Krunk Wickersly, District Twelve male
The Bloodbath was a matter of life and death. Everything was determined by how you reacted to it. If you didn't act quickly and confidently, you would die. If you panicked, it was over. Panic did strange things to people. It had nothing to do with your appearance. Sylvester and Hax both froze, though Hax was big enough to give even Troy trouble. None of that mattered, since he was shot before twenty seconds had passed. Everyone thought they would do something in a crisis. No one ever thought they would become incapacitated with panic and do nothing but scream. Calanthe was still on her platform as Olivine ran up to her and stabbed her. Calanthe screamed and cried and never took a single step.
Later on I remembered all of that and dozens more details about the Bloodbath. There were screams and fights all around me as I ran to the supplies and grabbed the pickaxe. It was awkward enough that I didn't risk taking anything else. It was just like when someone came to our station in critical condition. You focused and got the job done because if you did anything wrong someone would die.
Logan and Velvet made it through the Bloodbath with me. I was glad to see Logan was still in this. He was a formidable fighter and had experience with life-or-death situations. He was also a cool guy and fun to hang out with.
It was my idea to start the fire. I'd always liked fire. It was dangerous and drew attention so I hardly ever got the chance to start one. I could only imagine how huge and impressive a fire would be in this Arena. Most importantly, it could wipe out any number of Tributes. This was no place to shy away from something because of moral qualms.
"Yeah but we'll burn, too!" Logan protested. Velvet had been sniped by a Career a few days ago.
"We'll pull out some grass to make a firebreak to give us time," I said. "And if it doesn't work… that's the Games." Big risk, big reward. We either died or took out nearly all of our competition. If we didn't make a move then the Careers would make one for us.
"You're crazy," Logan said, more impressed than disdainful. Sometimes gambles pay off and sometimes you lose big. That thrill of a bet gone well always lured me back.
The fire took off like a shot. I'd barely tapped the rocks together before a spark arced up and hit a thin, dry blade of grass. The warm golden glow of a smoldering stalk spread into a sheet of vibrating, scintillating flame growing larger every second. I looked back at it with awe as Logan and I took off running. It was going to burn down the entire Arena.
The cannons started one after another as we ran through fields streaked orange and red with swimming bands of fire, almost inaudible over the crackles and pops and screams. The first one was followed only seconds later by another, then another. Half a dozen cannons. Ten cannons. A dozen.
"That's a lot of cannons," Logan said as we stood bent-over and catching our breath after reaching the edge of the scorched air that licked at our throats as we ran. A hitch in my side pricked me with each inhalation.
I hit Logan in the side of the head with the pickaxe as he was turning around. He jerked back at the last moment and survived the impact, though it staggered him sideways and he fell jerkily to the ground. He looked up at me with betrayal, scuttling backwards and trying to rise as I walked over to him.
I liked Logan but we'd reached the endgame. With so many Tributes dead he was no longer my ally but my competition. We went into this alliance both hoping it would boost our chances of survival. Logan had boosted mine and I was grateful for that. Together we'd reached far enough into the Games that we were no longer useful to each other. I almost wished Logan had died earlier. I was going to miss him.