Day Eleven
Florence and Alfred
It still hadn't hit Alfred that Locke had died, and that he had been the cause. Alfred may not have given the fatal blow, but he had had every opportunity to stop Florence from doing so. But no, Alfred had just stood there, and let the man be shot down, in front of his own daughter. Alfred remembered how scared he had been just a few hours prior to Locke's death, at seeing the face of his father, kidnapped by the Capitol. He couldn't bear the thought of having to stand there completely helpless, while his father was murdered. And he had subjected Salome to that very thing.
Florence appeared to be unaffected by the events of the previous day, she seemed calm and collected, operating seemingly on autopilot, taking charge, making sure they had had food and water and shelter for the night. But the girl had to, she knew that if she stopped for even a second, let herself slow down and think, she was sure she would full hard and fast down a hole of pain and regret, one she wasn't sure she would ever escape from. So Florence threw herself into surviving, into protecting Alfred and herself, and making sure that what she had done was worth it, that they wouldn't meet the same fate as Locke any time soon.
She knew Alfred could see straight through the calm exterior she presented. But that didn't mean she would let itfalter for even a second. It helped Florence stay okay, even if it was just an act. Maybe if she kept it up long enough, she would finally start to believe it.
"Hey." Alfred shook Florence awake from where she lay on the floor. She turned around instantly, already wide awake and ready to set off. They had both known that she hadn't been sleeping, that there was little hope of either of them sleeping ever again. "We should probably move, we've been here a while, and I know for a fact we have an angry Salome on our tail."
In that moment, Florence could easily have knocked Alfred out. It was almost like he was making a joke out of it, putting themselves first, over the girl who had just lost her father. But Alfred didn't smile, he didn't laugh, and then, she knew that it was his way of coping. He couldn't admit the severity of it all, of what they had done, so he focused on the little things, the fact that there was no doubt about Salome following them.
"You're right." She pushed herself onto her elbows, preparing to stand up. She grabbed onto a tree, as her vision blurred, lightheadedness consuming her.
Within seconds, Alfred was by her side, steadying her. "I'm fine." Florence offered him a weak smile. "The food here isn't the most nutritious, I guess it's just getting to me." She lied. She knew full well why she was feeling like this- the girl had spent the night crying, not getting any sleep at all. She was dehydrated, beyond exhausted, both physically and mentally.
"Okay." Alfred pulled backwards, in no way satisfied by her response, but too tired himself to push any further. "But if you need to take a break today, just let me know, okay?"
"Of course." She lent in, kissing him, smiling against his lips.
Jordan
The man had been hoping that he would never see these Goddamn mountains again. They had caused him so much pain, lost him so much, he almost wished they were a person, so he could chop them into a thousand little pieces. But still, he felt safe here, or rather, as safe as he could feel in the arena. It was a great vantage point, from here he could see the entire arena, the only thing stopping him was the shelter of the trees.
When Jordan had heard the canon on the previous afternoon, he couldn't deny the pang of pain that struck him, like a bolt out of the blue. His first thought was to worry about Salome, she was the closest friend he had in here, but slowly, it dawned on the man that he cared about them all, that whoever had died, he would miss, he would feel pain, something he would never have considered possible. The barriers Jordan had come into the Games with were now non-existent. This was supposed to be fun, a place where he could make his mark on the world, make his name known, not find friendship, and people he cared about.
Jordan shook his head suddenly, focusing himself back on the present. Locke was dead now, there was nothing he could do about that. What he could do, however, was find Salome, make sure she knew that even without her dad, she wasn't alone. His stay in the mountains this time had been short, and much much sweeter than the times before, and for a moment, Jordan felt sad about leaving them. This time it felt final, as he piled what remained of his supplies into his bag, like the minute he took his last step back onto flat ground, he would never be in the mountains again. They had been the closest thing he had to a home in this place, even if they had poisoned him, bruised him, cut him, and thrown him down. But hey, for Jordan, that was a normal Wednesday afternoon. He gave the mountains one final nod, as he turned to look in the direction of the Cornucopia, hoping that he still had the time to undo some of the mess that had already been created.
His first order was to look for Salome- he knew with no uncertainty that the girl would be okay by herself, but the thought of her alone after the loss of her dad made him uneasy. Jordan remembered the way he felt after he lost his mother, almost half his life ago. He made rash decisions, he couldn't think straight, it was one of the only times in his life that he had been careless. And no one could afford to be careless in the Hunger Games. Besides, ever if Salome was completely fine, should Alfred and Florence find her it would still be two against one. No matter how strong or powerful Salome may have been, they were never odds you wanted to face.
The final reason for Jordan finding Salome was not one he wanted to admit, even to himself. He missed her, hell he missed them all. He missed having people around to talk to and bounce ideas of, and just be with.
He walked through the woods, the already trodden down leaves and sticks failing to make a sound beneath his feet. From his limited knowledge of tracking, he could tell that the already present footsteps were relatively fresh, the only problem being that there were two sets, probably belonging to Alfred and Florence. The good thing? Wherever the lovebirds were, he doubted Salome was far behind. If there was going to be a final showdown of the Games, it would be now.
In Jordan's fixating on finding Salome, and checking that she was okay, he let his careful nature slip. He forgot to check the floor when he walked. He didn't notice the trip wire on the floor until he was laying among the leaves, Florence stepping on his shoulders, Alfred on his legs.
"Sorry about this…" Alfred mumbled.
"But you kind of brought it upon yourself." Florence cut in. Jordan met this with a confused look, forcing the girl to elaborate. "Yesterday at the Cornucopia, you were the first to run. If you would have just stayed, maybe we could have worked something out, worked together. Maybe Locke would still be alive." Florence swallowed hard as a lump appeared in her throat, the memories of what she had done threatening to overtake her.
"Of all the people that I thought would go psycho in this place…" Jordan paused, breathing through the pain in his shoulder where Florence continued to push her weight. "You were at the very bottom of the list. But then, I suppose, it's always the quiet ones, isn't it?" Jordan felt the pressure Alfred was putting on his legs lessen, as his morale and drive faltered, the older man smirking at the thought that words could be their downfall.
"Alfred." Florence spoke sternly, looking her lover in the eye. "Think about your family. Think what the Capitol will do to them if we let him live, if we don't see this through."
Usually any mention of Alfred's family would get him back on track, but what right did they have to preach about the importance of loved ones, having just taken Salome's away. "What about Jordan's family? Anyone that has ever cared about him is watching this right now, they're going to watch him die. Do you really want to be the person that puts them through that?"
"Alf…" No matter how much Florence wanted to argue, she couldn't. Alfred, as always, was right. Slowly, she stepped back, freeing Jordan's upper arms. As she did so, she looked down to see the undeniable grin on the man's face, knowing instantly that she had just made a mistake that would most likely cost them their lives. "Alfred. Don't move." Florence mouthed across at the boy.
Before Alfred had time to react Jordan was sitting up, using his newly free arms to grab onto Alfred's legs and sweep them from underneath him, sending him falling across the ground. Jordan was up now, lowering over Alfred, his foot placed firmly on the younger boy's stomach, winding him instantly.
"Not psycho." Jordan hummed, nodding. "Just naive."
Florence could see Alfred's face turning red, the restricted air supply stopping him from breathing. She had to act. Grabbing a large stone from next to a tree, she ran full speed at Jordan, who was distracted by keeping Alfred laying flat on the ground, moving his foot slowly up from the boy's stomach to his neck. In mere moments, his life would be over.
With as much strength as Florence could muster, she drove the rock into the side of Jordan's head, the man falling to the side, losing consciousness immediately.
Florence crouched down next to Alfred, helping the boy to sit up as he took greedy gulps of the air, panting as his breathing became steady again. "Thank you." He mumbled, leaning his head against the girl's shoulder.
"Don't thank me yet." Florence looked over to Jordan, nodding at the rise and fall of his chest. "He is still alive. And after this, we can't leave him." She stood up, walking away from Alfred and retiring their packs, hidden in the shrubbery. The plan had been simple- capture Jordan, lure Salome in and then capture her too, and then decide where to go from there. Of course Alfred had protested it from the start. It was inhumane, after everything they had been through treating their fellow tributes as animals was just cruel. And besides, Alfred remembered clearly what Locke had done to Newton and himself, something he would never wish on anyone else. He remembered the way Newton had cried out and struggled against Locke, before he just sat defeated for hours on end, left helpless and powerless by the restraints.
"I'll do it." Feeling stronger now, he picked up his spear that Florence had just retrieved. He was so used to carrying it by now, having had it from the first day, but the weight of what he was about to do made it heavier than ever before. "This was the first thing I touched in the Games. And today I use it for the first time."
"Alfred." Florence placed her hand over his. "You don't have to do this. I can do it."
"No." He shook his head. "I know you tried to hide it, but it was clear how much Locke's… death got to you. I can't watch you go through that again, okay?"
She nodded solemnly, cursing herself for not being strong enough, for not being able to shelter Alfred from the pain she felt over what she had done.
Alfred walked forward, unable to look at the man in front of him as he stirred, slowly waking up. "I'm so sorry. I wish it didn't have to be like this." He plunged the spear into Jordan's heart before the man could speak, or fully know what was going on. He dropped the weapon, the thing that had been with it the longest, the metal suddenly burning his skin.
When no canon sounded, Alfred allowed himself to look down at Jordan, the tribute still breathing, despite it being uneven and raspy. "Shit." He mumbled, looking at Florence. "He's still alive? How is it possible that he's still alive? I can't do it again, I can't." He screamed, panicked.
Immediately, Florence was at his side, steering him away from the body and the scene that they had just created. "It's okay, Alfred, it's okay. It's over now." Quickly the pair left behind a dying Jordan, Alfred's spear discarded nearby.
What had always scared Jordan more than dying, was dying alone. And now that very thing was coming true. If no one was there to witness his last moments, it would be like he had never existed at all, he had just disappeared. No one would know his final thoughts or words, what he felt, what secrets he had kept. Jordan knew that he wasn't truly alone, you never could be in this place. But the knowledge of the dozen cameras watching him only served to make things worse. No one he cared about was here with him in this moment, yet millions of people he had never met would see him at his most vulnerable.
It could have been in his head, induced by the blood loss, but Jordan began to convince himself that he heard movement in the trees. He wasn't scared by it, he was dying, it didn't really get much worse than this. He just prayed it was someone who would simply sit by him and not cause him anymore pain.
"Salome?" His voice was weak, something he had never wanted another person to hear. But in that moment, he needed someone by his side, anyone, just to hold him, and tell him that everything would be alright, no matter how much he knew it wouldn't be.
"I'm here Jordan, it's okay." She crouched down next to him, pulling his head into her lap. For the second time in as many days, the fifteen year old girl was holding a dying man, people that she had cared about more than anyone else. She was losing her father and the closest thing she had to a brother in less than 48 hours. Salome felt almost like a cheat sitting there and holding him, she could have saved him, she had heard them fighting, but when it came to stepping out of the woods and joining the battle, she couldn't bring herself to emerge, to engage in a war that would always have ended with her taking a life. It was then the girl knew that despite the resentment she held for Florence and Alfred, she could never kill them. She had said from the start that she would never take a life, and although she had lost her way over the last few days, the fact remained the same. She was physically incapable of killing someone.
"Do you think I'm going to go to Heaven?" Jordan whispered, the words dying on his lips, barely audible above the raspy, desperate breaths he was taking. "And even if you don't think I am, will you lie to me to make me feel better?" He continued, a weak attempt at a smile forming on his lips.
"I won't have to lie." Salome returned his comment with an equally tragic smile of her own. "You are one of the bravest, kindest, most complex people I have ever known. And although I will never know everything about you, I know for sure that you are going straight to Heaven."
"Girl, stop, you're going to make me blush." Jordan retorted, and Salome found herself laughing through the tears, of course Jordan was being sarcastic and making jokes, even in his last moments. "But you know, as much as I liked to pretend I was in this alone, I could never have survived this long without you. Thanks for being my friend."
She raised her hand to his cheek, feeling the sudden coldness of his skin against her palm.
"Jordan?" She shook his body, trying desperately to wake him, knowing it would be no use. The steady flow of blood that had been leaking from the whole in his chest slowed to a stop, the final indication that his heart had finally stopped beating.
Salome
As the girl finally pushed Jordan's body off of her lap, she debated taking his stuff, but couldn't bring herself to. She knew Jordan would want her to have it, his whole life he had taken care of those younger than him, but if she took it, it would be admitting that he was gone, that he didn't need it anymore. It would be admitting that everyone she cared about in here was dead, that she was truly alone.
"They're all dead." She practically laughed, an unsettling mania spreading over her. "Everyone is dead. Apart from the two people I want to die. Isn't that just perfect?"
Salome allowed herself to fall backwards, laying down on the ground, the grass prickling at the back of her bare arms. "I give up." She whispered, her words taken away by the sudden gust of wind. "I'm done." She smiled, sadly, quitting was something she never thought she would do. But what did she have to fight for? Of course, the thought of her mother still played on her mind, but she knew any chance she had of winning was gone now. She had underestimated Florence and Alfred from the very start, they had all written them off. But now, they had killed both Locke and Jordan, two of the strongest tributes in the Games, what shot did she have at winning them alone.
"Just kill me already." She breathed out, closing her eyes, for what she hoped would be the last time.
"Are you joking me?" A voice Salome hadn't heard in so long woke her from the light sleep she had drifted into, Jordan's blood still staining her skin and clothes. "You are the last person I would ever have expected to give up."
"Doug?" Salome sat up, the figure of her very first ally stood a few meters away.
"Girl, you took me on when no one else would. You taught me to fight and gave me a chance when, let's be honest, I was a hopeless case." Doug sat down next to her. Salome wanted to reach out and touch him, but knew that she would only serve to be disappointed. The District Nine boy wasn't really there, he was either placed there by the Capitol or by her own mind. She assumed it was the latter- Doug was being nice to her, telling her not to give up, if this was the Capitol's doing he would be beating her down, blaming her for his death.
"I'm so sorry about what happened to you." That was all Salome could think to say as she looked into Doug's eyes, filled with sadness and hurt.
"Salome, you know that wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault, apart from theirs." He looked up at the sky, nodding towards the Capitol. "But I didn't have a chance to fight, to show the world what you and your father taught me. You have that opportunity. You can't give up, not so close to the end."
As much as Salome wanted to ignore Doug, to just lay there and let death finally take her, she knew she couldn't. The boy was right- seeing his face and hearing his voice was reminder enough of everyone that had died in the Games. From the innocence of Vivian, the feistiness of Lana and Hypatia, and the pure goodness of D'ante and Nautilus, so many people had needlessly died. But Salome hadn't. Whether it was luck, or some sort of talent she had, the girl had made it so far to throw it all away and give up now would just be selfish.
"You're right." She turned to Doug, ready to tell her friend that he had changed her mind. But Doug was gone, the space to her empty, as if he had never been there at all, which Salome knew was always the case. "You're right. Giving up isn't fair." She spoke to herself, attempting to convince herself more and more that it was actually the case. She played with the envelope in her pocket, the one she had taken from her father, but had now worked out it belonged to Flynt. Salome wondered how Locke had ended up with it, even just how it had made it into the Games in the first place, she knew no one had taken it in as a tribute token, her father had made her memorise them all, know which ones could be used against her. In the end, none of them would be- when it came down to people they always wanted to hold on to the last home comforts they had. She assumed the letter being in here must have been something of Clem's doing. If he had cared about it so much as to bring it to the Games, Salome supposed it was her duty now to make sure it got delivered. That was another reason why she couldn't give up, she was probably the last living person that knew about this letter, she needed to be the one that made sure it found its home.
"Let's get this over with then." Salome pushed herself to her feet, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply, before setting off on what she hoped would be her last trek across the forest.
Mox
"I'm being too cruel. I know I am." Mox sat alone in her office, a picture of herself and Clem on their graduation day sat opposite her. "I know you wouldn't have done this." She shook her head, eyes fixated on the only man she had ever loved. "Don't give me that look, I know you don't like what I'm doing." She reached over, laying the photo flat on the table, hiding their faces from her vision.
She had officially lost it. She was talking to a picture, to a man that would never hear her voice again. Mox ran her hand over her stomach, that housed the only thing she still cared about in this world. "Oh go, I hope I don't pass my crazy on to you." She smiled, imagining a time seven months from now when she would no longer be alone, but with someone in her life who made her wake up every morning, who made her fight and want to live.
"Are you talking to yourself again?" Lyric Chamberlain appeared at the door. He had a habit of doing that, of appearing by her side without warning, checking in on her countless times a day, as if she was some fragile ornament that could break at any second. It had annoyed the independent woman at first, but over the days she had become used to it, comforted by knowing that there was someone that always had her back.
She grabbed a pen from the table, chucking across the room at him. "I'm the best conversationalist I know, of course I am."
Chamberlain walked over, standing behind the woman, massaging her shoulders lightly. "You stress too much Mox, you carry too much tension in your shoulders. It can't be good for the baby."
She hadn't wanted Lyric to find out about her child, she hadn't wanted anyone too, they might have seen her as weak, incapable due to her impending motherhood. But, on one of Chamberlains many many walks, he had found her crying, and the truth had poured out. Mox reached back, slapping Lyric's hand playfully, yet still leaning into his touch.
"I can't wait for these Games to be over, I can't wait for it all to be over, I can't wait to get out of this life, and get the farm Clem and I always talked about." Mox smiled at the thought of it, of a life away from the Hunger Games. She thought this had been her dream, but now she was beginning to learn that dreams changed, things masqueraded themselves as dreams, when really they were just fantasies that meant nothing. Mox would do what she had to do this year to make sure the Games finished as planned and ran smoothly, but the second they were over, so was her career as a Gamemaker. She wasn't cut out for orchestrating the deaths of people, Head Gamemaker was nothing like the job she had thought it would be. Mox cursed herself for ever not believing Clem.
Chamberlain flinched backwards as Mox spoke, recoiling and withdrawing his touch from her shoulders, waking round to stand in front of the woman. "You're quitting?" He looked almost hurt by the thought of that, as if Mox was betraying him some way.
"This place ruined my relationship, I'm not letting it ruin my baby's life as well. I'm not letting my child grow up in the place where her father was sent to his death, even if I was the one to give the order. So yeah, I'm out." Maybe the impending motherhood had made Mox weak, more sensitive. She had never thought of the Games as a bad thing, until Clem, until she learnt what it was like to lose the person you loved, until she realised that one day soon she would be a mother, and she would feel the fear mother's felt every year about losing their child. She couldn't be the one responsible for inflicting that pain on someone. "Nothing you can say will change my mind." She smiled.
Chamberlain looked defeated, knowing already that it was no use fighting. "Okay then, let's get these Games wrapped up and then we leave."
"Ha." Mox let out a small laugh at the thought of Chamberlain leaving this life behind. "Lyric, you're sweet, but there is no way I'm letting you leave with me."
"Why not?" Hurt returned to the man's face. "You're my best friend. My PREGNANT best friend, there's no way I'm letting you run off into the sunset alone, to God knows what. We're in this together. Now Clem's… gone… its my duty to take are of you."
"Chamberlain." Mox stood up, closer to the man. "You don't want a life away from all this, a normal life. If I let you come, you would end up resenting me, hating me for taking you away from this. I can't lose the love of my life and my best friend all in the same year, I wouldn't survive that. And besides." She paused, noticing how Lyric was beginning to agree with her. "It's not like I'm just wandering off… I will have a house… and enough money to last both me and this child a lifetime. Plus, I need you here. I still want to keep up to date with all the Capitol gossip."
Chamberlain broke, laughing, and pulling his friend in for a hug. "Don't worry, Mox, you'll be the first to hear all about what happens here."
Tributes Graveyard
Fourth Place: Jordan Onyx (D12M)- Oh boy. From nearly dying on the first day to making it to the top four, Jordan's journey has been anything but simple. I got some much enjoyment of writing this character, or developing him from someone that would never have dreamed of finding friends in the Games or even talking to anyone, to someone who people came to rely on, and trust, to a person who actually wanted people around him. I loved writing his tough, sarcastic side, as well as those sensitive scenes with Lilac, and the affection he felt towards her brother. Ahh man, yet another wonderful character that I hated killing off, on the plus side... I only have to do it twice more now.
Oh wow its been nearly three weeks since an update, I'm so sorry. But anyway, here we are, and one step closer to the end of this fanfic. I'm going to be so sad when its over, by the sense of accomplishment will be so amazing, this really did get me through lockdown wow.
I hope everyone is well and enjoyed this chapter, I promise I'll try and update more regularly.
Stay safe, and until next time,
Alice xxx
