Chapter IX, Arena: In Her, We Mourn.
- Pushing Up Daisies -
The Twenty-Second Hunger Games
This can't be happening.
Another crack in her composure.
Frances paced back and forth like a caged animal, head in her hands, unable or willing to look at her fractured alliance. But she could hear them. Their panicked, frantic voices that resounded in her head and made it feel like it was about to explode.
What are we going to do?
Oh, fuck sake, I just want a break!
… I'm so scared…
We have to fight!
Why am I even back here?
… I feel funny…
It was too much. Too many fears and feelings that poured into her head and took root. Frances winced, eyes squeezed shut, hands digging into her skull just to make it stop. But just as those thoughts provided little clarity, the outside of the building provided worse.
She could hear their growls and hungry cries, but she could also hear their own fears.
I'm hungry.
Where am I?
I… need food…
Frances stopped for a split second. Frazzled and dazed with tears welling in her eyes, she looked at the back of Murphy's head and remembered all of the bitter times they interacted and how, guilty as she felt, she wished she had just been kinder before it was too late.
"I think we have some zombies downstairs…" Astrid's voice cut through the chaos.
A snarl. Frances' head whipped around to look at Astrid. She was staring down at Baylor, perched on a concrete bench, as she seemingly backed away from their mutual ally.
"Oh shit—"
Baylor launched from her seated position at Astrid, almost screeching with venom. Astrid staggered back and caught the girl in her hands, keeping her at bay.
Frances' heart sunk as Astrid screamed, "Baylor! Frances, help!"
Murphy spun around on the spot. Frances saw the confusion in his eyes when he realised that Baylor was attacking Astrid with fervent desire to kill. He ran forward as the girls tussled and grabbed Baylor by the shoulder.
She smashed her elbow backwards, connecting with Murphy's jaw. He stumbled, almost losing his footing on the slick floor.
Frances just stared at the trio. A lost, surreal expression in her eyes. She could no longer hear Baylor's thoughts. They had seemingly vanished.
"Frances!"
She couldn't do it. Every fibre in her body demanded that she stay out of it. Her breaths came out ragged. Her entire body went cold and stiff, frozen in time, as Murphy and Astrid attempted to calm down a monstrous Baylor.
Astrid managed to shove Baylor away, the slimy remains of another tribute making Baylor's footing slip. Astrid used the momentum to shove Baylor onto the floor.
"Baylor, stop! You need to snap outta it!"
Baylor swiped out with blackened, sharp nails. They dragged down Astrid's face and she screamed, blood splattering. Murphy was there again. With his tree-rooted strength, he was able to pin Baylor's arms above her head whilst Astrid sat on her lower half, cradling the claw marks raked down her face.
Murphy turned to face Frances. I dunno what to do!
Frances' stared blankly. "I— I don't know."
Her entire world was falling around her. She could never have predicted that Baylor would go full psychosis and develop talons and scales. She could never have predicted that they'd be trapped by zombies in the church that emanated fear and horror.
"I—" Frances didn't know any more. "I—"
The pounding door outside as the zombies desperately pushed against it. Their hungry murmurs and feverish screams in her head. Astrid and Murphy's sheer panic and confusion. Baylor's snarls for their blood.
Frances did the only thing she knew how to. She ran. "I—I'm sorry…"
"Frances, don't go!"
"Frances!"
Her mind felt like it was about to explode. Tears welled in her eyes. She ran past her entire alliance as it crumbled around her… Murphy's sadness, Astrid's anger, Baylor's eyes fixated on her.
Kill.
Frances froze — for just a second — lost in Baylor's slitted yellow eyes as she somehow found the strength to throw both Murphy and Astrid off of her and charged straight for her.
Astrid cradled her bleeding, sore face, staring down at Baylor.
You stupid fucking bitch. Astrid wasn't mad — somehow, she knew that Baylor couldn't help it like last time — but then she realised that she was the stupid fucking bitch. For allowing herself to care for someone she not only barely knew, but didn't even like all that much.
She just wanted to make amends for the boy she killed. And now, it was costing her.
"Murphy, I don't—"
Astrid paused. From behind Murphy, Frances was frozen, before she began to drift sideways away from them.
"I—I'm sorry…"
No! "Frances, don't go!" Murphy yelled.
"Frances!"
She ran past them. Astrid's body deflated. She shouldn't have been surprised — only one person survived, after all — but that didn't stop the stinging sensation of betrayal. She looked down at Baylor once more but she was no longer interested. Her eyes were locked on Frances as she fled.
Astrid's eyes widened a little too late as, with ridiculous strength, Baylor was able to unseat Astrid from her lower half and throw Murphy backwards. Astrid hit the floor hard, stunned as Baylor was up within seconds, charging at Frances who seemed compelled to almost stop, as if a deer in headlights.
"Run!"
Frances turned too late. Baylor barrelled into her, taking them both to the floor. Frances screamed as Baylor clawed at her chest, ripping the white shirt open until it was painted red.
Astrid was on her feet within seconds. "Stop!"
Murphy was behind her. "Frances!"
Astrid instinctively grabbed Baylor by the shoulder. A deafening, inaudible screech came from her mouth as she recoiled, throwing herself away from Astrid.
She skidded to her hands and knees, like a wounded animal.
Astrid defiantly stood in front of Frances' wounded body. "Enough, Baylor!"
Somehow, the words sunk in. Baylor flinched and cocked her head. She winced, hissing, as if wounded and hurt by Astrid's words or touch.
Murphy rushed to Frances. She was bleeding, large gashes down her stomach — but they only looked shallow. She was crying quietly, whispering to Murphy. Astrid tuned it out. Her eyes were rooted on Baylor as she crawled on the floor, looking for a way in.
"Baylor, you need to stop—" Astrid hiccuped. Why do I even care? "—this isn't you. Snap the fuck outta it."
Baylor seemed to stop. A moment of clarity dawned across her unusually angry face. Astrid edged forward, as if believing she could do something like last time when Baylor went into killer lizard mode for no apparent reason.
"Just… calm down…"
Kill.
Baylor didn't know anything but kill. It hurt. It hurt to see and think and feel. Violent storms of anger and blurred figures in front of her, screaming, shouting, fighting against her. All she knew was the pain in her head that destroyed every fragment of reality that she knew.
All that was left was her enemies, out to harm her, out to kill her.
She had to strike first.
Survival of the fittest. Predator versus prey.
But that one figure hurt her. Her touch hurt. It made Baylor feel human for a second again — the fear of abandonment, the pain of insecurity, the terror of dying without feeling accomplished — and she had to go.
Baylor waited.
Waited for a long time.
The figure edged closer. Her burning touch was outstretched against Baylor, ready to hurt her once more.
But then a voice. A calm, creeping voice full of anguish and despair. It was quiet, low — barely audible, muffled by tears.
Someone needs to end this…
The girl on the floor.
Kill.
"Please—"
Baylor launched again once more. Astrid wasn't prepared — she shot her hand out to almost block the blow, but Baylor's teeth sunk into her arm. Blunt, flat teeth that somehow ripped some flesh away from her arm.
"Fuck!" Astrid staggered and, using the momentum, Baylor smashed her to the side.
Astrid hit the floor, fiery pain burning up her arm. Why did she care? Why did she even stop Baylor when she had zero attachment?
For Tobi? For penance.
Baylor charged at Murphy and Frances, the former leaning over his district partner. He turned at the last second and attempted to stop Baylor from delivering the final blow. She snarled, slashing at him in futile attempts.
"Get— away— from— her!"
Astrid was blinded by pain. Her face. Her arm. Everything was beginning to hurt and the wounds were racking up. Blood pooled below her as it dripped from her arm and face. She clambered to her feet, watching as Murphy began to overwhelm Baylor.
He wrestled with her backwards, forcing her away from Frances whose own dark blood was beginning to pool around her body.
Astrid stepped forward, weak, wobbly. "Murphy—"
"Stop this!" Murphy roared, trying his best… Astrid tried her best, but fell to her knees, overwhelmed and exhausted.
It was over in a matter of seconds.
Baylor turned the tables on Murphy. With one fell swoop, she was able to throw him sideways into the burning pyre. Flames immediately engulfed his entire body, but he didn't scream.
Frances watched from the corner of her eye as Murphy fell into the fire, his entire body consumed by the flames.
She wept. Tears of pain and regret from years of bad choices, years of seemingly invulnerability to the manipulation she strode through, years of never letting someone in when she always felt alone.
Her eyes found Astrid. On her knees, wounded, exhausted.
Without them, there was nobody. Frances climbed to her feet. She clutched the blood as it oozed from her stomach. She felt faint, drained, scared.
Baylor saw her. She could smell the fear that resonated from the girl who ignored it for so long.
Frances raised one of her fists in a weak defence as Baylor charged at her. She saw flashes of home and her family. The people she had hurt along the way in order to be the best she could be.
I'm sorry…
The last thing she saw was Baylor's claws as they tore into her body. Her scream echoed through the church, penetrating those alive and dead.
But Murphy didn't burn.
He couldn't feel anything — it was a foreign sensation, almost like he was observing it from the outside in. The flames tickled and licked across his skin but caused him no harm.
Slowly and steadily, he climbed to his feet, orange tendrils of fire emanating from tree-covered skin. He was dazed and confused, but one thing was for certain: Frances' screams.
He staggered back and forth. His mind swirled.
In front of him, Frances was on the floor in a pool of blood, twitching as Baylor continued to slice and cut into her body in a frenzied state. Her screams came down to a muted cry before the bell above cut through the chaos with a sharp toll.
Frances…
I failed…
Murphy's sadness was momentary. He had failed another ally. Vesper, Oliver and now Frances, three people who needed and trusted him were all dead because he didn't do enough. The sadness soon made way to an angry fire like that covering him.
He charged forward, tears in his eyes, his heart hammering and adrenaline burning through his veins.
Baylor didn't see him coming.
He wrapped his fiery, strong arms around her, in a frenzied bear hug. Baylor hissed and screeched as the fire burned her scales. He squeezed and squeezed, screaming through the pain that was destroying him on the inside.
Baylor eventually stopped fighting as much. Her scales returned to skin as it began to turn black and burnt.
"Please…"
"Murphy!"
"Murphy!"
Murphy continued to cry. For those he had failed. For his own self-destruction and pain. For the scenario that forced innocent teenagers to spare their soul. He just kept squeezing until Baylor stopped talking and moving—
"Murphy, please stop! Murphy!"
He tossed Baylor to the side. Her body hit the floor with a thump, unmoving, blackened.
Murphy…
He fell to his knees beside Frances' body. Her eyes were open, colourless, tears still sat on her eyelashes. The fire on his skin snuffed itself out as he took Frances' cold hand into his own.
"I'm— sorry… I failed— you."
Astrid watched in disbelief as Baylor hit the floor, the smell of charred skin wafting the air. Behind them, Murphy was crying over Frances' corpse, smoke flitting from his body.
Astrid's breaths were ragged. She was sore and in pain.
She waited for the bell to chime once more, but it never did. Baylor wasn't dead.
With as much strength as she could muster, Astrid crawled towards her. Baylor's body rose and fell in choppy movements. She twitched and flinched as she silently cried.
"B—Baylor?"
Astrid loomed over her. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her skin was burnt and angry, welting and blackened in places. She was no longer a vicious creature but a terrified girl.
But Astrid knew that Baylor wouldn't recover. Blood was oozing from her eyes like tears.
She placed her hand on Baylor's writhing body and immediately, she stilled. "It's okay…" Astrid whispered, the horrible memories of comforting Tobi in his final moments flashing through her mind.
"I—I'm sorry…" Baylor whispered hoarsely.
"I know, I know," Astrid soothed, "I guess it got the better of us all."
There was no way to comfort her. Astrid barely knew the girl and yet, they were kindred spirits who fought against a zombie invasion. Her heart went out to her. She didn't even want to think of the logistics of it all — she focused entirely on trying to ease the pain so that Baylor wouldn't die in agony.
"We— we could've been friends…"
"Yeah," Astrid smiled as best as she could, "I'm sure we would've."
"Did— did I kill her?"
From where she laid, Baylor was unable to see the scene behind her. Murphy now staring empty at the floor.
"No, no you didn't," Astrid rubbed her hand on Baylor's side. "I'm so sorry, Baylor."
Tears spilled down her cheeks. Once more, she was in the position of comforting the dying.
"Why… are you crying?" Baylor's voice was disappearing more and more, barely a whisper. Astrid didn't know what to do. She just kept rubbing the circle on Baylor's side and wishing for her pain to go away.
"No reason…" Astrid smiled sadly, "Go to sleep, Baylor… you earned a rest."
Eventually, Baylor's eyes slipped shut. Her body gently stilled. As Baylor's bell chimed throughout the church, Astrid leaned back on her heels. She had fulfilled Tobi's wish for her not to be alone and instead welcomed more pain.
Murphy looked over, red-rimmed and broken. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
Astrid nodded and rose silently. "She's gone."
Up above in the rafters of the church, Enoch watched, unbeknown to those below.
His eyes flickered between the two dead bodies on the floor and the two survivors awkwardly mingling in the middle. A completely fractured alliance that didn't stand a chance to survive.
This is crazy, Enoch hummed.
He felt terrible for them all. A strange, unknown feeling that he couldn't quite understand. Both were distraught, broken individuals and yet, they kept fighting because they wanted to live.
Enoch's lips curled into a frown. I want to go home too.
But out of spite.
He could only imagine the looks of his family's faces as he walked away alive. The sheer confusion and admiration he would receive. Do I deserve it? Enoch didn't know. He didn't believe he deserved to win. But that wouldn't stop him from trying.
From outside, he could hear the rampant growls and roars. The zombies were stagnant, pushing against the church without actually trying to break inside. It confused Enoch — they could easily do it if they wanted to and, yet, they just observed.
Everyone will end back up here.
This is the endgame.
He swung his legs freely, seated, watching and waiting.
Will I get to see Andy again?
He didn't know if he wanted to. Without her, he was the biggest threat remaining. The only trained tribute. Enoch knew one thing though: he was ready for whatever was thrown at him.
He was revived, developed, stronger after slaying his own personal demons.
Nothing stood in his way. He just had to wait for them to kill each other first.
"Can they not cross water?"
Auberon and Riette stared at the zombies on the other side. They had milled away earlier but quickly returned. Their hunger for the tributes knew no bounds.
"I guess not," Auberon sighed, breathless. He glanced over his shoulder at Nysa, who seemed lost in thought. "It's probably a good thing. It means we can use the river as a way to draw a barrier between us."
"Not forever," Riette answered.
"Yeah," Auberon gave her a half-smile, "We just have to keep moving to the building."
Auberon's entire plan rested on that. It's all he had left. The building seemed the only logical sense when the woods were filled with the undead. Somehow, some way, they would have to find a way to it to survive.
"Keep an eye on them," Auberon said to Riette, "Shout if anything tries to cross over."
Auberon turned to approach Nysa. She was downtrodden, head bowed. Her emotions seemed to fester until they exploded and now, the aftermath was clear exhaustion. Auberon crouched down by her side.
"Hey," he smiled, "What are you thinking about?"
"Oh, nothing!" Nysa perked up, "I'm just tired, that's all."
"We have to keep going…"
"I know, I know," Nysa laughed a little too forcefully, "It's just nice to have a break."
"We can't be complacent…"
"I know," Nysa's jaw clenched, "I know… I'm sorry."
Auberon understood her pain as best as he could. Brionka's death loomed in the air since nobody knew who did it. The constant rollercoaster of emotions and guilt would be exhausting to anyone, let alone someone who felt so much.
Auberon didn't have that worry. He was never attached too much to Loire, Cliff or Finn. They were useful, sure — but the attachment was only ever civil and professional.
Nysa… was different.
But I still need to survive. Auberon knew it would be down to them. He wanted to live so badly that sometimes, he forgot that both Nysa and Riette would have to die for that. Their previous promise to never ally up in fear of watching the other die had crumbled.
Auberon placed his hand on Nysa's shoulder. "You don't need to apologise. You just have to keep fighting as much as you can."
Nysa nodded with as much fervour as she could muster. She climbed to her feet and briefly hugged Auberon, but it wasn't the same — Auberon could feel her disconnecting slowly, as if pulled at the seams.
"How do we get to the building now?" Nysa asked.
"It's over there—" Auberon pointed across the stream, "—so, I don't know."
As far as they could see, the entire stream was lined with zombies. A handful were staring right at them but, for the most part, the others ambled aimlessly, knocking into each other as if pack mentality kept them from drifting away from one another.
"We have to find an opening," Nysa smiled anxiously, "It's the only way."
Slowly, the trio walked down the side of the river, eyes trailed on the monsters. They followed their movements, pushing and shoving to keep in time with the tributes. Auberon realised that only a handful noticed them. The rest were oblivious.
Would it be reckless…? The thought crossed his mind. To just charge through and hope for the best.
I have to think of the girls, too, Auberon countered it. His luck would be that whilst he makes it through unscathed, the girls get eaten. A small dark thought blossomed but Auberon quickly quashed it. No!
"What are we gonna do?"
A small opening appeared on the other side. Right at the edge of the zombies. A small break in formation that provided a clear path into the trees.
Would we be running into the thick of the army? Auberon didn't have a clue. He had no control. Everything that was balanced and harmonious had completely vanished and survival and adrenaline only existed.
"There—" Auberon pointed, "—quick!"
With little warning, Auberon threw himself into the river, wading through the thick, red water. Behind him, Riette and Nysa launched themselves in, determined to keep up.
Auberon could see the zombies beginning to turn, their attention drawn.
Shit! "Girls, go!"
He had made his mind up. He veered to the left, hoping to provide a distraction that would allow both of them to get ahead of him. It might mean the split of their alliance — but Auberon knew that it would be better than them all dying to the swarm.
"Auberon, no!"
"Just get into the trees and run!"
Riette watched as Auberon charged towards the zombies, away from them.
"Auberon, no!"
"Just get into the trees and run!"
She knew what Auberon was doing — it felt eerily similar to before. Auberon acting as a hero in order to save his allies. And, if it repeated, then Nysa would charge after him. Riette decided to act first. Grabbing onto Nysa's wrist, she dragged her friend who instinctively turned in Auberon's fleeting direction.
"Nysa, no!" Riette shouted, "We have to do what he says!"
"We can't abandon him!"
"We're not going to!"
Riette dragged herself up onto the embankment, pulling Nysa with her. Both girls were wet and dripping with blood. Upstream, Auberon had jumped onto the bank and began to smash into the zombies with his fists.
"Run!"
Riette went to move when she felt Nysa's hand slip from her own.
"Nysa—"
"I have to!" Nysa almost cried, "I wouldn't be able to live with myself."
Riette blinked, lost, seeing the steely determination and desperation that mingled in Nysa's expression. Sheer guilt that had transformed into penance. She wanted to make amends for killing Brionka, even without proof.
"Nysa—I—"
"Go," Nysa whispered, "We'll be right behind you!"
Riette was torn. The survivor in her wanted to flee and save herself. The same survivor that killed Linden in self-defense. The same survivor that wouldn't admit her own possible involvement in Brionka's death and instead, let her friend take the guilt instead.
But the friend in her — the wholesome, honest, good person that Riette innately was — wanted to try and help, however futile it was.
"I'm sorry…" Riette murmured, but it was too late.
Nysa ran into the thick of the army, screaming at the top of her lungs. Riette watched as the stragglers turned their attention towards her, drifting in closer. Riette knew there was no going back.
There was no way she could help.
Riette wept as she turned on her heel and ran away.
I have to do this.
I have to save him.
Do I deserve to live?
Auberon doesn't deserve to die.
Nysa ran harder and harder towards Auberon — who was being pushed back further up the stream towards the dead-end waterfall — tears flowing down her face, jaw clenched. She knocked into zombies, shoving them aside and pushing them apart.
Her entire body began to glow. A bright, ethereal light that made her skin glitter. It was strong and vibrant — making the zombies instinctively wince and pull away from her.
Riette doesn't deserve to die.
I hope she stays safe.
I hope one of them wins.
Nysa's guilt was so paramount and destructive inside of her. It felt like a death sentence. It was suffocating and intrusive and whilst she had helped Riette dig herself from the hole, she somehow continued to bury herself.
"Auberon!"
His face appeared amongst the masses. Sweat, grime and blood on his face, his eyes wide. "Nysa, no!"
Nysa threw herself into the fray, punching and kicking and screaming, the light cutting through the rotted darkness that engulfed the pair from District Ten. She knew Auberon was near her. She could hear him fighting, panting, being overwhelmed.
A sense of serenity that she felt was right. They were meant to be allies, to be friends, to be together.
The light grew stronger and stronger, burning the skins from the zombies who staggered back. A circle appeared around the pair — providing a barrier that the zombies dared not cross.
For a brief moment, it worked. Nysa and Auberon, back-to-back, fighting.
Until Nysa's light began to die. It flickered and glowed softer… and the zombies pushed back in.
With the last of her strength, Nysa shoved Auberon as hard as she could until she heard an audible splash.
"Nysa!"
She smiled. Auberon doesn't deserve to die.
Do I deserve to die?
Nysa didn't know. She didn't want to know. She just knew that she had to make peace with herself and find a way to accept her own sin.
The zombies quickly engulfed her. Teeth and nails and snarls and putrid smells. Nysa's screams softened. The pain muted itself in her head. Suddenly, everything around her began to feel less… aggressive. She could hear her Mom talking about stories of home, teaching the children in the living room.
Some noise. A ripple of sorts that caused the zombies to pull back.
Nysa felt water on her skin, against her neck, under her shirt. The black sky above provided no comfort. She couldn't see stars or the moon — just endless blackness.
"Nysa— Nysa, oh Limos—"
Nysa's breaths were ragged. The noise of the zombies seemed distant.
Auberon's hands were on her. She could feel them against her chest and sides. A hand under her head to keep it above the claggy water. Auberon held her tight, crying, keeping her afloat in the stream.
Do I deserve to die?
No. None of us do.
w w w. pushingupdaisieshg. blogspot. c o m
The Fallen:
9th — Frances Romilly, District Three.
8th — Baylor Novak, District Six.
7th — Nysa Rachlin, District Ten.
Questions!
Any predictions on the Final Three at this point?
I'm not sure how the fight scene reads. It's one of the longest ones I've done from third perspective so it changes views a lot.
This chapter was also super hard to put together. Writing the fight scene with all the emotion wa g.
But! We are down to our Final Six tributes! Congrats to Enoch, Andronika, Murphy, Astrid, Riette and Auberon!
~Corey.