Chapter Seventeen

Dyson felt for the crescent moon pendant around his neck and held it between his thumb and forefinger, recalling the moment when Paula had given it to him. The one reminder of home he'd been allowed to bring into the arena and it had come from one of his two best friends. No, more than that; he'd noticed right when Paula, along with Trent, came to say goodbye and she gave him her pendant that she was rather attractive, that he was becoming attracted to her. He hadn't said anything at the time because there didn't seem to be any point, not when he was heading for the Hunger Games. All the same, he couldn't help remembering the way his body had reacted when she kissed him.

Would he ever be able to kiss her back? Not too long ago, the answer would have been no; he didn't think she would see him again, not alive anyway. However, he had managed to outlive twenty-two other tributes, including all but one of the Career pack, so maybe . . .

Maybe there was a chance he would get out of here alive. He just had to win the final confrontation between himself and Lupus and he would be lifted out of the arena as the sixty-eighth person to win the Hunger Games. Of course, that meant Lupus would leave the arena as a corpse, but Dyson refused to think about that. He and Lupus were the last two tributes standing and that meant one of them had to kill the other; that was just how the Games worked. All the same, he knew Lupus wouldn't be easy to kill, that there was a reason District 2 had produced more victors than any other district.

"You just have to do your best."

In his mind, he heard himself saying the words he'd said to Tia when Rodd and Zeta brought her to the Justice Building to say goodbye. At the time, he hadn't expected to last very long, much less make it into the final two. What was Tia thinking right now? What was everyone in District 5 thinking as they prepared to watch one of their tributes vie for the crown? In the previous sixty-seven Hunger Games, eleven tributes from 5 had made it this far, the most recent until now being a girl named Keren from the Fifty-fourth Games. Eleven finalists, of whom only Aurora, Piper and Rik had gone on to win. Not exactly the most favourable odds, especially when your final opponent was from District 2 . . .

Suddenly, Dyson became aware of a screeching sound coming from somewhere overhead and crawled out of his cave to investigate. Looking up, he saw a large swarm of bats, hundreds strong, flying through the darkening sky, heading towards . . . They were heading towards his location, homing in with such pinpoint accuracy that he quickly realised they were not ordinary bats, but some of the Gamemakers' mutts. Mutts. He and Astra had evaded the mosquito mutts they'd encountered earlier in the Games by taking refuge in a cave. Could he use the same tactic to dodge these mutts? Bats lived in caves, but the one he'd been sheltering in was too small for the size of the swarm, so he should be safe from most of them - if he could get inside.

He turned to run back to his cave, only for several bats to swoop down and start biting him with their sharp fangs. He tried to swat them away with his machete, but they only regrouped and flew at him again. After two more attempts to take refuge in his cave ended in him getting bitten by the bats, he came to the grim realisation that he wasn't supposed to take refuge from them, that they had been sent to drive him towards the spot where the final battle of the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games would take place.

Towards Lupus.


Driven on by the bat mutts, Dyson soon saw the Cornucopia looming in front of him, lit up by a full moon that was far too bright to be natural. Which it probably wasn't; not only could the Gamemakers manipulate the weather in the arena, they could manipulate the light levels as well. At the Sixty-first Games, they'd even caused a twenty-four hour blackout, which left any tributes who had managed to obtain a flashlight or a pair of night-vision goggles at the Cornucopia at a considerable advantage as they were able to see the other tributes, but the other tributes couldn't see them, enabling them to sneak up on their victims in the dark. Of the eight tributes who were alive when the blackout began, only the boys from Districts 1 and 2 and the girl from 6 remained when it was over. The Games had concluded less than twelve hours later.

Now the time had come for this year's Games to reach their conclusion. Dyson could see Lupus standing in the mouth of the Cornucopia, a spiked mace in his hand and a grim expression on his face. The same expression he'd worn when he volunteered. The expression which said he was prepared to kill whoever stood between him and the victor's crown. Dyson felt his heart pounding in his chest at the sight of the spikes on Lupus's mace, imagining what it would feel like to have those spikes smashed into his skull. Would he die quickly, or would Lupus draw it out as long as possible? Would he, even if he lost this fight, at least be able to inflict a few wounds on Lupus with his machete? He hoped so; the last thing he wanted was to go down without a fight, especially after making it this far when he hadn't expected to last long in the arena.

Seconds which felt like hours passed before Lupus spoke. "So you got here at last." It was a statement, not a question. Another swarm of bat mutts was flying around nearby, having no doubt been used to drive Lupus to this spot, just as Dyson had been driven here by the bats he'd encountered.

Dyson did not reply, choosing to save his breath for the fighting. He took a few moments to compose himself, then stepped into the area marked by the circle of plates on which the tributes had stood at the start of the Games. Twenty-four of them from twelve districts. Now only two remained, himself and Lupus, and they must fight it out until one of them was killed. An eighteen-year-old who had spent his life preparing for this moment versus a fifteen-year-old who had never wanted to be in the Games and had first picked up a weapon only three weeks ago. It seemed all the odds were in Lupus's favour, but there had to be a way of beating him, Dyson thought; after all, there had been other tributes from the outlying districts who'd faced off against a Career in the final two - and survived.

The two boys locked eyes, their weapons poised ready to fight, as the bats began circling overhead. "Let's get this over with," Lupus said, as Dyson nodded grimly in reply and tightened his grip on his machete.

And, with that, they charged towards each other and the battle to determine the victor of the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games began.


Lupus swung his mace, aiming it at Dyson's shoulder, knowing a blow to this part of his opponent's anatomy might incapacitate him, but would not be fatal, at least not right away. He'd planned on giving the Capitol a show and, while he would have preferred to be facing off against Bellona, thereby guaranteeing a District 2 victory no matter which tribute was left standing at the end, Dyson would do just as well. He meant to kill him, but not just yet; he wanted to draw this out as long as possible before delivering the final blow. The Capitol liked to see a little action when it came to Hunger Games finales and, after the slow start to this year's Games, he was going to give them that action.

Just as Lupus's mace was about to make contact with his shoulder, Dyson moved aside, avoiding the blow. He then swung his machete wildly, slashing the blade across Lupus's face, leaving a wound going diagonally down the District 2 boy's left cheek. "Damn you!" Lupus shouted as it dawned on him that his opponent had drawn blood, blood which he could feel pouring down his cheek. But he paid no heed to that, instead choosing to focus on aiming another blow with his mace. This time, he found his target, smashing the spikes on his metal club into Dyson's thigh and causing him to stagger back from the impact. However, the blow was not enough to break the leg and Dyson was able to remain standing, though he needed a moment to catch his breath.

Suddenly, both tributes felt something brush against their necks and looked up to see several of the bat mutts fluttering around them. Seconds later, one of the bats bit Lupus with its sharp fangs, as one of the others did the same to Dyson; the Gamemakers had programmed them to fly in and attack the moment there was the slightest pause in the action, meaning the only way Lupus and Dyson could avoid being bitten was to carry on fighting no matter what. Dyson, realising this, thrust his machete forward, aiming for Lupus's stomach, as Lupus used his mace to block the attack. The bats immediately flew back up to rejoin their fellow mutts, ready to attack again in the event of another lull.

Not that there was much chance of that. Realising his strategy of drawing the final battle out as long as possible would only get both of them bitten again, and there was no telling what effect a bite from a mutt might have on its victim, Lupus unleashed a flurry of blows against Dyson, striking him with his mace on every part of his anatomy he could reach. Dyson countered by slashing and stabbing with his machete, occasionally drawing blood, but for the most part Lupus had the upper hand. The bats continued to fly over the battlefield, occasionally swooping low to remind the combatants of their presence, though they did not bite either of them, as their programming only permitted them to attack if there was any let-up in the fighting.

As Lupus brought his mace crashing down on Dyson's arm, a sickening crunch told him the blow had fractured the bones, rendering the arm useless. Luckily for Dyson, it was his non-dominant left arm, so he was able to keep hold of his machete, but it was painful all the same and it was all he could do to keep from crying out. But he was not going to give Lupus the satisfaction, so he gritted his teeth, forced himself to ignore the pain and carried on fighting with his broken arm dangling limply at his side.


Tia cringed as Lupus's mace fractured Dyson's arm. That had to hurt; she knew from experience how painful broken bones could be, having broken her wrist falling from the jungle gym at school when she was seven. Her arm had been in a cast for several weeks, but she'd hurt herself by accident, not because someone hit her with a mace, not because someone was trying to kill her. As Lupus was trying to kill Dyson and, from the look of things, he might succeed. And that would leave her without a brother for the first time in her life.

She wished she could help Dyson, but there was nothing she could do. Dyson was in the arena, literally fighting for his live, whereas she was in District 5, watching the Games on television with Rodd and Zeta. And everyone else in Panem was doing the same, even the twenty-two families who had already lost loved ones to this year's Games. They had no choice; thanks to a law which had been passed nearly sixty years ago, the entire population was forced to watch the Games, especially important events like the final battle.

Knowing her parents were unable to switch the television off because of the microchip which activated whenever there was any mandatory programming scheduled, she had tried closing her eyes during the more violent moments. This, however, did nothing to shut out the sounds of battle and she could still hear the brutal blows Lupus and Dyson, mostly Lupus, were inflicting on each other. She hadn't been this scared watching the Games since she was six years old and had crawled into Zeta's lap, whimpering, as Enobaria, the District 2 girl who'd won the Games that year, literally tore out another tribute's throat with her bare teeth. Afterwards, she had asked Zeta why the Capitol made everyone watch "such a horrible show."

"To remind us who's in charge," Zeta had replied, before adding that neither Tia nor Dyson must ever call the Hunger Games "a horrible show" again. They could think it, but they mustn't say it out loud or the Peacekeepers would punish them. Just as they'd punished a man named Alvin Gregory, who'd tried to rescue his daughter, Faye, after she was reaped in the same year Enobaria became a victor. He'd run onto the stage and tried to grab Faye from the clutches of the Peacekeepers who were about to escort her into the Justice Building, only for two more Peacekeepers to overpower him, leaving him unable to do anything to prevent his daughter from being taken from him. Afterwards, everyone in District 5, including the families of the tributes, had been forced to watch as Alvin was made to kneel in the very spot where Faye had been standing minutes before. A Peacekeeper, one who had not been involved in the incident, approached with a pistol and pressed it against Alvin's temple. Seconds later, the Peacekeeper discharged a bullet directly into Alvin's brain, killing him instantly. A reminder to all present that dissent against the Hunger Games would not be tolerated.

Six years on, Tia still thought the Hunger Games were "horrible", though her vocabulary was a little more sophisticated than it had been when she was six. She hated the fact that the Capitol took kids from the districts and forced them to murder each other. She hated the fact that everyone was made to watch the killings on television. And she especially hated the fact that her brother had been among those picked to take part this year. He'd lasted longer than she'd expected, but he could still die at any moment, especially with Lupus as his final opponent. She'd seen tributes from District 2 in action before and knew how ruthless they could be, particularly if they made it this far. They were prepared to kill anyone who stood between them and victory - and Lupus was no exception.

If only she could make it so that no-one had to fight in the Hunger Games again. But what could she do? The Capitol was powerful and they had other methods besides the Games of keeping the districts in line. Summary justice and harsh punishments for "crimes" ranging from failing to meet quotas to speaking out against the Capitol had been part of life in Panem since before the rebellion that had led to the creation of the Games. How could one girl stop all that?


Back in the arena, Dyson knew he couldn't last much longer. In pain from his broken arm, not to mention the other injuries Lupus had inflicted on him, he felt like he was going to collapse at any moment, at which point Lupus would finish him off, his cannon would sound and Lupus would be declared the victor. Unless there was some way he could turn things around, as he'd seen tributes do in previous years, he would soon be out of the Games and out of the world of the living. But what could he do?

Could he use the bats that were still flying overhead? He recalled seeing the highlights from the Games in which Ruth from District 9 won by pushing her final opponent out of the ring of plates around the Cornucopia, to be set upon by a flock of crow mutts. Could he try something similar with the bats? After all, they were mutts too and mutts were invariably bred as living weapons for the Capitol, though these mutts had so far done nothing worse than swoop down and bite himself and Lupus if there was any lull in their battle. But what would happen if he deliberately provoked the bats to attack? And how would he be able to make sure they killed Lupus while leaving him (mostly) unharmed?

On second thoughts, it was too risky. He was in much worst shape than Lupus, having taken a severe beating from the District 2 boy, who had only received a few slashes in return. If the bats were to attack now, they would almost certainly kill him, especially if they attacked in force. Besides, if he told Lupus they had to stop fighting, Lupus was bound to suspect something was up and that could encourage him to deliver the final blow before Dyson had a chance to see if his plan to get the bats to attack would work.

Encourage him to deliver the final blow . . . That was it. He must get Lupus within striking distance by making it look as though he was almost dead, meaning all Lupus had to do was move in for the kill. Except, if this plan worked, it would be Lupus who was killed. It was risky, but he had nothing to lose if it failed - except his life. So, his broken arm dangling limply at his side, his body aching all over from the blows he had received from Lupus's mace, he staggered a few steps and allowed himself to fall to his knees, then slumped forward, seemingly in defeat. His eyes were still open, so he was able to see when Lupus's feet in their black lace-up boots, the same boots worn by all the tributes, appeared inches from his face.

Lupus paused for a moment, as if he was waiting for something; this led to several bats flying down and biting him and Dyson painfully on their necks. Dyson had to force himself not to cry out. As he was feigning unconsciousness, the slightest sound from him would give the game away, which was the last thing he wanted when he was taking such a desperate gamble, a gamble which could cost him his life.

Lupus looked down at his opponent, lying on the ground, apparently on the verge of death. It seemed to be taking the cannon rather a long time to fire, he thought to himself. Well, he would soon fix that. He moved closer to Dyson and raised his mace above his head, ready to smash the District 5 boy's skull in and end the Games. In just a few moments, the cannon would boom out across the arena one last time, followed by the blaring of the trumpets which would herald another victory for District 2 and give him another chance to let everyone in Panem hear his imitation of a wolf's howl. But, before Lupus could even bring his mace down on Dyson's head, Dyson abruptly grabbed his ankle and, the next thing he knew, he was on his back, with Dyson sitting astride his chest, using his legs to pin Lupus's arms to the ground, preventing him from using his mace.

Ordinarily, Lupus would have been able to fight Dyson off easily. He was a trained fighter, whereas Dyson had only learned how to handle weapons after he arrived in the Capitol and had never used them against another human being until he entered the arena. But Dyson's attack was completely unexpected and Lupus had no time to even think about pushing him off and making another attempt to kill him with his mace before the sharp blade of Dyson's machete was thrust into his chest, directly over his heart. The last thing Lupus saw before the darkness claimed him was the twisted, almost feral look on Dyson's face as he drove his weapon in.

Dyson stabbed Lupus a few more times, only stopping when the cannon sounded to let him know there was no need for him to attack further. He climbed off Lupus and looked down at the bloodstained machete in his hand, the machete with which he had killed four of his fellow tributes; Pleat, Linus, Astra and now Lupus had died at his hands, though Lupus was the only one he'd deliberately set out to kill. Of the other three, Pleat had been killed on the spur of the moment and he'd killed Linus and Astra to spare them the agonising deaths they would have suffered otherwise. Lupus, however . . .

As Dyson staggered away from Lupus's corpse, the pain from his broken arm, the other injuries he'd received from Lupus's mace and the bites from the bats, combined with exhaustion from the lengthy battle he'd just fought, made him feel light-headed and dizzy. The ground appeared to lurch as it had done when he was affected by the poison the mosquito mutts had injected into him, causing him to fall to his knees. This time, it was no act, no trick to make his opponent think he was beaten; he had genuinely reached the limits of his physical endurance.

The last thing he heard before slipping into unconsciousness was the sound of trumpets, followed by Claudius Templesmith announcing to the whole of Panem that Dyson Kinsella from District 5, the boy who'd only scored a three in training, had won the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games.