A/N: Thank you so much for everyone reading I'm surprised and honored to see how many of you are sticking with this still! This is a massive chapter, and the action's staying thrilling so I hope y'all enjoy it :)
DISTRICT EIGHT EULOGIES
Woof Parsons
I never thought Calico would go farther than Gaia, but that's the Games for you. Expect the unexpected. That should be the slogan, not "May the odds be ever in your favor." Nothing ever turns out how you had hoped. Watching Gaia tossed in the tornado like a rag doll was hard; seeing her get gutted by the vicious One girl was harder. I was betting on her, I really thought she was the first one I could bring home, and she was gone less than five minutes after the gong just because of that damn tornado. She was like a friend to me, she seemed like she had it in her to really bring herself home. I sobbed for an hour when she was gone. I knew we were screwed then with only Calico left. He surprised me by making it four days in, but I'm happy the Careers ended him sooner than later. He was never coming out of there alive, and him surviving any longer would've just been stretching out the agony.
District Eight
After Gaia's death, her family was devastated. However, with her mother's wages as a teacher and Bobbin continuing to work as a refurbisher in the Peacekeeper uniform factory, they made enough to get by. Over the years, they got over their grief, and Bobbin would work at the uniform factory all his life and marry and have several children. He would read them botany books in memory of his sweet older sister. Baby Satin would also manage to survive in the urban crush of District Eight and have a family of her own. Several months after Calico died in the Games, his father would die from his terminal illness. Calico's mother and grandmother were destroyed; his grandma resigned as Mayor of Button, and the two women would live together for the rest of their lives in their grief. All of Calico's fake friends back in the District would take his death as a lesson to be kinder and softer to those around them, and bullying at his school lulled for quite some time.
Zircon O'Dile, 17
District One Male
The arena around me is bathed entirely in darkness; it's the early morning, so early that the sun hasn't even begun to peek over the horizon yet. The only light comes from the embers of our fire just outside the mouth of the Cornucopia. Behind me, the golden Horn glitters underneath the artificial stars, and my allies slumber inside. I've been playing guard a lot recently, more so than anyone else, but I don't mind. I know that I'm part of the glue holding this pack together, so I'm fine being the one they all trust to keep watch and not kill them in their sleep. They don't see me as a threat, they see me as someone to trust, and that's exactly how I like it.
The dynamics of the pack are...definitely something. I knew things would be tense, but I didn't know they would be this complicated. Ardin and Chavez have their hateful rivalry; I really thought when they fought yesterday that it was going to be the end of our alliance. I was convinced one of them was going to die, but I'm happy they didn't go for each other. We need to stick together for more time; there's still too many Outliers for us to all split up. Trinity and Tyberios are thick as thieves too, it's almost as if they're the District partners, not me and her. Cordelia is quiet and floats along, and I can tell she's scared. We still get along but all of our joking and closeness during training has vanished now that we're in the Games. The Pre-Games, I was wild, and enjoying myself like crazy. Cordelia was the one I had the most fun with and so I bonded with her the closest. But now, in the arena, I'm starting to notice my error. I teamed up with the weakest Career, and I'm a bit worried about being grouped in with her and being another easy Career to dispatch when this cursed pack breaks. So I've been distancing myself ever so surely, making sure that these people see each other as the threats when the alliance disbands so I can make it out alive.
I feel cold and hollow a lot of the time now. The Games were exciting when the gong rang, but now they're really weighing down on me. It's not even the kills I don't think, although I've made two. More so it's just that...this is a lot less glamorous than I expected. And I know that sounds dumb, I signed up for a killing competition, I've seen every Games, I know it's not glamorous. I know it's all blood and screams and pain and torture. I know killing isn't fun unless you're crazed, and starvation and everything else is worse than you could even begin to imagine. But...I just expected it to be a little more thrilling than this so far, I guess. The Bloodbath was a crazy whirlwind, but since then all we've done is comb the fields around the Horn and bide out time waiting for something to happen. Chavez is an obnoxious, egotistical asshole, but I can't help but agree with him about our hunting strategy. I'd never let him know that or agree with him publicly, I need to remain neutral to keep the pack together, but it's the truth. We're doing nothing but wasting time. We're letting the Outliers explore the arena and entrench themselves in it, giving them precious time to figure out its secrets. I know there has to be a couple in such a simple arena, the Capitol wouldn't just plop us all down in a grass field with no twists and turns. We're going to fall out of favor if we act like scared Outliers who don't want to move more than a half mile from our campsite. So that's why I'm excited we're finally going deep, and going for the dark dot on the horizon this morning. We're finally going to make a big move, and something big ought to happen. We're five days in now as the sun's barely tickling the horizon, and the Capitol is going to be thirsty for a big confrontation. Hopefully we can give them one at the dot.
As the sun begins to peek over the horizon, I begin rousing the rest of the pack. Cordelia first; we haven't talked one on one since the Games began, but I still feel fondness for her in my heart, and she's honestly the easiest to deal with, the only one without a massive ego. The others get up quickly after her, and the mother from 12 has been awake all night so I barely notice her squatting in the depths of the Horn as the rest of us enjoy a hearty morning breakfast of jerky. I don't like having her here, and once again I agree with Chavez that she should've died four nights ago and been in the sky with the eight others, but I don't say it, I'm not stupid. She'll die soon, and I highly doubt she could take even Cordelia in combat. She didn't go to her Private Session, but her sniveling and the way she grips the dull dagger we give her only means she's utterly hopeless. She's not a threat. The rest of the people here totally are though, and I turn my attention back to them as we finish up our breakfast and discuss the day's plans. The sun is still a faint glimmer on the horizon, rising slower than usual I think. The Gamemakers want to give us the cover of darkness, or at least some darkness, if we're going to make our move today. That makes me even more sure of the fact that we need to do it today.
"So..." Tyberios begins once we've all finished eating. "I say today's the day like we agreed. We go to the dot and we figure out what the hell it is."
"Yes," Chavez nods exuberantly. "We need to go. Now. As soon as possible. They're keeping the sun down for us, it has to mean something."
So the crazy, sexy, arrogant prick from 4 isn't as stupid as I thought. I just nod along with the other guys. They're right, we need to move and move quick if we want to have surprise and the cover of darkness to our advantage.
"We might as well just get it over with," Trinity sighs, picking at her nails. "I hope there's someone there, I want to finally put on a show."
So we're all in agreement. Well, four of us at least. Cordelia doesn't say anything, just nodding along like me. She knows she's not in a position to argue about what the pack does or does not do. She's being tactful, I'll give her that, although I know she's still on the bottom of the totem pole and she's going to be gone the moment this group splits. Something inside of me stings as I think that. I feel cold, I feel wrong to be analyzing things so humorlessly and seriously, to be thinking of funny little Cordelia with her radiant smile like an obstacle, an opponent. But that's what she is. I promised myself I'd turn it on when I came into the arena, and I've turned it on. I need to be on alert. I can't disappoint everyone, and I'm in a great position in this pack. So I don't let myself feel bad for much more than a couple seconds.
The person we're all really worried about is Ardin Varnell. The 2 girl is silent as she stares at the empty wrapper of her jerky packet, letting the rest of us dominate the conversation and the discussions of going hunting. I can practically see the gears turning in her head, the steam erupting from her ears. She still doesn't want to go, I don't know why, but this girl is just so dead set on staying close to the Horn. She's afraid, too afraid for a 2 girl. It doesn't make sense. Maybe she's weaker than Serephina thought, maybe she's playing up an angle, I don't know. But I'm not surprised when she finally speaks up as the rest of us are filling up small packs for our journey to the dot.
"I'd like to stay here," she mumbles, looking up at the rest of us anxiously. "I'll take guard, and Cordelia can go hunt for once."
No one says anything for a couple moments. Chavez smirks, and I know in his head he's laughing at the girl's cowardice, or her carefulness, however you want to look at it. Tyberios and Trinity and I don't dare say anything; none of us wants to be the one to stir the drama, make a splash, take control. Not yet. Cordelia looks surprised and a bit worried, and I don't blame her. She's not a volunteer like the rest of us, and playing guard probably has been the best thing that could happen to her. Now she has to come with us, and if she does something out of line I know Chavez or Trinity wouldn't hesitate to cut her down. The tensions in this pack are taut now. We're almost at the breaking point. I just need to make us last a few more days.
Inside the Horn, I see the 12 girl shaking violently with fear at the idea of being left alone with Ardin. I don't blame her; it's no secret most of us wish she was dead, and she probably suspects the 2 girl might shank her and run off with our supplies. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if that's Ardin's plan, to desert the Horn while we're all gone and avoid a battle with Chavez which she might struggle to win. It's not a dumb plan. I can see in the eyes of the others that they suspect Ardin of similar things, of similar betrayals. But telling her we think she's going to turn traitor might just split this pack right here, right now, and that can't happen for me. So I surprise everyone and speak up first.
"If you're that opposed, I guess you could maybe play guard," I reply, my voice smooth and casual, but I know my eyes are probably betraying my fear at speaking up. No one else says anything for a couple more moments, as we all gauge each other's reactions.
"If you want to be a coward, fine by me Varnell," Chavez grunts soon enough, and the tensions relax slightly. Tyberios and Trinity nod their agreements, and Cordelia squeaks that she's alright hunting with us. The 12 girl is still quivering a couple minutes later as Ardin fingers her belt of throwing knives absentmindedly from the Horn and the rest of us start trekking out to the dot on the horizon. We're armed to the teeth, and we've made sure to pack extra rations in our bags, and give long glances to Ardin. If she deserts, if she plays the coward's game and leaves while we're gone, she won't have much to take with her, and she knows what we will do to her when we find her.
However, thoughts of Ardin's potential betrayal and all of the complex politics of the pack fade quickly from my mind as we set off through the golden grass towards the dark brown smudge. Immediately we all begin discussing what we think it is, arguing our theories of what it might be and our hopes of who is there and what we will do to them when we get there.
"I think it's just a big fucking boulder, and some dumb tribute is probably sleeping right on top of it," Tyberios growls as we stalk through the grass, eyes still alert for any other tributes as we make our hike. "Like the girl from 6, or the little one from 10. I want to try to break a neck with my bare hands."
"I'm hoping it's the boy from 11," Trinity says with a wicked grin. "Don't care what the dot is, as long as we can get to it and take him down. He's one of the only boys who didn't keep staring at me during training. He must've not appreciated my beauty. Don't laugh, Tyb, you were staring too!"
Trinity punches Tyberios's arm, and we all chuckle as he scowls good naturedly. Cordelia's laughter sounds quieter and faker, but I ignore it. She's not used to this type of bloody banter that's prevalent in the IDE and in the academies of 2 and 4. She's not like us, but she's still here and I'm not going to kill her just because she's not as bloodthirsty as us. If anything that'll work to my advantage in the future.
"What do you hope it is, Zirc?" Chavez asks with a glittering grin after explaining in detail how he plans to dissect the cocky boy from 12 with only a blunt throwing knife.
"I hope it's something with lots of food and water, maybe even some booze," I chuckle with a grin. "Someplace we can throw a nice big party. And hopefully we have a couple guests that'll just love our precious company. Who wouldn't want to hang with the popular kids?" Even Cordelia's little chuckle is genuine, and a beaming smile breaks out across my face as we make it closer and closer to the dot on the horizon. Soon enough, the smudge's blurred features start to solidify until we're less than a mile from it and we can finally make out what it really is.
"A house," Cordelia murmurs as we crouch in the grass, taking a water break. We need to rest before we explore what seems to be a little log cabin, and we're close enough now that if we don't stay low, whoever's inside might be able to spot us. Even though whoever's inside won't be able to stand up against five armed Careers, we're not taking any chances. This is the only monument in the arena. There has to be something dangerous about it.
"Thanks for stating the obvious, sweetie," Chavez snarls as he spears a piece of cheese with his throwing knife and stuffs it in his mouth.
"We could just torch it and let whoever's inside burn," Trinity suggests after she takes a measured sip from her water bottle. "That might be fun to see. And hear."
"The Capitol doesn't like it when people destroy the arena like that," Cordelia murmurs. "You know, they like making them into vacation sp-"
"I was kidding, Four," Trinity snaps, twisting the cap back onto her water bottle. "We'd be idiots to burn it down." I'm surprised to see her drop her sugary-sweet facade; Cordelia's awkwardness must be really getting under her skin. I can feel Cordelia's worried gaze on me, but I refuse to meet her eyes.
"We just circle it, find the entrance, and push inside," Chavez growls after finishing his small block of cheese. "Whoever they are, they can't take all five of us at once, even if every one of the stupid Outliers are huddled in there together. We circle, we attack, we put on a good show, and it's over. Now I say we move immediately. It's almost completely bright out, and I want to get there before they wake up."
No one objects, and we creep closer to the log cabin, its dark brown wooden features quickly becoming clearer. The side of the cabin faces us, a warped glass window covered by motheaten drapes being the only feature besides the roughly hewn logs. Around the house, we can see the grass fall to ankle height; there won't be any crawling through the grass during our true attack. Facing east is the front of the house, from the way the roof slopes. The structure is crude, and we send Cordelia swinging out west to inspect the back side of the cabin. She tells us it's just logs and no doors when she gets back, and we know the only way in is from the front.
We leave Cordelia by the back just in case whoever's inside, if there's anyone at all, tries to make some wild escape. The other four of us crouch just outside of where the grass swiftly falls short on the east side of the cabin. My hand clenches tightly around my spear as Chavez gives the signal, and we burst out of the grass and race at the door. My heart pounds as we leap forward; this is it. Time for more action. Time for more chaos, more thrill. Time to make these Games glamorous after all.
The four of us are a tight cluster as we sprint over the ten or so yards of short grass. In my excitement, my legs carry me even with Chavez although he's supposed to be on point. With the butt of my spear, I shove the door wide open as Chavez falls a step back to let me open it up. It's not even locked, slamming open easily. As I make to dart into the building, suddenly there's a flurry of motion and I see the little dark haired girl from 10, and what is that in her hands, it can't be, oh my go-
Miriam Park, 13
District Ten Female
I stagger backwards as the rifle recoils in my hands. I scream, a loud, guttural thing from the back of my throat, as the One boy's wide eyes stare at me in fear and shock before he crumples to the ground, blood blossoming across the chest of his tan t-shirt. I scream again as the three other Careers feet from me pause in utter horror too. None of us move; I've just killed a person, holy fuck, I've killed a person, there's three Careers in front of me, and they must be shocked to see a fucking rifle in the Games. Snow knows I lost my mind when Lord and I found it yesterday.
BOOM!
Zircon's cannon shatters the moment of no motion, and suddenly I'm preparing to fire the gun again without even a thought. And the Careers don't say anything to each other. They don't throw their weapons, taunt me, charge right at me and take me down like I'm expecting them to. I'm just a tiny girl after all who can barely hold the rifle steady.
No. What they do is run. They run like the rest of us run from them at the Bloodbath and every day after that. The One girl is screaming as she dashes off into the grass, and the Two boy looks like he's in such a state of utter shock that he can barely move. Chavez is the only one whose name I remember, just because of how vicious and rude he seemed, the way he smirked at me hatefully at training. He was the one I feared most. And worst of all, he was the one who killed Jayce. He's the one that took him down in a spray of blood and almost got me while I fled for my life five days ago. That's why, as they try to scatter, I bite my lip and aim the barrel of my rifle right at Chavez's head and pull the trigger hard.
The bullet whizzes over his shoulder, missing his head by mere inches. I can see him flinch and I savor how the air from the bullet's passage ruffles his hair. Then they're all gone, melting into the grass. I can still hear the girl's muffled screams, and another girl's frightened whimpers as I watch the grass rustle as they sprint away. I don't dare waste another bullet, we don't have many to spare. I just let them run off, and something sick inside of me loves the way I'm making them scatter as if I'm the big bad Career and they're the little thirteen year olds from Ten.
Then I see the One boy's broken corpse at my feet, and a piercing wail rises from my throat and won't go away. I fall to the ground, weeping openly, and suddenly Lord jumps in front of me. He'd still been asleep, and it was my turn on guard when the Careers came. I barely had time to grab the rifle and leap in front of the door after I saw them sprinting out from the grass from the window. I didn't have time to wake up Lord, so he must have no idea what's going on. His groggy eyes look around for enemies, but all he finds is the One boy's dead body and the still grass, and the far off sounds of the Careers as they escape back to the Horn.
"You killed one," Lord manages to breathe, and his tone is full of shock and reverence and excitement at the fact that I've mowed down a Career. But then he turns to me and sees me sobbing in a puddle on the floor, and his mood instantly shifts as he murmurs again. "I'm sorry. You killed one."
Quickly I'm in his arms, the rifle left on the floor, and I'm sobbing into his shoulder. It isn't the most comfortable hug since he insists on wearing his body armor even when he sleeps now, and the rigid material presses against me as I hug him back. But it's better than nothing, way better than nothing because if I was alone after this I don't know what I would do. I stop wailing, I stop screaming, but the sniffles and the tears come for minutes as we crouch on the floor of the cabin, Lord stroking my hair silently and me draining every drop of water left in my body into the fabric of his t-shirt.
Suddenly, electricity crackles over us, and we both jump. I yowl quietly in pain, while Lord quivers. The shock comes again, and we both look over to where the One boy's body is cooling, his eyes glazed over and unfocused. Flies are already buzzing around the body, and the bile comes up. I can't stop it. Once I'm done, Lord and I both say nothing as we pick our way over the corpse and out the door. We have to move so they can take the body, that's why they're shocking us, but it's painful to walk over the One boy's corpse. I close my eyes as I do so, unwilling to keep looking at him. Lord takes his dagger, and I take the rifle, and we crouch in the grass forty feet away and watch the hovercraft claw descend and wrap itself around the boy's limp corpse. Another strangled cry works its way out of me as his body is lifted into the air, and then he's gone except for a bloody patch of golden grass where his body was laying moments earlier. Lord and I crouch in the grass for a while after that, saying nothing, just staring at the bloody grass and at the safe haven that suddenly feels so much more like a hellhole.
"You did what you had to do, Miriam," Lord whispers finally, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. I don't object. "We'd...we'd be dead if you didn't. You had to do it."
"I know," I mumble, staring at the ground, keeping the tears at bay. I've cried enough, I need to stop, or the Capitol is going to start dismissing me as weak even though I've just taken out one of the biggest competitors in the Games. "I know. It's just...it's a shock, to do that to someone."
"We're going to have to do it to more if we want to leave," Lord mutters. "But it's...hard. But we...we'll manage."
He's trying to look strong, and I can tell he's not destroyed like me. He didn't pull the trigger, and I can tell he's exhilarated by what we've done, what I've done. And at once it all hits me. I killed a Career. Yeah, he's a boy, he's a person with a soul, but he chose to come here, and I killed a Career. ME. The thirteen year old from District Ten. A Career killer.
"We'll manage," I say back, stronger, the tears wiped from my eyes, and I can see Lord noticing how I've steeled myself. "We'll manage, and we'll show them that they can't mess with us anymore."
The parachutes start raining down after that. Two cherry lollipops for each of us, bottles of water, a hunk of white cheese, a loaf of District Ten bread. The familiar taste of the warm bread is what calms me most as we walk back into the cabin. It reminds me of summer evenings camping in abandoned pens with my friends, of Snowday presents and my family's warm smiles. My father, tired in his slaughterhouse uniform, and my mother, weak and frail in her bed, come into my mind, but I think about them only for a moment. I can't cry anymore today. The Capitol can't see me as weak if I want more District Ten bread down the line. We eat everything they give us, and then we sit there for a long time until Lord breaks the silence.
"Did they all come?" he asks quietly as he fiddles with the white paper stick that he's sucked his lollipop off of.
"I only saw four, including the One boy I shot," I murmur. His dead, glassy eyes immediately come into my head, but I don't cry, I don't vomit. I can't. "The Ones and the boys from Two and Four. But I heard another one screaming after they left, another girl. So most of them came."
"They just ran after you shot Zircon?" Lord asks. That's his name, Zircon. Remembering that now just makes it worse.
"Yeah, they just scattered. It was..." I trail off, not knowing how to vocalize how I felt as they fled in terror without sounding like a psychopath. But then I realize the Capitol wants to hear me sound like a psychopath, so I say it. "It was satisfying to see them run from me for once. I'm just sad I didn't get another one."
A parachute holding boiling hot chicken soup in a silvery container lands outside the door of the cabin, and Lord and I take turns sipping from it slowly, making the warm, hearty concoction last. The day bleeds by slowly as we chat about our lives, trying to ignore the events of the morning. I think Lord can tell I'm still reeling on the inside even though I'm trying to hide it, and I'm stuffed as heck from all the sponsor gifts. I don't want them to send us more if it'll go to waste when we need them more in the future, so we talk about boring things like school and food so we leave the screens. It works, and nothing else comes.
After a while, we start talking about if we should leave the cabin or if we should stay. I'm scared to go out in the fields now that the Careers are probably going to want us dead as soon as possible, but Lord is worried the Gamemakers won't let us stay here much longer, or that the Careers might just straight up torch the cabin or something else unhinged. He's not wrong, but neither of us wants to leave the house, so when night comes he takes the guard shift and I curl up in the creaky bed, trying desperately to fall asleep. All that fills my head is the feeling of the rifle recoiling in my hands and Zircon's glassy eyes glaring at the sky and the blood blossoming across his tan t-shirt, but I don't make a peep and Lord doesn't notice my lack of sleeping. I have to be strong if I want to go home. I just repeat that over and over again as I eventually drift off into a fitful sleep, trying to block out the maelstorm of bloody memories and nightmares.
Ardin Varnell, 18
District Two Female
I watch the pack for a long time as they disappear over the horizon, heads bobbing in the wheat as they trek along. I watch in silence until they're so far away that I can barely make them out, until I'm sure they're gone and too far away to do anything foolish.
Then I turn away, sit down in the mouth of the Horn, and eat a loaf of bread all by myself.
I know from their accusatory glances, their shared, worried stares, and their muffled whispers that they think I'm deserting. The idea passed through my head a couple times. It's stupid, from a tactical perspective. Leaving, I'll only be able to have the supplies I can carry on my back, and I won't have the protection and camraderie of the pack. I know they all hate Chavez, and I think if I play this right I can make it out when the pack splits. I just have to play it right, and running away like a coward and disappointing everyone at home is stupid. Still, the instinct bubbles inside of me to run, but I ignore it and chew my bread thoughtfully.
I didn't ignore my instinct to not go to the dot on the horizon, however. Maybe people will see it as cowardice, maybe they'll see it as useless caution, I don't care. Maybe the group will come back tonight completely intact, and no one was at whatever the shape on the horizon is, and I'll look like a fool. Whatever. It'll just help them underestimate me more and turn their attentions onto each other for when the big fight comes.
The fact is, when they talked about going out to the edge of the arena and exploring whatever that dot is, my heart immediately plummeted and my instincts flared with pure, unbridled fear. It was just like when the gong rang, or when I thought Chavez was going to kill me yesterday, but almost worse, and I had no idea why I was so terrified. It was just a dot, probably a little boulder or hill or building with a sniveling Outlier huddled inside. And yet, it gave me a sense of foreboding. Something deep down in my bones said to stay away. I don't believe in spirits or luck or destiny, but in that moment I knew ignoring this feeling would be plain dumb. So I tried my hardest to keep the pack from going. When they wouldn't listen, I resigned myself to stay here and look the coward while they all headed to the place that made my stomach flip for no explainable reason.
The cannon fires about an hour later after a faint pop, and I don't pay it much attention. The little scamp from Twelve jumps when it rings out, just like she does when anything remotely loud or quick happens around here. She's been huddled in the back of the Horn all day, just staring at me with fearful, red rimmed eyes. She must think I'm going to desert and kill her from the way she clutches her uselessly blunt dagger close to her chest and doesn't take her eyes off of me. But I'm not stupid, and over time she started to relax a bit as she realized that I wasn't going to kill her, not yet. Cordelia is foolish and is not going to survive the split, but she was right that whoever killed the girl was going to be the villain. Once the Games deepen, however, and the blood's already made the arena slick and humid, no one will care about her death. I pity her a bit, about her baby and everything, but she's just an opponent and one I know I don't need to fear.
But still. She jumps like someone just crashed two pots together behind her head while I'm abstentmindedly cutting my finger nails with one of my throwing knives. A small yelp erupts from her throat. I just roll my eyes. She's piteous. There's no reason to worry; it's just one cannon, and no others. If one of my allies was dead, there certainly would've been another cannon. They wouldn't let whatever Outlier had been lucky enough to kill one of the Careers get away, no matter the cost. And there's only one cannon. So they must've just found an Outlier, dispatched of them, and cleared out the area around whatever the dot is. I was foolish to stay here at the Horn and act like Scylas Ondino himself was laying in wait at the dot.
Forty minutes later I realize I'm not foolish at all as I see my allies running back hysterically through the grass. I immediately jump to my feet as I see them sprinting through the tall grass and towards the Horn, panting and sweating and gasping for air. The Twelve girl watches with an open mouth as we both realize the same thing at the same time.
One of them's gone. One of my allies is dead.
"What the fuck happened?!" I scream as first Chavez collapses on the mud field where the Cornucopia glitters, followed by Trinity and then Tyberios and then a blubbering Cordelia bringing up the rear. "Where the fuck is Zircon?!"
None of them can respond for several long, tense moments full of whimpers and panting for breath. Finally, Chavez rises to his feet as Tyberios rubs a shaken Trinity's back comfortingly and Cordelia rocks herself in the mud with her knees pulled to her chest.
"One of them has a gun," is all Chavez manages to breathe. His bravado, his swagger, his flirting, his cockiness, it's all gone, replaced by bone chilling fear. There's nothing but fear and worry on his face as I absorb his words slowly, too slowly, because Twelve speaks before I do.
"A-a gun!?" she whimpers. "They don't put those in the Ga-"
"They do now," Tyberios growls from his spot on the ground next to Trinity. "The little devil from 10 was in that cabin and she shot Zircon in the chest, point blank. He was dead in seconds, and the rest of us are lucky we didn't get taken down too. They gave her a gun. They really gave her a gun."
The horror washes over me instantly, and I stagger over to the Cornucopia, bracing myself against the sizzling golden metal. No...it can't be. They can't be telling the truth. They just killed Zircon for some reason and are covering it up, right? But why isn't Cordelia dead then too, or Chavez as well? It doesn't make sense. They wouldn't just kill one of our allies and return together without a scratch on any of them. They're not lying. It's...it's true. They put a gun in the Games. And it all makes sense now.
I was shocked when they put us here, in this endless field of golden grass. Sure, the Capitol loves its Careers, and we're supplying plenty of drama this year. But they love the drama of Outliers sweeping their way to the end and underdog storylines almost as much, too. This arena has Career victory written all over it. The moment we rose up on the pedestals, everyone in Panem knew that it was a foregone conclusion that one of the six of us was coming home. It was going to be a boring Games with the Outliers slaughtered in the open prairie mercilessly until the long final showdown with one of us being lifted out, bathed in dark red blood.
But of course they wouldn't do that. No one in the Capitol wants anything about the Games to be a foregone conclusion. There had to be something in this arena to level the playing field, to give even just one Outlier the chance to come back home when the only thing here is golden grass and blue sky. They had to give them something so strong, so powerful, that they'd be able to put up a good fight against the Careers and put it in doubt that one of us would win after all.
"It's an equalizer," I murmur after a long time. "They wanted to make it fair."
"Fuck fair," Chavez snarls, stabbing one of his throwing knives into the mud. "A gun isn't fair. No one can beat a gun unless they have one too, and I guarantee there's not more than one."
"We just have to plan around it," I growl. "It's a turn of events, but we can still come out on to-"
"A turn of events?!" It's Trinity who snarls at me this time, rising from where Tyberios has been comforting her ever since we got back. "Zirc being shot by a little girl is what you call a turn of events?! You're fucking psycho, Ardin! You weren't there! You...you don't understand..."
She trails off, and I see the tears welling in her eyes, and I see the pain flickering in front of her face. I'm surprised to see the ice queen crack so easily, but I guess her District partner just died, and the shock of a gun in the arena must be terrible. I feel scared though. They're all upset. They're not going to listen to reason right now. They want to rage, and I'm the person who stayed at the Horn. I'm the person who didn't experience their shared trauma. I'm the one who just accidentally said Zircon's death is basically nothing. I can see the rage frothing in Trinity's eyes, the wicked frown on Chavez's face, the creased brow of Tyberios. They're upset, and they need to take it out on someone.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "It...it must've been scary. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help. It's a big deal."
They all stare at me for a long time, but none of them taunt me and tell me that if I was there that I would've been useless against the bullets just like the rest of them. I expect them to leer or snigger or scream but they just stare at me, and then Tyberios is nodding, Cordelia is wiping the tears from her eyes, and Trinity is sighing loudly.
"I'm sorry too," the One girl murmurs as she walks past me, squeezing my shoulder. "We just didn't expect this, and seeing Zirc die...it was just harder than I thought it would be. I've never felt terror like that in my life. I'm sorry I let my emotions get the best of me."
"I'm sorry my lack of them got the best of me too," I reply, and a small smile works its way onto her face as we walk back together to the Horn.
Our late lunch is quiet and pensive, and the rest of the day drips by slowly. We sit around the fire as dusk begins to settle on the arena. There isn't much banter or conversation about hunting or home or anything at all. The Twelve girl cooks us onion soup, and it tastes pretty terrible, but at least it's fresh and warm and it's not from a plastic package. Once we're done, Cordelia gives her a small spoonful from the bottom of the cauldron, and no one objects. The girl's shaken and weeping after hearing about a gun in the Games, more scared than she was when she was alone with me. I don't know why she's not excited, there's something out there that can defeat this pack, but I guess she thinks we're going to kill her sooner now. Whatever the reason, it's annoying to listen to her sniffles so we give her the soup and she quiets down and crawls into the back of the Horn. Tyberios is the first one to work up the courage to break the silence and discuss our next steps.
"What are we going to do now?" he asks quietly, staring into the flickering flames of our fire.
"We have to figure out a way to outsmart them," I reply, surveying the others. Only Cordelia looks me in the eyes, while the others stare into the fire thoughtfully. "We have to get that gun away from them somehow, and we'll win."
The others nod in agreement, but Cordelia shakes her head slowly, biting her lip.
"The Gamemakers aren't going to let it happen," Cordelia whispers, and we all look at her quizzically.
"Why?" Chavez sniffs, glaring at his District partner. "If we put on a show taking it out, and at least one of us probably dies doing it, then they'll be happy."
"They're going to want a final showdown. They won't let us take it from them when there's still twelve of us left," Cordelia murmurs, her eyes darting around to gauge our reactions. "They want our final Career battle, but they want to make the suspense last as long as possible."
I want to say something about how she's wrong, about how the Capitol will rejoice if we disarm them, but she's not wrong. The Capitol has put this gun into the Games to make things hard for us, and so our final battle won't be a foregone conclusion. They won't let us track down the little 10 girl and destroy her gun when there's still a half dozen other Outliers out there. It'll just be a week or two of what would've happened before the gun was put into the Games.
"You might not be wrong. They might not want us to do it," I sigh. "They're going to want to make the drama last. We can't go after her yet."
"Then what the hell are we supposed to do?!" Chavez spits angrily. "We have to take out the gun! We have to! We can't sit around and let her relax with that fucking thing!"
"They want her to kill more of us," Trinity whispers eerily, eyes locked on the fire. "They don't want it to end anytime soon."
"Then let her kill some of us, almost all of us, I don't care!" Chavez roars, coming to his feet. He's angry, he's so angry, and I know it's because this is the first time he's realizing he might not have the Games in the bag. His ego is slipping. "We can't let her get away with this!"
"Let's just sleep," Tyberios says firmly, and everyone falls silent. "Let's just sleep. We need it. We're all worn thin, and we'll figure it out in the morning."
No one objects; I certainly don't. I'm happy that Chavez's anger isn't directed at me right now, but he's about to go wild, and others might too. I don't want this pack to split yet, especially when there's a girl with a gun out there somewhere. The tensions are still taut even though we need to stick together now, and we need to preserve this alliance as long as possible. Arguing might just split it tonight; if more of us die today, the Outliers will win. We can't have that. So we need to sleep. I just nod silently at Tyberios, and everyone else murmurs their agreements to his plan.
"I don't know how well I'll be able to sleep, so I'll take first guard shift," Trinity murmurs, and we all nod. It feels like the tense, heated air has been sucked out of all of us; even Chavez is silent as he sits down within the Horn and leans back against a crate, trying to sleep. I feel cold, so cold, down to my bones, even though I'm still squatting by the fire. I give Trinity's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and she conjures a shadow of her dazzling smile for me. At least this may have strengthened our bond, which will be good for me in the future. Thoughts of tactics and paranoia and the pack splitting drip out of my mind as I curl up on the floor of the Horn, however. I'm tired, I'm so goddamn tired, and more scared than I'm willing to admit, so I just push the roaring stream of thoughts from my mind and let myself fall asleep.
Omri Plower, 18
District Eleven Male
It's late morning when the cannon fires. Fender and I both jump a little bit when we hear it; we've both zoned out as we crawl through the grass, lugging our supplies along with us. When I wince from the cannon fire, my leg bangs against the side of my chainsaw, thankfully not scraping across the deadly sharp blade. I hiss in pain, rubbing my sore shin before collapsing on the ground with a huff.
"I need a break," I sigh, staring at the clear blue sky above me. "We've moved enough for today I think."
"You're probably right," Fender replies, laying down next to me. He's carrying our two packs while I carry my belt of throwing knives and the fucking heavy chainsaw some rowdy Capitolites sent me two days ago. "Someone else is gone, so they're probably gonna be satisfied for the day."
We wait for another cannon, but nothing more comes. We don't hear any screams or shouts or nearby scuffles; we're on the far edge of the arena now. The grass barely comes up to my knees, and we've been crawling in attempt to have some cover on us. The Cornucopia is barely a golden glint on the horizon from here. I know we're probably getting too far away, but I don't care. Fuji wouldn't stay anywhere near the middle on her own, and if we're going to track her down, we've gotta go where she would go, and that's to the very edge of this goddamn arena.
"That's twelve left now," Fender murmurs after some time of us laying on our backs in silence, staring up at the sky. "Halfway through."
"Closer to home than ever," I say, and I try to conjure up memories of home for comfort. My little high school I hated, the tiny village where I grew up, my mom humming as she made porridge for breakfast. They don't do much to encourage me. All I feel is the tiredness that's deeply seated in my muscles and bones from five days in the arena, and the fear and worry and rage that have been consuming me ever since I was Reaped.
"Are you doing okay?" Fender asks, turning on his side to look at me. The guy's eyes are full of genuine concern, and I know he can tell I'm out of it. Well, we're in the fucking Hunger Games. I'd have to be a Career to not be out of it, and even then I bet half of them are shitting bricks now that we're this deep in. But I get what he means. Our alliance is still fresh, and while I'm starting to trust him more every hour, he probably is still as wary of me as I am of him. He wants to make sure to show he's trustworthy and that I don't need to hide anything from him out here. He also wants to make sure I'm not about to go crazy, and he has a reason to be concerned. I do have a chainsaw right next to me, after all.
"I'm alright, it's just...everything's weighing on me," I whisper, plucking a piece of grass from the ground and rolling it between my fore finger and thumb mindlessly. "All the Careers are still left, Fuji's still out there probably unless that cannon was her. I know you and I are strong, but I don't know if we're strong enough."
The open admittal of my fears feels really vulnerable. I hope the Capitol's cameras are pointed elsewhere right now, because I don't want them to see their darling underdog shaking on the ground, whimpering about being too weak to win. Fender doesn't shame me though, just nodding slowly as I speak.
"We have a lot of things to face," he sighs, rolling back onto his back and looking back up at the cloudless sky. "But we have the chainsaw, which is going to do wonders for us. And we have each other; I know we're still getting to know each other, but I trust you, and we know we need each other. Working together we can make something happen, if we're lucky enough."
If we're lucky enough. Those are the words that have to be added to every statement in this goddamn arena, because nothing is expected and nothing comes easy. Millard wasn't lucky enough. Ivy wasn't lucky enough. Neither was the person whose cannon fired earlier. I'll probably not be lucky enough either.
But Fender's also not wrong. I'm being a dumbass right now, to be rolling in my own sorrows when I have a strong ally, enough rations of food and water for a couple days, and a goddamn chainsaw on my side. There's people out there right now who are probably alone with next to nothing who would kill to have my skills and supplies. One of them probably died earlier. I am lucky, luckier than some, and I have to put that to good use. I can't get down and out over everything.
"You're right, I'm sorry, it's just hard to not get stuck in your head out here," I nod in response, looking into Fender's eyes. "We're going to be okay."
"Yes sir, we're going to be okay," he says with a small smile, and I work up a smile to shoot back to him. Optimism and positivity have never been my strongsuits, but wallowing in fear, delusion, and sadness isn't going to do anything to help me get out of here.
The rest of the day passes slowly after that as we move very little, spending most of our time resting in the grass on our backs. The blistering sun's heat is more oppressive out here in the farthest stretches of the arena, probably to mess with us and discourage people from going so far from the Horn. So far though, they don't seem bothered with us being far away. They haven't sent any mutts or tornadoes or tributes after us. Maybe the prairie goes on forever, and that's the advantage on the Careers we have. That'd be a dream, to just disappear into the grass and melt away from the Games forever. Fender and I chat quietly about dumb stuff like that and our lives back home as the sun begins to set over the horizon. It glows in its typical pinks and yellows before drooping to a bloody orange-red.
"You got a girl back home?" Fender asks me as we watch the sunset. "You know about mine, from the interviews and all..." Fender's face gets flushed, and I manage to remember him asking out some girl from home during his interview with Fabula. A smile works its way onto his face as he says this, and I smile a bit too at seeing him so happy.
"Not exactly. There was this cute girl named Lidia I was Homecoming King with after I volunteered for the Prelim Reaping," I say with a small smile. "Maybe we could be something, I don't know. She was so nice and pretty though."
"You volunteered for the Preliminary Reaping?!" Fender says in shock, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Why in the hell?!"
"It seems dumb now, with everything that's happened," I sigh, feeling the shame wash over me. "But whoever was the selected tribute in the Prelim got to be Homecoming King, and I wasn't popular back home. I wanted to make a name for myself and I was convinced that my name wouldn't get chosen out of the thousands at the real Reaping. But I guess the odds weren't in my favor. It was definitely the stupidest thing I've ever done, hands down."
"Real stupid," Fender chuckles with a small grin. "But at least I know you're not as smart as you seem."
I punch him in the shoulder and he laughs. "At least I'm hotter than you, dork," I laugh in response, and Fender just rolls his eyes and lays back in the grass.
Our banter ceases when the Horn of Plenty begins to play. It's fallen completely dark, and the artificial stars dim as the glowing seal of the Capitol shimmers in the night sky. We both press our hands together against our sternum with our fingertips touching our chins in the customary salute as the anthem fills the silent arena. Once it's finished, we both hold our breath to see who it's going to be, expecting to see one of the girls from Six or Ten or Twelve.
When the boy from One grins down at us from the sky, his massive blue-green portrait glittering for a few moments before fading away, neither of us speak. We don't speak once the Capitol seal glimmers in the sky again before fading away. We don't speak once the artificial stars start twinkling brightly again. We don't speak for what feels like eternity as we both process what has happened, and when I look at Fender there's a smile on his face, and a smile on mine too.
"Luck's in our favor," I say with a smile, and Fender nods excitedly.
"I wonder what the heck happened," Fender murmurs, staring at the sky where the boy's portrait was minutes ago. "There wasn't any big arena event like the stampede, and I feel like if the Careers split today they would've killed more than one of their own."
"Who knows," I shrug, the smile not leaving my face. "I don't really care. All I know is that one of the Careers is gone, and when one dies, the rest of them hopefully will follow. And if some of them are injured, this bad boy will help us out for sure," I say, patting my chainsaw reverently.
"We have an honest to Snow chance at this," Fender laughs. "One of us could really go home, Omri."
"We're going to make it happen," I grin as we lay back to sleep in the grass, and the silly thing is that I really believe it as I drift off to sleep.
A/N: That was so long I'm sorry if it was a bit long winded or boring after Zircon died but I just wanted to showcase the interpersonal relationships of all the alliances before things start getting even more wild :) I hope you guys enjoyed it!
13TH: ZIRCON O'DILE, 1M - Killed by Miriam
Zircon was a tribute that I always liked. I felt like he was a fun Career to write, and he was the type of tribute from One I feel like would usually come from that District but wasn't always shown in SYOTs. He was fun to write in the Capitol, and I also liked writing his transition into a stone cold killer this chapter. However, I felt like he was the perfect person to be Miriam's victim and he'll help fuel good plot points. All in all, Zirc got screwed over by something he couldn't have seen coming, and I am happy I got to explore him even if he didn't make it anywhere near as far as he hoped.
Kill Count:
Chavez Belasco: 3 (Baron, Jayce, Calico)
Trinity Vegas: 2 (Rufus, Gaia)
Zircon O'Dile: 2 (Soya, Millard)
Ardin Varnell: 1 (Sage)
Tyberios Palatium: 1 (Bernie)
Fuji LaMac: 1 (Ivy)
Miriam Park: 1 (Zircon)
Arena Events: 1 (Luke)
I hope this was enjoyable! I'm going to try to finish this story by the beginning of August if I can manage and hopefully y'all can stick around until that point :) Let me know what you guys thought of this chapter and what you think is going to happen next! All of your support after all these years means so much to me and I love you all so much for sticking with this story even after the delays and my super long chapters LOL. I can't wait to finish this story with all of you!
Until Next Time,
Tracee