Chapter 15 - Days 6-9

The next couple of days passed slowly, with Atlas and I stocking up on food and catching up from sleep sheltered underneath a cluster of trees in the oasis. Thankfully, it didn't rain, or we would have been miserable. Those few days were the happiest that I had felt since the Games had started. We didn't see any of the other tributes, but after the earthquake, there were no more deaths. I had been quite surprised to learn that only one person had died in the earthquake, one of the older girls - Phoebe. So now besides Atlas and I, the only other tributes left were Zeus, Ares, and Hestia. I was somewhat shocked that Hestia had made it this long, since she was so small and young and the last time I had seen her, she had looked absolutely terrified.

On the morning of the ninth day of the Games, nothing remotely exciting -for the viewers- had happened since the earthquake. I doubted they had been interested in Atlas and me, especially since they'd probably figure that we were just doing exactly what Katniss Everdeen had done during her Games. No, my strategy for these Games would have been a lot more effective if Atlas' name hadn't been drawn, or if he had already been killed - although my heart gave a painful squeeze at that thought. Either way, I made sure that everything that I deemed essential was put in my pack, ready to grab at a moment's notice. Atlas and I made sure that all of the supplies were spread evenly between our two packs in case something happened and we were separated from each other, or one of us was killed and the other wasn't able to get to their pack in time. It was a grim task, made even worse by me being unable to get the image of either my death or his out of my head. Once everything was put away in the packs it was somewhat easier, but all we could really do was wait.

We sat with our arms around each other again, not saying anything, just savoring these last few hours -possibly minutes; we had no way of knowing when the next catastrophe would strike- before we would likely have to run for our lives.

A stick cracked and my heart jumped. I leaped to my feet, grabbing one of my knives. Beside me, Atlas did the same. I took a few cautious steps forward, trying to be as silent as possible. My heart pounded as I waited for whatever was out there to show itself.

A small animal scurried out of the brush, and I breathed a sigh of relief as it stepped on another stick, which cracked as well. It was nothing. I lowered my knife, turning back around to face Atlas, who had crept up behind me without detection.

"At least that wasn't a tribute," he pointed out, and then wrapped his arm around me, holding his sword to my throat.

"Are you out of your mind?" I hissed, heart thumping even louder than when I had thought there had been a tribute hiding in the brush trying to ambush us. At least if that had happened, I would have had Atlas to back me up. Now there would be no one to help me. Clearly, everything that I had thought was between us had been a lie to get me to trust him so that he would be able to easily kill me.

"No, are you out of your mind? I would have thought that you would have seen this coming. But I guess not." He looked incredibly pleased with himself, which only made me more angry. A few minutes ago, thinking about his death had filled me with sorrow, but now I wanted nothing more than to kill him myself. If I had been Leto, I would have started crying, but I had never been farther from tears. All I could feel was white-hot rage. But I let my knife begin to drop to my side and conjured up memories of Leto's death, letting my eyes fill with tears. Atlas' smile grew larger, believing that I had lost my will to fight.

"Why?" I asked, though we both knew the answer: this was the Hunger Games, and there could be only one victor.

And it would be me.

I drove my knife up, aiming for his thigh, but he dropped his sword hand and blocked my knife, which caught him in the arm instead of the leg - it wouldn't incapacitate him, but it was his sword arm.

"You should have killed me in my sleep if you wanted to make quick work of it," I told him, stabbing for him again. He blocked the knife with his sword, though I noticed his hand was shaking from the effort, and then switched his sword to his other hand. When he thrust the sword at me, I noticed it was with less confidence than his other hand, and I was able to sidestep the sword. I realized my mistake right away: a knife against a sword, even with Atlas injured, wouldn't last long. So I risked a few precious seconds and grabbed my pack, swinging it over my shoulder, and grabbed one of my other knives as well.

I took off running as fast as I possibly could, knowing Atlas would be giving chase right after this and I would only have a few seconds as a head start. And indeed, I could hear him crashing behind me a few seconds later: no doubt he had stopped to grab his pack as well, since they weren't exactly stored in a hidden location and he would fear another tribute taking it.

My flight through the oasis felt oddly familiar, reminding me of when I had run from Nero through the oasis and back into the city. If I had been able to kill Nero, I told myself, then I could surely kill Atlas, who wasn't as large as Nero had been and wasn't as experienced with a sword.

A stream wound its way through the oasis, and I thought about trying to jump it, but instead jumped right in and then immediately out on the other bank. The water had only been shin-deep, and the current nowhere near strong enough to sweep me away. I was immediately back to running for my life, but spared a glance back when I heard Atlas' footsteps. He slid to a stop, part of the bank of the stream crumbling beneath his feet and sending him sprawling into the stream. He wouldn't drown, I was sure, but it would slow him down, so I kept running without looking back. I disappeared into the trees, hoping to lead him that way, but then changed directions and went running out of the oasis, back toward the city.

I could feel my throat beginning to burn and my legs beginning to shake, but I pushed on, across the stretch of desert in between the oasis and the ruined city.

When I reached the edge of the city -figuring that the aftershocks had probably subsided and it would be safe to return- I finally glanced backward.

I didn't see Atlas, so I allowed myself to slow down a bit, but kept walking. I watched for the other tributes as well, knowing that Zeus or Ares could be hiding around any corner.

When I had gone several blocks down and a few streets over from where I had entered the city, I began looking for a building where I would be able to rest and use as my shelter.

I found one that was fairly intact, and that was also nearly hidden by a pile of rubble from a nearby building. Climbing over the rubble, I entered the building cautiously at first, in case it was the home of any of the other tributes, and then darted inside, collapsing on the floor in the corner, out of sight from the door. I drank nearly half of a bottle of water before I leaned back against the wall, thinking over what had just happened.

How hadn't I seen this coming? I should have seen right through Atlas, should have killed him when I had the chance, should have looked out for only Leto and myself, but I had allowed myself to be blinded by a few smiles and a kiss. And I had nearly been killed for it.

Never again would I trust someone that way, I vowed. All it would do was hurt me again, whether it was through betrayal, like Atlas, or death, like Leto. No, from now on I would only rely on myself to get out of here, and on myself once I was out of this damn arena.

I had gotten my wish, I supposed. I had wanted there to be some easy solution to my feelings for Atlas that would allow me to work on my own and be able to poison the rest of the tributes without him knowing. I had gotten that, although it hadn't been at all the way that I had thought it would be.

But then again, what in these Games had happened the way I had imagined?