Chapter Fifteen

After some deliberation, Dyson decided he was going to take his chances and go to the "feast". He knew it was dangerous, but the simple fact was that the idea of being able to obtain food without having to snare it or forage for it was just too tempting. Of course, he would have to run the gauntlet of the Careers, all four of whom were sure to be there, but he wasn't going unprepared. He had his machete and, while he might once have thought twice about attacking his fellow tributes with it, he was now more than ready to use it, to kill with it. And it wouldn't be in self-defence as with Pleat, nor an act of mercy as with Linus and Astra. It would be a deliberate act calculated to end the life of another human being.

Because most, if not all, of the other six human beings currently in the arena with him would be looking to kill him if the opportunity arose. So he had to make sure they wouldn't have that opportunity, which meant he would have to kill them first. Kill or be killed. The words echoed in his mind as, his machete in his hand, he hovered on the outskirts of the Cornucopia, waiting for the "feast" to begin. No doubt the same words were echoing in the minds of the other tributes who had chosen to attend, especially the Careers. Their pack must be disintegrating by now, if it hadn't already; any surviving tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 invariably turned on their allies in the latter stages of the Games. Everyone in the arena was an enemy. Everyone was a potential killer.

He could see the Cornucopia in front of him, the vast golden horn which, two weeks ago, had been filled with a bounty for which the tributes had fought and for which seven of them had died. Now, there was no sign of the bloodbath which had taken place here. The Cornucopia stood empty, though it wouldn't remain that way for long; when the appointed time came, the ground would open up to reveal the "feast" with which the Gamemakers had lured most, if not all, of the remaining tributes to this spot. And, as had been the case on the opening day, not all of them would leave this spot alive.

The sun was rising in the sky; noon couldn't be far off now. How far, though? Dyson had no watch and working out what time it was by the sun's position involved a degree of guesswork. But what he did know was that he would have to be ready, ready to run in and grab some food when the "feast" began, ready to get clear before any of the other tributes came after him. And, if necessary, he would have to be ready to fight, to kill.

His hand, the one which wasn't holding his machete, strayed to his throat, touching his crescent moon pendant through his shirt. The crescent moon pendant Paula had given him before he left District 5. Paula. She must be watching him right now, not that she had much choice, and she must be hoping that he would come through the "feast" alive. He pictured her in his mind's eye. Tall, reddish brown hair framing her face, attractive in a way he had only begun to notice after he had been reaped . . .


As the sun rose to its highest point in the sky, its light was reflected off the Cornucopia. At the same instant, a rumbling sound could be heard as the ground split open and a long trestle table slowly emerged into the arena. This table was laden with food of every description. Huge bunches of grapes. Platters of meat. Loaves of bread. A whole roast salmon garnished with lemons. An assortment of cakes. Bowls of fruit. Plates of vegetables. A variety of cheeses. Dyson's mouth watered at the sight of so much food, but he knew he must resist the urge to rush over and start stuffing himself. Aside from the fact that the Careers were probably lying in wait, eating too much too quickly would be asking for trouble now that he had grown used to living on very little food. So he waited, watching for any sign of his fellow tributes, before deciding it was safe to make his move.

As he prepared to sprint the short distance separating him from the Cornucopia, Dyson saw two pairs of tributes approaching from opposite directions. To his horror, one pair consisted of Bellona and Lupus, while the other comprised Dazzle and Fathom. Great. Now anyone who attempted to approach the table risked getting caught in a pincer movement, with the tributes from District 2 on one side and the girl from 1 and the boy from 4 on the other. If only he'd acted a fraction of a second faster, he might have been able to get to the Cornucopia, grab some food from the table and make his getaway before the Careers showed their faces. Now, however . . .

Just then, Bellona suddenly lowered her halberd into an attacking position and charged towards Fathom, with the spear pointed directly at him. Taken by surprise, Fathom barely managed to block her attack with the prongs of his trident, a move which Bellona countered by moving her halberd out of the way, then utilising one of her weapon's special features. In addition to having a combined spear point and axe head, the halberd had a hook which pointed in the opposite direction to the axe. A hook which could be used to trip your opponent. And that was what Bellona did now; lowering her halberd close to the ground, she caught Fathom round his ankle, knocking him clean off his feet. However, he managed to keep hold of his trident and was soon back on his feet, ready to continue the fight.

Dyson needed no-one to tell him what was happening, why Bellona and Fathom were fighting each other. The tributes from District 2 must have decided to use the "feast" as an excuse to take out their former allies. Which meant, depending on the outcome of this fight, District 4 could soon become the seventh district to be knocked out of the running, leaving 1, 2, 3, 5 and 9 as the only districts with tributes still in the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games. Of course, the battle could just as easily end with Fathom eliminating Bellona. Either way, it was clear that both tributes meant business; their faces, set into expressions as hard as the stone quarried in District 2, said neither of them was going to let up until one had succeeded in killing the other.

In the meantime, Dazzle, knowing the District 2 tributes would team up against her if Bellona killed Fathom, started shouting encouragement to the District 4 boy. Bellona and Lupus had her outnumbered by two to one; she wouldn't stand a chance against both of them. But, if Fathom killed Bellona, he and Dazzle would be able to work together and eliminate Lupus from the Games. So she wanted Fathom to win this, even though she knew she would have to try to kill him as soon as they had finished off Lupus, not to mention the kids from 3, 5 and 9.

"Go on, Fathom! You can do it!"

At the same time, Lupus began to cheer for Bellona, urging his district partner to "finish" their former ally. He was well aware that, if Bellona won this, the Games might come down to the two of them, but his upbringing in District 2 meant he was prepared to kill anyone who stood between him and victory, including his district partner. But not just yet. Even after Fathom was eliminated, he planned to keep Bellona alive until all the remaining tributes apart from themselves were dead and then . . .

Then he and Bellona would give the Capitol a show.


Dyson, seeing that the Careers were distracted by the fight, decided it was now or never. With Dazzle and Lupus focused on Bellona and Fathom, who were circling each other with their weapons poised to attack, he took his chance and ran towards the table. Seeing all that food laid out before him after two weeks living on whatever he could scavenge was almost enough to make him lose control. Almost, but not quite. He knew his stomach would no longer be able to cope with so much rich food; it had been a struggle for him to hold onto the meal he'd been served on the train which had brought him and Astra to the Capitol. If he tried to eat the same amount of food now, it was sure to come straight back up.

So he ignored the salmon, the rich cakes, the meats dripping in sauces. Instead, he picked up two apples, a loaf of bread and a small hunk of cheese, placing them in his backpack. Simple, plain food. Then, before any of the Careers could spot him, he made a quick retreat, breaking into a run as soon as he was clear of the Cornucopia. It was too dangerous to stick around; the cannon could sound at any moment and, when it did, whoever had survived the fight between Bellona and Fathom would be on the hunt along with the other two Careers. His only chance was to put as much distance as possible between them and himself.

But he knew he couldn't avoid them forever. Sooner or later, and with so few tributes left in the arena it would probably be sooner, he would have to face them. And, when he did, his fate would be determined, one way or the other.


Back at the Cornucopia, Bellona succeeded in tripping Fathom a second time. This time, he lost hold of his trident. a fact Bellona was quick to take advantage of. Before he could even think about trying to retrieve his weapon, she swung her halberd, aiming the axe part directly at his head. The blade cleaved right through his skull, killing him instantly, his death announced by the cannon booming out across the arena. As Bellona stood over the body of her victim, her hands still on her weapon's shaft, Lupus threw back his head and let out his trademark wolf howl.

"Way to go!" he shouted, running over to his district partner and clapping her on her shoulders. "I knew you could do it!"

Bellona pulled her halberd free from Fathom's skull; it came away covered in blood and what she suspected were parts of the District 4 boy's brain, but she gave no thought to that. "All right," she said, as Fathom's lifeless body slumped to the ground, a gaping wound in his head. "Who's next?"

Before Lupus could reply, a dark-haired figure suddenly appeared on the scene and ran towards the Cornucopia, where she grabbed two chicken legs and a banana. Synthia from District 3, though none of the Careers had expected her to last this long, especially after they killed her district partner on the opening night. Yet here she was, in the final six. Soon to be the final five, they vowed as Synthia stood in front of the enormous spread the Gamemakers had laid out as bait for the tributes, debating whether to take her chances and grab more food or cut her losses and run. In the end, she hesitated a fraction of a second too long. She turned around and tried to make her escape, only to run right into Dazzle.

"And where do you think you're going?" the District 1 girl asked, as Bellona and Lupus jogged over to join her. All three Careers looked at Synthia in a way which told her they were going to make sure she did not leave the Cornucopia alive. Their pack might have split into two factions, one of which now had just one member, but there were still three of them and only one of her. So, if they worked together one more time, it shouldn't take too much effort to bring her down.

Synthia bolted. But instead of fleeing into the vast expanse of moorland that made up the arena, she ran towards the Cornucopia and began to climb up the side. She knew the Careers would be after her if she tried to escape, that her odds of getting away were slim, that they would show her no mercy if they caught her. But, if she stuck around here, they would kill her anyway. She was doomed whatever she did, but at least she could make a final stand against the Careers. Not that there was much she could do, armed with only a slingshot against Dazzle's sword, Bellona's halberd and Lupus's mace - and she'd just seen the kind of damage Bellona could do with her weapon. Trying not to look at Fathom, lying on the ground with his head split open, she reached the top of the Cornucopia and perched herself over the mouth of the golden horn. Next, she pulled her slingshot and a rock out of her backpack.

Synthia placed the rock on her slingshot, drew back the elastic between the two prongs and let fly. The rock hit Bellona on the shoulder, causing her to cry out in pain; Synthia quickly followed through with two more rocks, one of which caught Lupus in the middle, while the third narrowly missed Dazzle's head. As she prepared to fire a fourth rock, Synthia looked down at the Careers from her vantage point, daring them to come after her. She knew she couldn't win against them, that she would run out of rocks sooner or later, but if she could hold them off as long as possible . . .

Rock number four flew through the air, catching Bellona right between the eyes. "Ow!" The District 2 girl felt something wet and sticky trickling down her face, her own blood. Wiping her forehead on her sleeve, she turned to the other two Careers. "Come on! Let's get her!" And, with that, she, Dazzle and Lupus ran towards the Cornucopia and began climbing after Synthia.


A movement behind her caused Synthia to turn round, her slingshot still in her hand, to see the Careers climbing up to join her on the roof of the Cornucopia. First Bellona, then Lupus, then Dazzle, all three readying their weapons to attack the moment they stood atop the golden horn. Synthia gulped, knowing her slingshot was useless at such close range, not that it would do her much good against the Careers anyway, especially if she ran out of rocks; her only chance was to jump off the Cornucopia, hope she didn't hurt herself in the fall and make a run for it. Even then, there were no guarantees she would get very far.

Before she could decide between the Careers and their weapons and the possibility of injuring herself at the worst possible time, she looked down to find herself impaled on Dazzle's sword. As Dazzle, a triumphant grin on her face, pulled her blade free, a red patch began to spread across the front of Synthia's jacket. Synthia's face bore an expression of stunned disbelief; she hadn't even felt the blade go in. Then, as everything around her went black, she toppled over backwards and fell off the Cornucopia, landing on the ground beside the table of food.

Boom!

The cannon sounded, letting Dazzle, Bellona and Lupus know District 3 had joined the list of districts that now had no living tributes. One by one, they climbed down from the Cornucopia and jogged over to where Synthia lay, her eyes open but seeing nothing, the front of her jacket stained with blood, her fingers still clutching her slingshot. Bellona knelt beside her and quickly confirmed what the cannon had already told them. "So much for her," she said, standing up and turning her back on Synthia's corpse. "She was a fool to take on the three of us by herself, especially if all she had was that slingshot."

Both Dazzle and Lupus nodded in agreement. "Come on," Lupus added. "We'd better get out of here so they can collect the bodies." He gestured towards Synthia and Fathom, who lay where they had fallen, Synthia right next to the Cornucopia, Fathom a little further out but still within the ring in which the tributes had stood on the opening day. The latest fatalities of the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games, but not the last; there were still four more tributes to be eliminated and he was determined to do whatever it took to make sure he wasn't one of those four. Including killing Dazzle and Bellona, but that could wait. The boy from District 5 and the girl from District 9 were still alive and, while he was confident any one of the three remaining Careers could take them down, he wanted to be sure there would be no way they could escape. And that meant keeping his former allies alive a little longer.

And, with that, the Careers walked away from the Cornucopia, united only by the desire to make sure one of them was the last tribute standing.


Dyson had heard the cannon go off while making his escape from the Cornucopia. Another dead tribute. Having seen part of the fight between Bellona and Fathom, he knew it had to be one of them, but he would have no way of knowing which until the death recap. Talking of which, the surviving members of the Career pack could be after him by now and, if he had to face all three alone, it was a stone cold certainty that he would be appearing in the sky tonight, along with whoever had just died at the Gamemakers' "feast". So he ran on, not stopping for anything, hoping against hope that he would be able to evade the Careers for at least one more day. He'd lasted two weeks in the arena, longer than he'd expected when Janus called his name at the reaping and he took his place on the stage alongside Astra, but how much longer would he be able to stay alive?

Another cannon sounded. Five tributes left, including himself. The betting must really be hotting up in the Capitol, not that he had time to think about that. His main concern was his fellow tributes, especially the Careers. At least two of them had already turned on each other, with fatal consequences for one of them, but there was still a risk that the remaining Careers would regroup long enough to hunt down whoever was left out of the tributes from the other nine districts. Which meant he would have to be prepared for an encounter with someone from District 1, 2 or 4, hopefully in a one-on-one fight; any more than that and he wouldn't have a chance. Unlike the Dyson Kinsella who had entered the arena, he was prepared to kill, but that didn't mean he was about to take on the entire Career pack (what was left of it) by himself. His plan was to lie low for the next few days, watch the sky at the end of each day to see who had been eliminated and prepare himself for the fight of his life.

Which would be a fight for his life, almost certainly against a Career; the final two usually included at least one tribute from 1, 2 or 4. First, though, he would have to outlast three more tributes and there were no guarantees that he would be able to do that, much less succeed in killing his final opponent in these Games. Nonetheless, he was going to do his best to win; that was what he had promised Tia before he left for the Capitol and that was all he could do.

Whether as a living victor or a corpse in a wooden box, he would soon be back in District 5.