Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.
Note: Quick shout-out to BamItsTyler, who has an open SYOT. Check it out and send some tributes his way.
Day One
Double Trust
Imalia Grenier
District Four Mentor
They knew something was wrong.
Imalia leaned back in her chair as Ronan, Shanali, and Kilian looked around in confusion. The anthem had sounded, and the faces had been projected in the sky as well as on the ceilings inside the castle. But it wasn't dark. The sun was beginning to set, but it certainly wasn't nighttime yet. More like late afternoon.
There was probably some sort of pattern to it. Something they hadn't figured out yet. During the last Quarter Quell, there hadn't been any faces in the sky at all; the lights in the space station had flickered on and off with every third death in the arena, leaving most of the tributes confused and disoriented by the time a day or two had passed. Maybe that was the idea here – to confuse the tributes about which day it was. But those who had found their way outside – or those who, like Emmett, had found their way to a room with a window – would know something was going on.
Something. But chances were, they didn't know exactly what. The anthem had apparently been triggered by Dinah's death, but what, exactly, had been special about that, she wasn't sure. It was the eighth death. The first death after the bloodbath. Etora's third kill. Was one of those things significant, or was it something else entirely?
Significant. Imalia shook her head, disgusted. Every death in the Games was significant, but after seven years of mentoring, it was hard not to think of some deaths as more important than others. Dinah wasn't one of her tributes, or one of her tributes' allies. Her death was simply something that needed to happen in order to move the Games along. It made perfect sense for her to feel nothing about Dinah's death. It was completely logical.
And she still hated it.
"Trying to figure it out?" Kalypso's voice caught her by surprise. Imalia nodded as her mentor slid into a seat beside hers. "There just has to be a pattern to it, right?"
Imalia raised an eyebrow. "You think there isn't?"
"Wouldn't surprise me. We're always looking for patterns in things, but sometimes there just isn't one. Sometimes the Gamemakers simply time things for when they think it'll be the most dramatic, not according to any real pattern. That sends us scurrying around, trying like mad to figure out what's going on, when it doesn't really matter what the pattern is."
"But if we figure it out—"
"Then what? What good does it do? At least last Quarter Quell, once they figured out the lights, the tributes could use that information to plan when the best time to sleep would be, or when they would have an easier time getting around. But nothing changed about the arena when the anthem played. The candles didn't go out. It's still exactly as dark in there as it has been. All that changed is that they now know who's dead, something they would have found out soon enough, anyway." She shook her head. "The only difference is that Ronan, Shanali, Kilian, and probably Emmett know that the anthem isn't going to coincide with the end of the day. That's all."
Imalia nodded. She was probably right. Still, that seemed to have been enough to spook Ronan and the others, who were now slowly making their way back down the staircase. Maybe they'd figured out that staying at the top of the tower wasn't going to do them much good. It wasn't as if they could get anywhere else from there; the tower was too tall to climb down from the outside. Their best option was to go back inside the castle. But there was something they didn't know – not yet, at least.
They weren't the only ones on the stairs.
Shanali Theisen, 17
District Eleven
They weren't alone on the stairs.
Shanali stopped short as soon as she heard the sound. Ronan and Kilian quickly followed suit. The sound was faint – quite a ways below them, probably – but echoing off the stone walls of the tower. Faint footsteps, and the sound of sobbing. "Someone's coming," Shanali whispered, and the other two nodded, drawing their weapons.
Shanali clutched her dagger tightly as the sound grew closer. Ronan took a step forward, meaning to be the first to intercept whoever was coming. As soon as the other tribute came into view, however, Ronan lowered his mace.
It was the boy from Three, sobbing as he clambered up the stairs. As soon as he saw Ronan, however, he stopped, staring. Terrified. But instead of running back down the stairs, he dropped to his knees. "Go ahead, then. Make it quick. Either you do it or they will."
Ronan took a step closer. "They?"
"The Careers – they're in the room at the bottom of the stairs. Or, at least, they were. They killed Dinah, and I … I didn't do anything. I just sat there. I heard it all. I should have done something, but I just hid." The words tumbled out so fast, it was hard to separate them. The boy lowered his gaze, waiting. "Get it over with. I deserve it. I…"
Ronan hesitated a moment, raising his weapon. The boy from Three held his breath, his eyes squeezed shut. One moment passed, then another. At last, the boy opened one of his eyes, peeking up at Ronan. "What are you waiting for?"
Ronan lowered his mace. "We owe you one. If you hadn't told us the Careers were down there, we would have kept going, wandered on in and probably ended up dead. We owe you for that." He nodded up the stairs. "Go, and consider us even."
The boy stood up shakily. "You mean it?"
Ronan nodded, and Kilian and Shanali quickly did the same. He wasn't a threat. He was unarmed. He wasn't going to sneak up on them and attack them. And Ronan was right; he had probably just saved their lives, or at least saved them from a nasty fight. The boy took a few shaky steps up the stairs, then took off a little faster, clambering up and around the next bend.
Ronan let out a deep breath. "Okay. Careers down there. Pretty much nothing up on top of the tower. What do you say we settle down for the night, hope the Careers decide to move on by morning?"
"If we'll even be able to tell when morning is," Shanali mumbled. "Who's to say they're even there anymore? Why wouldn't they just keep moving?"
Kilian shook his head. "Even if they did keep moving, they can't be too far away yet. Let's let them put some distance between us." He shrugged. "Unless you really want to fight a fully-armed Career pack."
Shanali held her tongue. She didn't. But she also knew they'd just missed an opportunity. The boy from Three would have been an easy kill. At least then it would seem to the audience like they were doing something. Part of her wanted to suggest going after him, but that didn't seem fair. If they were going to kill him, they should have done it and gotten it over with. Letting him go only to go after him again … that wasn't right.
Right. Wrong. As if that really meant anything in the Games. The boy would have to die, anyway. Maybe it would have been kinder to end it for him right away. He was clearly miserable. He blamed himself for his ally's death. Killing him might even have been a mercy.
But it was too late now.
Merrik Haims, 15
District Three
It was too late now.
Merrik wiped the tears from his eyes as he continued up the stairs. It was too late to change his mind. He could have simply stayed with the others; that would probably have forced them to kill him. They wouldn't want him to join them, after all – not after what had happened to his last two allies.
Or maybe he could have gone back down the stairs. The Careers were probably still there, and they would have killed him without a second thought. It was what he deserved, certainly. He had left Dinah to die. She had been calling for him, and he … he hadn't done anything. He'd just sat there on the stairs like a coward, saving his own skin.
And now he was doing the same thing. Because part of him hadn't really wanted the boy from Four to kill him. It had just seemed like a better alternative than being hunted down by the Careers. But now that he had a chance to escape … of course he had taken it. He wanted to live.
But he didn't want to live like this.
Merrik slowed a little as he neared what seemed to be the top of the stairs. There seemed to be light coming from the top. Maybe the moon was bright tonight. Or maybe there was some sort of lantern at the top – like a lighthouse, maybe. Merrik scrambled up the last few steps and out into the daylight.
Daylight?
Merrik looked around, confused. It was still daylight. Late afternoon, or maybe early evening. Certainly not night. What was going on? The anthem had already sounded, and the faces – including Dinah's – had appeared. The first day was over.
Or, at least, it was supposed to be.
Merrik collapsed at the top of the stairs, exhausted. It hadn't even been a whole day yet, but it felt like he'd been in the arena forever. Lena was dead. Dinah was dead. He should have been dead, but the boy from Four had … what? Felt sorry for him? Probably, and that made it even worse. The boy probably hadn't even spared his life out of gratitude for the information Merrik had given him. He'd just been that pitiful.
But that didn't mean he couldn't finish the job.
Merrik stood up, his legs shaking beneath him. Slowly, he approached the edge of the tower. There wasn't much of a barrier; the wall came only to about his knees. He could make it look like an accident, like he'd tripped. The audience would never know. His mother would never know. Just a few steps now, and it would all be over. He wouldn't have to worry anymore. He wouldn't have to run, or hide, or fight. It would just be … done.
Merrik closed his eyes. He wanted it over. But he didn't want to die. He just wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. But death … that wasn't what death was.
Was it?
Maybe. Maybe not. Merrik dropped to his knees, gripping the wall in front of him. It wasn't fair. He shouldn't be alive, when both of his allies were dead. But he was the one still here. He was his district's only chance now. And he would have to live with that.
If only for a little while.
Elliot Stone, 18
District Five
It seemed like only a little while since the others had left.
Elliot grinned at Darain as the two settled down near one of the legs of the throne. They'd already eaten their fill of the supplies from the cornucopia, then put the rest back in its place. "I guess the others were busy," Elliot ventured at last, trying to make conversation.
Darian looked up. "You think the cannon was someone they killed?"
Elliot nodded. "Probably. They went that way, and I think that's the way the pair from Three ran. Could be wrong, I suppose, but we'll find out soon enough."
"When do you think they'll be back?"
Elliot shrugged. "Could be a while, if they decide to keep going and try to find some of the other tributes. I wouldn't stay up waiting for them, if that's what you mean. If you want to get some sleep, I can keep watch."
Darian shook his head. "I'm good. Not really tired, actually."
Elliot nodded. Strangely enough, he wasn't particularly tired, either. "Suit yourself. We can always sleep later. I don't think anyone's going to be stupid enough to try to sneak back and get some supplies tonight."
Darian chuckled. "Is that why you volunteered to stay? Think it's going to be an easy job tonight?"
"It's certainly not a downside," Elliot conceded. "How about you?"
"Figured it might give me some more time to practice with a few of these weapons," Darian reasoned. "I don't think it's really a secret I don't have as much training as some of you."
Elliot stood up, nodding towards the pile of weapons. "Well, if you want to practice…"
Darian raised an eyebrow. "You mean it?"
"Why not? It'll be more worthwhile than practicing on your own – and more fun, I'll wager. I mean, we should probably pick something blunt so we don't accidentally hurt each other, but … why not?"
Darian thought for a moment, then reached for one of the thin wooden staffs near the bottom of the pile. Carefully, he broke it in two and handed one half to Elliot.
"You're on."
Macauley Tierney, 17
District Five
"We should keep moving on."
Macauley paced the room as the others continued to search the beds for any sign of something useful, or any sign of more tributes. Not that there were likely to be any. Any other tributes who had been with the girl from Three were probably long gone by now. They'd lost any chance they might have had to catch up.
The other Careers, however, seemed content to stay a little longer. And maybe that wasn't such a bad move. Together, they were responsible for most of the kills in the arena so far. And Etora had three. Three. A twelve-year-old kid had more kills than she did.
Maybe that was the real reason she wanted to keep moving, but she wasn't about to admit that to the others. They were being shown up by the youngest member of the pack, and the others seemed like they were just going to take it in stride. Hell, Etora had offered to let Mae make the kill, and she hadn't taken the opportunity.
She kept trying to tell herself that it didn't matter. In the end, the number of kills a Victor had didn't really count for much. It wasn't as if any of them were likely to break the current record, after all. Adalyn's record of sixteen kills would probably stand for quite a while, particularly if the Capitol kept their word about returning to the standard twenty-four tributes following the Quell.
Of course, it wasn't really about whether the Capitol kept their word – just like the increase in tributes hadn't been about the Capitol in the first place. The districts were the ones responsible. Not that the change had had much of an effect on District Five. In fact, in the eight years since the increase in tributes, they'd had two Victors. And this year could bring them a third.
No. No, not could. It would bring them a third. And it was going to be her. Which was why it didn't matter – not really – that Etora had more kills at the moment. As long as she won in the end, she would be happy with that, and so would the rest of District Five.
"Look, if you want to keep going, no one's stopping you," Genevieve pointed out. "We just thought this would be as good a place as any to rest for a little while."
"And that's probably the same thing some other tributes are thinking not that far away," Macauley argued. "We should go after them while they'll still be tired."
"Probably not going to be that tired yet," Etora reasoned. "It hasn't been that long since the anthem. They'll probably be up for a little while yet. If we wait a little longer, we'll be more likely to catch them while they're sleeping."
Justus nodded. "In the meantime, we might as well get some rest. I'd say we've earned it. Wouldn't you?"
Macauley glanced around at the others. They all seemed to agree that it was better to stay for a while. And she certainly didn't want to go exploring on her own. Not yet, at least. There would be time for that later. Reluctantly, Macauley nodded, settling down along with the others.
"I'll take the first watch, then."
Vashti Rii, 16
District Five
So much for keeping watch for the night.
Vashti sighed, pacing the room as the music kept playing. It was definitely some sort of instrument, being played somewhere nearby. Mariska looked up from where she was crouched by the door, as if waiting for some sort of attack. "Do you think we should go see who it is?"
Vashti took a few steps closer. He'd been wondering the same thing. If it was a tribute playing the music, after all, it probably wouldn't be much of a fight. Anyone stupid enough to be sitting around playing an instrument in the middle of the Games would probably be an easy kill.
Probably. The alternative, of course, was that someone was trying to draw them in by pretending to be an easy kill. It could very well be a trap. Or it could be the Gamemakers trying to lure them towards someone. That was what had happened during the last Quarter Quell, after all. There had been mutts that made a sound like singing, and towards the end the Gamemakers had used them to lure the tributes together.
Towards the end. That was the difference, really. They were nowhere near the end of the Games right now. Only eight tributes were dead. It was barely the first night. What were the chances that the Gamemakers were really trying to drive them together this soon?
That left two options: either it was an easy kill or a trap. After a moment, Vashti nodded. "I think we should." The words echoed across the room. They both knew it could be a deadly mistake, but not going could be an even worse one. The audience didn't take kindly to tributes who passed up the opportunity for an easy kill.
He hadn't been counting on the audience's help, of course. Not really. Finding the armory, after all, had been a result of the Gamemakers' decisions, not the audience's. Despite how well the two of them had done so far, they weren't likely to get sponsors anytime soon. Not unless they did something to prove that they deserved them. And taking the initiative now certainly qualified.
Didn't it?
Slowly, Vashti followed Mariska out of the room, back into the room with the large cauldron. The sound was growing louder, probably coming from the next room. Mariska approached the door first, peeking in. Silently, she backed away from the door and held up nine fingers.
District Nine. They'd killed the girl from District Nine. That left her two district partners – both younger boys. And the younger one had been positioned near them during the bloodbath. It was probably him. Vashti's mind raced. The boy's only ally had been the older boy from Two, and he was dead. So this wasn't a trap, after all.
It really was going to be that easy.
Just as he took a step towards the door, however, the music was interrupted by a soft pinging noise. A small door opened in the ceiling, allowing a parachute to drop through before closing again. Vashti raised an eyebrow as the package floated lightly to the ground. A weapon, perhaps? A message to go on and get it over with? Surely Harakuise realized that was what they were about to do, anyway. Even without proper weapons, it wouldn't take much to kill the boy in the next room.
Mariska caught the package, studying it for a moment before looking around, confused. "I think there's been a mistake," she whispered, handing it to Vashti. On the side were two numbers, but neither of them was a five or an eight like they had been expecting. Instead, a two and a nine were written on the package.
Vashti glanced in the next room, where the music had stopped. The younger boy held a package, as well, and looked just as confused. Vashti smirked. "It's not a mistake."
It was a message.
Barlen Rimmonn, 13
District Nine
There must have been some sort of mistake.
Barlen turned the package over again, looking for more numbers. But the only ones he could find were a five and an eight. What was that supposed to mean? There were eight tributes who were dead, weren't there? Leo, one of his district partners, and … Who else? There had been more faces than that, he was sure, but he couldn't remember who.
Maybe it didn't matter – not now, at least. He could figure that out later. Right now, the important thing was what was in the package. If it had been meant for someone else, that wasn't his fault. Maybe the Gamemakers had mixed up the parachutes. Maybe someone had felt sorry for him. Either way, he had something.
"I think this belongs to you."
Barlen leapt to his feet, startled. The voice had come from behind him. He whirled around, nearly crashing into the harp, but a hand reached out to stop him. "Whoa, easy there." The voice and the hand belonged to an older girl. Beside her was a boy, holding a small package with the numbers two and nine on it. His district, and Leo's. What was going on?
"It looks like there was a bit of a mix-up," the girl offered, steadying him. "We got your package, and you got ours. So what do you say we trade, and we can go our separate ways."
Barlen hesitated. That seemed reasonable. If they'd wanted to kill him, after all, they could have done it already. Instead, they were offering him a chance. "Why?" he asked before he had a chance to realize he'd said it out loud. "Why didn't you try to kill me?"
The other two kids – the other two tributes – looked at each other for a moment, as if exchanging a silent message. At last, it was the boy who spoke. "We felt we owed it to Aven."
"Who?"
"Your district partner," the girl answered. "During the bloodbath, we—"
"We were working together," the boy interrupted. "During the bloodbath, she ran in to get some supplies, but she was injured. She had just enough time to get us the supplies before … well, she didn't make it. I'm sure you saw her face earlier."
Barlen nodded. He remembered that. "I found her body in the other room." His voice was barely a whisper. "She was already dead. I…"
The girl put an arm around his shoulder. "She may very well have saved our lives. Returning your parachute … well, it's the least we can do." She took the package from the boy and held it out to Barlen. "Trade?"
Barlen nodded silently, holding out the package he'd received. The girl took it and opened it, revealing three loaves of bread. Barlen opened his, which contained two similar loaves. "One of these was probably meant for Leo," he said quietly. "They sent it even though he…"
"They sent one for Aven, too." The boy sounded a little surprised.
The girl turned one of the loaves over in her hands. "Maybe this wasn't a mistake at all. Maybe it means…"
The boy shook his head. "No, let's just go – while we still can. We don't know who else might be nearby." The two of them turned and headed for the door. Barlen gripped the package tightly. He couldn't let them just walk away. Not when he'd already lost Leo. He needed help. He needed…
"Wait!"
Mariska Vasile, 16
District Eight
"Wait!"
Mariska held her breath as the younger boy's voice echoed across the room. She and Vashti turned as he hurried to catch up with them, panting for breath. He looked up at Mariska, his eyes wide and pleading. "Please, wait. Maybe you're right. Maybe it wasn't a mistake. What if it means … what if it means we should work together? You said you were working with Aven."
Yes. Yes, Vashti had said that. Using the death of the boy's district partner to gain his sympathy – it was a clever move. It was what Malchus had been trying to get her to do during the interviews. He'd wanted her to use Willa's death to gain the audience's sympathy. Now Vashti was doing the same thing.
And it was working.
But this was different, wasn't it? Neither of them had known Aven. Hell, Barlen had probably barely known her. They were district partners, sure, but what did that really mean? How well did she know Klaudia? How well did Vashti know his district partners? Would the fact that they were from the same district really mean anything if they came across each other in the arena?
No. No, it meant nothing. It was just another trick. Another way to get the boy to join them. Because that was what they had wanted from the start – what their mentors had been trying to nudge them towards. Maybe the boy wouldn't be particularly useful in a fight, but he was something even better. He was expendable. He was malleable. With a word or two, he could probably be coaxed or goaded into doing anything they asked. It was terrible. It was cruel. Maybe even inhuman.
But it could save their lives.
It had been Vashti's idea to trade and walk away, make it seem to the boy like an alliance was his idea. Now he was practically begging them to let him join them. In his position, of course, she couldn't really say that she would be doing anything differently. They were both older and stronger than him. They had armor and supplies, and they knew where to find more of both. Maybe they were manipulating the younger boy, but it wasn't as if he was getting a raw deal, either.
Mariska turned to Vashti. "Maybe just for a little while…"
The younger boy latched onto the idea like a dog scooping up a bone. "Please, just for a little while. I won't be a bother, I swear."
Vashti made a show of considering the offer, but she already knew what his answer would be. "All right. Just for a little while."
Mariska laid a hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "I'm Mariska, and this is Vashti." She held out a hand.
But instead of shaking it, the boy immediately reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. Then he turned to Vashti. "Is that an 'e' or an 'i'?"
"What?"
The boy quickly jotted down Mariska's name on his arm, right under Leo's. "Your name – is it an 'e' or an 'i' at the end?"
"An 'i,' but—"
Before he could get the rest of the sentence out, Vashti's name was added to the list. Barlen smiled, circled both names, and wrote the word "FRIENDS" in capital letters outside the circle. Then he reached out and shook Mariska's hand. "Good to meet you."
And maybe it was.
Annemae Carty, 18
District Two
Maybe there was still time.
Mae turned her dagger over in her hands, glancing over at Margo. Her ally seemed content to stay put, especially now that the music coming from down the hall was gone. They had assumed, when the music had started, that someone was trying to do the same thing they were. They had been waiting in the room with the birds, allowing them to squawk, because they'd thought the sound might lure in a tribute or two.
So far, however, they'd had no success. And from the sound of it, whoever had been playing the music had decided to give up. There hadn't been any cannons since the music had stopped, after all. "Maybe we should go see who it was," Mae said at last. "They won't be expecting anyone to show up looking for them now."
Even as she said it, though, she knew it was already too late. Margo shook her head. "How are we supposed to find them now? Could you tell exactly where the music was coming from?"
"No, but…"
"Then we'd just be wandering around aimlessly, hoping to stumble across someone. Does that sound like a good plan?"
Mae shrugged. "It does seem to be what Careers do most of the time."
"It's what most Career packs do," Margo corrected. "Packs that can afford to lose a member or two while they're wandering around, hoping to find someone. We can't. We have to be a bit more careful than that."
Mae nodded a little. Margo was right. But being too cautious could be just as deadly as taking too many risks. The fact that they'd made a kill during the bloodbath would only keep them safe from the Gamemakers for so long. Sooner or later, they would have to make a move. And if no one was going to come to them…
"Tomorrow," Margo suggested, as if she had been thinking the same thing. "If no one shows up here by morning, then we can keep moving. Keep looking. But we can't just go running off half-cocked after every sound we hear."
"I wasn't suggesting—"
"I know. I just don't want to do anything stupid. We can't afford to. Certainly not this soon."
Mae nodded. "Agreed."
If only it was that easy.
Klaudia Almasy, 18
District Eight
Maybe it really was going to be that easy.
Klaudia watched silently as Skyton and Connor sat down for another meal. Hours had passed since they'd found the room full of food, and still … nothing. No signs that any of the food was anything except perfectly safe. And she was getting hungry. How long could she put off following her allies' example?
"Sure you won't have some?" Skyton asked, holding out a piece of bread.
Klaudia took it, her hands shaking even as she did. It looked perfectly fine. Just like any other piece of bread. She took one bite. Then another. Connor smiled as he tossed her a stick of beef. "See? Nothing to worry about."
Maybe he was right.
Klaudia smiled as she settled down beside the two boys. Together, the three of them ate their fill. Klaudia shook her head in disbelief. She was actually … full. In the Hunger Games. What were the chances of that?
What were the chances of any of this?
Klaudia barely held back a yawn; all of the food was making them sleepy. Just as she was about to suggest that maybe they should get some rest, however, a gentle pinging noise filled the air. The three of them immediately looked up. What could the sponsors be sending them? They already had all the food they could ask for. Maybe it was a weapon, but the package seemed a bit small for that.
The package landed in the middle of the three of them. Connor reached for it, but shrugged when he saw the number on it. "It's for you," he offered, tossing it to Klaudia. She was so surprised, she barely caught it in time. Why would they be sending her something?
Slowly, she opened the package. Inside was a knife, two small glass bottles, and … a note. She unfolded the note, and the two boys waited expectantly. Klaudia held the note a little closer in the dim light. "An antidote for the…" She hesitated. But refusing to say the words wouldn't help anything. "For the poison in the meat."
The three of them froze. Poison. So she had been right, after all. She had known it. She had known. But she'd let her hunger get the best of her. Klaudia swallowed hard. There were three of them. Two bottles. The Gamemakers knew exactly what they were doing. They had waited until all three of them had eaten something, and then…
Then they had sent her the bottle. Why her? Because she had been the last to give in and eat the food? Or was there another reason?
She didn't have much time to wonder about it. Before she realized what was happening, Connor was on top of her. Reaching for the bottles. "Give me one!" he demanded, but she clutched the package tight. If he took one, and Skyton did the same … They were both stronger than her. She had to do something. She had to—
Connor's hands were around her neck. Was he trying to kill her? Or just hoping that once she was unconscious, she would let go of the bottles? Klaudia felt around in the package for the other gift. The knife. Skyton was shouting something. Something she couldn't hear over the pounding in her ears. She could barely see anything. But she had a hand free. And Connor didn't seem to be paying any attention to her hand.
Not until the knife found his side.
She heard Skyton scream. Felt the blood trickling down her arm as Connor's body collapsed onto her. His hands loosened around her throat. Kicking wildly, she rolled out from under him, still clutching the knife in one hand and the package in the other. Connor was clutching his side, trying to staunch the bleeding. Klaudia stabbed again. Then again. The fourth blow found his throat, and he stopped screaming.
Boom.
The cannon shook her back to the moment. The package was still in her hand. The package. The antidote. Klaudia opened one of the bottles and poured its contents down her throat, then reached for the other. Skyton.
Then she looked up. Skyton was staring at her, tears brimming in his eyes. His mouth was moving. Klaudia shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. What was he saying?
"What?"
Skyton shook his head. "You didn't have to … He didn't have to … Why couldn't you just listen?"
Klaudia looked down at the bottle in her hands. "But … Three of us. Two bottles." She shook her head.
"What else were we supposed to do?"
Skyton Tate, 16
District Ten
"What else were we supposed to do?"
Skyton took a step backwards. She didn't understand. He'd been shouting, begging the two of them to stop. But they hadn't listened. They didn't understand.
"Two bottles," he agreed. "With an antidote for the poison in the meat. Specifically the meat, right?"
Klaudia glanced down at the note, now stained red with Connor's blood. "Yes."
"I didn't eat any of the meat."
Realization dawned on Klaudia's face. Too late. Far too late. Connor was already dead. "I … I didn't know. He just … Skyton, he was trying to kill me."
Skyton swallowed hard, fighting back the tears. "I know. But you could have just … just given him one. One for you, one for him. He didn't have to attack you. You didn't have to kill him. No one had to die."
No one had to die. Even as he said it, he knew how stupid it sounded. This was the Hunger Games. Almost everyone had to die. But what he'd really meant was, she didn't have to be the one to kill him. They hadn't had to turn on each other.
Some part of him, in some small corner of his mind, knew that it wasn't her fault. That this was exactly what the Gamemakers had intended. They had sent the bottles specifically to her, because they'd wanted a fight. If they'd sent the bottles to him, he would have given them to the other two, knowing he didn't need the antidote. And if they'd sent the package to Connor, he would have taken one for himself, and … what? Would Klaudia have attacked him? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe there would have been time to explain before…
Before someone had died. But someone was dead. He hadn't been quick enough. Skyton took another step back, back towards the door behind him. Klaudia hadn't wanted to kill Connor. It had been a misunderstanding. But how long would it be before there was another misunderstanding? Could he really trust her to watch his back?
"Please." Klaudia's voice was barely a whisper. "Please … don't go. Don't leave me alone."
Skyton clenched his fists. He didn't want to go. But it was clearly what the Gamemakers wanted. For whatever reason, they seemed intent on driving their group apart. If he didn't leave now, what would they do next? What would Klaudia do next?
What would he do next?
Skyton swallowed hard. Would he really have acted any differently, if he'd needed the antidote? He hadn't, but what if they had put the poison in the bread? Would he have been the one to attack Klaudia instead? He didn't want to think so. He wanted to believe that he would have suggested something else – maybe splitting the antidote between the three of them and hoping two-thirds of a dose would be enough. He hoped that was what he would have done.
But he didn't know. None of them knew for sure, and that was even more frightening than the sight of Connor's body on the floor, the blood on Klaudia's hands, the knife that clattered to the floor as she held her hands out to him, begging him to stay. Skyton turned away, racing down the hall as quickly as his legs would carry him. He couldn't stay. He couldn't.
He was better off on his own.
Wes Bartoshesky, 16
District Eleven
Maybe they were better off staying put.
Wes nearly jumped as the cannon shook the others awake. He had volunteered to take the first watch, although what, exactly, he was supposed to do if someone came looking for them hadn't really been clear. Wake the others, probably, and hope there was time to run. They certainly weren't prepared for a fight. They'd found plenty of extra clothes in the closets, but no weapons. Sure, they could probably use some of the fabric as a noose or something if someone got close enough, but by the time they did…
But what else were they supposed to do? Go back to the cornucopia and get something? Maybe. But would he really be able to convince the others that that was a good idea? Probably not. He wasn't convinced it was a good idea. Eventually, though, they would have to do something. They weren't all that likely to just stumble across a pile of food, after all. They would have to put in some effort.
"Who do you think that was?" Aleyn asked softly.
Wes shook his head. "I guess we'll find out tomorrow."
Consus shuddered. "It sounded close."
"It's a cannon," Wes pointed out. "Wherever they set them off from, it doesn't mean that was anywhere near whoever died. Besides, these walls make things echo. They could have been on the other side of the castle, for all we know."
"Or they could have been in the next room," Charu countered. "We don't know."
"You're right," Wes agreed. "I mean, if we knew where they were, we could head in the opposite direction. But if we start moving now—"
Aleyn cut him off. "Who said anything about moving now?"
"No one, but…"
"But you think we should?" Charu asked.
"I don't know," Wes admitted. "No one's found us here yet, but … well, we don't really have any supplies, either. I don't think those really count," he added, nodding to the pile of clothes they'd collected. "Maybe this would be a good time to explore a bit."
"Why now?" Consus asked.
"Because no one will be expecting us to move now. It's night. There was just a cannon. People will be expecting the tributes to settle down for the night, if they haven't already. The Careers might even be asleep."
"Does it sound like the Careers are asleep?" Consus chuckled.
"We don't know that was the Careers," Charu pointed out. "Could have been anyone. And even if it was the Careers, there's no telling where they are by now."
"Probably not at the cornucopia," Aleyn said softly.
Wes raised an eyebrow. So she had been thinking the same thing. That came as a bit of a surprise, since she had been the one to suggest having a good look around before moving on. Maybe she'd gotten enough of a good look. Maybe the last cannon had spooked her.
Or maybe she was just hungry. There was food back at the cornucopia, after all, and that was the only place they could be certain there was food. They could keep moving along, of course, hoping to find something, but what were the chances they would stumble across exactly what they needed?
"You're right," he said quietly. "They're probably not at the cornucopia – not most of them, at least. Maybe we should…"
Consus chuckled a little. "You want to try to steal some supplies?"
"You think we're going to get a better opportunity?" Wes asked. "We have to do something. If we stay here long enough, someone will find us, or the Gamemakers will force us out, or if we wait long enough, we'll just starve. And I don't know about you, but none of those sound like good options to me."
For a moment, there was silence, and Wes feared he might have said too much. He hadn't mean to come off so snappy. He was just … well, nervous. He didn't want the Gamemakers to decide they weren't being interesting enough. Wasn't it better to take the initiative themselves? After all, they could always send someone to the cornucopia to have a look around and come back. But would the others think that was a good idea?
"Maybe one person should go have a look."
Consus Caepio, 15
District One
"Maybe one person should go have a look."
Consus couldn't quite believe the words had come out of his own mouth. All eyes turned towards him. "It's better than all of us going, right? They might hear four of us coming, but one? One person could probably sneak in, get a good look around, and maybe snatch something while they're there."
Charu shook her head. "Four of us would have a better chance in a fight."
Consus raised an eyebrow. "Against the Careers?"
"There may not even be any there," Aleyn pointed out.
"Or there might be one or two," Charu added. "We could take one or two of them."
"Or we could avoid that by sending one person," Consus repeated.
"Who are you suggesting?" Charu asked. "Or are you volunteering?"
"I…" He trailed off. He hadn't meant to volunteer himself. But now that all was said and done, it didn't really seem fair to ask someone else to go, instead. "I'll go," he offered. "Even if there is someone there, there's pretty good odds it would be one of my district partners. They might not even want to go after me."
It was a bluff, of course. Chances were, even if they were at the cornucopia, none of his district partners would give a damn about who was trying to steal from them. The fact that they were from the same district meant nothing, especially because he'd made no efforts to pretend to be Career material. He was just another tribute to them.
On top of that, the chances that any of his district partners had been left to guard the cornucopia seemed slim. Justus seemed to be the leader of the group, and Genevieve didn't seem like the sort who would want to be left behind. Maybe Mae would have stayed, but wouldn't the Careers want to leave someone a bit more … well, intimidating? Someone who would be able to scare people away from the cornucopia?
Or maybe that was the trick. Maybe they wanted to try to lure people in. Maybe they would leave someone like Mae in the hope that someone would think she was an easy target. Or maybe not. Maybe they hadn't left anyone at all.
There was only one way to find out.
"Are you sure?" Wes asked, offering him the chance to back out.
No. No, he wasn't sure. But now that he'd made the offer, the audience would expect him to keep his word. Besides, it wasn't as if he was offering to fight the Careers. All he had to do was get close enough to get a look around, see who was there, figure out whether the four of them could handle whoever was guarding the cornucopia, and maybe steal something while he was there. When he broke it down like that, it didn't seem so bad. At last, he nodded. "I'm sure."
He just hoped he'd made the right choice.
Retro Liu, 12
District Five
It sounded like they'd made the right choice.
Retro glanced over at Ti as the two of them waited. It was a good thing they'd decided not to try to steal some of the food sooner. But now they knew what to avoid. It seemed like the meat was the only thing that had been poisoned. As long as they avoided that…
And the other boy had left – or, at least, they had assumed so from the girl's crying. For a while, she had kept calling out to him, begging him to come back. But he hadn't. And since the cannon had coincided with most of the ruckus in the other room, it wasn't hard to figure out why. She had killed one of her allies, and the other had left. Which one, he hadn't been able to tell from the voices. But one of the boys from Ten was dead, and the other had left her.
That left only the girl from Eight guarding what was apparently quite a lot of food. If she had any sense, she would probably leave soon enough. It wouldn't be a good idea to stay there for the night. She had no way of knowing, of course, that anyone else was nearby, but still…
"How long do you think we should wait?" Retro whispered. The two of them had been careful to talk in whispers, especially since the cannon had sounded. If they could hear the tributes in the next room, after all, it stood to reason that the other tributes would be able to hear them.
Ti shook his head. "A little longer, I think. Something doesn't seem right."
Besides the fact that we're trapped in an arena full of tributes who want to kill us? That was what he wanted to say. What came out instead was, "What do you mean?"
"Remember what happened during the interviews?"
Retro hesitated, trying to figure out what Ti might be talking about. He remembered his interview, of course. Everything afterwards was sort of a blur. Had something happened during Ti's interview? Retro shook his head. "Which part?"
"The girl from Eight – the one who's in there right now," Ti hissed back. "She didn't even make it through her interview. She burst out crying, and one of my district partners ended up going out there to help her."
Now that was beginning to ring some bells. "And that's why you think it's a bit odd that she … well, killed someone?"
"A bit, yeah."
Retro shook his head. "She was probably scared, just like the rest of us."
Ti bristled. "I'm not scared."
Right. David was dead. Another tribute had been killed in the next room. There could be any number of other tributes nearby, and they had no way to defend themselves. And he was supposed to believe that Ti wasn't afraid at all?
It was probably just for the cameras, of course. He wanted to look brave for the audience. For the Capitol. Or maybe for his family. Retro smiled. "If you say so."
Ti smirked. "I'll do more than just say so." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to an even lower whisper.
"I have an idea."
Carolina Katzung
District Eight Mentor
"So whose idea was the parachute?"
Carolina slid into a seat next to Lander on the couch. Lander smirked. "Vester's, if you'll believe that. Well, it was his idea to send both of them something. It was Harakuise's idea to mix up the parachutes."
"Vester's idea," Carolina repeated, letting that sink in. It didn't quite make sense. "Why?"
Lander shrugged. "Why not? His tribute's dead, and he only had one ally. Might as well try to keep him alive, I suppose." There was silence for a moment, followed by a chuckle. "Look, I didn't exactly grill him about why he was helping, Care. It was a good arrangement all around, so … Why not?"
"You really think it'll last?"
Lander shook his head. "Nothing lasts. Especially when the Gamemakers decide to stick their noses into things."
Carolina nodded. He was certainly right about that. Maybe Klaudia's alliance hadn't been the most solid to begin with, but the Gamemakers had seen to it that it didn't last long at all. But why? Sure, they hadn't done anything particularly exciting, but there were other groups that hadn't made a move yet.
Maybe they'd just gotten unlucky. They were the only ones who had found the food, after all. Maybe the Gamemakers would have done the same thing no matter which group had found their way to that room. Maybe.
Or maybe it was payback. Retribution for what Klaudia's father had done during the reaping. But if that was the case, why was she still alive? Why had they sent the package to her? Maybe one of the boys had done something, but she couldn't imagine what.
"There isn't always a reason." Lander's arm wrapped around her shoulders, and Carolina couldn't help a smile. He'd never liked to waste time trying to work out the reasons behind the Gamemakers' actions. Sometimes things made sense; sometimes they didn't. And Lander was perfectly fine with that.
But there had to be a reason. Some Capitolites were a bit quirky, maybe, but they were still human. Their actions had reasons behind them. Not always logical reasons, but reasons. And if she could figure out why the Gamemakers were going after Klaudia…
Then what? What could she do about it? Yes, Klaudia had killed, but that wasn't likely to be enough to draw in sponsors, especially now that she had lost her allies. Lost. She had killed one ally, which had frightened away the other. It was too early in the Games to be without allies. Far too early, especially with this many tributes. Even during her Games…
Carolina shook her head. It hadn't taken much longer than that for her own alliance to dissolve. Near the end of the second day, the three of them had been running from a large mutt. She'd realized they weren't all going to make it. That the mutt wouldn't stop until it caught someone.
So she had made sure that it wasn't her. She'd pushed her youngest ally – Maeren, the girl from Ten – down in the path of the mutts. Koray had gone back for her. Only Carolina had survived the night.
Maybe Klaudia wasn't so different from her, after all.
"You all right?" Lander's voice cut through her memories.
"Yeah," Carolina answered reflexively.
Lander smirked. "Liar."
"Yeah."
Her husband handed her a drink. "Maybe she'll get lucky."
Carolina took a drink. "Right. And maybe Ti's plan doesn't involve killing her."
"They don't have any weapons," Lander reasoned. "She does."
That was true. But there were two of them. One of her. Eventually, she would have to sleep. Eventually, they would be able to make their move.
It was only a matter of time.
"He's here in double trust; first, as I am his kinsman and his subject, strong both against the deed; then, as his host, who should against his murderer shut the door, not bear the knife myself."