Shit goes down in this chapter (she says as if shit doesn't go down in every chapter, but particularly dramatic shit goes down).
Just one bingo, it's new.
XXX
He wakes her up at the crack of dawn. She doesn't really mind, he's not holding a knife to her throat and her sleeping had been fitful anyway, haunted by screaming children whom she chased down and devoured alive, and his reasoning is sound. The sooner they get to a body of water the better.
"We were right about going north by the way," he adds casually, pointing to the mountains as if commenting on how lucky they were to have finished a picnic before a rainstorm hit.
She's not particularly surprised to see the ensuing devastation. The mountains are erupting. All of them. At once. A river of lava flows down them and into the nearby forest.
She barks out a laugh, "Told you. The Gamemakers are masters of subtlety."
She already knows Heather is going north, and Brad is likely there now so she wonders if it's more to show off all the traps they built to the audience than to kill anyone. Nevertheless, it's another way to draw them together and one fewer place to hide.
He's already mostly packed by the time she manages to get the energy to drag herself out of the sleeping bag.
"Come on, only two of them left to kill." He says, with the expected lack of understanding of the emotional weight that such actions carry.
Three of us left to kill. She thinks to herself, never taking her eyes off his knife.
They eat as they walk, mostly choosing the remaining fruit they have in their bags, and avoiding anything salty, so they retain as much water as possible. They don't talk much, and she makes sure she trails behind him so she can keep an eye on what he is doing and doesn't find a knife piercing her back.
Just like yesterday, they continue on and on as the sun rises higher in the sky, it's blazing heat, inviting them to use up their remaining supplies. And yet there is still no sign of a stream to reward them for their efforts.
Eventually, he admits defeat, he leans against a tree trunk groaning, throwing his head back until it bounces against the wood.
"Can't those fuckers give us anything? God, I'd kill for a cigarette."
"You already have." She says, monotonously, slumping down beside him, glad for the break, "Multiple times."
"Where are they then?" He says, "You'd think one of those parachutes of yours would have something useful in."
She glares at him.
"What? I'd share them with you."
"That's better." She's tired, so tired, of him, of the arena, of walking, of her aching body and her unbearable thoughts, of herself, of wondering if each day will be her last. To be honest, a cigarette sounds fucking fantastic.
She checks her flask, there are only a few mouthfuls of water left.
"How much further away is this river?"
"Can't be long now. Martha wasn't particularly fast, I don't think we got that far out when we found the water during our first few days."
Her stomach twists at the mention of Martha and she remembers, despite their need, part of her doesn't ever want to reach their destination. Because what then? When does she give him the slip? Or does she try to shove a blade in his body before he does the same to her?
Does he even know there's water up here, or is this just a lie, one more way to force her to stay beside him?
He is a monster, she knows he is, the question is just when he decides to attack.
Nonetheless, she gets up as he pushes himself off the tree and she continues as if the light at the end of the tunnel is still something worth aiming for.
Not long later he stops so abruptly that she nearly bangs into him.
"Have you got your knife out?"
"No. I thought I'd just leave it right at the bottom of my bag, so if we got attacked it would be as far out of reach as possible. Any reason that might be a bad idea?"
He ignores the sarcasm and lets him move beside her. They're looking into a clearing. He points to what is clearly the remains of a campfire, surrounded by fish bones and the partially eaten body of…
"Is that a… crocodile?"
"That's a very big crocodile."
Thank God it's dead.
Well, at least she knows she was right in her assessment of where her district partner has been residing.
"Reckon he might still be nearby?"
He goes over, runs the charcoal and ash through his fingers and kicks the crocodile more brutally than is strictly necessary, causing a swarm of flies to take to the air.
"Seems a little abandoned, but he might have not moved far. I wonder what made him move away."
"Probably the giant crocodile. I don't know if you agree, but that doesn't look like it was too fun to fight."
Eagles, lions, crocodiles, and God knows what else waiting to be unleashed in this forest. It must be a wet dream for the Zoologists in the Capitol.
He hums thoughtfully.
In any case, if there is a camp, crocodiles and fish bones, the water cannot be far away. Potentially vicious, predator infested water, but anything to relieve her parched throat.
All she'll have to do is watch her back, lest he pushes her in.
And sure enough, not five minutes later, she starts to see the, now familiar, patches of reeds that surround most of the water in this arena. She wants to run forward, but his steps in front of her are warier. Suddenly he lets out a frustrated sigh, "I knew it," he mumbles.
Her stomach sinks.
"Hey, Veronica." He says, over his shoulder.
"Yes, dear?"
"I don't think it was the crocodile that drove Brad away."
She walks over to where he is standing. Next to him is a gully, still full of gunk and reeds.
Bone dry.
She kicks some nearby pebbles, watching them slide down the couple of metres of dusty expanse in disgust, "What assholes."
"My thoughts exactly."
She gets her flask out to sate her dry mouth, sipping mournfully at the trickle of water left inside, and throws her bag on the ground in frustration.
"Ok, what next?" she says, pacing up and down the glade.
"I see two options, either we follow what was the stream and see if it meets water at some point, or we continue to go north. From the looks of that lava, it's certainly what they want us to do."
He's right. Of fucking course he is. Somewhere there is someone controlling this river, draining it for their own amusement, with no real thought to her suffering or how much longer she has to put up with waiting for him to kill her. Or maybe really, they have put entirely too much thought into this, the viewers are probably revelling in her pain, waiting on tenterhooks for him to decide that now is the time that she'll be more entertaining to him if she's dead.
The thought of his hands on her body, just days before, sicken her almost as much as the cameras which are still watching her suffer. She feels like a toy, played with and used for other people's amusement until, sooner or later, they lose interest and dispose of her, any affection they have for her easily forgotten.
It feels like nothing could get any worse.
Which is just when the giant wolf comes running out of the woods and straight towards her.
There's no time to run. There's no time to do anything really. By the time she has looked up to register the creature with its black eyes locked on her throat, its claws are digging into her chest and pushing her to the ground. Saliva drips from what looks like hundreds of razor-sharp teeth as the animal snarls and opens its deadly jaws.
She thinks she would have got used to that feeling of impending doom by now. The absolute certainty that she is going to die, right here, right now, considering how many times she's felt it in the past few days. But still, in between all the dread, the knowledge that however shit her life is right now she still doesn't quite want it to end seeps through her stronger than ever before. But it's the end now, it has to be, her knife is still clutched weakly in her hand but there are no mines left and no reason for anyone to save her. At least with the tributes she could find a way of reasoning, of proving she was more useful to them alive, but this creature knows nothing but the desire to kill, and it can do so much more competently than she can.
It lunges towards her and she struggles furiously but only manages to move a few inches, so the teeth aiming for her windpipe instead sink into her left shoulder. She cries out in pain, her arms flapping uselessly in an attempt to push it off. The wolf, seeing it has missed its target raises its head again, moving in for the kill.
There is a scuffle and a cry beside her and something knocks into the wolf, distracting it from its goal. With a howl, its front paws move off her body so it can face its new assailant and she struggles out from under it and scrabbles to her feet.
She just has time to catch a glance of JD, raising his already dripping red knife towards the snarling creature, before he shoves her backwards and she tumbles into the gully, hitting what feels like every stone on the way down. She lands flat on her back, winded, and, for a few seconds, can do nothing but feel the sting of a million scratches, bruises and cuts as she tries to force air back into her lungs.
Eventually, she manages to push herself up into a seated position and look around. She moves her left arm experimentally, it hurts like hell and makes the tooth marks weep, but thankfully it seems to still work. Her knife, thank God, is beside her and she miraculously hasn't landed on it. She grabs it quickly, every part of her body aching from this simple move.
She can hear the chaos above her, the snarling and whining as the wolf tries to avoid his knife, and JD's yells of pain as its teeth pierce and pull at his flesh. Occasionally, she sees flashes of them over the ridge, dark grey fur fighting a figure covered in red.
Her first instinct is to force herself back onto her feet, clamber up and do her best to help overpower the beast, surely with two of them one could distract while the other could attack?
Or, says a sneaky voice in the back of her head, you could not do anything, and let the wolf do what it's programmed to do to undertrained tributes.
All impetuous to fight immediately goes. She stays where she is, sinking lower into the ditch. Not daring to run, even if her broken body would let her, lest the wolf notices its favourite snack is still nearby.
The snarls and cries continue for what feels like forever, she closes her eyes so she can't see anything at all, but it doesn't help because she can imagine what sort of injuries someone who is likely moments from being killed might be getting. Even if he does survive, any wounds from this could easily make the difference between life and death when it comes to the last few battles.
And here she sits, refusing to help, not because she can't, not because she's a coward, but because it's a calculated move.
Whatever they should mean to each other, he's been her partner for so long now that not helping this boy, who has promised to kill her so many times, makes her feel awful, she feels dirty and selfish, but mostly she is just thoroughly confused, because why is she even in this situation? The wolf wasn't attacking him, it went straight for her without giving him a moment's glance. He could have run. He could have stayed still and watched, just as she's doing right now. She's not sure she could have even blamed him for it, with four tributes left, the best way she can help him win is to die. And yet, he did not. He pushed her aside, made sure she wouldn't get hurt any further and then risked himself to finish the fight.
Her brain is no longer addled by the fall. Instead, it is whirring at a million miles an hour, thinking back over the days she's spent with him, trying to make sense of it all.
There's a thump and somehow the beast is on the ground, making no more sound. Dead. She hears the unpleasant shluk of him stabbing the knife a few more times just to make sure. She struggles to her feet, trying to ignore the pain from the cuts all over her skin, but he rushes over with the bags, jumping down to join her.
He looks like a scene from a horror movie. The black eye he got from Ram might have made him look hotter in a "what a badass" sort of way, but even she has her limits, the blood and gashes on his face and body now make him look like some sort of creature reanimated and brought back from the dead. The image of what he will turn himself into to achieve his goals makes her recoil.
"Are you ok?" he wears an odd expression, something she's never seen before and it makes him look even more unrecognisable than his injuries do. She nods, lets him approach her and inspect her wounds, they're not as deep as she feared, not even the bite. He takes some antiseptic and bandages out of his first aid kit and gives them to her before tending to his own wounds, and his expression goes back to normal.
It's only once her heart rate tempers and she can think again, that it clicks. His expression. It was fear. For the first time, she'd seen a crack in his perfectly painted façade, because it was the first time she'd seen him when he felt completely out of control.
Everything hurts and they need to get away before they draw attention to themselves, but the sound comes out anyway, she can't stop hysterically laughing.
He looks up, alarmed, and then his face instantly darkens.
"Shut up and come with me." He hisses, any concern he had for her moments ago already dissipated. He drags her roughly trying to get her up the other side of the gully, with no care for the wound in her shoulder, but she still doesn't cease, she's not sure she can, not with all the emotions rushing through her veins. It's elation and shock and terror all at once. She will never shut up again. Not for him.
With a burst of sudden insight, she knows she's not afraid of him anymore. Because he's always going on about finding other people's weaknesses, God knows she's been sure for days he's been carefully assessing hers, but for the first time, she might just have found his.
"No." The word rolls out of her mouth easily, and she pulls her arm out of his grip, her only regret is that she hasn't done it days ago.
"I think you should stop doing this, darling, or I'll make you stop," he pointedly glances at the blade still in his other hand.
"No you won't," she says, confidence rising with every word, "or at least you won't right now. Whatever sick plan you have for me does not involve me dying here."
If she didn't know otherwise she'd swear his eyes were pure murder. Before she has time to react, he grabs her by the forearms, pushes her against the wall, he moves his blade towards her and she feels the cool, sharp metal against her throat. He's so close she can feel his breath on her face, "Are you willing to bet your life on that, sweetheart?"
His face is dripping with blood and his eyes are as merciless as always, but she doesn't look away. He wants her to be scared, but she's not, she's not at all, because she knows, for once, that she has all the power.
She smiles sweetly at him, "Go on then JD, put me out of my misery."
He hesitates and, with a snort, she knocks the blade out of his hand, pushing him away, and with the thrill of knowing the whole of Panem will be cheering her on, she raises her own blade.
The fear flickers in his eyes again, but then it is replaced by a look more feral than the beast he just slayed. His hand shoots into his pocket as if he might find an even more fearsome weapon there.
"Don't you even think about it. Try to kill me Veronica, and I swear to chaos itself that I will kill us both right now and everyone will lose," there is such certainty in his glare that part of her can't not believe him.
She doesn't break eye contact, as she considers whether to go for it anyway. She could overpower him, she's sure of it, especially in this state, but his knife is not far off and he's probably right, he could injure her enough in the process that she'd never be able to defeat Heather and Brad.
Her smirk doesn't waver, she simply opens her hand and lets the knife drop to the floor, the metallic clang a second later is the only accompaniment to the sound of their breathing. She tries to move towards the bags but he jolts towards her, grabbing both wrists in a bruising grip, body slamming her against the side of the gully and covering her mouth with his, before she even has a chance to gasp. This isn't about affection, it isn't even about lust. This is about control. Pure and simple. He is fusing them together, branding his thoughts upon her soul, until she is owned by him and only him. Until he knows she can't escape him.
But she's done with being in other people's control.
She bites his tongue with all the strength she can muster. Blood floods both their mouths, he releases her in pain, swearing all the while. She slaps him, making sure to hit his black eye, raking her nails down his face, hitting all his new gashes, and pushes him away, hard enough that he falls to the ground.
She steadies herself on her feet, picks up the knife and swaggers over to the backpacks, "I'll take them both, shall I, babe? Seems only fair after having to put up with you."
He grabs his knife as if there is any threat left in it, "Veronica, come back. You are going to regret this!"
She cackles, relishing every moment "I doubt it, but go ahead and throw a tantrum, you baby."
He shouts and swears at her, picking up rocks and throwing them at her, that emotionless expression nothing more than a distant memory as she systematically tears apart all his plans. He's dangerous, he's barely in control and she fucking loves it.
Her laugh is manic, and she probably is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but she doesn't really care because it's worth it for this high. She waves, even managing a grin for the cameras as she clambers out of the gully, heading northwards at no fast pace, swinging her hips.
"You're not mad at me Veronica," he shouts, "I'm not the reason you're here."
His cries fade as she goes deeper into the woods, until they are gone and she is alone. She sits down, allowing herself a few more drops of water (though even with JD's flask she does not have much), relishing only being able to hear the soft sounds of the forest and her own breathing. Finally, she's somewhere where she can't feel him breathing down her neck. Finally, she's free.
She looks round the confines of her elaborate execution block. Well, she's as free as she can be and alone as someone who is being watched by everyone in the world. God, she wants to fucking cry, but she doesn't because she also wants sponsors.
She picks herself up, doing her best to show the cameras all the confidence she had earlier. She moves everything she needs from his bag into her own and continues onwards until sundown but still she finds no water.
The Anthem plays, just as she settles for the night, but there have been no deaths today. The Capitol probably don't mind. Not after the stunt she just pulled. There's enough anticipation to keep them going until tomorrow, they're probably hyping it up right now. Veronica and JD, the final battle, can hate survive? Ten to one that he stabs her in the neck! Fifty to one that she leaves him to bleed out after stabbing him in the stomach! Seventy to one that he wakes her up tonight by slitting her throat!
She's not heard the last of him, she's sure of it. Nor will his weird desire to not kill her have any impact on Heather's revenge plan. Tomorrow will be worse than ever, and she is just as likely to meet her doom, but at least (if she sleeps with one eye open) for now she can rest.
She drinks the last of the water as she settles down in her sleeping bag, relishing the calm before the storm.
The Capitol Presents: the Surviving Tributes, Day 10
District 1
Heather McNamara
Ram Sweeny
District 2
Heather Chandler
David Remington
District 3
Betty Finn
Peter Dawson
District 4
Heather Duke
Kurt Kelly
District 5
Shannon Lucas
Rodney Bulb
District 6
Cathy Stone
Al Springer
District 7
Tracy Hophead
Bobby Young
District 8
Veronica Sawyer
Brad Richards
District 9
Courtney Chadwick
Keith Harrington
District 10
Shelly Little
Dennis Grundy
District 11
Phyllis McCarthy
Dwight Archer
District 12
Martha Dunstock
Jason Dean
Deaths today: 0
Survivors: 4
