Chapter 3: Back in the Arena
Lucy Gray feels a light breeze whipping through her silver hair as the launch pod divulges her into open air. At least one part of her experience from 65 years ago is the same – well, aside from the fact that when she opens her eyes and looks around, she sees that every single tribute is alive, present and accounted for. In the 10th Games, only fourteen people, including herself, even made it to the Bloodbath alive.
She senses water lapping at her feet and glances down almost disinterestedly. It's as though a part of herself is taking all this in from beyond her body. All she can think is that she is so glad the Everdeen girl taught her and Haymitch how to swim. An image flashes in her mind that moment, of the beautiful young woman blushing and oddly rigid as she helped Dannel's boy to float on his back. She hopes Peeta might work up the nerve to kiss Glen's daughter – he certainly looked at her as though he wanted to.
Lucy Gray glances to her left. A rocky outcropping forms a spoke that delineates a next watery wedge over, in which Brutus Barsetti is getting the lay of the land. On the pod beyond him, Matthias Fletcher is tentatively peering over the edge.
She sweeps her vision to her right. Cashmere Delacroix is in a crouch, prepared to spring at the sounding of the gong. She can't tell who is on the pedestal beyond the beautiful, deadly Career from 1.
Lucy Gray shakes her head sadly. In her day, Careers did not exist. Every kid was as scared as the rest of them. Straight ahead of her, she can behold a craggy island, upon which sits the Cornucopia, piled high with supplies. A floating, projected square counts down the seconds. She spends the remaining time searching frantically for Haymitch, while simultaneously forming a plan. Sweat is already seeping into her eyes – the humidity here is merciless. She snaps a quick glance back. Foliage, and lots of it, though perhaps more tropical in nature than the forest from last year's arena, or the forest Katniss trained her in.
"Let the 75th Hunger Games begin… May the odds be ever in your favor!" Claudius Templesmith intones. The final countdown nears. "5…. 4…. 3…. 2…. 1…."
And even though she is a limited swimmer, even though she doubts there is a prayer that she can beat Brutus to dry land, Lucy Gray manages a passable swan dive in.
Her strokes are long and smooth, like Katniss showed her, but she doesn't try to make them any more frantic than the moment demands. Expending all her energy, at this stage and at her age, won't do. She slaps a withered hand onto the rock of the spoke nearest her and starts to pull herself onto the jetty. Across from her and several feet down, she spots Brutus's large head and struggles faster. Brutus will almost certainly be on his feet before her; she'll make an easy kill…
But, no, there is a sound of scraping, then a grunt and a splash. Brutus has slipped, cut himself. Lucy Gray uses the precious seconds for the gift that they are, hauling herself, dripping, out of the water and struggling to her feet.
It is only as she starts into a light jog/hobble that she remembers she doesn't have her cane. Well, let it be. She'll just have to get to the horn and get her hands on…. something.
She zeroes in on the gun-metal gray horn with a singular focus, ignoring the sounds of splashing and cries of battle all around her. Somehow, she reaches it unimpeded and begins to sift through the weapons. She chooses a large hammer as a weapon of choice, and then loads up on blades on behalf of Haymitch. A spear.
Someone's behind her. She turns as fast as her aged body will allow, which is probably too slow for the speed of a tribute at their prime. Finnick Odair is less than a foot from her, grinning dashingly.
"Good thing we're allies, right?" He's holding his arm up in a really awkward angle, covered by the fact that he is gripping a trident in the same hand. The flash of a gold bangle catches the light and she recognizes it: it's a district token that Effie had taken the liberty to rustle up for Haymitch. Lucy Gray had been given a pendant that Effie claimed came from the Hob – something to remind her of home. It's pinned to her jumpsuit.
But why would Finnick have Haymitch's….? "Where did you get that?"
"Where do you think?" Before she can answer, he yells, "DUCK!" She obeys immediately. There is a THUNK and a shout.
Then the cannon. BOOM.
"Don't trust One and Two! I'll take this side; you… defend your position," he fumbles lamely. "I'll go find Abernathy!"
Defend her position? Now how exactly is she supposed to do that? In her last Bloodbath, she had run and hid in the catacombs. Lucy Gray watches as Brutus's loping form becomes more discernible in the near distance and hopes Finnick comes back to collect her before –
"Lucy Gray! Mags found him; he's over here!"
She and Finnick round the horn to another spoke, where Mags is pointing frantically to a fistfight ensuing in the water. It's Haymitch, all right, with his tousled blonde locks always inelegantly combed in such a way that he looks like he's wearing a toupee. He's punching and amazingly holding his own against a rabid Roan Tully from 10. Finnick freestyle streaks through the water towards them and is mere feet out when the other two men submerge below the water.
BOOM. A body floats to the surface and Lucy Gray feels her stomach drop. No. Not now…. She's about to toddle back to the horn with dignity and let another Victor make her an easy kill when –
There is a CRASH and Haymitch breaks the surface, causing her to deflate in relief. Finnick tows him out, hefts Mags up across his back, and this quartet of allies run away from the Cornucopia.
They've only gone a mile or two before Finnick demands a rest, and he is clearly the most in-shape of the lot. He manages to keep Mags aloft, though, the Victors from 4 bringing up the rear as Haymitch forges ahead, hacking with his knife.
Lucy Gray has only become marginally better at navigating the Capitol's technology, so she only recognizes the tell-tale signs too late. "Haymitch, DON' -!"
There is a sizzle and Haymitch is blasted backward into her, knocking her to the ground. Dazed, Lucy Gray crawls to him. "Haymitch? HAYMITCH?! Mags, he's not breathing! HAY -!"
The first syllable of her tribute's name is pinched off as a cry of indignation as Finnick shoves her aside. He's doing something weird with his lips over Haymitch – not quite a kiss – before pumping the older man's chest. "Come on…. come on…. come on, Haymitch!"
It is several heart-stopping moments before Haymitch breathes. Lucy Gray bends over him.
"Damn forcefield," he grunts.
She huffs to mask a sob of relief. "He's all right."
The group moves at an even more gingerly pace, and they haven't gone another two hundred yards before Finnick declares that they make camp. The afternoon shadows are lengthening, heralding several cannon retorts in rapid succession; the Bloodbath must be over. A tinkling of bells makes Lucy Gray glance up, just in time to see a parachute land at her feet. At least it's better than the drones from her time. As a mentor, she's filled more of these than she can count. Finnick lets Haymitch claim it, since "he died today."
The thin, hollow metal tube leaves all of them stumped, at least until Lucy Gray reaches back into her childhood and declares it a spile, to tap water and syrup from trees. Finnick wastes no time driving the thing into the bark, than graciously lets the older ladies take their first time slurping at the cool liquid gushing from the trunk.
Night falls, and Lucy Gray takes first watch with the young man from 4, if for no other reason than to give Haymitch his rest. Several weird bongs echo through the expanse.
"I counted twelve," Finnick announces. "Midnight?"
"Or the number of districts," she mumbles, chin dropping to her chest like a bird as she nods off.
Lucy Gray awakens sharply, some hours later. It is still dark, deep night. Finnick is curled up a few paces off. As she gets her bearings, she notices a fog clinging to the ground and making its way towards her. Good. A little rain might cool the place down. She reaches out a hand to feel the coolness of air that does not rise between her fingers….
…. and instantly regrets it.
The searing pain is terrific, and a strangled scream emanates from her.
"Run! RUN! The fog is poison!"
Finnick is up and off like a shot. Lucy Gray feels the world spin and then she is suddenly floating. Well, bouncing, really. She can make out the bouncing lump that is Mags – still asleep – around the back of Finnick's head. Past his shoulder, Haymitch is half-running, half-stumbling behind them, only partially awake as the fog rolls on and gains.
"It's poison! It's poisonous! Hurry, Haymitch! Haymitch, come on!" Lucy Gray hollers at him. She refrains from being any more abusive than that in her beckoning unless she has no other choice.
Haymitch is only able to keep pace and in sight of them, it seems, by following the hollers of his allies. His focus has been off for weeks, ever since he was involuntarily weaned off the bottle. Lucy Gray cringes as she takes in the hell all around them. The only thing worse than being an aged 81-year-old lady in this place is to be a middle-aged drunk going through withdrawal symptoms.
Haymitch screams, and goes down, the fog overtaking him. His body begins to shake even more violently than it does when he's in withdrawal; the toxins must be seeping into his muscles. Finnick doubles back, seizes Haymitch's arms that are now spasming and not responding nearly as well as they should, linking them to Lucy Gray's.
"Don't let go of him! We'll tow him!"
It's more like half-dragging him, and now Lucy Gray has to let the screaming abuses fly just to get Haymitch to keep his feet upright and moving. Though she has to concede that this is not entirely within his control. Still the fog gains.
In an open field, Finnick doubles over, completely spent. "I'm sorry, Mags….. I can't do it…."
Lucy Gray watches as her peer kisses Finnick tenderly, shucks herself off his shoulders and begins to stagger directly for the fog. "Mags?... Mags! MAGS!"
The cannon is at least not long in firing.
"Finnick, let's go… We have to…. – let's go!" Lucy Gray manages to wrestle Haymitch over the shoulder that Mags vacated, and Finnick lopes forward a few steps….
…. Then the bottom falls out.
The trio tumbles through open space, crashing down an embankment before landing in an heap on the leaves. The fog looms up over there and Lucy Gray closes her eyes, bracing herself.
Nothing appears to happen, and when she opens her eyes, the fog is billowing behind what appears to be an invisible barrier.
Silence descends upon the jungle. As he took the least of it, the onus is on Finnick to drag the District 12 Victors to a nearby shallow pool. The lukewarm water helps to heal the burns. Haymitch is soon well enough to stand and make for a nearby tree in which to plant the spile.
Standing up in the ankle-deep water gingerly, Lucy Gray glances about and finds they are surrounded. The mutts with their glowing yellow eyes and fur aren't like any she's ever seen in all her years of mentoring. They are taut, coiled, poised to strike.
"Haymitch?... Walk over here slowly. Backwards." He has the good sense to obey her. Regrettably, as an afterthought, she adds, "Don't look up."
It's counterintuitive, for that's exactly what Haymitch does just as all hell breaks loose.
The mutts – 'monkeys,' Lucy Gray thinks they are called – descend and it is a blur of orange fur and silver blades. It takes every trick she knows not to get eaten, and keeping behind Finnick's younger, faster form. Haymitch is also quick-footed, shielding his mentor.
Through the chaos, Lucy Gray spots a glimmer of light, heralding sunrise.
"The beach! To the beach!" The trio of Victors makes a run for it, sprinting for the treeline with Finnick providing cover.
Suddenly, a monkey intercepts them and makes right for Haymitch, who, thrown against a tree, can't reach for his knife in time.
A human shape unexpectedly careens out of the darkness and all but embraces the monkey, the beast's fangs sinking into flesh.
"A morphling! Help me get her!" Haymitch leads Lucy Gray into hauling the mutilated body out of the jungle and to the sand, lowering her gently into the low tide. Behind them, Lucy Gray can hear Finnick bursting out of the treeline. The chittering of the monkeys fades; they must not follow.
Maeve Collins is gazing up at Haymitch, gasping for air. The drunk is awkwardly torn between not looking at her and yet unable to glance away. There is nothing to say. The cannon mercifully fires after Maeve grows still, and the pair morosely allow the tide to float her body away, for the hovercraft to collect.
Haymitch is quiet as they trudge back to the beach. "She sacrificed herself for me…" he breathes. "Why would she…?"
"You think she sacrificed herself for you?" Lucy Gray peers at him.
He shrugs lamely. "Looked that way to me."
"Someone's coming!" Finnick dashes up to them, hissing, and the three melt into the treeline. In the interim, a tidal wave crashes onto the beach, followed by another cannon, and the sun rises high and unnaturally fast into the sky.
Three more figures can be made out, staggering and caked in red. Finnick eases out from the foliage as he appears to recognize one of them. "Johanna?... JOHANNA!"
"Finnick!"
Lucy Gray and Haymitch glance to each other before grudgingly moseying after Finnick, just in time to watch Johanna smash his face in her hands and kiss him gratefully, soundly on the mouth. When they break apart, the girl from Seven is gesticulating, stuttering over her words in her haste to get them out. "Well, I extracted them. We went deep into the jungle where I thought it was going to be safe! That's when the rain started. We thought it was rain, you know? It turned out to be blood. Hot, thick – we were stumbling around, gagging on it, blind! That's when Blight hit the forcefield…" She falters. "He wasn't much but he was from home. And he left me alone with these two!"
Beetee and Wiress look to be in bad shape. The latter is mumbling something nonsensical. The two alliances merge without discussion, and Lucy Gray gets Wiress cleaned up, the chant of Tick Tock tolling like a bell in her head.
Wait…. Tick Tock…
"It's a clock! Wiress, you're a genius!"
The band of six takes the deserted Cornucopia Island without any trouble, Lucy Gray explaining her theory on the way. "Each danger stays within its hour and wedge. Blood rain, fog and monkeys occur in the witching hours of the morning, which means they recur probably in mid to late afternoon. And the back of the horn points towards twelve o'clock."
"Excellent," Beetee nods, adjusting his spectacles.
Haymitch tries to make a crude, corresponding diagram in the sand. "Maybe stay here on the island for now. This is the safest place. Better than risking the mutts in the jungle."
It is only in the nick of time that Lucy Gray realizes: Wiress's chant has gone silent.
The allies can only watch as the woman from 3 slides lifeless away from the slash Gloss makes into her flesh. Haymitch doesn't think. He hurls a knife and actually, incredibly, finds its mark directly in the man from 1's chest. Cashmere bursts from the water with a battle cry to defend her brother. Johanna shoves Lucy Gray aside and sends an axe between Cashmere's cleavage.
Brutus and Enobaria don't even slow down. The ferocious woman goes for Haymitch, but Finnick gets in the way. Enobaria's blade goes into his thigh, her teeth into his neck. Haymitch takes advantage of the tangled, deadly embrace and skewers Enobaria's temple with another knife. Behind him, there is a scuffle and a yell, the sound of tearing flesh. It sounds like Beetee.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Shoving Beetee's body aside, Brutus pauses, head snapping between Haymitch and Johanna as they start to close in, shifting forward menacingly. The last Career seems indecisive about whether to engage or turn tail and run. In the lull, there suddenly is another cannon in the distance:
BOOM.
Haymitch is distracted, snapping up his head as Brutus is nearly on top of him. Johanna dives with a cry of "NO!"
Brutus's spear goes into her chest.
Johanna sinks to her knees. Brutus looks gobsmacked at nailing the wrong target. Haymitch recovers first and with a roar, starts to lunge for him. Brutus leaps back, turns and sprints away, rounding the horn. Haymitch only stops when the air struggles to leave his chest.
BOOM. Johanna's belated cannon is all that allows him to remember: Lucy Gray!
He dashes back to his mentor's side, only to find her quaking against the side of a crate. Blood is pouring from her head, a wound to her temple – she must have whacked it on something when Johanna pushed her down.
Panicking at how she is shaking, Haymitch gathers his mentor in his arms.
"Left… We're the only ones left…." Lucy Gray croaks.
"Besides Brutus," Haymitch sniffs bitterly.
He feels her long nails digging into his skin. "You have to win…." An awkward, unsure silence and she tries to shake him, though in her state, it's weak. Her voice isn't though. "Promise me!"
"…. I promise," Haymitch gets out.
Lucy Gray smiles serenely and sags back. Her grey eyes grow still. BOOM.
Haymitch closes her eyes, then hustles into the horn to give the hovercraft room to take all the bodies away: Cashmere. Gloss. Wiress. Beetee. Finnick. Johanna. Enobaria. And Lucy Gray.
It is just down to the Top Two now.
Haymitch continues to occupy the island that night. All alone now, he does not sleep a wink, a knife in his hand.
Somewhere in that darkness, Brutus is lurking, trying to figure out how to kill his last enemy. Haymitch could not have imagined, in his wildest dreams, that these Games would come down to the pair of them. He, the victor of the 50th Games, versus Brutus, the victor of the 48th Games. Also, one of the most skilled tributes he has ever seen. Originally, Haymitch had no intention to make it into the Top Two. But, somehow, while watching allies die before him and only making 1 kill of his own, it has happened.
The Capitol betting is sure to have reached a fever pitch. He wonders if the odds are in his favor. He is surprised that no gifts have arrived from sponsors since the first day. But, then again, the goods are probably too expensive for Effie and Ares to buy anything adequate.
The third day in the arena dawns. It is cool, and eerily quiet. Haymitch hopes this is a reflection on how the next several hours will proceed before he has to go off to "sleep" again. He hopes today is finally a day of rest of sorts. The Gamemakers will surely allow that…unless they want these Games to end as much as many in the districts do. The Quell has been unpopular since the moment the twist was announced. Haymitch has no intention of hunting Brutus down in the jungle, lest he lose his life to one of the arena's many wilderness traps. Funny…though he is possibly one death away from either being sent home in a casket or on a train in style, Haymitch finds himself actually wanting to win now. He doesn't want to die. He has made it this far without really trying, though others viewing from the outside might feel he has put up a pretty impressive fight – for a District 12 tribute/victor, and especially one in the state he normally is known to be in.
To keep himself busy, Haymitch explores the island…even if it is just a craggy rock. He scours every inch of the Cornucopia, having the pick of the weapons that are left all to himself. He replenishes his knife supply, and gathers several other tools: awls, axes, and spears. He knows he will need the latter especially in a fight to the death against Brutus. Spears are the District 2 male's weapon of choice. He even finds a trident, and kills fish with the net and stab technique he saw Finnick use in the Training Center. There is also an entire assortment of paints and dyes near the back of the giant horn. These must have been meant for District 6, Haymitch thinks. He also discovers, thanks to a flashlight, that the very rear of the horn contains a forcefield. He can identify it using the chink trick that he had learned once from Beetee.
Suddenly, right there, Haymitch gets an idea, and some of it is definitely deja-vu for him. He suspects that in an open battle of strength, he might not have an edge against Brutus. But maybe if their confrontation begins in a battle of wits first…he could have a chance to win. Right away, Haymitch begins putting a plan into action…
About mid-afternoon on that same day, Brutus arrives at the edge of the jungle. He has been busy all morning, hunting animals for food in the wilderness. Ahead of him, the Cornucopia and island sit imposing…and empty. Where's Abernathy? It's time to put an end to this, he thinks impatiently.
He slowly approaches the great metal horn. No sign of Haymitch. He decides to coax him out; coward is probably hiding.
"Haymitch Abernathy! There's no way out of here, Haymitch! It's just you and me. The Capitol wants this to end just as much as we do. I'm giving you the chance here to prove yourself. Come on out and prove you won a Quell once yourself. It'll be a fair fight. What do you think?"
There is a sudden glint as something catches the light deep inside the Cornucopia. Smiling in triumph, Brutus chucks a spear inside. There is an "Oof!" Brutus knows he had made his last kill. The cannon will boom any second; he will be the victor of the Quell…
But no cannon or announcement comes. Suddenly, an object comes careening back out of the darkness. Brutus thinks to dodge, but it's too late –
His own spear comes ricocheting back at him, burying itself into his stomach. Brutus is thrown back several feet onto the rocks. The force is so great, the spear tip goes right through his stomach and out the other side, wedging itself in a crack in the landscape. The Victor is now effectively pinned to the earth.
A figure suddenly slips off the top of the Cornucopia, covered in gray paint on his entire backside. A bird comes flying out of the horn's maw, cawing "Ooof!" repeatedly. Haymitch had camaflouged himself against the top of the horn. The flashlight had been manipulated to make it look like someone was lurking back in the horn. He had even caught a jabberjay and taught it to make the sound of a person being wounded. The ruse worked like a charm.
Moving quickly, Haymitch whips out some knives. He hacks off Brutus' good hand, the one he throws with. He also stabs a gash through his other arm. Brutus howls in pain. Now, his enemy is significantly weakened, with both his strength and his speed significantly decreased due to what will surely be blood loss.
Then, Haymitch yanks the spear out of Brutus's stomach, freeing him. Jumping back, he allows Brutus to get shakily to his feet before throwing the spear back to him.
"Audience is looking for a show. There needs to be a climatic fight."
Brutus stares at his spear for a moment before lunging at his enemy. Haymitch whips out a spear of his own and deflects. Back and forth along the island the two Victors go, their spears clanging and clashing.
Haymitch gets some more hits in, thanks to Brutus being weaker from the wounds and blood loss. Brutus only hits him twice, and neither are in fatal places. Finally, Haymitch knocks Brutus' spear away and into the water. Brutus desperately lunges at Haymitch, hoping to destroy him with sheer muscle, but Haymitch is stronger. He pins the District 2 Victor against himself in the same way Peeta had shown him as Brutus feebly punches at him. At last, Haymitch plunges the tip of his spear into Brutus' heart. Brutus chokes as he slowly and painfully expires and Haymitch lowers his dying form to the rocks. At long last, Brutus moves no more.
For a moment, there is silence. Then, the final cannon booms. Claudius Templesmith comes over the intercom, and cheers can be heard in the background.
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 75th Hunger Games: Haymitch Abernathy! I give you…the victor of the Second and Third Quarter Quells!"
