soft, material bundle falls into my hands. I frown at it, picking it up, and I immediately realise it's a pair of gloves. My mind races in confusion as I turn them over in my damp hands. Why would I need gloves? They are no use to me in the water surely. And why now? When I am right on top of all the wonders the Cornucopia has to offer? I know that my mentors would not send me something if it was not needed, which must mean that these are not something that are supplied to the tributes from the Cornucopia. These must be special; these must have cost a lot. For this alone I am grateful, and yet I have no idea what they do.
I pull one on and turn my hand in front of me, examining it. It's a fine, silky black material with rough patches on the palm and fingers. It doesn't look like it would be any use to swimming, and yet I know it would not have been sent now, at this time, unless it would serve some sort of immediate purpose. I experimentally clasp my hands together and then wince, pulling them apart on reflex and examining my bare hand. I am amazed to see blood; tiny dots of it are oozing from my knuckles where my fingers made contact, and I look back at the glove and examine it more closely. On the rough pads, so fine and small they are barely visible, are tiny metal hooks. Unbelievably sharp and hard, they barely protrude from the surface, and yet the damage they did with the slightest touch to my hand tells me they are strong. I feel a spark of recognition and close my eyes tightly, trying to drag it from the recess of my memory, and my heart leaps suddenly as I remember. They were a sponsor gift used by the District 2 winner a few years back. The year with all the mountains. Climbing gloves.
As soon as the idea leaps into my head I look to the left, staring up at the imposing cliff face beside me. I had written it off as impossible to climb, too smooth and steep with barely a crevice to grip, but if these gloves are as impressive as I think they are then I could do it easily. My heart starts thumping again, but this time with delight as the realisation that I may not have to swim back grips me. Climbing is where I am most comfortable, and the idea of being able to scale upwards and outwards instead of back through the water is such a relief that my face breaks into a wide smile. Maybe it's the rush of having these gloves, but as the idea of climbing to my escape becomes a reality, an idea more mad and ingenious than my previous one takes hold of me. What if I were to not only stock up, but remove all supplies from the careers? How long would they last then? Sure they can hunt, but can they survive without their stash, the privileges given to them by the Capitol? My heart pounds faster, and I slip the glove from my hand as I immediately know what I'm going to do.
I flip onto my knees and quickly begin sorting through the bags in front of me. There's an impressive selection, and in minutes I've found what I need; a large bundle of knives, a pair of axes, and a couple of bags containing food, medicine, supplies, sleeping bags and more. I consider a spear but reluctantly disregard it; after all, I'm going up now, not out, and I need to travel as light as possible. Despite this, I feel a knot of pleasure twist in my stomach as I survey my haul; it's everything we could need and more. I zip the weapons into the bags I've chosen and drag them both onto my lap, slipping them onto my back one over the other. They're heavy, but only as heavy as anything else I've had to climb in. I can do it.
I allow myself a moment to take it in, relish in my plan, before I haul myself to the edge of the raft and look down. He's clever, Jaden; he's set it up so that the two corners nearest the cliff are tied to it on long ropes, and the other two corners are anchored downwards. I don't know to what, but the tautness of each rope tells me the anchors are heavy, and that if they fail the raft will simply spring back to the cliff, retrievable to a good swimmer. Retrievable, that is, if there was any point trying.
I grasp another knife from the pile and quickly slice through the rope in front of me. It's sharp, and in less than a minute I'm through. The rope springs back, the raft angles sharply and I freeze, waiting to hear if there's any noise from the water. There's barely a ripple. Grinning, I repeat the action on the other side, and this time I have to catch myself as the spring back is harder. There's a definite rush of water as the anchor releases, and I steady myself on the pile behind me, casting a glance over in the direction of the sleeping tributes as the raft is immediately pulled backwards. I can't tell for sure from my place hidden behind the cliff face but they seem to be unmoving, and the absence of an arrow from Caleb tells me that I'm safe; that their all night hunting has left them in a deep enough sleep that my antics are going unnoticed.
My heart is pounding hard now, a combination of excitement and adrenaline; the possibility of getting caught and anticipation of the climb. Anticipation, but not fear; not the overwhelming fear I felt at the idea of swimming back. I'm sure to most people that swimming would have been the easier option, but this way is better for me. I don't have to brave the water, I can stay out of sight of the careers, I can climb well enough to make this ascent less difficult than it would be for most; and with these gloves, I know I can't fail.
I heave myself around the raft as it drifts to a halt a few feet from the cliff face and quickly begin removing packs from the pile and dumping them in the water. They sink without a trace into the black oblivion and I can't hold back a smirk, speeding up as one by one they vanish into the dark water as the raft empties. Soon all that is left is a large black bag, and in a last act of rebellion I empty it into the water and place the bag back onto the raft. It's unlikely they'll swim out, but if they do the idea of their fury at the empty sack makes me break into a broad grin. My smile fades, however, as I look up at the cliff face.
It's even steeper up close, and seems to be slanting towards me. Even with my gloves it will be a tough climb, but I know I can do it. I have to now; there's no way I could swim this distance. I steel myself, adjusting the straps tight on my bags, and then reach up and put a hand to the smooth cliff face. I feel my heart leap with elation as the gloves latch on, stuck fast to the surface, and my worries abate as I reach up with the other hand, a little higher than before, and then pull myself up onto the wall. I feel a small rush run through me as it becomes clear just how good these Capitol gloves are; I'm basically vertical against this wall, and yet I feel totally secure. I quickly figure out how to work them- pushing my hand up instead of pulling down loosens the hooks- and within moments I'm moving upwards, fast and fearless.
My body adapts quickly to this new method of climbing, realising my hands have an easy grip and instead focusing on keeping control of my feet. They too are adjusting fast, sorting themselves out below me and finding tiny nooks; barely indiscernible crevices that, whilst not enough to support me alone, are more than enough with my gloves to hold me up. I am breathless and sweating, my limbs aching and my arms screaming, but I am not stopping, do not want to stop, elation powering my body as I think of nothing but reaching up again, pulling myself higher, further, faster; carrying on to the top.
After a while I glance down, and my stomach dives as I realise quite how high I've come. I must be over a hundred feet up, and whilst heights have never bothered me I've never been up quite this high before. I waver for a moment before I turn back, reminding myself of the audience, specifically the person who sent me these gloves. Despite the fact that I know they are nothing more than a shallow Capitol resident, watching the games for the death and destruction, they have sent me these gloves; picked me out as somebody to save. For that alone I am grateful, and in a strange way I feel like I need to earn them, make my anonymous benefactor proud. With this thought in my head I carry on, reaching up again and again, pulling myself higher.
As the top of the cliff begins to loom closer I start to veer to the right, in the direction of Caleb. Truth be told he hadn't been part of my calculations, and I wonder how he's taking this sudden change in our plan, if he can even see me anymore. The cliff face is less smooth up here, with easier footholds, and encouraged I begin to move faster, my heart pounding with elation as I realise the summit is barely 20 feet away. I reach out to grab onto a protruding boulder, unable to hold back a grin, and suddenly my mood changes in the blink of an eye, my heart giving an ugly jump as the rock crumbles beneath my fingers and comes away in my hand.
