Veda Keate- District Nine female (16)
Near the edge of the town there was a dirty-looking saloon. The downstairs had alcohol and a little scattered food among the tables and the bar and things like that. There was a dance floor that was eerie in its silence and emptiness. Some of the tables had cards on them. I indulged my wicked side by peeking at them. I half-expected to see undressed ladies but they just had hearts and spades and numbers. Back home I wasn't supposed to dance or play cards. It seemed pretty silly when I was looking at those innocuous little cardboard squares. It was just a game. You didn't have to gamble when you played.
Upstairs there was something like a hotel. There hadn't been any sign on there door about hotel rooms but there were about a dozen upstairs. I took the one by the window, hoping I could escape if the Careers came. It also meant the Careers could sneak in the window but I was kind of just hoping they didn't. If I was lucky they'd work from the center of the town outwards and it would take them a long time to get to me.
What do I need to do next, I thought. I was trying to always be thinking of something so my mind didn't go back to Petra and trying to process all that. I really didn't want to do that. I didn't know what to think or how to feel and it was all just too upsetting when I already had so much to stress over. If I got out then I could mourn her.
ANYWAY, I need food, water and shelter. Shelter was taken care of, obviously. The sausages and crackers behind the bar would last me at least a week. There were basins of water in each of the hotel rooms but that was still my biggest worry. Food could be stretched pretty far but people needed to drink a lot of water and there was no way around that. The water in the basins would evaporate eventually and if I went outside to the horse trough the Careers might see me.
I went down to the bar and stared at the rows of bottles. Look at all that devil water, I thought jokingly as I looked at the forbidden drinks. Whiskey, rum, beer, names I didn't even recognize... I didn't see any bottles of water. Would it hydrate me like water? The thought seemed scandalous but in my heart of hearts I'd already decided survival had to come first. Honestly I felt like if God loved me he'd want me to live and he was the one who made alcohol intoxicating, not me. If he didn't want me to do it then he'd send me more water. But I still didn't know If alcohol even worked like water. Wasn't it a poison, sort of? If you drank too much you died. Your kidneys had to filter it and all that. That implied it took energy to get it out of your blood. It might take more energy than you got from the alcohol... that and I didn't want to be fall-down drunk if the Careers found me.
I'll stick with the basins right now and cross that bridge when I have to, I decided. I retreated back upstairs to my bedroom and opened the closet door to look at all the fancy dresses. Someone very rich must have stayed in the room last. There were all sorts of frilly red and black dresses. Also a bunch of undergarments, which I blushingly threw into the back of the closet. It wasn't for me but it must have been kind of fun to wear a dress like that and dance on that big dance floor.
Wait a minute. I turned and looked around the room as a horrible thought started to form. A bar downstairs. A big dancing floor. Card tables. Rooms upstairs with only beds and closets full of dresses and underwear. Oh nooooo... This was no saloon. I was in a cathouse.
Talise Cicero- District Four female (16)
I walked back to the general store with a stitch in my side and naggingly short breath. Alice, who was guarding our supplies, saw me coming and came out the front door with her hands on her hips.
"Wait till I see the other guy?" she asked hopefully, both about my condition and the cannon.
"The other guy was Brock," I said.
"He come at you?" Alice asked, more intrigued than betrayed.
"No, we found the circus alliance. We shot Skada and Irina but Irina got the gun away from Brock and shot him," I said. It was frustrating to be down another member so early but we were still a strong group. If we used our weapons wisely there was no reason we still shouldn't dominate this thing.
"Also Irina threw a pot lid at me," I said as I gingerly sat down.
"I'll take a look. Not that I'm really a doctor," Alice said. She came over as I tugged my shirt up to reveal a giant purple bruise.
"This might hurt," Alice said. She gently touched the spot. I wrinkled my face at the pain but it wasn't bad enough to flinch. Alice lightly ran her finger over the area and pulled it away.
"I don't feel any breaks," she offered. "I think it's just a really gross bruise. Can you still go fight them?"
"I can make it work," I said. I wouldn't be doing any sprinting and I'd have to be cautious but I didn't want to lose our chance. The circus folk knew we knew where they were and they'd likely be moving out as soon as possible. Those booby-traps had been just a warning system. They weren't enough to keep off a full assault.
"Great. Mal said he'd check back in for lunch. I don't know where Juniper got off to," Alice said. She stood up and started toward one of the shelves. "Maybe they have some first aid stuff around here."
I gently stood and went after her. The general store had a little bit of everything and one of the shelves was full of medical-looking glass bottles.
"Any idea what 'lecithin' does?" Alice asked, holding a brown glass bottle up to the light.
"No, so I guess I better not take it," I said. "This one's sarsaparilla. Isn't that just root beer?"
Alice poked at the cork in the bottle, trying to unwedge it. After a few moments of prodding she finally stabbed the cork with a hunting knife and sort of gouged it out. She gave it a sniff.
"Yeah that's just root beer," she said.
"Sure hope none of us end up actually needing medicine," I said.
Callum Rosencrans- District Eleven male (18)
The best thing in my life was gone but my life was still going on. It seemed stupid that I was still alive when all my happiness had been cut out of me. Life isn't just breathing and eating. It's everything you do and everyone you're connected with. First life cut me off from everyone around me and made me a pariah for reasons I didn't even understand and then it took the one good thing I had. It was one final blow that I didn't intend to endure. All my life I'd tried to fit in and make something of myself. From now on the only person I wanted to please was me.
You want an outcast? Then I'll be one. I'll give you a reason to hate me.
Even in my anger I wasn't heartless. I didn't want to just go out and murder anyone I came across. More accurately I did want to but I wasn't going to let myself. It wasn't the other Tributes' fault I was here. I wouldn't kill most of them unless they were going to kill me. But the Careers were another story. It was a Career who killed Stevie. Even as I thought it I realized the only way I would ever know which one it had been was to survive and win the Games. And if I managed to kill her murderer before that point, all the better.
As I expected, I didn't even need to go hunting the Careers. Malcolm came to me. By the time I noticed him he'd probably been stalking me for some time as I rummaged through a tool shed looking for weapons. I came out with a crowbar, which I held at my side, and an iron washboard, which I concealed up my shirt. My plan involved taking a huge risk but somehow I went ahead anyway. Probably it was because a part of me was ready to get it over with and just die. The rational part of my brain said Malcolm would aim for center mass with such an unreliable weapon. It was just that tiny dark part of me that didn't care if he didn't.
I barely saw the glitter of Malcolm's pistol before he shot me from his hidden perch around the corner of a livery shop maybe twenty feet away. For once luck was with me and the bullet hit squarely on the washboard. Had it missed entirely I would have had to fake an impact but the bullet knocked me off my feet like a massive punch. My clothing muffled the sound of metal on metal and I twisted as I fell to turn the bloodless wound away from Malcolm's view.
It would take perfect timing to pull off my plan. I heard the crunching of boots on dirt as Malcolm walked toward me to make sure I was fatally wounded. When he was about five feet away, already raising the gun for a finishing shot from a safe distance, I flipped over and threw the hammer at him. He threw up his arm to bat it away from his face and I heard him grunt in pain as I swept out my crowbar and smashed it into his right ankle. I flopped onto his pistol arm as he fell, pinning it down and grabbing for the weapon. I raised the crowbar to bring down into Malcolm's stomach like a spike. He grabbed it and threw himself sideways to try to get on top of me. He brought his head forward and cracked it against mine, bringing tears to my eyes. I ignored them and craned my neck to chomp onto his ear. I felt my teeth grind through flesh and clack together as a chunk of ear came loose in my mouth as Malcolm screamed. I jammed my finger into the trigger guard as Malcolm tried to bring the pistol up to my face. Desperately I yanked the trigger as fast as I could, sending bullets shooting harmlessly into the air until the gun clicked empty. It was hand-to-hand combat.
Malcolm shoved his hand forward, jamming the barrel of the pistol into my eye. I felt metal scraping against my eye jelly as my eye socket deflected the worst of the blow. I shoved the gun away and Malcolm redirected it to point down at my throat. He threw an arm over the pistol for extra weight and bore down to bring it crushing against my adam's apple. I frantically grabbed at it and shoved it aside just as my vision went white and my thoughts scattered. I barely knew what was happening as Malcolm sat up, his elbow passing by my eye as he retracted it after slamming it into my temple. There was a metallic ringing in my ears as I lay stunned, watching almost drunkenly as Malcolm gripped the pistol by its barrel and swung it down toward my forehead like a bludgeon.
See? I thought as I watched the glittering barrel. I was right. There's nothing worth staying for in this world. No happy endings. No real friends. It's all just take before someone else does.
15th place: Callum Rosencrans, District Eleven male- Bludgeoned to death by Malcolm
I would have gone more into Malcolm's post-Stevie development but the votes (-5) called for him to die here. Because of that I had to go with a shorter vengeance story that would have been more complex if I'd had more time. Callum was a sometimes bitter and moody teenager so I used that to lead him to this end. His egotistic streak let him think he could challenge a Career and his fatalism spurred him on though he knew it might not work. He gave it a good go but Malcolm's martial arts skills are better than his marksmanship. Thanks Lindsey for Callum and it's a bummer I couldn't do a more detailed story for him.
Timeline: this chapter happened right after the circus house brawl. Malcolm was fighting Callum precisely as Alice and Talise were waiting for him to come back.