Chapter Six
They've been in the Arena for five long days. Their food had run out the previous day and they have yet to find anything else that was remotely edible.
Actually, they have yet to find anything other than white snow, endless moving walls of ice, and ginormous wolves that wanted to rip them to pieces. They haven't even seen another tribute! And they knew there should have been seventeen more of them wandering around.
They did find out that the Gamemakers' new mechanical mutts, while impossible to destroy with their current weapons, were fairly slow. Outrunning them became their plan of action whenever they came across them, whether there was only one or an entire pack. There seemed to be a fair number of them too, most often found prowling at large intersections waiting for some unfortunate tribute to inadvertently come across them. The Gamemakers must have been having fun chasing them around if the increasing number of encounters meant anything. They hadn't been able to properly rest in a couple of days now, new mutts appearing every time they tried settling down for a quick nap.
Despite the hunger, the biting cold, the growing exhaustion, and the constant threat of their imminent demise, Will thought it had become… boring. They were just aimlessly drifting through the corridors of an ever-changing maze quietly singing songs under their breath. Or at least, Rosie was. He hummed along occasionally. Which is why he knew things were going to change any moment now. Capitolites will never be satisfied with an unexciting show, and consequently, the Gamemakers will have to step up their game sooner or later. Of course, maybe they were merely busy tormenting the rest of the tributes, but considering the considerable lack of death in the past few days, Will somewhat doubted that. Accordingly, when they are forced to backtrack after the corridor they were traversing through turns into a dead-end by an abruptly shifting wall and they come face to face with the girl from District 3, he isn't surprised at all.
There is a moment of stillness as they wait for the other to make the first move before the girl suddenly launches herself at them with a battle cry, a sharp machete raised high over her head. Rosie squeaks in fear and stumbles away, fumbling for her slingshot.
He barely yanks out one of the axes from his belt in time to stop the blade from burying itself in his skull. Straining to hold it up, his other hand gropes for his second ax and he takes a swing at the girl's unguarded side. She avoids it by a hair's breadth, the cloth of her coat ripping and a thin red line appears on her bared skin. A few drops of blood drip unto the snow from the head of his ax.
With the girl out of arms reach, he makes to run but abruptly aborts the motion when she copies him. He tried the other side, and she jerks that way too. Apparently, she wasn't going to let them go that easily. She wanted a fight.
His hands clench hard on the shaft of his weapons, and he balances on the balls of his feet, his eyes never straying from his opponent. He had to distract the girl long enough for Rosie to slip past, and then hold her attention so that his little sister had time to run away.
Shit, he hoped the District 3 tribute was alone.
The girl lunges forward again, and Will dances back, ducking under her wild swing. Too much power and not enough technique, he judges silently. She's never been in a real fight. She was just desperately hoping to hit something of his before he hit her. Not that he was all that experienced either, but he was suddenly thankful for every brawl Basil had ever dragged him into. It wouldn't be enough against a Career, but he won't be an embarrassment for his District either.
As the girl's blade passes next to him again in a doublehanded swipe from overhead, he bats it away with one ax and sinks the edge of the other into her unprotected flank.
Her cry of pain seems to echo in the endless corridors of ice. Even the glacial wind quiets down its unceasing howling.
The girl rips herself of the ax with a squelching spurt of red, and she drops her sword in favor of grasping at her wound. She's crying, harsh sobs escaping from her throat and tears freezing on her cheeks even as they trickled down.
"Please!" She gasps out, staggering. "Please don't kill me! I won't go after you again, I promise! I'm just so hungry! Please!"
Will stills, watching the girl warily. He's never killed anyone in cold blood before. And she looked so pitiful like this, eyes wide and pleading for mercy. This wasn't anything like with the boy from the Bloodbath. Then, he hadn't had time to think, hadn't had time to properly realize what he was doing.
He swallows harshly. He didn't know if he could do this. It wouldn't be self-defense anymore. To strike her down while she was weaponless and injured and clearly already defeated would be murder. Real murder. He'd be killing her for the sake of killing. Nothing was stopping him from simply walking away. Whatever happened to the girl after wouldn't be his fault. Whether she bleed out or got caught by a mutt or another tribute, it wouldn't be on him.
Will does what he promised to himself to never do in the privacy of his own mind and hesitates to complete the killing blow. It proves to be almost his undoing.
"Watch out!"
Trying to evade the unexpected attack, Will trips over his own feet and collapses into the snow, staring wide-eyed at the girl who had having sensed his momentary weakness, reached behind her back and pulled out a small knife before lunging at him, aiming for his chest.
Something whizzes by his face to splatter over the girl where it starts eating away at her uncovered flesh, smoking slightly. If he thought her earlier scream was horrible, it was nothing on the yells of agony she was letting out now. Whatever liquid she had been sprayed with, it was painful enough for her to attempt to claw off her own skin with her blunted nails after her gloves dissolved.
"Willy…" Rosie whispers fearfully from behind him.
He glances back at her, feeling stunned. Sometime during the fight, he and the District 3 girl had switched spots so that even as Rosie had run, he had appeared to have been protecting her retreat. That was the good news; keeping up the role for the very rich sponsors was important. The bad news was that Rose had evidently decided to creep back to his side before he could tell her it was safe to do so. In her hand, she was tightly squeezing her slingshot.
He wants to be angry, to shake the idiotic girl by the shoulders and lecture her about her safety until he was blue in the face, but… he just didn't have the energy.
"Was that…" He begins and has to start over when something in his throat tightens. "Was that your marble?"
She nods, and throws her arms around him, hiding her face into his neck. His arm comes up around her shoulders to press his little sister closer to him, and he watches as the other girl drops to the ground convulsing face down in the snow. It took a while for the screams to quiet down.
The twitching stops, and a cannon booms. Well. He guesses that was it for District 3. They were the second district after 5 to have both tributes killed.
"Look away." He tells Rosie and gets up to cautiously approach the corpse. Kneeling on one knee, he turns it over, and he cannot contain a horrified gasp at the sight of the girl's face.
Acid. That was the ammunition for the slingshot. Very, very potent acid that only needed a small amount to be deadly. He leans over to the side and heaves uselessly since there was nothing in his stomach for him to vomit.
Eventually, he gathers himself enough to slip the knife, which turns out to be a multitool type, into his own pocket. It didn't strike him as particularly useful in their current environment, but who knew, maybe it'll come in handy later. It wasn't heavy and didn't take up a lot of space, it would be a waste to throw away another weapon.
He pauses and stares blankly at the burned corpse. It would be disrespectful to scavenge through the bag of a recently dead, but what if she had lied and she had food after all? Will doesn't ponder on morals for long and investigates through the inside of the girl's backpack with only the barest flickers of guilt buried deep inside his chest. Screw morals, he wanted to live, dammit.
She hadn't lied, there really was no food though a few empty wrappers pointed to there having been some in the past. What she did have instead was another heater and more gas. There was also some nylon rope, a harness, several quickdraw clips, and large screws. In short, everything one would need to climb the sheer ice walls, and nothing else.
With a sigh heavy with disappointment, Will begins scavenging. Even tightened to the maximum, the harness would have been too loose for Rosie, so he tugs it onto himself after several false starts. They've never needed such equipment to climb trees in their orchards, and like the spikes for their boots, it would have taken too long to figure out how to wear when they were trying to escape something in a hurry. Better have it already ready. Letting the rest of the gear hang from his belt, he contemplates the slowly freezing body. It would be a shame to let such a nice and warm coat go; they could use it as a blanket at night and burn less precious heater oil.
Nodding resolutely, he tugs it off, grateful it seemed clean of chemicals. Just in case, he scrubs it hard with a chunk of ice in the snow before draping it over Rosie. "Here, you did good today."
"I killed her." She sniffs heartbreakingly, wiping at her eyes.
"You saved me, lovely." He counters, shaking his head, and kneeling again. Gently, he grabs hold of her hands. "She tricked me, and if it wasn't for you and your warning, she'd have gutted me with that knife. I'd be dead."
It had been a stupid mistake. An easily avoidable mistake that had cost the remains of Rosie's innocence. They were both killers now.
He glances back at the body and grimaces. They've lingered for too long, it was time to move. There had been a pack of mutts they've been running from before this happened, and they gave them more than enough time to catch up if the Gamemakers had moved the walls again to let them pass. They should have been gone even before the other tribute had died. Her screams could have attracted the unwanted attention of others.
"Take this." He says, picking up the long sword from where it had fallen and had already been almost completely covered by the freshly fallen snow to slide it back into its sheath and attach it to Rosie's belt. It was a little long for a smaller than average thirteen-year-old, but it was also unusually thin, making it much lighter than normal, and thus easier to use for a girl with noddle arms. "Remember, this is only for last resort. I still want you to use your slingshot first. There will be absolutely no charging into battle alongside me, is that understood?"
Rosie doesn't answer, but she does finally stand up, trying to look determined despite her teary eyes and dripping nose. She studiously endeavors to avoid looking in the direction of the body.
He sighs again, mentally cursing out their ancestors for losing the war. "Time to go, sweetling."
Their best course of action would have been to backtrack again instead of pushing forward into the direction the girl from 3 had come from. However slim, there were chances she had allies and neither of them was willing to fight anyone again. Unfortunately, the way back was closed. Instead, they follow the girl's footprints until the first crossroad and select the corridor with the undisturbed snow.
Sadly, it turns out the Gamemakers weren't done with them. Once again, their chosen route is cut off with a shifting wall and this time another passageway opens up on their right. Not being idiots who were willing to be herded to their doom without a fight, they first attempt to go right back the way they came from – again – but that corridor had been closed too. With deadens on both sides, they had no choice but to go right.
They turn the corner, and he's meet with the half-familiar green eyes of Nyle Abano. The boy from 4 had just turned his own corner barely a hundred meters away. Behind him came the progressively louder voices of more people asking why he had stopped so suddenly. Career Pack.
"Blossom," He addresses Rosie. "whatever happens, don't stop running."
His hand worms into her closest pocket, where she kept her marbles for easy access and he palms a couple of them.
"But where are we going to run?" Rosie whispers back, edging behind his back and readying her slingshot.
She was right to worry. The Gamemakers had cut off all of their escape routes with their blasted moving walls. They only had one option and that was forward. Forward toward a group that both outnumbered them and outskilled them, because while they were busy murmuring to each other, Nyle is joined by the tributes from District 1, 2, and his own District partner who Will didn't remember the name off, but who he'd seen at the Training Center with the spears. 4 had always done well with that particular weapon, likely thanks to its resemblance to the tridents they used for fishing, and the girl had been no exception.
Will had the dubious luck of having the chance to watch an interview of Finnick Odair, the winner of the previous Games when their first-period teacher had gotten sick. He had been describing how during certain times of the year, the waters District 4 fished from was teeming with so much fish the usual nets weren't enough. The District children would be given the tridents and they would spear the fish swimming in the shallows until it was red with blood and it was impossible to see what they were aiming at. The interviewer, a flirty woman three times the boy's age, had asked why they didn't use fishing rods. Finnick had laughed in response. "Because it would take too long then." He said with such a cheery grin you'd almost forget he was the youngest victor ever in the long history of the Hunger Games.
The Career Pack doesn't hurry, approaching steadily and calmly in a line that spanned the entire corridor. They have no need to rush and they know it; if they hadn't tried to run by now, that meant they had nowhere to go. Only the most stupid would attempt to stand their ground in such a situation if it hadn't been necessary.
"Look, it's the pretty boy and his fake sister." Satin purrs, carelessly swinging her long blade as she stepped closer. She was one to talk, being more of a looker than Cashmere herself. She had no right to look as beautiful as she did after spending so long in the wild.
"We… we've killed people, you know," Rosie calls peering around him, her voice weak and stammering. "We're dangerous."
The Careers respond by cruelly laughing at her feigned bravado, approaching even nearer until they were in Will's throwing range. This close, he wouldn't miss.
"We're not going to kill you, Will, Rosie," Nyle says calmly, the only one to not snigger. "If you give us your food, we'll let you live."
Will blinks, alarmed, and his eyes dart from one face to another, searching for a hint of a lie, but the furry hoods prevented him from seeing much. Still, they seemed to be telling the truth.
"You don't have food?!" Rosie exclaims incredulously. It was a ludicrous idea, that the Careers didn't have food. The only times they didn't have an absurd amount of supplies was when it had been ruined by another tribute or it had been destroyed by the Gamemakers when the Game was coming to a close. They were not even a week in, and there were sixteen tributes left.
"What happens if we don't have any either?" He questions warily.
The Careers exchange a glance, and Ajax smirks. "Then we kill you and check for ourselves."
"I see." He manages and frowns. What was stopping the Careers from killing them first and searching their bodies after? Unless it was a lie and they were just playing around with them, trying to see if they really would fall for that trick. "Oh." Entertaining their sponsors. Getting them to like them. That's what they were doing. No doubt the Capitolites would be gleefully betting right about now on what he and Rosie would do next.
Will takes a step, another, and before the Career can react lobs the marbles in his hand.
"Cora!" Nyle yelps and he takes the opportunity to charge through their broken blockade, Rosie at his heels.
"IT BURNS! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"
The Careers don't give chase immediately, occupied by their wounded ally. It gives them time to cover enough ground so that when Will glances back, he doesn't hear the sickening crunch of the girl's bones when Ajax swings his sword and takes off her head in an uncharacteristic act of mercy. Though, it nevertheless wasn't sufficiently far to miss their rage-filled glares. The boom of the cannon declares the beginning of their pursuit, and Will honestly didn't know how they were going to survive. The fuckers in charge of the Arena weren't likely to move the walls any time soon and conveniently cut off their pursuers.
Running is hard, painful. The third time Rosie stumbles, he grabs her by the hand and mercilessly drags her after him. They slip and slide, and icy snow keeps getting into their boots. In places, they have to fight through drifts deep enough to reach their knees. They are overly warm inside their clothes, but the air they breathe in is bitingly cold. Their packs are heavy and slowed them down even further. Within minutes, he develops a painful stitch in his side, and his throat becomes so raw every breath was pure agony.
They take random turns, not caring where they go as long as it was away. The Careers curse and struggle behind them, at times catching up, at others falling behind. They keep panting out threats, describing in detail what they were planning to do to them once they caught them. Rosie was crying and coughing and he feared she would start choking from a lack of air any second now.
Their salvation comes in the shape of a hole in the wall so small you'd have to crawl on your hands and knees to get in. At first, he thinks he's going to pass out, that he was starting to see black spots, but it remains in one place, unmoving. Real.
He doesn't stop to think. For all he knew, it could be the den of a mutt or a Gamemaker trap, and he couldn't care less. It was something new, something they have not seen before in the days they had spent wandering the maze, therefore it must be important. More importantly, there was the slightest chance it could get them away from the Career Pack hunting them. He dives into the cavern feet first, without bothering to slow down.
I don't own the Hunger Games.