Chapter 42- Nell Slatefield
"Trestle, will you quit going so fast?" I'm quick, but I'm not as fast as he is- and he's running like he's going to leave me behind!
"Pick up the pace, I'm not stopping," Trestle calls back.
"You've got shoes on! 'Course you're faster than me right now!" I tell him.
"Thought you hated shoes!"
"I did when I didn't have to step on anything and everything in this place!" Every step I'm taking hurts; I'm all cut up from thorns and sticks and rocks and who knows what else. And my shoes are still hanging up in that tree, just wondering where I've gone.
See, I've been running around District 11 my whole life, and I'm good at it, but we've been running steady since last night, with only a few breaks in between. Those big snakes keep coming back to chase us, and I'm just about dead on my feet. Dead! Well, I hope not. Trestle's looking fine, but I've got an awful stitch in my stomach, and my heart's beating so fast I think it's going to shoot out and hit one of the trees in front of me. Wouldn't the Capitol like that, don't you think?
"You sure love to complain, Nell," Trestle says, finally slowing down to jog beside me.
"I do when there's stuff to complain about." If you look hard enough, there's always something wrong, but I don't like to look at stuff that close. There was always something good going on in District 11, no matter how bad things got, so there's got to be some good coming out from this arena.
Trestle. No matter what he's done, or how grumpy he's been acting, he's still my friend. And besides, this place is interesting to look at, once you get past the snakes. This time, I bet we've outrun them for good!
"So, what's the plan now?" I ask, stopping to catch my breath.
"We keep away from those goddamn snakes, that's what we do," Trestle says, looking behind us.
"Wonder why they're coming after us," I say, rubbing my side where my stitch is. Everything hurts right now, but my feet are the worst. They're tough from always going barefoot, but the ground here just cuts them to bits!
"All part of the show, my girl," Trestle says, finally cracking a grin. "They all want to see more of us, and if we've got a show going on, we keep the cameras on us. We're the stars of Panem."
I grin back, even though I hurt. "So let's give them their show."
"That's the spirit, Nell," Trestle says, clapping me on the back. He glances back again, and I do too. No snakes in sight; if there were any, we would have seen them; the ones that've been chasing us are huge!
"Can we sit down for a minute?" I ask. I don't want to complain that my feet hurt, but they do, and I doubt he wants to hear about it. "I'm thirsty."
"Like we have any water," he grumbles, but he finds a big log anyway to sit down on. I keep my pack on, just in case we have to take off again, but it's SO nice to sit down, finally.
"Shit, your feet look bad," Trestle says, looking down. I shrug.
"Better to be barefoot anyway," I say. And it is! My feet are free, free to get cut up by whatever's on the ground. I just have to deal with it for a few more days, and then I can get out of here so that the Capitol can fix me up. But if I win, then Trestle's dead- and that's always a bit too complicated for me.
"So, what's the plan from here on out?" I ask, nudging Trestle with my shoulder.
"Keep on carrying on, my girl," he says, stretching his arm out like he's going to touch the trees in the distance. "What do you say we go and have a bit of a holiday on the beach?"
"Is it safe there?" I ask. Trestle gives me a withering look.
"Three guesses where we are, Nell," he says with an annoyed tone. Yes, I know we're in the arena, and I know we're being chased by snakes, but are things going to be better at the shore?
Hmm, maybe it would be nice to get out of the jungle for a bit. Get some sand on my toes and let my feet toughen up a little bit more. I think that might be really nice, don't you think?
"I know where we are," I tell him. "And yes, we should go to the seashore."
Trestle laughs. "When'd you get posh, Nell?"
"I'm not posh!"
"Oh, we're going to the seashore, are we?" Trestle laughs again. "Get up, my girl; let's get our sweet little feet to the seashore."
I glare at him, but follow him anyway. Oh, I forgot to drink water. Not that there is any, but maybe I could have pretended there was some and that could have made me feel better. Oh well.
What day is it right now? Four? I'm pretty sure it's four, but it's all been so mixed up since we had to start running last night right when we were getting settled. We lost all the supplies Seeder sent us; the water, the food, the bandages. At least Trestle's acting like normal again.
I'll bet everyone at home is on pins and needles right now; with Lotem gone, I'm their only tribute. Suddenly, all I want to do is go home, back to the Roots and Aunt and Uncle and Rosa. I'll bet Rosa's missing me at this very minute, even if we don't ever get along. Her life must be pretty boring right now, without me to liven it up!
And, you know, I could be real happy in the Capitol for a spell too; I think a nice long nap in one of those beds would be prime right now, don't you think? A good old fashioned rest, then I can sleep on the train going home, and finally I can curl up on my trundle bed on the floor.
They'll give me a big fancy house when I win, but when they're not looking, I'll just stay back home in the Roots. A Roots girl stays where she belongs, you know. Guess Seeder didn't, but I'm not Seeder. No, I'm a Roots girl through and through, and I'm not going to leave that all behind to head off to the Fruit and Victor's Village. No sir.
"You tired of being in here yet?" I ask, breaking the brief silence. I don't like things to be too quiet, especially in here. Besides, I don't like being quiet myself.
"Not yet," Trestle replies, and something flashes in his eyes that makes me a little nervous. It's that same look he has when he talks about Hazel or Azlon, and I tell you, I don't like it.
"How come?"
"Show's not over yet, Nell," he says, and smiles slightly. "When I get my applause and fireworks, then I'll be ready to call it quits."
"What if I want that applause?"
He just looks at me with that funny look in his eye. "'Course I'll share my applause with you, Nell. You're my co-star, my girl."
He's said that a lot of times before, but somehow he makes it sound different this time, like he doesn't really mean it. Well, he's just joking with me again. We're friends, and we're co-stars. The stars of the whole Hunger Games!
"You'd better!" I say brightly, nudging him with my arm. "I'm not getting left in the dust so you can take the spotlight!"
"You listen, Nell; everybody out there is watching us and loving us. As long as we give it our all, they're going to love us." I think he's right about that; they're not sitting there watching their screens to see a bunch of boring people; they like some pep! Well, I'll give them pep alright. I'm Firecracker Nell, who got the second highest score in Training. If that doesn't count for something, I don't know what will.
Trestle marches on ahead of me, not looking back to make sure I'm keeping up. Well, I am! And he's only pretending to try and shake me, because that's just what he does. Besides, he's not going to shake me; I'm his co-star, and I've got the slingshot.
He's killed Hazel, and he almost killed Azlon; that's all on him. What happens if I have to kill somebody? I don't know if I ever really thought about that before, but here we are on Day 4, and I haven't even shot anyone with my slingshot. I guess that's a good thing; who wants to kill people? I sure don't. But Trestle has, and Trestle will, so what should I do if I have to kill another tribute?
Well, that's a problem for when I meet another tribute.
"Hey, Trestle!" I call to him. He's a lot faster than I am, and I can't help but feel a little mad at him, because all he's dealing with is that cat scratch from a few days ago, which actually doesn't look that bad. Meanwhile, here I am with my feet all cut up and my head scratched about from the knocking I took while running in the dark. Short way to say it, I'm a mess.
"What?"
I'm about to ask him to slow it down, 'cause those snakes aren't anywhere near us, when something grabs my ankle, hard. "Trestle!" I yell, shaking my leg trying to get it loose, but whatever's got it has it really tight.
"What?" he snaps, whirling around as something else grabs my other ankle. I can see his eyes go wide. "Aw, shit Nell!"
I grab at whatever's holding my legs so tight it hurts, and all I feel are vines wrapping around my ankles and thighs, squeezing and cutting. "Trestle, help me!" The vines snake around my hands, and I can't move them, I'm stuck! I'm stuck!
"Trestle, help!" Why isn't he helping me; why is he just standing there? "Trestle, get over here and help me, you idiot!" I don't feel one bit bad about calling him that, because he's acting like one. He just stands there, six feet away, and doesn't help at all. I can feel the vines wrapping up around my legs, higher and higher, and going up my arms too. They're too tight; it hurts!
"Trestle! It's pulling me down! Come help me!" I hate crying, hate it to my very bones, but there're tears coming out of my eyes on their own, and that shouldn't be allowed! But he's not getting over here to cut these vines off me, and I don't know why. "Trestle!"
Trestle moves, but not towards me. Instead, his feet start shuffling backwards, away from me. What is he doing? "Trestle, where are you going?" I ask while the vines start pulling me down to the jungle floor; they're way stronger than I am. I'm scared, I'm really scared; I don't want to die because I'm getting trapped. "Trestle?"
He looks me up and down, then shrugs like he doesn't care at all. "Sorry Nell. Show has to go on." Trestle flashes me a grin that isn't sorry for anything, blows me a kiss- and runs.
"Trestle! Trestle you get back here! You can't leave me like this! Trestle!" I scream after him, but my words get all choked up 'cause I'm crying too hard. The vines have me down on the ground now, and they're pulling tight around my middle.
He left me. He didn't even help me, and I hate how Seeder was right; I hate it! She told me not to trust him, and I did, and now he's gone and left me.
I hate him.
I don't want to be here anymore; everything hurts so much. These vines are cutting into my feet, which are already too broken up to do anything with, and it feels like my whole body is on fire. Slowly, they're working their way up towards my neck, and then they're going to strangle me and leave me here all suffocated and dead, with my cannon going off for everyone to hear.
"Let me go," I mutter, struggling against these stupid plants. What're they made of; metal? They're not budging, not one bit.
So, this is it, then? I'm off to join Mamma in the District 11 graveyard? I know I've been trouble, but this is a pretty silly way to kill me, don't you think? Those Capitol people won't like me being strangled by some plants; I'm their Firecracker Nell!
Well, I'll tell you this. Firecracker Nell doesn't go down without a fight.
As hard as I can, I kick out and up, and actually rip out one of these vines, straight out of the ground. Unfortunately, another one takes its place, and another, and another, until I'm trussed up worse than one of those workers at home who sit in the stocks for a solid day.
Think of something else.
The orchards. That's what I decide to think about while the vines wrap around my neck and start to pull tighter, worming their way into my curly hair and into my mouth too. I gag on the bitter leafy taste of the plant.
Sitting high in the orchards with a stolen apple, 'cause the Peacekeepers will never see me up here. I'm sitting so that I can see the whole thing of District 11, and high enough that the mockingjays want to come and sing with me for a spell.
Can't breathe. I choke harder, gagging, and just about retch when a sprig of leaves tickles the back of my throat. Can't breathe.
No, no, I don't want to go. No! Let me go! I can't move, can't breathe, can't do anything but watch the spots start to dance in the corners of my eyes.
This hurts.
All at once, the vines go limp; the spots disappear and I sit up, coughing out the vines and ripping them off of me. What was that for then? Just playing with me? Well, I hope that was a good show for the audience, because it wasn't for me.
I jump up and quickly look myself over; everywhere that one of those vines grabbed me, I'm bleeding. Which means I'm bleeding all over, which is wonderful. Not really.
"Seeder! A little help here!" I croak, looking up to the treetops. I want to get away from this place really fast, just in case those vines start back up again. The Capitol's playing with me, just because it's good entertainment. If they were trying to scare me, that worked; my knees are shaking just as hard as a pear tree in the wind.
Guess Seeder was listening; a parachute drops down through the trees and lands right in my outstretched hand. "Thanks," I say as loud as I can, which isn't very loud at all right now. As fast as I can, I rip the package open; inside is a roll of bandages and a bottle of water.
I take the whole thing and stumble away from the vined area, over to where the trees thin out into a bit of a clearing, and where there's a big rock to sit on. My legs give out right as I reach the rock, and I just about clock my head on it before I pull myself up to sit right on top. Try to get me now, vines!
First, I rinse my mouth out from that awful leafy taste that the vines left behind; when I spit it out, I can taste and see blood. Guess the vines cut me- that's just awful. I'm not going to trust a thing in here ever again.
After I get the bitter taste out, I drink well over half of the whole bottle; I'm thirstier than a wilted plant. Pulling out the bandages, I wrap some around my feet, then snake them up around me where the bleeding's the worst, until I run out of the fabric. Better than nothing, I say, and my feet are protected now at least.
Trestle left me, even though he said he wouldn't; that we were friends and co-stars, and I believed him for some reason, even though I'm not an idiot. I tell you, everyone at home must be taking a big sigh of relief to see me out of trouble. Bit touch and go there if I tell the truth. And Trestle didn't even help me.
"Trestle Deadwood, I'm going to kill you!" I call as loud as I can. There's no cannon; I'm not dead! So our alliance is broken, and I'm not going to have one single problem killing him, 'cause he left me and broke his word, and you don't ever break your word. Doesn't matter where you are; District 6, 11, the Capitol, or even here in the arena. You don't break your word.
"Guess I'll fold you up and take you along," I tell the fabric part of the parachute. Might come in handy later. Maybe I am going a little mad; talking to a parachute. I can't not talk, though; quiet isn't in my nature! And Trestle's really an idiot, 'cause he ran off without taking the pack. Serves him right.
I don't see what hits my head, but I feel it; hard against my skull; hitting me so hard I topple sideways on the rock. Can't even scream; I'm confused. What's going on? What's- what's?
Somebody grabs my hair and yanks me backwards; I shriek. "Let go!" I try to yell, but it comes out way too quiet. Tribute, tribute. Who's the tribute?
"You're noisy," they whisper. It's a boy; I don't know who, I can't see him, don't know his voice. Who's left? Can't think; he's got me and my head is spinning.
"Let my hair go," I hiss at him.
"No. I'm keeping you here because I'm going home," he says, pulling my hair even harder.
"Please," I whisper. 4, 4; the number 4's running around my head like the mice at home. Home. 11. 4. Numbers. Numbers. Day 4. District 11.
Mamma. Aunt. Uncle. Rosa. Seeder.
I don't understand. I don't know what I don't understand, but I don't. Don't. What?
The hard thing hits my head again, and everything just fragments out, out, out. Mamma. 4. 11. Mockingjay. Songs. Apples.
My head clears a little, even though I'm spinning and floating up and down in the waves. Seeder, why aren't you helping me? You were a tribute, you can help me, can't you? 'Cause I can't help me right now. Can't even move when the rope or vine or something gets pulled around my neck tight, tighter than the vines before.
Can't breathe again. Stars. 4. 11. What? Hurts.
Hope Trestle doesn't win. I'm not going to.
I'm a Roots girl. Never a Fruit girl.
Didn't want to die. I am going to die.
Don't know who's killing me, though.
"Light, light, light,
Colors across the sky.
I will mourn forever, love,
When the time comes to say goodbye."
I'm saying goodbye. I guess my part in the show is over.
I love you. And I'm sorry I never said it proper. But I did.
No more air. Can't see, can't hear, can't breathe. But I hurt.
Will I hear my own cannon?
I'm scared.
There's dark, so much dark. Darker than the nights in 11.
And then.
Nothing.