Chapter 7: The Finale
Lipstick Vogue. Hildegard. The smallest boy from 6 (the one who scored an 8 in training). Both of the oldest kids from 7. The oldest boy from 10. And Haymitch and Maysilee. Those are the Final Eight tributes as dusk falls over a furious fourth day in the arena.
My serious case of the shakes has only just started to abate, and I sip from my hard lemonade slowly. If Maysilee hadn't shown up when she had...
Most of the mentors (except for those coaching the Careers) have come up to congratulate me on my feat - multiple tributes in the Final Eight! And during a Quell! Only District 7 can say the same at this point. Districts 1, 2, 6 and 10 are on pins and needles with only a single dog left in this fight. The rest are out of the Games entirely.
"Who knew a Quell would get your district to show some balls?" Honorius, a mentor from 3, marvels to me. It's a backhanded compliment, but I take it.
Mags hasn't uttered one word to me since the blade slashed across Jayson's throat. I understand how she feels - I've been in her position far too often before, though rarely this late in the Games, so perhaps that's what makes it sting all the worse for her. Woof has been trying to get us ladies to kiss and make up all afternoon, to no avail. Muscida and Librae haven't even so much as looked at me since Terence Asher accidentally killed Aft, but I've never been close to Mags' apprentices anyway. I do hope, however, that my dear friend and I can reach some sort of truce, perhaps once the Quell is over and a Victor is crowned.
The solidifying of the Final Eight has finally caused the spike in prices that we have all been bracing ourselves for. The betting, the gambling has crescendoed to a dull roar. Even if I wanted to negotiate for a sponsor gift, I would have to pay an arm and a leg for it. I will have to come up with something soon, though - from what I have been able to discern, Haymitch has already completely eaten one of his apples, and nearly polished off a second. He has somewhere between only one-third and half of his water left. I don't know how much water remains for Maysilee, but I have no doubt my kids will pool what they have. It is still food I am most concerned about for them, as I don't even know what remains of Maysilee's beef jerkey. After all, food is fuel... and from how the Gamemakers unnaturally drop the temperature on the fourth night (Haymitch actually gives up his jacket, while keeping watch, to Maysilee when he notices her shivering), I know that nutrition would help keep the pair warm, among other things.
Thankfully, fate intervenes once again to aid my tributes.
Just around dawn on the fifth day, Haymitch and Maysilee are breaking their meager camp when they hear voices and the clang of weapons coming from about three hundred paces to the east. Creeping quietly through the trees, they observe from the foliage as Hildegard, the small Career girl from 2, brazenly attacks both remaining District 7 tributes - the pair are armed with throwing axes - in a wild battle. The District 7 kids give as good as they get, the boy managing to hack off Hildegard's sword arm after she butchers his district partner. Howling in pain and anger, Hildegard manages to kick her sword back up into her other hand and dice the District 7 boy up like a turkey. It's a near thing, though, and when he finally dies with a shout and the cannon sounds, the Career is doubled over and winded.
Haymitch and Maysilee look at each other. At his nod, Maysilee surreptiously dips a dart into the poison (I'm not sure how many she has left), loads it in the blowgun and fires at the back of Hildegard's skull.
The THUNKING sound gives the small Career only just enough warning to wheel around, but not enough for her to dodge, so that the dart hits her right between the eyes. As her gaze bulges and the poison starts to seep in, Haymitch sends his knife sailing into her stomach to finish her off. A mercy killing if there ever was one. Besides, how much longer could Hildegard have lasted with only one arm? If a mutt or poison didn't take her first, blood loss from her gushing stump surely would have.
There are three packs left abandoned by the three dead tributes, and Haymitch and Maysilee swarm it. The parachutes had to have been sent no more than a day ago, for there is still plenty for them to pillage - bread and cheese in one. A crossbow and awl in another. The third is weighed down by a blowtorch. My tributes manage to consolidate all of the weaponry into one pack, and the food in the one across Haymitch's shoulders. They pause briefly to nibble on some of the cheese.
"So," Maysilee starts by way of conversation. "Word on the streets back home is that you've been shagging Rosemary Fairchild."
Haymitch pauses in his feasting, studying the scrap of cheese between his fingers. "Yeah. So?"
Maysilee cocks her head and ponders him. "Are you good to her?"
Haymitch peers at her right back, then gives an awkward laugh. "I keep her satisfied."
"That's not what I asked." Maysilee's voice is still calm, light, but I can see her absently twirling the blowgun between her fingers, passing it from hand to hand. I have no idea how she could get the drop on Haymitch, unless she merely went to beat him with it, as she did Nero Sniper. "Are you good to her?"
Haymitch has clearly noticed her innocent playing with her weapon too. Though his face remains placid, he nods. "I am."
Maysilee smiles broadly. "Good answer. My cousin wouldn't shack up with just anybody."
Haymitch blinks, a pleadantly surprised smile coming over his face. "She is?"
Maysilee just laughs heartily.
My tributes continue on for the rest of that morning and well into the afternoon. With only three other competitors left in the arena, no one disturbs them.
I've never had multiple tributes reach the Fab Five before. Ever. It leaves me both terrified and exhilarated, and immensely, immensely proud.
From polling of the audience and the almost continuous coverage perpetuated by Caesar and Claudius, it is clear that the alliance of Haymitch Abernathy and Maysilee Donner has become a crowd favorite. In fact, my two tributes seem to be the driving factor keeping this entire Quell's favorability ratings above water. The volcano fiasco has been declared deeply unpopular, and the audience demonstrates a clear preference for tributes directly killing each other off, and not dying due to the dangers of the arena itself. Thankfully, Haymitch's battle with the Careers, and Hildegard's showdown with District 7, has left them finally feeling satisfied.
Even though their piracy of District 7 and Hildegard's packs has left my kids not wanting for food, I have had plenty of sponsors come to me, insisting they send something to the pair. The Career mentors have all had to band together, including Mags and her girls, just to get a word in edegwise on behalf of Lipstick Vogue. They are going all in - if they don't back Lipstick, they lose. But I can't help but notice that some of the Career mentors, even Lipstick's direct coaches from District 1, are doing this halfheartedly. As if these Victors are afraid of her, and her viciousness. And there are takers, disconcertingly. The boys from Districts 6 and 10 are pretty much on their own, with only the hope that they can outlast Lipstick, Haymitch and Maysilee.
In this tiny alliance - the only one left in the arena - Haymitch has declared himself Leader. And there is no question about it now; my cocksure boy is definitely doggedly pursuing the same direction. He pointedly ignores all of Maysilee's questions as to where they are going.
At least until his knife suddenly appears from nowhere, so suddenly that he nearly walks right into it.
Glancing to her, Maysilee just smirks. "I'm not going any further without an answer."
Haymitch warily glances down at the second knife pressed against his windpipe in as many days. For the first time since the Reaping, he actually looks fearful. At last, he sighs. "Because it has to end somewhere, right? The arena can't go on forever."
A beat, and then Maysilee lowers the knife, handing it back to Haymitch from where she had pickpocketed it. He struggles on.
"What do you expect to find?"
"I don't know," he flippantly shrugs. "Maybe something we can use." She seems to accept this answer.
But I don't accept this answer. In fact, I am downright beside myself. I am glued to the screen, expecting for some Gamemaker weapon - a freak lightning strike, perhaps - to appear and smite Haymitch down at any moment. All at once, I am taken back to an exchange during our interview prep, to something Haymitch had asked:
"Where does the arena end?"
I frown. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Sure, you do. Every arena is an enclosed space, right? That means it's finite - it can't just go on forever."
I want to scream and rip the flatscreens out of the wall. Then reach through the flatscreens, drag Haymitch back here and throttle him. I told him not to cause trouble! I told him not to ask those kinds of questions!
Except for Caesar, Claudius and much of the Capitol audience, the question Haymitch has posed intrigues them. Splicing back to the hosts, Caesar is murmuring, quite seriously: "Young Mr. Abernathy has raised a deep, philosophical point here..."
I bark out a laugh of disbelief. "They don't actually know." I spin back to Indigo. "They don't actually know if the arena ends, or how." My gaze narrows concernedly when I see Indigo frowning, in deep thought.
"... Does it? Should it?"
I laugh at him, incredulous. "I don't believe this. My arena had literal walls! Edges that you could actually see!"
"That was a different time, though!" Indigo tries to argue. "The Games were still fairly new back then. Technology has now advanced enough..."
"Everybody QUIET!" Savera holds court at the counter. "Look!"
There is suddenly a crunch of bodies up against the bar, wild cheers splitting the air and I turn back to the flatscreens, face white. But no, Haymitch and Maysilee are still hiking through the trees. The real action is occuring several miles away, where Lipstick Vogue has finally found the smallest boy from 6. The one who got that 8 in training. He is unusually tall for his age, and is wielding a meat cleaver, staring down the last living Career with pure, unvarnished courage.
"Evening, beautiful. How have you been?"
Lipstick's... well, lip curls into a sneer at her enemy's flirting. "Just fine enough, Six. You enjoyed the arena?"
Six shrugs. "Reaching the Fab Five has been a hell of a ride. And I intend to go all the way." Dropping into a fighting stance, he lets out a savage yell and attacks.
I have to once again praise Justin Hix and Meagan Hayes' good fortune for being handed a tribute who doesn't run away and hide like a coward. Cleaver evenly matches both of Lipstick's throwing axes, the CLANG of metal splitting the air. The Careers are hopping up and down like rabid fans at a tailgate rally.
"Do him, 'Stick!"
"Waste him!"
Six ducks a vicious swing from one of the axes, gets in close and sinks his cleaver straight into Lipstick's stomach. The Caeers suddenly go deathly quiet. Smirking in triumph, putting on a show, Six pulls Lipstick even closer and kisses her right on the mouth.
"Mmmmhmmmm!" Lipstick lets out an indignant squeal into Six's slanting mouth. Six merely sinks into the kiss, closing his eyes...
And that's where he makes his mistake.
Her one hand behind her back, Lipstick swings her axe around...
... and decapitates the man kissing her.
Six's body falls one way, but his head stays glued to the Career's face. Dropping both her axes, only now does Lipstick cradle the boy's face in her hands and return the kiss. Drawing the skull away from her with a small POP!, she smiles wickedly. "You were saying, dear?"
The Careers are going wild, shrieking in relief at having victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. Only Brutus is in no mood to dilly-dally, accosting a nearby sponsor and pointing at the last Career tribute, who still has a meat cleaver in her abdomen.
"We've gotta get some medicine to her, quick!"
It is dizzying, how all the Career mentors, once again including Mags, pool funds together to send Lipstick some ointment, a needle and thread. The parachute lands just as she is finishing tugging the cleaver out of herself inch by gradual inch. The wound heals critically enough once Lipstick slaps the paste on her belly. Then we all have to watch as she stitches up whatever gape in the wound remains.
I am now shaking in terror. Unless the oldest District 10 boy decides to show up and bring down Lipstick while she's still relatively weak (and that's not happening - the arena schematic shows him clear near the edge of the forest, by the meadow), it will take both Haymitch and Maysilee combined to kill her.
And that still might not be enough.
The sixth day in the arena brings ominous storm clouds. Haymitch and Maysilee quickly figure out that, like the water in their bottles, the water that now falls from the heavens is also safe to drink. They greedily gulp rainwater from unnaturally large leaves. Gather it in the empty bowl Maysilee found in her pack at the start of the Games.
As the storm passes, giving way to a sunny and clear day, the trees begin to thin. Encouraged, Haymitch presses on, Maysilee having to perform a light jog to keep up with him. At last, they reach a hedegrove much like the one Terence Asher encountered on the first day, and can seemingly go no further.
That doesn't stop my stubborn boy, though, as he beckons for the pack holding all the weapons. "Can you pass me that blowtorch thingy?"
Just then, Caesar has to splice away to nearly the other end of the forest, gleefully reporting that the oldest District 10 boy has now encountered the carnivourous golden squirrels which Haymitch barely managed to fend off days ago. The little beasts come for the strong, dark-skinned boy in a relentless wave - just as one is stabbed, another takes its place. The oldest District 10 boy begins to flail and panic, as the squirrels force him down to the mossy earth. After several, agonizing minutes, the cannon sounds, and the squirrels scamper away, leaving nothing but a skeleton picked clean of all flesh.
The Top Three. Maysilee and Haymitch have survived all the way to the Top Three. If they can outlast Lipstick... I will have a Victor. District 12 would have its first Victor in forty years.
Caesar seems quite delighted by the way the finale has shaped up. "A single Career against District 12 - the most underdog district in all of Hunger Games history. Let's check back with our favorite alliance, shall we...?"
The feed splices back to my kids to reveal...
A grassy plateau. Tapping off into a stony cliff, which Haymitch and Maysilee are now peering over the edge of. There is no clear way down to the rocks below, outside of a probably 100-foot drop, maybe more. The camera monkey-cams dangerously, undecided whether it should keep rolling or cut away. Whatever Haymitch and Maysilee have found clearly wasn't meant to be.
The edge of the arena. They actually reached it.
Lifting her head, Maysilee glances to her ally. "That's all there is, Haymitch. Let's go back."
My impossible oldest boy doesn't even turn his head. "No. I'm staying here."
An awkward pause, as Maysilee purses her lips in a tight frown. "All right. There's only us and the big girl from 1. Might as well split up here. I don't want it to come down to you and me."
I am not entirely sure whether or not I agree with Maysilee's assessment. A District 12-full Top Two would ensure us a win I have yearned for badly for... forever. And district partners battling for the crown in the final battle is really, really rare. It would be quite the ending to this Quell.
Indigo, for his part, makes a chef's kiss with his fingers, nodding in approval. "Perfect time to break it off!"
Woof, who has sworn since the chariot rides that Lipstick will win it all, isn't so sure. "They'll need one another if they want half a chance against the Career..."
But Maysilee's mind is made up. Haymitch's, too, for he barely manages to mumble an "All right" in her direction. His ally walks away, going along the edge of the cliffs, before turning the corner and out of sight.
Haymitch finally turns away...
... and there is a clattering sound as his shoe kicks an errant pebble over the side. This is then followed by a kind of sizzle.
And the same pebble bounces back up into its former place.
If Haymitch hadn't been staring at the ground as he made that lazy kick, he would have missed it. Woof is now frowning hard while watching my boy, leery.
"Whoa, whoa, what the hell was that?"
"Caesar! Rewind! Instant replay!" Indigo demands, slapping the counter. No response.
"All y'all, shut up!" I snap. My very eyes seem breathless. "He's thinking..."
Contemplative, Haymitch picks up the pebble, looks at it, then cranes his neck over the cliff. Discarding the tiny stone, he instead picks up a boulder the size of his fist and lobs it over the side. Yet another faint sizzle, before the boulder magically reappears...
... sailing right into Haymitch's waiting fist. My tribute begins to wildly laugh.
Savera is gobsmacked. "What the devil is down there?!"
I have never been more stricken in all my life. "A force field," I whisper. Now the Gamemakers will definitely take Haymitch out, leaving Lipstick and Maysilee to vie for the Crown.
But before they can do that, before I can tell the others, though, there is a feminine scream. I sway dangerously on my barstool, wanting to hurl. Please, please, let that be Lipstick...
To his credit, Haymitch takes off running in the direction of the sound, around the corner and to a small grassy knoll. I clap a hand over my mouth to tamp down the sob bubbling up in me.
"Noooo..." I moan.
A flock of pink birds, their beaks as sharp as blades, are startled away by another tribute's approach, leaving poor Maysilee clutching at her neck as Haymitch dives to her side, clasping her hand.
Smiling weakly, my girl uses the last of her strength to hoist her head up and peck Haymitch on the cheek.
"Happy..." she chokes on blood. "Make Rosemary... happy..."
"I will," Haymitch's reply bobbles as it leaves him.
Grin becoming peaceful, serence, Maysilee sags back into the earth, her grip on Haymitch going slack. She's dead.
BOOM.
Even though I have already lost two prior tributes, I was never as overcome over Ahsoka and Terence Asher's respective demises as I am now, weeping into Indigo's shirtfront. Through wet lashes, I can see Mags regarding me with pity.
It is down to Lipstick and Haymitch. District 1 versus District 12. Career versus loser district with only a single Victor vying for a date with history.
Haymitch disappears just inside the treeline, so as to allow the hovercraft ample room to collect Maysilee's body. My last tribute still has all the backpacks, containing an assortment of weapons and still a decent haul of food. He now gorges on bread and cheese, wolfs down the last apple and the beef, guzzles every single drop of water from the bottles. He's fattening himself up, like he did on the train, and I can hardly blame him.
One way or another, he won't be in such dire need of sustenance for much longer. And he'll need all the strength he can get.
In the middle of the afternoon, a pack of mutt wolves assault Lipstick, driving her further and further to the edge of the forest. The Gamemakers are forcing her and Haymitch together, wanting to end this. The mutts get several chunks of flesh from the vicious blond girl, and when she finally bursts out of the treeline and onto the grassy knoll where Maysilee was felled, she is out of breath.
When she sees Haymitch, staring her down, Lipstick draws up, jaw setting. The camera gets a good close-up of my tribute. A bit of crusted, dried blood has congealed across his nose, which I have come to conclude wasn't broken in the attack by Cassius, but rather merely caused a deviated septum.
"I had a feeling it would be you, Twelve. That, or your blonde friend." She twirls an axe around her fingers. "Shame I have to kill you. You're a fine specimen."
Haymitch just chuckles. "I have a girlfriend, thank you very much. I can't wait to see her again."
Lipstick just jeers. "You'll be waiting a while." And with that, she attacks.
This final battle is fierce, bloody and awful. But with that scrappiness that has gotten him this far, Haymitch gives as good as he gets. And the wound in Lipstick's stomach has slowed her just enough.
The Careers are bellowing for Lipstick to make the kill, Mags joining in, though there appears to be a bit of uncertainty in her eyes, as she keeps looking over at me.
Haymitch and Lipstick keep ducking swings with their knives and axes, the Career swiping at my boy again so that he has to roll away. She leaps back from another swipe of his knife, and then kicks him hard in the chest. It's at this moment that Caesar gleefully decides to drag the feed into slow motion, so that the movements and facial expressions of the two tributes look almost comical.
Haymitch headbutts Lipstick so that blood spurts from her nose, and as she staggers back, his knife goes for her head.
He manages to take out her left eye, the knife's tip pulling the ball right out of its socket.
I tremble against Indigo, and my friend winces. "Uggh!"
In a rage, Lipstick retaliates, Haymitch sidestepping and grazing his blade along her arm. He doesn't let up as the inertia of her attack carries her past him, my boy punching her full in the face.
Lipstick attacks yet again, Haymitch throwing his arm up to block...
... and she sends the axe right into his stomach. Before then literally rolling over him, vaulting over his back.
The Careers are practically delirious now, Brutus roaring in approval, eyes wild and deranged.
"FINISH HIM!"
Haymitch makes for his cliff. With Caesar still keeping the footage in slow-mo, the boy's mad dash for the cliff he's spent the entire Games looking for seems to go as slow as it feels. Lipstick appears to take her time stalking after him, her last throwing axe at the ready. I see a bit of green - his intestines, slip from Haymitch's stomach, and I nearly wretch.
Turning back to Lipstick, Haymitch collapses to his knees. The Careers chortle with mad glee.
"He's done now!"
"Finish him off, ya little bitch!"
Lipstick flushes with triumph. Growling, she hurls the axe right at Haymitch's skull. "ERRAHHHH!"
Haymitch moves his head just a tick to the left, so that the axe sails right past his head, over his shoulder and then the cliff beyond.
My tribute is starting to convulse, barely able to hold himself up. Lipstick simply waits, knowing she can outlast him.
"Death is coming for him! He's going!" Brutus smirks smugly at me. In a daze, I shake my head.
"No..." I croak. "It ain't over till the last cannon..."
As we watch, Haymitch pitches forward, just as the axe sails back over his collapsing body and toward his final enemy, the weapon manipulated to turn on its master. In that penultimate second, Lipstick's one good eye widens in horrified understanding.
"No, wai -!"
THUNK.
BOOM.
"Sounds," I finish.
The Bar erupts into bedlam. Indigo is manhandling me, Woof is yelling ("He did it! He FUCKING DID IT! He used the arena as a weapon!"). Brutus is so stunned, his tongue is hanging all the way out of his mouth, eyes blinking stupidly like a conservative viewer who's watched too much trashy daytime TV.
And Claudius Templesmith's voice comes over the speakers, as a hovercraft materializes to save Haymitch's languishing body. "Ladies and gentleman, may I present the winner of the 50th Annual Hunger Games: Haymitch Abernathy! I give you... the fighter from District 12!"
And just like that, I am no longer the only Victor from District 12.