Chapter VIII, Arena: The Walking Dead.
- Pushing Up Daisies -
The Twenty-Second Hunger Games
Muted candlelight illuminated the catacombs below the church. The stone walls and iron cells, old and abandoned, portrayed a time where religion was new and war criminals were punished for their crimes.
Not that Finn paid much attention to it. He ran desperately through the stony hallways. The barren interior amplified every noise. He could hear his own heartbeat, his own ragged breaths, his own fear palpitating through his rushed movements.
He could also hear them. Shuffling around upstairs. Clumsy, dragging feet and low moans.
The hallways seemed to go on forever and forever, but Finn never stopped. He kept running blindly, arms and legs pumping, cheeks flushed pink.
Ashriel…
The scene was so vivid in his mind. He couldn't ignore it. The sound of her screams. The sound of chewing. Scars that didn't seem likely to go away. Fresh tears pricked at his vision and he blinked them away, almost crashing into the stones that jutted from the walls.
His lungs couldn't keep up. Gasping for air, Finn grinded to a halt, keeling over to his knees.
Did she sacrifice herself for me? Finn couldn't allow himself to think of it like that. He had to believe that Ashriel was just so caught up in her emotional state that she wasn't thinking clearly. Does Limos punish those who kill themselves?
Now is not the time to have an identity crisis.
With shaky fingers, Finn clutched for the crucifix under his shirt. He held it for a few moments. Wishful thoughts that his entire life wasn't built on fallacy. That his entire life had larger purpose and meaning and it was all part of the course.
Praise Limos… but Finn didn't know if he really meant it any more.
He began walking again. He needed to find a way out. As he scanned the claustrophobic area, he realised that he may have inadvertently trapped himself.
At the very end of the hallway, he saw another cell, confirming his worst fears — it was a dead end. The iron bars encasing the stone room were rusty. A stone bench against the back wall and a small, barred window that let in dusty light.
He stepped in and peered up through the gap. He could see the grass. The flowers around the building.
But he could also hear, see and smell them. The light was blocked as the monstrous beings filled the window, moaning and growling, their putrid smell making Finn almost jump back.
What do I do?
Finn didn't have an answer. He slumped down onto the bench and closed his eyes, wishing for an answer that may never happen.
The newly-formed trio had found a moment of respite.
Auberon, Nysa and Riette had gotten ahead of the herd. Their running had weaved them through the dying, blackened trees towards the stream that brought back so many unfortunate memories.
Nysa couldn't look away from the spot stained with blood. Somehow, they had come full circle to where Brionka had died — except her body was nowhere to be found.
Riette approached her gently. "Hey, it's okay… it doesn't help to think about it."
Nysa couldn't stand the guilt. In the ensuing chaos, she was able to forget and focus on survival. But coming back to the spot had caused all of those memories to resurface. She looked at Riette, smiling sadly.
"I know… I guess I can't help it," Nysa looked away again, "I just feel so bad."
"I know," Riette placed her hand on her shoulder, "But we don't know who killed her."
A little ahead, Auberon was desperately scanning the area. Whilst they might've been ahead of the herd, they didn't know for how much longer. The noises of the undead filled the forest. The once whimsical tones of the birds seemed to be a distant memory.
"We should follow the stream—" Auberon barged in, "—if I remember correctly, it leads to a waterfall. We can head back there and then loop around to the building."
"Why the building?" Riette asked.
"Barricade ourselves in," Auberon answered, "It's… it's the only way I think we can watch our backs. We're sitting ducks out here."
The growls were growing closer and closer. Nysa could see the fear in Auberon's eyes. He seemed panicked, frantic, as if any control or order he felt he had on his life was crumbling through his fingertips.
"Okay," Riette smiled in a weak attempt to lighten the mood, "I think it's a good idea."
Nysa smiled as best as she could. Her eyes met with Auberon briefly — the kindred spirits finding each other in a time of peril — but it wasn't the same. Their connection was impacted by their scenario. She wanted to be happy and thankful she found him. She was… partially. But fear made her realise that now, they would get to watch each other die.
Renewed, Auberon led the way up stream, strong strides as he was determined to keep the safe distance. Riette and Nysa kept pace.
The once crystal clear waters were now murky with red sludge. Dead fish floated on top. As the arena evidently died, everything inside it did too.
"How do we even get out of this?" Nysa asked, feeling a little hopeless.
"I'm not sure…" Riette was quiet.
Nysa began to realise that their time was drawing near. Many chimes had happened. The numbers were falling and, whilst she was relieved to still be alive, she couldn't shake the reality that her chances of survival were both increasing and decreasing with every minute passed.
You don't deserve to live. Riette and Auberon deserve to live over you.
I know… Nysa's feet grew heavier. I know I don't…
"Nysa!"
Nysa snapped out of her thoughts just in time as a monster came ambling through the bushes. Riette swung her friend around and hit out, fiery determination edging her forwards. Nysa was startled. The zombie keeled backwards and then lunged forwards. Riette shrieked and smashed her fist into its face.
"Auberon! Help!"
But it was too late.
"They're here!" Auberon yelled.
For a split second, all seemed calm. And then the trees seemed to groan and a swarm of monsters staggered out.
Fight, Nysa! Fight for your life and for theirs!
Nysa screamed a battle cry as she jumped beside Riette, kicking out with the tip of her shoe. Up ahead, Auberon was being overwhelmed. The numbers kept coming relentlessly.
"Into the water!"
Nysa heard Auberon's idea clearly. Grabbing onto Riette's wrist, she jumped backwards, dragging Riette with her. The bloody water immediately went up to the girls' knees.
"What are we doing?!" Riette cried.
"Other side of the bank!"
Nysa trudged her feet across the stream, Riette in tow. The monsters paused at the edge of the water. It was as if time stood still for a moment. As they clambered up the other side — Nysa's breaths coming out ragged and strained — they realised that the monsters dare not to move through the water.
"Riette! Nysa!"
Further upstream, Auberon was thrashing in the bloody water. He wildly battled with a zombie that fell in.
Without thinking, Nysa ran towards him.
"Nysa, no—!"
She jumped back into the water, unsteady on her feet from the bank's uneven ground. She trudged towards Auberon as he continued to thrash and fight before he went completely under the surface…
"Auberon!"
Nysa stopped — despite all of the growling and moaning and Riette's distance cries of her name — and stared at where Auberon went under. She charged forwards, panic in her chest, unsure of why she was so determined to put herself at risk to save a boy she barely knew.
Auberon burst through the water. His entire body was smeared in red, hair slick as he choked for air.
Nysa immediately grabbed him as he began to hyperventilate. "Auberon!" She shouted in his face. "Auberon! You're okay!"
The zombies on the water's edge just stared and meandered, lost creatures unable to take the plunge.
"Nysa— I thought—"
Nysa threw her arms around him silently. She started to sob into the crook of his neck. All of her pent-up feelings seemed to rush out of her. Her contained fear and sadness and guilt. Behind them, Riette watched with a sad smile, relieved for her friend.
Nysa may have reached breaking point. But she could finally see some light at the end of the tunnel that wasn't encapsulated with fear.
The zombies began to disperse, hungry for food they could catch. A little further upstream, the zombie's body floated away, dead once more.
"Murphy!"
His mind was a mess. A truly warped, weird pile of shit that he dared not to think about. Instead, he attacked anything in sight, crashing his fist and elbows into anything remotely rotten that got near him.
All he saw in their faces was Oliver.
Oliver.
Oliver.
"Fucking—!" Murphy screamed. His tree-coated fist crashed into the jaw of another zombie, ripping it by the tendons until it hung limply. He smashed his fist into it again until it crumpled to the floor. "—die!"
Behind him, Frances was half-climbing up a tree. Murphy didn't even think about her. He couldn't. All he saw was pain and misery and the guilt for abandoning Oliver that he just couldn't see anything else.
"Murphy!" Frances called again.
They had no plan. They managed to escape for so long before Murphy's distracted mind slowed them down until they were caught once more. Frances didn't know that the jovial, stupid boy she knew could be so ruthless.
But Murphy knew he was capable of it. And as he stomped down on the skull of another zombie, the resentment began to bubble. Years of self-conscious behaviour that he hid behind. Years of trying to act the fool to mask his own self-identity issues.
It all seemed to come to a head.
"We need to get out of here!" Frances screamed again.
Murphy paused for a split second. He barely heard her. He could hear the buzz in his head. The adrenaline pumping blood in his ears. He panted, exhausted, but the anger and self-hatred drove him forward into the crowd to take down one more recklessly.
"This— is— for Oliver!"
Another one went down in a rotten heap. Murphy roared and attacked another. He wanted revenge — mostly, he wanted forgiveness and, in a twisted method, hoped he could find it from destroying as many of them as he could.
"Murphy, please!"
He paused again. I'm so sorry, Oliver. I really, really am.
"Follow me!" Murphy yelled as he used the ripped arm of one of the monsters to clear a path. As he surged ahead, Frances chased after him, determined to not fall behind.
Are we now allies? Murphy didn't know the answer. He just knew that he couldn't be at fault for losing another ally. For not being there when Vesper needed him. For abandoning Oliver when he needed him.
If Frances needed him, he would be there.
Murphy didn't think about where he was aiming to go. As he pushed through the herd angrily and flustered, he realised he had no plan.
That was never my thing. Murphy panicked, spinning around to face Frances.
"Where are we gonna go!?"
But something shifted in the air. The zombies' moans came in unison. The air grew denser. A small path seemed to be thrusted upon the pair of them as they separated slightly, revealing a gap.
"We can't think too much about it!"
"It's our life, Murphy!" Frances shouted back, "We have to be tactical!"
"We have to follow our gut—" Murphy punched a nearby straggler that got too close, "—and my gut is saying we have to follow the path!"
"It's probably a trap!"
"We're sitting ducks out here!"
Murphy didn't wait around for Frances to decide. Deep down, he knew she'd follow — and if she didn't, then a darker part of Murphy realised it just made him one step closer to what he wanted. So, he began to back down the path, keeping his wits about him.
And Frances followed when she realised she had no other choice.
Where did I go wrong?
Finn just stared at the dark passage in front of him. He was exhausted both physically and emotionally — he dared not to think about his mental state. He wanted to give up. He wanted some respite from his head, from his heart, from his presence.
Did I forsake you in some way?
He remembered glimmers of home. The fields of District Eleven. The small communion church that his family attended. Their small congregation that became his extended, vibrant, helpful family.
He was always a believer. He never once had a doubt in Limos.
But… why is it happening this way?
Finn knew that the sacrifices were made in Her name. But he never wanted to hurt Cliff the way he did. He never meant to. And Ashriel… hearing her being eaten… it seemed so excessive.
Why do you want to harm us so much before taking our lives? Our lives are now yours.
Bittersweet tears dripped down his face. His breath was slow, shaky, as years of unwavering faith seemed to be crumbling between his fingers. He didn't know what he hated more — himself for the guilt he felt for their deaths when it was supposed to be rejoiced… or the fact that his God wasn't as great as he was led to believe his entire life.
A faint noise in the distance.
Finn's ears perked up. Instinctively, he rose to his feet, heart pacing in his chest.
The noise became clearer and clearer, slowly but surely, drawing nearer. The unmistakable moans of the undead as they filtered down the hallway. The dragging of their feet and the scraping of their hands against the stone walls.
Then, just in his line of sight, the candlelight flickered as a slumped, decrepit body moved into the light. Another one soon followed. And then another and another, all cramped in the confined spaces, all moaning hungry.
Finn's heart quickened. His hands started shaking. His lips trembled.
An awful idea popped into his head. I can't give up! Their deaths will not be in vain!
"Fuck… Limos…" Finn whispered, scared of his own words.
The moans were getting closer.
Finn began to bounce on the spot, vibrating from adrenaline, "Fuck… Limos…!"
He could feel the blurred anger building inside of him. For his God or for himself? Finn didn't know. He just knew that what he really needed was the monster that lurked deep within.
"Fuck Limos!" Finn began to scream, "Fuck Limos! Fuck Limos! Fuck Limos!"
Fire scorched through his veins. The world began to turn black in his head. Any rational thought was blocked out by pure, animalistic anger.
"Fuck Limos!"
Finn's eyes went entirely black. He roared like a predator as the first zombie reached him. He wasted no time in grabbing the monster by its lower jaw, ripping it clean off in one yank.
He tossed the body aside and ripped an arm from the next one, using it as a weapon to batter them away.
Deep down, Finn was horrified by what he was doing. But the thought was quashed as he knocked another to the floor and stomped on its head, causing the brain to splatter like rotten pumpkin. He roared and screamed as he fought his way through the herd, killing and destroying anything that got in his way.
He needed to survive for himself.
He needed to survive for those that died.
He no longer needed to live for Limos.
But his movements were slowing down. His thoughts were starting to become clearer. He could smell the putrid flesh. He could feel the rotten skin squelching on his hands. He could hear the noises drowning out his anger.
Finn's eyes turned back to normal… as he was stuck in a narrow hallway amongst the beasts.
His roar of anger became a scream for survival. He tried to lash out more but his movements were weak. He felt teeth sinking into his arm.
"Let me go!" Finn pleaded, desperate.
Multiple brittle teeth sank into his flesh. The pain was overwhelming, tearing away at the edges of his vision. He couldn't muster up any anger — all he knew was fear.
Blood poured down his arm. Finn desperately pulled and attacked with his other arm as one of the zombie's bit down onto his shoulder. He screamed as it tore away a chunk of flesh and hot crimson poured down his chest and back.
The pain soon became a numb. His scream seemed distant in the muted light of the church's basement.
Finn's arm was ripped from its socket. He fell to the floor in a dazed, pained mess. He blinked away the tears as he stared up at the stony ceiling before everything seemed to disappear into the darkness.
Finn distantly hoped he would be forgiven for his sins. That's all he wanted.
"You know, you're not that bad."
Both Astrid and Baylor were sitting halfway up a tree, breathing heavily, thoroughly exhausted. Their clothes were splattered with blood and rotten flesh. Their cheeks were flushed. Fingers and hands caked in mess. A few feet below them, the monsters meandered around, clawing at the tree with every hushed moan.
"Thanks," Baylor laughed sharply, "Who would've thought that this would be the end scenario?"
"Did you not believe Frances would abandon you?"
Astrid saw the way Baylor's eyes darkened slightly as she stared down at the ground below. "I know she would've… but that's what you need to do sometimes."
Astrid understood that. Survival was paramount if you wanted to live. Her jaw tightened. Tobi. Even though they were never officially allies — in fact, she avoided him for that sole reason — the overwhelming guilt ate away at her slowly.
Just when she thought she would forget about it and move on, something reminded her of him and her heinous actions.
And as she stared into the rotten crowd underneath them, spotting multiple faces that looked just like him, she realised she would never escape what she did. She would forever have to live with the fact that she killed the most innocent person she knew — and she didn't know many.
"We can't sit up here forever," Baylor spoke quietly, "We're trapped."
Between the masses, a few of the dead bodies were on the floor, dead once more. Astrid looked at the blood and guts underneath her fingernails before she had to look away.
"Oh, so we're allies now?" Astrid smirked, trying to be lighthearted.
Baylor just shrugged, "We both need each other, I reckon, if only to get out of this mess in one piece."
Temporary. Astrid nodded. "What do you have in mind?"
Baylor looked around her and above her head. They were very limited in the trees. In their rushed panic, they had inadvertently trapped themselves.
Gingerly, Baylor stood to her feet, reaching for the branch above for support. Astrid envied her clear athleticism. It gave her a great chance to win it all. Which means I'll die…
"We can maybe climb through the trees?" Baylor mumbled.
But all around them, the monsters swarmed. They covered every available patch of dirt and grass. They relentlessly poured out of the bushes and treeline. When one seemed to vanish, another four replaced it, faces stretched and gruesome and resembling those already fallen.
"I don't think we can," Astrid shook her head, "How do you think we're gonna jump from tree to tree like some monkey?"
Baylor didn't answer. She weighed up her options and Astrid could clearly see the cogs turning in her head. They needed an answer. They couldn't wait up there forever. Maybe… this was it?
Astrid sighed and a dry smile appeared on her face. Is this what I deserve for everything?
"What I'd kill for a cigarette right now."
"Bad choice of words…"
"Oh well."
"Look!" Baylor exclaimed.
In the distance, the herd thinned ever-so-slightly. They seemed to be knocked out of the way, as if some invisible force was pushing them. They didn't bother to fill the gap, leaving a path that provided an escape route.
"Could we—"
"Guess we could find out?" Astrid finished for her. The girls shared a wry, strangely confident smile and looked down at the ground. "Shall we see how many we can take out?"
Baylor playfully slapped her grey elbow, armoured by the weird scales. "I'll elbow them."
"On the count of three?"
"Sure," Baylor readied herself, "I guess I'll go first?"
"Not going to argue," Astrid laughed, nerves creating weird reactions. "Okay… one, two—"
Baylor didn't wait for three. She made a weird squeal as she threw herself from the branch. Her body crashed onto one of the monsters and she hit the floor. Astrid stared, wide-eyed, as her newest ally swung her arms around wildly to create a space at the base of the tree.
"Fuck sake," Astrid breathed, before slipping from the branch.
Her knees hit the dirt first. She scrambled to her feet and immediately hit the first ugly face she saw, hot pain searing up her knuckles as they collided with rotten teeth.
"This way!" Baylor shouted.
She surged forward, slamming the monsters away rather easily. Astrid kept as close to her as possible, angrily screaming as she hit anything that got close enough that she could smell their foul breath.
Eventually, the two girls made it to the small path. No zombies dared to invade it. Cautiously but optimistically, the girls ran down it.
"Where to now?" Astrid shouted up ahead at Baylor.
"Just keep running!"
The trees seemed to provide no help. But that didn't stop either girl from tearing down it, desperation willing them forward. As the ground began to rise and then fall, Astrid vaguely remembered it from a long time ago.
The trees opened up to the sloped embankment that led to the church. Astrid's eyes were wide when she realised the scene in front of them.
The masses of zombies meandered around in the grass, wearing the faces of the fallen. On closer inspection, though, Astrid realised that they were in wedges, divided into sections with a few visible paths leading right to the church.
"It was a trap," Astrid mumbled, pissed, "It was a fucking trap."
The zombies didn't merge into the visible paths. They stared away from them, as if compelled by something.
"They're leading us towards the church…" Baylor confirmed quietly.
Astrid looked over her shoulder, "They fucking lured us here!"
The path behind them was beginning to disappear as the zombies moved into it, effectively blocking any escape. There was no way to go back. The only available safe space was towards the church in a single-file line.
"We don't have a choice," Baylor murmured, "It's forwards or…"
"…or into the crowds."
Astrid soon realised that the zombies wouldn't attack them if they stayed on the path. Cautiously and slowly, Baylor walked down the slope, keeping a close eye on everyone around them. Astrid did the same, fists clenched, totally annoyed but trying to be as level-headed as she could physically be.
They heard a commotion. Astrid snapped her head to the right. Running down another path was two figures, their dark hair bobbing up amongst the dead.
Baylor started to run. "We have to beat them!"
Astrid was confused but followed, panicked. "Wait, why?"
"They might lock us out of the church!"
Astrid's eyes widened in annoyance. "The treacherous bastards!"
As they drew nearer to the church, their path began to merge into the others. The other pair of tributes soon came into view. Murphy and Frances — the former with wide eyes and flushed, the latter looking petrified and confused.
"Baylor! Astrid!"
"Frances?"
"Everybody, get inside!"
Astrid didn't need to be asked twice. The four ran into the church, seeing the towering fire that engulfed the centre of the room.
"Quick, let's barricade the doors!" Frances commanded.
She had come full circle — barricading the same doors she had destroyed in order to save herself over the others. Only this time, she had an alliance with her. All four dragged benches and pieces of wood in front of the door.
Astrid breathed heavily, stepping back. Her shoe squished on something. As she looked down to see a mass of organs and flesh — a visible white shirt ripped to shreds, fresh with blood — she realised that somebody had recently died in here.
"I think we have a problem…" Astrid mumbled.
She could hear the groans from the other side of the room. As she peered around the fire, she saw the backend of the herd that descended into the basement. Without even thinking, she ran towards them and shoved the last one into the stairwell and slammed the door shut.
She only barely heard the distant cries of someone below.
The bell above them chimed loudly and Astrid clasped her ears, as did the others. The zombies from outside didn't move. As the bell finished, it seemed that the entire arena had fallen silent.
Murphy stared at the door, his shoulders rising and falling with every ragged breath.
Frances paced back and forth, head in her hands.
Baylor was slumped on a bench.
Astrid cautiously approached them all. "I think we have some zombies downstairs…"
There was an audible snarl. A low, ferocious growl that Astrid knew all too well wasn't the zombies.
Her heartbeat quickened. "Baylor…?" As Baylor's head shot up, her eyes were yellow and reptilian once more.
Astrid stepped back. "Oh shit—"
w w w. pushingupdaisieshg. blogspot. c o m
The Fallen:
10th — Finn Caraway, District Eleven.
Questions!
Choice of Victor at this point and why?
So, we only have about four arena chapters left of this story and then perhaps an epilogue. The chapters are shorter now as our numbers continue to dwindle.
I want to thank this opportunity to say thank you to everyone that's been reading and reviewing. It means a great deal that my first story back on this website has been a success in my mind. I've never made it through any of my AU debacles — but this one is almost done.
On that note, there is a sequel to this story, Six Feet Under, so feel free to submit if you're still interested! Anything you need is on my profile but alternatively, please feel free to PM me.
~Corey.