Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.
Note: Results of the last poll are up on the website. There's a new poll on my profile, this time asking who you want to see in the final eight. Again, please try to make this math nerd happy and vote for eight tributes for the final eight. As usual, read the chapter first because anyone who dies here won't be included in the poll.
Day Four
Water
Bierce Lascher
District Four Mentor
At least it wasn't fire.
Bierce leaned back in his chair, watching as most of the other mentors stared at the screen where Aleyn, Consus, Charu, and Wes were trying to figure out exactly what the pieces in their package were supposed to assemble into. He'd already worked it out, but the package hadn't been the only clue. Most of the others probably hadn't noticed; they were too busy watching events inside the castle.
They hadn't noticed that it was raining.
Shanali had noticed, of course, and had immediately started heading back down the stairs as if she was afraid she might be struck by lightning. Maybe she was. But the rain wasn't for her benefit. If the Gamemakers had simply wanted her back inside, there were other ways to accomplish that. No, rain didn't fall in the arena without a damn good reason. And since most of the tributes were already indoors, there weren't many good reasons for it to be raining.
In fact, he could only think of one.
He hoped he was wrong. He desperately hoped he was wrong. But a nagging voice at the back of his mind told him otherwise.
That feeling was only confirmed as Kalypso settled into a seat next to him. "How long do you think it'll be before they work it out?"
Bierce shook his head. "Give them time. I doubt any of them have even seen one before."
Kalypso scoffed. "Think they'll figure it out once the ceiling starts leaking?"
Bierce chuckled. "Probably."
"And then what?"
Bierce shrugged. "And then they'll have to make a choice."
"That's it?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're not worried that—"
"That what? That they'll decide Aleyn is the most expendable. They might. Maybe they'd be right. But there's nothing I can do about it. Not like I can send her anything to guarantee that the rest of them won't kill her. None of us can." He shrugged. "You didn't send anything to Emmett."
Kalypso shook her head. "Figured he could handle himself, after he was clever enough to lure Macauley in. I was wrong."
"No. You were right. At some point, it was up to him to handle himself, to solve his own problems. He didn't. But maybe Aleyn can."
"You really believe that?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Bierce sighed. "Because fifteen years ago, that was me in that arena. Everyone gone except the Career pack. Six of us, allies from the start, and we turned on each other like wolves when the time came. We'd spent days together in the arena, and none of that mattered. Because all of us wanted to come home." He shook his head.
"And I think Aleyn does, too."
Wes Bartoshesky, 16
District Eleven
"I think I know what it is."
Wes looked up as Aleyn turned one of the cylinders over in her hands. The rest of them had been handling the objects carefully, as if they might explode. And they certainly looked like components for some sort of a bomb. There were three cylinders with a few dials and valves, three hose-like pieces, three flat pieces of plastic.
Carefully, Aleyn connected the hose to one of the cylinders. A few turns here, a few pieces there, and she had it assembled. "It's for breathing underwater," she explained, holding one end of the hose up to her mouth to demonstrate. "See?"
Charu shook her head. "Why would Duke send these?"
Consus chuckled. "What makes you think it was him?"
Charu turned the package over. It had a six on one side. It was small, but it was definitely there. "If he didn't send it, then who? And why would they send us something to breathe underwater unless—"
"—unless we're going to be underwater soon," Wes finished. "It is raining out there." It had been for a while, in fact. He hadn't been paying much attention to the rain pounding down on the roof. Not until now.
"Out there," Charu reasoned. "But not in here."
"Not yet," Aleyn started. "Maybe—"
She'd barely gotten the word out before Wes felt a drop of water on his hand. He looked up. "Is the ceiling … leaking?"
Charu wiped another water droplet off her hand. "I think so. But it'll take days to fill up at this rate."
Wes nodded. Under ordinary circumstances, that would be true. But these weren't ordinary circumstances. The ceiling hadn't even been leaking until a few moments ago. The Gamemakers were probably completely in control of how much water came in, and how fast.
Consus looked up, studying the ceiling. "If there's a hole up there where water is coming in, and if they can make it bigger so that the water will come in faster, then maybe we can get out that way."
"How?" Wes asked. He'd tossed the rope up to the window, not the ceiling, and now it was stuck there.
It was Aleyn who caught on. "We wait. We wait for the water to start to fill the room, and then we … well, I guess we swim up there, and hope that there's an opening we can get out of."
"Not all of us can swim," Charu pointed out. Wes nodded. He hadn't wanted to be the one to say it, but waiting until the room was full of water didn't sound like a good option.
"We don't have to be experts," Consus reasoned. "That's what the breathing tubes are for. We just have to stay afloat well enough to make our way up there when the time comes. I think we can manage that."
Aleyn hesitated. "But there are only three of them."
Wes nodded. Someone had finally said it. There were three breathing tubes. Four of them. The water from the ceiling was starting to drip faster. Or maybe that was just his imagination. "But you can swim, though, right?" he asked Aleyn.
Aleyn's face grew red. "Doesn't mean I can breathe underwater!"
"No, but you can probably stay afloat better than the rest of us," Consus reasoned. "You have the best chance of being able to survive without one."
Aleyn shook her head. "And if we can't get out the top? Then what?" There was a thin layer of water on the floor now. What had started as a droplet or two of water was becoming thin streams of water droplets from several different spots in the ceiling. She had a point. What if she'd been wrong about there being an opening large enough for them to get out of?
"Then we'll figure something else out," Charu insisted, stepping into the middle of the group. "We just have to calm down and think. We can figure this out. What if we share them?"
"What do you mean?" Consus asked. "We can't exactly cut them in half."
"No, but three of us can wear them, and we can take turns using the breathing hoses," Charu reasoned. "We can all make it out of this."
But she knew better. They all knew better. As much as she might try to hide it, he could see it in her eyes. She'd already worked it out. They all knew the truth.
They couldn't all make it out alive.
Aleyn Tillens, 15
District Four
They couldn't all make it out alive.
Aleyn took a step back as the rain continued to fall through the roof. The water was past her ankles now, and quickly making its way to her knees. They had to make a decision, and quickly.
The others, apparently, had already latched onto Charu's plan to share the devices. "You should get one," Consus said to Charu. "They were marked for you, after all."
Aleyn clenched her fists. She could already see where this was going. Charu would get one because the package had been addressed to her. Consus would get one because he had been the one to go to the cornucopia to get them supplies. He was the only reason they had a chance. That left her and Wes.
Wes, who had been the first to insist that they wouldn't turn on each other like animals. They had all agreed. But things were different now. The water was rising past her knees as Charu strapped on one of the cylinders. It was only a matter of time before the two boys claimed the others.
She had to make a move.
She had to.
She had to.
They would say that she had the best chance of surviving without one. They would say that they would share the air, that they would stay together and wait and see what happened. But it would be a lie. When push came to shove, whoever had the air was going to keep it for themselves. There was only one way to make sure that she was one of the people who survived.
Someone else would have to die.
Aleyn took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, let me help you put the others together." The water was rising past her knees. She reached for one of the hoses and one of the cylinders. The metal cylinder was heavy in her hands. Probably heavy enough to…
But they were watching her. All three of them were watching. But they couldn't do anything. Not yet. None of them wanted to be the one to kill her. No. No, they were just going to let her die. That was worse, really. She connected the hose to the cylinder and fiddled with a few of the dials, trying to make it look like she was the only one who knew what she was doing.
Then she handed the cylinder to Wes. Wes raised an eyebrow; clearly, he had worked through the same math and had expected her to give it to Consus, then claim the other for herself. "You're right," she said softly. "I have the best chance. You three each get one. We share. We all survive."
He knew better. But maybe he thought she didn't. Or maybe he thought she'd decided to sacrifice herself. Either way, he took the cylinder and strapped it onto his back. "Thanks."
Aleyn reached for the other hose and cylinder, and Consus stepped forward, ready to take it once she was finished connecting them. He still didn't trust her to do as she'd said. Wes, on the other hand, had bent down to pick up something from the water. The hatchet that he'd left on the ground when they'd all been trying to open the package.
She had to be quick. His hand had almost closed around the hatchet. As quickly as she could, Aleyn turned around and swung the cylinder against Wes' head. There was a crack – a terrible crack. She hadn't realized how loud it would be. How much blood. Blood was already pouring into the water as Wes staggered to his feet, stumbling towards her. "What…?" was all he managed to get out as she swung again, careful not to damage the cylinder on his back or the hose attached to it.
This time, he fell, dazed, into the water that was quickly rising past her waist. But there was no cannon. Not yet. Aleyn took a deep breath and ducked beneath the water, reaching for the hatchet before he could. Her fingers closed around it. He reached out his hand to stop her, but he was already dizzy. He was clumsier in the water. He'd already lost a lot of blood.
She propelled herself towards him in one smooth motion, the hatchet sinking into his chest. Almost immediately, the cannon sounded. But his eyes were still open. Staring at her. He looked almost … surprised. As if he hadn't really thought she would have it in her.
But she had.
Maybe she always had.
Consus Caepio, 15
District One
Maybe she was the one he should've been watching for all along.
Consus stared as Aleyn resurfaced, holding two cylinders and a pair of hoses. One of the cylinders was covered in blood – blood that was spreading through the rest of the water. Aleyn hesitated only a moment before handing him one of the cylinders, already attached to the hose. "Put it on – quick."
She was right about that much. The water was almost at his chest. And he certainly couldn't swim as well as she could. Still, he couldn't help thinking that, if things had gone a little differently, he could have been the one she had gone after. Wes had just bent down for a moment to pick up his hatchet…
Unless he'd been meaning to use it. Maybe he hadn't trusted Aleyn to simply hand over the other air cylinder. But he'd already had one. There was no reason to think he would have attacked her. It hadn't been self-defense. Aleyn had killed Wes in cold blood.
And he had let it happen.
Charu had let it happen.
Because they had all known it had to happen. Someone had to die. And there was a part of him – a part that he was trying very hard to ignore – that was just glad it hadn't been him. He hadn't been the one to die, and he hadn't been the one to kill. Aleyn had taken that choice upon herself, and part of him was glad that she had. That was one less thing he had to worry about.
Of course, they would all have plenty to worry about soon. Consus strapped the air cylinder on his back and brought the hose up to his lips. Even with these to breathe from, they would be in trouble eventually if they didn't find a way out. He wasn't sure how much air was in them, but it wouldn't last forever. They had to think.
The water was at his shoulders now. "Keep your head above the water as long as you can," Aleyn called. "The longer you can stay above the water, the less air you'll have to use, and the longer it'll last."
Easier said than done. The water was pouring down from the ceiling at an alarming rate. Soon, it began to rise above his head. Consus kicked off from the floor, his arms flailing a bit as he tried to tread water.
It was Charu who figured it out. "The rope!" she called, pointing to the wall where she'd thrown the rope up earlier. Where Wes had thrown the rope up and caught it in the opening the parachute had made. Consus' stomach churned. Wes might have saved their lives. He'd certainly made things a little easier for them. Clumsily, he kicked and paddled over to the rope. Aleyn reached it first, but quickly made room for the other two to grab hold, as well.
"Okay," Charu gasped above the noise of the water. "So we hold onto this and work our way up to the window as the water rises. Then what?"
"Try to break it?" Aleyn suggested. "If we can make even a small hole, the pressure from the water should do the rest." She held up the hatchet she was somehow still holding onto. "This might be enough to do the trick."
Maybe. It wasn't much of an idea, but it was something. And it was better than anything else he could come up with at the moment. He didn't really like the idea of waiting until the water got that high, but there didn't seem to be much of a choice. They wouldn't want to risk climbing – not when there were three of them holding onto the rope. It might break, and then they would really be in trouble.
Right. As if they weren't in trouble already. Consus nodded. "All right. We'll try that."
But what if it didn't work?
Charu Varma, 18
District Six
What if it didn't work?
Charu's gaze flew from Aleyn to Consus as the three of them clung to the rope, inching their way towards the window as the water rose higher and higher. They were getting closer. But every time they got closer to the window, they also got closer to the ceiling. Eventually, the room would be full of water. If they couldn't get out through the window, then…
Then what? The Gamemakers weren't just going to let them all drown, were they? Not when Aleyn had finally done what they'd wanted. She'd killed Wes, and … and nothing. Nothing had happened. The doors hadn't opened. They hadn't found a way out.
All that had happened was Wes was dead.
And she had let it happen. She could have stepped in and tried to stop Aleyn. But she'd been too afraid. Afraid that if she did, Aleyn might decide she was a better target. The others had seemed perfectly content to let her have one of the air tanks simply because the package had been addressed to her, and she had been … relieved. Relieved that they'd all agreed she wasn't the one they should kill. She was glad it hadn't been her.
But she hadn't wanted it to be Wes.
She hadn't wanted it to be anyone.
But it had to be someone. And right now, it might be everyone, if they didn't figure out how to get out. Charu glanced up at the window, which was getting closer and closer. Would the hatchet really be able to break through? The glass looked pretty strong.
But what other choice did they have?
"I think I can reach it," Aleyn gasped through the water that was pouring down. She drew her arm back and struck the window as hard as she could. Nothing. Just … nothing. Again. And again. Still, the glass didn't break.
The water was past the rope now. Charu let go, kicking her way up to grab hold of the edge of the window, instead. Consus quickly followed suit as Aleyn continued hammering away at the window. There were only a few feet, at the most, between the window and the ceiling. If they didn't break through soon…
Suddenly, there was a terrible cracking noise, and the blade of the hatchet snapped from the handle, sinking down to the floor below. Aleyn turned to the others, panic in her eyes. Clearly, she'd thought that once she killed Wes, the Gamemakers would simply let them go. It was hard to blame her for that, though; Charu had thought the same thing. They all had.
And they had all been wrong.
Okay. Okay, they just had to think. But the water was rising. It was past the window now. Reluctantly, the three of them let go of the window and kicked their way to the surface of the water, bringing their breathing tubes up to their mouths. Soon, the water would be at the ceiling, and then…
Then what? How much air was really in the cylinders? Charu pressed her hands against the ceiling, feeling for … what? A weak spot? The water was coming from somewhere. And if it was coming from somewhere, then maybe they could get out.
Except it wasn't coming from somewhere. It was coming from everywhere. Charu took a deep breath just before the water covered them. The others were pressing against the ceiling, as well, hoping for something to happen.
Nothing did. Nothing except the fact that it was becoming harder to stay afloat. Even Aleyn seemed to be having difficulty. She was grasping at the ceiling, trying to find something to hold onto. Trying to get some leverage, perhaps, to break through. Charu took a breath from the tube. Okay. At least they had that going for them; the air seemed to be flowing from the cylinders just fine.
But it wouldn't last forever.
Charu took as deep a breath as she dared. It already seemed like they'd been under for hours. It had probably only been minutes, but her limbs felt like lead. How long could they really keep this up?
Suddenly, she saw something falling through the water. A piece of stone from the ceiling. Charu looked around frantically. Where was the opening? Another piece, coming from a corner. She grabbed Consus' and Aleyn's arms to get their attention, pointing at the corner. Frantically, the three of them made their way to the corner as another piece of the ceiling fell away. Charu gasped for breath; already the air from the breathing tube seemed to be growing thin.
There was no way they could have shared it. They wouldn't have made it. Aleyn had been right. There wouldn't have been enough for the four of them. They could all have drowned if they'd tried to share among the four of them.
Aleyn reached the hole in the ceiling first and disappeared through it. Consus wriggled his way through next. Finally, Charu's head broke the surface, and she pulled herself through the hole and onto the roof of the castle, the tube and the cylinder falling away as she squeezed through the space. They were alive.
They were all alive.
No. No, not all of them. But three of them were alive. Maybe that was the best they could have hoped for, ever since they'd been locked in the room. One of them had to die, but it had only been one. It could have been worse.
But now what were they supposed to do?
It was Consus who finally spoke, sputtering a little. "We can't just stay here – not when the roof is collapsing."
"It looks a bit sturdier over there," Charu offered, pointing towards the center of the roof. That didn't make sense, really – not from a structural point of view. It should have been weak at the center and stronger at the edges. But the roof only seemed to be collapsing in the area right above the dungeon they'd been in. The rest of the castle seemed unaffected. Once they made it to that part of the roof, they would probably be safe for a while.
Then they would just have to find a way back in.
Later. That could wait until later. Carefully, the three of them inched their way across the roof, careful not to collapse any more of it. Soon, they were on relatively solid roof, and Charu finally got a good look around. There were three towers rising high above their position on the roof, but there didn't seem to be anyone on them. Of course no one would want to be outside in the rain. But it was better than being inside in a flooding room.
And it was better than being dead.
Shanali Theisen, 17
District Eleven
They were both dead.
Shanali stared at the wall of the stairwell as Wes' face faded from the wall and was quickly replaced with Kilian's. She'd known, of course, that Kilian might well be dead, considering he hadn't found her yet. But Wes … She hadn't known for certain that he was still alive, but now…
Now she was pretty sure they were both dead. Their faces fit the pattern. Two deaths. Two killers. Now two deaths. At least the Gamemakers were being consistent with the groups of two, although the last two anthems hadn't immediately followed the cannons like the first few had. Still, it was enough to be fairly certain.
She was the only tribute left from District Eleven.
Nineteen tributes left – barely less than in a regular year – and she was her district's only chance now. Maybe that should have been a good thing; it meant Eleven's mentors could focus on her. But what good would that do? They'd already managed to send her a sponsor gift, but it hadn't stopped her alliance from being attacked. It hadn't saved Kilian.
It hadn't been meant to save Kilian.
Shanali's stomach churned at the thought. The gift hadn't been for Kilian or Ronan. It had been for her. And she was still alive. The gift had been a message that she was on the right track, but then they'd rested for too long. Or maybe they'd just decided to rest in the wrong place. Maybe the Gamemakers had wanted the mutt to attack someone, and they just happened to be the nearest target.
Maybe it didn't matter why. All that mattered was that she had survived. And Ronan was still alive; that was more than she'd hoped for.
The only question now was whether she should go back and try to find him.
Shanali leaned back on the stairs, shaking her head. It shouldn't be a question, really. He was her ally. Her friend. He could be hurt, and she might be able to help him. But on the other hand…
On the other hand, it was partly his fault they were in this situation in the first place. It had been his decision to let the boy from Three go. If he'd had the guts to kill him then and there, things might have turned out very differently. Kilian might still be alive. They might still be together. Maybe.
Or maybe not. The boy from Ten might still have found them. The griffin might still have been with him. And it wasn't as if she had offered to kill him, either. She'd been just as willing to let the boy go. It had been Ronan who had made the decision, but she hadn't stopped him. She hadn't argued. She was just as much at fault as he was, really. And so was Kilian.
And Kilian had paid for it. Ronan was the only ally she had left, and there were still nineteen tributes in the arena. Didn't they have a better chance together? Sure, he was injured, but she had no way of knowing how badly. She hadn't caught more than a glimpse of something hitting him before she'd seen the griffin and decided to run. For all she knew, he was perfectly fine. Maybe he'd only pretended to be injured in order to avoid drawing attention to himself.
Maybe. There were no guarantees, no way of knowing without going back to check. And where was the harm? If he was fine, all the better. And if not … well, she could always leave. It wasn't as if he would be able to stop her.
But would she be able to leave him? That was the real question. If she went back now, would she have the nerve to leave him again if she had to? Maybe it was better to simply make a clean break now, while she could.
Maybe. There was that word again. She didn't want to keep guessing; she wanted to be certain.
And the only way to be certain was to go back.
Genevieve Odele, 17
District One
The only way to be certain was to keep going.
Genevieve clutched her dagger tightly as she followed Justus towards the sound in the distance. He was in the lead, with Macauley close behind. Mae was bringing up the rear, and every now and then Genevieve glanced back to make sure she was still there, that she hadn't decided to slip off somewhere like Etora had.
Maybe that wouldn't be much of a loss, if not for the fact that Mae still had the map of the arena. Was that why the sponsors had sent it to her in the first place? Were they trying to give the Career pack a reason to keep her around? Maybe. It wasn't as if she had been much use otherwise. She'd only made one kill, after all, and that had been during the bloodbath. And even that had been with Genevieve's help.
Genevieve clenched her teeth. The others were probably thinking the same thing about her. She needed to make a move, and soon. They all did. Justus' bloodbath kill had been a little more impressive, perhaps, but it was still only one kill. Some Careers they were turning out to be.
It wasn't as if it was their fault, though. Not really. Aside from the short time they'd spent at the cornucopia, they'd been out looking for tributes. They just hadn't found any. It was a big castle. And unlike some arenas where Careers could use footprints or broken twigs or smoke to track tributes, there was no way to tell where anyone was here. There were candles everywhere, and even if someone lit a bigger fire – which didn't seem likely – there was no way they would see the smoke. Not that tributes were likely to light a fire, anyway; the temperature in the castle had been downright pleasant even at night, even down here.
If it even was night. They had no way of knowing, and that was even more frustrating. It felt like days had passed since the start of the Games, but she had no way of knowing how many days. If it was only the second or third day, their lack of kills might be excusable. If it was later than that…
But they were on the right track now. Or on some track, at least. Moving towards something, even if they didn't know exactly what. And it did seem like the whimpering was getting louder. Whether that was a good or bad thing, she still wasn't sure, but at least it was something. And the audience would have to appreciate that they were doing something.
Wouldn't they?
The sound was definitely growing louder. Finally, they could see something in the corner up ahead. Something huddled on the ground. It was too dark in the corner to tell who, exactly, it was, but they were definitely crying. "Could still be a trap," Justus muttered.
Genevieve rolled her eyes. "Pretty pathetic trap if it is," she whispered. "How do they plan to kill four of us? Let's just put them out of their misery and get it over with."
Justus raised an eyebrow. "You first."
Genevieve hesitated. It wasn't an offer; it was a challenge. He was waiting to see whether she would take orders from him, perhaps. Or maybe he was so worried that it was a trap that he wanted her to go first. Either way, his tone made her uneasy. What if there was a catch? This seemed a little too easy. She shook her head. "No, you first."
Macauley chuckled a little. "Impressive bunch, you are. I told you I'd give you a chance to catch up, but if neither of you wants to—"
"I'll do it." Mae's voice caught Genevieve by surprise. "It has to be me."
Genevieve cocked her head a little. Not 'it should be me' or 'I want to give it a try.' For whatever reason, Mae thought it had to be her. But she wasn't about to argue. "All right, then," Genevieve ageed. "Go ahead."
But Mae hadn't waited for permission.
Mae Swenson, 13
District One
It had to be her.
Mae gripped her cleaver tightly as she made her way towards the figure in the corner. She had to be the one to do this. It all made sense now. That was what the map had been about all along. The sponsors were giving her a chance to get it right this time. They'd led her to the perfect spot. To a tribute who would be an easy kill. All because she'd refused to the last time she'd had a chance.
Justus was worried that it might be a trap. But it was the opposite of a trap. It was an opportunity. The perfect opportunity to prove she'd deserved the sponsor gift they'd sent her. That she had as much right as any of the others to be here. That she was as much a Career as any of them.
She wasn't a Career, of course. But neither were they. And if they were going to pretend, then she could pretend just as well as any of them. She took a few more steps towards the figure in the dark. She could see something moving up and down. Whoever it was, they were still breathing.
But not for long.
Mae took a deep breath and raised her cleaver. Okay. Okay, she just had to make it quick. Get it over with. Okay. Okay, just count to three. She could do that. One. Two.
Then she heard a growl.
Mae stepped back as the figure stirred. It wasn't a tribute. It was a mutt. But that didn't make any difference, really. "Wait!" Macauley called, but Mae didn't hear her. The cleaver came down towards the mutt.
But then it sprang.
Its jaws closed around her arm before the cleaver could reach its mark. Another pair of jaws sank into her shoulder. Mae screamed as she toppled over backwards. Was there more than one mutt? No. No, there was more than one head. Three heads – dogs' heads – coming from one body. "Help!" she called, but she could already hear footsteps racing in the other direction.
No one was going to help her.
Justus Freeman, 17
District One
No one else was going to help her.
Justus gripped his axe as he charged at the mutt. Genevieve and Macauley were already running in opposite directions – but both away from the mutt. They didn't understand. Mae had been right; they had to do this. The Gamemakers were giving them a chance to prove themselves. The fact that their obstacle was a mutt rather than another tribute didn't make much difference, in the end.
His blade came down against the mutt's neck. Well, one of its necks. The creature was some sort of dog, its heads only coming to about his waist or so. It had caught Mae off-guard; that was all. He struck the neck again, and the mutt loosened its grip on Mae. Or at least, that head did. Mae was still screaming as the dog snarled, one of the other heads getting closer to her throat.
Then he saw the other shape in the shadows.
It was bigger. Darker. Had it been waiting there all along? Had it come around the corner while he'd been distracted? He wasn't sure, but it was here now, and it was big. It looked exactly like the other dog, only larger. Much larger.
Justus turned to run, but the dog was too fast. One of the heads snapped at him, its jaws closing around his waist even as he tried to run. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the smaller dog sink its fangs into Mae's throat. Screaming turned to a thick gurgling sound. Justus swung his axe at the mutt that held him, but it didn't even seem to notice. One of the heads sank its teeth into his shoulder. Blood spurted out as a crunching, snapping noise drowned out his own screams. He didn't have to look to know that the arm was gone.
A cannon sounded. For a moment, he was certain it was his own, but he was still alive. Mae's, then. Justus could see one of the heads coming towards his own throat.
He barely had time to scream.
Macauley Tierney, 17
District Five
The screaming finally stopped when the second cannon sounded.
Macauley kept running, ignoring the fact that Genevieve had run in the opposite direction. Clearly, joining up with the Careers again had been a mistake. She was just lucky it hadn't been a fatal mistake. Lucky that Mae had decided to try to attack the mutt. The mutt she had assumed was a tribute.
That wasn't Mae's fault, really. They had all assumed it was a tribute. It was a natural assumption, considering the Gamemakers had seemed to be leading them in that direction. Why had they wanted to lure the Careers to their deaths? Had the others' performance so far really been that pathetic?
Maybe it had. If they were telling the truth, none of the others had made a kill since the bloodbath – except Etora, who'd had the sense to leave them. And there was no reason for them to lie about that. Whether they simply hadn't found any tributes or hadn't been trying hard enough to look for them, it was obvious the Gamemakers – and the audience – weren't satisfied with what they had been doing.
So maybe it was time to go back to what she had been doing. She had been doing just fine on her own, after all, and it had only been luck that had brought her back to the others. Now … well, it would probably be best to find a way out of these tunnels. They'd been wandering around in circles for so long, she probably wasn't all that far from the way they'd come in.
Macauley shook her head. It seemed like such a waste. Two of them gone, just like that. At least, it was probably safe to assume at this point that the cannons had been theirs. Still, their faces hadn't appeared on the wall.
But what would they show even if they did? If they kept following the pattern, the next two faces should have belonged to the killers, not the tributes who had died. But did they really plan to show a giant three-headed dog?
Probably not. Maybe that was why the anthem hadn't started playing yet. Or maybe they were just waiting to see whether the dog would catch up with her or Genevieve. She couldn't hear it behind her, but none of them had heard the larger dog until it had seemed to appear out of nowhere. Well, not quite out of nowhere. It had seemed to be lifting itself up out of the ground, almost like something rising out of a muddy pit.
Macauley gripped her rapier, shuddering. Part of her had thought about staying and trying to help Justus fight the mutt – a part she was now very glad she hadn't listened to. They were out of their league, all four of them. But only she and Genevieve had had the sense to realize it.
Okay. Okay, just breathe. She was probably safe now. Wherever the mutt was, she'd put a good distance between them. She just hoped she would be able to find a way back to the surface level of the castle. It would probably be a little bit safer up there. Well, maybe not safer, but there would certainly be more tributes to hunt up there.
After all, what sort of tributes would choose to stay down here?
Mariska Vasile, 16
District Eight
This was the longest they'd stayed in one spot since the Games had started.
Mariska shook Barlen awake as Vashti opened their pack of supplies. They still had some bread left, along with a bit of water. Maybe it wasn't much, but it would still last them a while. It would be good to find water, though.
Maybe that was the reason Vashti had suggested staying near the pit a while longer. Maybe he was trying to figure out how to reach the water that was down there without … well, without going down there. There didn't seem to be a good way to get down, anyway. They didn't have any rope, or anything else to lower a container down with. But maybe they would be able to find something they could use instead.
It was certainly worth considering, at least. It wasn't as if they were likely to find another source of water anytime soon. And a second sponsor gift was probably a bit too much to hope for unless they did something truly impressive. Then again, the first gift hadn't been because they'd done something worth rewarding. It had been intended to nudge them into an alliance.
An alliance that, so far, had paid off. Barlen had been the one who had killed someone, after all. The fact that it had been her district partner … well, she still wasn't quite comfortable with that, but she kept telling Barlen that Klaudia had been trying to kill him.
But was that even true? Barlen had said it was true, of course, but had he really remembered it correctly? She had a hard time picturing Klaudia trying to kill anyone. But on the other hand, it didn't seem likely that Barlen would have attacked someone unless he was afraid for his life.
Would he?
A few days ago, she would have had a hard time believing he was capable of it. But ever since he'd killed Klaudia, he'd been … different. Maybe that was normal. Tributes were usually a bit off after they'd killed someone. But Vashti hadn't seemed bothered by the fact that they'd killed Aven at the start of the Games.
Mariska held back a chuckle as she realized. She hadn't even thought about that. She had no right to be upset about Barlen killing her district partner, because she'd done the same thing. The only difference was that he didn't know it. She and Vashti had told him that they'd been working with Aven during the bloodbath, but what were the chances that he even remembered that much? Did he even remember that his district partner was dead?
Probably not. Maybe it was better that way. It was one less thing for him to worry about. Not that he had seemed worried about his district partners. But that was pretty normal, wasn't it? How often had she worried about Klaudia, even before her face had appeared on the wall? Was Vashti worried about any of his district partners? Probably not. They were with the Career pack, after all – if they were still alive. Or at least, two of them were.
Suddenly, Vashti held up a hand to stop Barlen, who was chattering away about … something. She'd been so lost in thought, she hadn't even realized he was talking. But he stopped as soon as he saw the look on Vashti's face. "What is it?"
"Do you hear that?" Vashti whispered.
Mariska listened. She did hear something – something that sounded like footsteps. But not hard footsteps. More like bare feet on the hard floor. Then she saw a figure – a small figure, running through one of the entrances to the room.
She and Barlen immediately ducked down, but Vashti chuckled. "So he's still alive." He ducked down beside the others, but not before the boy turned and saw them. "Don't go that way!" the younger boy shouted, pointing back the way he had come before disappearing through the opposite door.
Mariska glanced at Vashti, who shrugged. "Good to know. Better stay low for a while – in case whatever he's running from is still following."
Mariska nodded. She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to say, but staying put … well, it made sense. If they went after the boy now, they would only put themselves in the middle of a chase. They certainly didn't want to be caught by whatever the boy was running from.
Besides, he was Vashti's district partner.
Retro Liu, 12
District Five
At least two of his district partners were still alive.
Retro managed a smile as he kept running. There was something satisfying about knowing Vashti was still alive. Macauley … well, she'd tried to kill him, after killing both of his allies. But Vashti hadn't even seemed to think about chasing after him.
Maybe he simply hadn't wanted the trouble, or maybe he'd thought there was something close on Retro's tail and hadn't wanted to put himself in the middle of a chase. That certainly made sense. He had no way of knowing that the dog was pretty far behind him, if it was even chasing him at all. If anyone, it was probably chasing one of the Careers – either Macauley or her ally. He'd gotten close enough to see that only two of them had made it out.
That was as close as he'd cared to get. He had seen the dog and started running, and then there had been two cannons – one right after the other. Two of the Careers were dead. That should have made him feel better. The Careers were some of the most dangerous tributes, after all. Instead, it just made him nervous. If the Gamemakers were going after the Careers…
But they hadn't come after him. Not yet, at least. Not directly. Macauley had found him and Ti on her own. The Gamemakers hadn't had a hand in that. Well, at least as far as he knew. He had no way of knowing for sure that they hadn't given her a hint, but she probably hadn't needed one to find the two of them. They certainly hadn't been hiding well.
And now he wasn't hiding well, either. But at least he was running away from danger rather than following it around. Whatever had made him think it was a good idea to follow the Careers, it was gone now. All he wanted was to find somewhere to rest. Just for a while. Somewhere he could stop and get his bearings and try to figure out his next move.
But the hallways were all starting to look the same. He had no way of knowing which way he had been going, or which way to go to get back … well, anywhere. Part of him wanted to look for a way out of the tunnels, back to somewhere a bit more familiar. Or at least somewhere where the rooms didn't all look the same.
Something stopped him, though – and not just the fact that he didn't have the slightest idea which way to go in order to get to one of the trap doors. That was where the Careers were probably going, after all – back up to the main level to hunt. They hadn't exactly had good luck exploring down here. So if he stayed down here, he was less likely to run into any of the Careers that were left.
Maybe. The argument was pointless, of course, unless he actually found a way back up there. Right now, he couldn't see anything but stone walls and candles, just like the direction he had come from. The path split up ahead, but did it really make a difference which way he went? He had no idea which path would take him farther from the Careers.
Besides, they probably didn't have any better idea of where they were going than he did. And he had at least a little bit of an advantage. He knew they were down here. They had no idea he had been following them. That was something. But there was still only one of him.
Maybe…
Retro pushed the thought from his head. Vashti hadn't shown the slightest interest in an alliance with him at any point during training. He hadn't exactly been rude – well, no ruder than he'd been to anyone else – but he'd made it clear they wouldn't make good allies.
But there was something nagging at the back of his mind. He'd run through the room quickly, but he was pretty sure he'd seen two tributes with Vashti. One of them was the girl from Eight – Mariska. They'd been working together at the start of the Games, so that was no surprise. Well, aside from the surprise that they were both still alive and unharmed and still working together.
The other tribute, though … it had looked like one of the boys from District Nine. What was he doing with Vashti? And if Vashti had been willing to take him as an ally, then maybe…
Retro gripped his knife tightly in his hand. No. No, he'd had two allies, and they were gone now. He didn't want to lose anyone else. Right now, knowing that his district partner was alive was good enough for him. If he stuck around long enough, one of them would die.
And he didn't want to go through that again.
Merrik Haims, 15
District Three
Eventually, they would have to kill again.
Merrik held tightly to the griffin's feathers as the three of them – him, Skyton, and Pigeon – made their way into the next room. Eventually, they would have to kill, but it didn't have to be right now. And it didn't have to be him.
The boy who had spared his life in the stairwell was probably exactly where they had left him in the other room. Maybe Skyton hadn't seen him. Or maybe he was simply pretending he hadn't, just like Merrik. He remembered there being three tributes in the stairwell that night – the night he'd run from the Careers after they'd killed Dinah. The boy from Four, along with the pair of tributes from Eleven.
And they'd all been alive, until he and Skyton had come along. Now the boy from Eleven was dead, and the boy from Four … well, he was still alive, at least, assuming the faces had been accurate. He was still alive; that was something. Merrik had convinced Skyton that going back to the other room wasn't a good idea.
It hadn't taken much convincing, really. Maybe Skyton had seen him, too, and was just as reluctant as Merrik was. Not that Skyton had any reason not to want to kill the boy from Four in particular, but neither of them were eager to kill anyone again.
But…
But they would have to eventually. There was no escaping it. And if they had to kill someone – no, when they had to kill someone – he would rather it wasn't someone who had been kind to him. Someone who had spared his life when they'd had a chance to strike him down instead.
He wasn't likely to show the same kindness again, of course. If they happened to find each other again, Merrik was sure the boy wouldn't hesitate to attack. He would want his revenge. But that … well, that was normal, wasn't it?
Was it?
Merrik turned to Skyton. "Your district partner – you said he was dead, right?"
Skyton raised an eyebrow. "Yes."
"And your other ally – the girl from Eight. She killed him."
"That's right. Why?"
"What did you do?"
"I ran away."
That wasn't what he'd meant. "I mean … What did you want to do? Did you want revenge? Did you want to … I don't know. Make her pay for what she'd done?"
Skyton cocked an eyebrow. "Did you?"
Merrik shook his head. Revenge had been the farthest thing from his mind when Dinah had been killed. "No, but … well, they were Careers. Getting revenge on them is a bit out of the question, don't you think?"
Skyton shrugged. "Maybe."
Okay. That was unexpected. "What do you mean?"
"Well, if one of us is going to win, that means all the other tributes have to die, right? That includes the Careers, which means someone is going to have to kill them, if they haven't already. Who's to say it won't be us?"
Merrik hesitated. Maybe Pigeon was making Skyton cocky, but he knew better. Even when mutts did take sides between tributes, they didn't keep doing it forever. Eventually, tributes had to fight their own battles.
"But you weren't wondering because of the Careers, were you," Skyton reasoned. "The boy that we…" He hesitated, but finally got the words out. "The boy that we killed … you're wondering if his ally might come looking for us."
Ally. Not allies. Maybe he hadn't seen the boy from Four after all. Or maybe he was pretending he hadn't. If so, he was doing a pretty convincing job. Merrik simply nodded. "It crossed my mind. I don't think she's likely to attack us while Pigeon is around, but…"
"But he might not keep helping us forever," Skyton finished. Good. So he did understand. Which meant he probably wouldn't suggest something ridiculous like attacking the Careers. Because once a plan like that was mentioned, the audience expected tributes to go through with it, no matter how far-fetched. But as long as he'd only been alluding to the fact that the Careers would have to die eventually, and hadn't suggested going after them now, they were probably fine. Probably.
And right now, that would have to be good enough.
Darian Travers, 14
District Two
The noise was loud enough for him to be certain now.
Darian turned to his district partners. "I think it's coming from the ceiling."
Mae shook her head. "Are you sure that's not just the rain?"
Darian hesitated. It had been raining heavily for a while now, but he was pretty sure the noise was something else. Something firmer, more solid, and coming from the roof. "I'm pretty sure," he insisted. "I think there's someone up there."
Mae shrugged, taking another bite of one of the apples they'd found in what was apparently a room intended for storing food. "Let them stay there, then. Not like there's anything we can do about it, unless you have a plan for collapsing the roof."
Margo looked around. "We don't need to collapse it. Look." She nodded towards the stairs.
Darian nodded, following her train of thought. "Did you grab anything from the cornucopia that we would be able to use from a distance? It might not lead to the same part of the roof, but…"
"I didn't," Margo admitted. "But it wouldn't take long to head back and grab a bow or two. I saw some, but I figured—"
"Figured they wouldn't do us much good indoors," Darian agreed. "Let's go."
Mae shook her head. "Wait. What if the Careers are back at the cornucopia?"
Darian smirked. "We are the Careers." The audience would love that, and Mae didn't object. Couldn't object, if she wanted the audience's approval. Margo nodded, and they headed back towards the cornucopia.
Sure enough, there wasn't anyone there. Margo took her time choosing just the right bow. Darian simply picked one that looked flashy. It wasn't as if he'd had any practice with a bow, so one was probably just as good as another. Mae chose a medium-sized bow. They could only find one quiver of arrows, so Margo took that, promising to share as she swung it over her back. Satisfied, the three of them headed back to the stairs.
He just hoped there was actually someone on the roof.
Etora Nanovi, 12
District Two
She just hoped there was actually someone coming.
Etora held her breath, her back pressed flat against the wall as the footsteps continued. Bare feet, from the sound, and headed briskly in her direction. It sounded like only one person, but she couldn't be certain – not with the way the sound was echoing off the wall. And if there was more than one of them, her best bet was to wait until they ran past, and then shoot a dart at one of them. With any luck, they wouldn't notice her until she was already heading in the other direction.
It had worked once, after all. The girl from Eleven hadn't even noticed that her ally had fallen behind. Of course, that wasn't a guarantee. She had gotten lucky. It might not happen again. But there were no guarantees in the Games. Nothing was really certain. Every Victor had to take some chances in order to win.
Some chances. The trick was taking the right chances, the right risks. Etora turned her blowgun over in her hands. She had about a dozen darts, and there was little stopping her from going back to the cornucopia to get more if she happened to run out – which didn't seem particularly likely. It had only taken one dart to bring down the boy from Eleven. Whatever poison had been in the cauldron, it was certainly strong.
It almost seemed too easy – blowing darts at people and then running away. It seemed almost cowardly – and certainly not very Career-like. But going up against a giant mutt and two tributes single-handed … well, that might lead to a very Career-like death, but that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to live. To win. And sometimes that meant fighting dirty.
She hadn't really understood that, when she'd been training. She'd always counted on having more time to train, to make sure she was fully prepared for the Games. But tributes who were twelve – even Careers who were twelve – weren't going to win by brute force. The twelve-year-old who had won last year hadn't overpowered her opponents. She had outlasted them. Taken them by surprise. Snuck up on them in their sleep, put them out of their misery when they were injured. She hadn't been the strongest or the fastest or the most prepared, but she had won. She'd had the right mentality. She'd taken the right risks.
Etora couldn't help a smile. District Twelve would make a passable Career district, if they ever had a mind to actually train. Their tributes tended to be mentally tough, but physically … well, physically, they were lacking. She knew that a few years ago, some of the training supplies that had belonged to District Four had made their way to District Twelve, but no one there seemed interested in taking advantage of that.
It would probably take time. Career training hadn't sprung up in District Two overnight – or in One, Four, or Five, for that matter. It would take the right person – the right Victor – to start up a training system in Twelve. And that certainly wasn't going to happen this Games, with both their tributes already dead.
That was better for her, of course. Etora shook her head. District Twelve wasn't her problem – certainly not now, with those footsteps growing closer and closer. It wouldn't be long before—
Then she saw him – the boy from Five. The youngest one. So he was still alive. Interesting. He seemed to be running from something, but he wasn't moving as quickly as she'd thought. Maybe he was growing tired. Even better. She raised her blowgun.
But something stopped her. If he was running, then someone might be chasing him. He was certainly running from something. Wouldn't it be useful to know what, and where? Etora tucked the blowgun away and pulled a knife out of her pocket. Okay, new plan. She waited until the boy was almost past her and then lunged.
He didn't even see her coming. Before he knew what was happening, her arms were wrapped around his legs, and he toppled to the ground, her knife at his throat. The boy squeezed his eyes shut, gasping for air. "Just make it quick."
It was tempting – so tempting. And maybe it would be kinder to simply do it. But she didn't need to. Not yet. The audience already knew she could kill. Now they needed to know that she could play. Etora pressed the knife a little closer. "Oh, I'm not going to kill you. Not yet."
The boy's eyes popped open. "Why not?" He was genuinely confused. He had no idea what she was up to. "What do you want?"
Etora shrugged. "Whatever you have. What are you running from? Where are they? How many of them, and how far behind you? Anything you think might be worth letting you live a little longer." She smirked, lifting the knife a little, allowing him to breathe.
"Start talking."
Violet Levine
District Eleven Mentor
They wouldn't stop talking.
Violet closed her eyes, leaning back on the couch as she set her empty glass on the table nearby. All around her, everyone else seemed to be chattering away, but she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. They'd started to get blurrier a few drinks ago. She'd lost count soon after Wes had died.
Died. That seemed too peaceful a way of putting it. Made it sound like he'd simply fallen asleep and hadn't woken up. Wes had been killed, and none of his so-called allies had done a damn thing to stop it. They were just glad it hadn't been them. Now the three of them – Aleyn, Consus, and Charu – were huddled together in the rain on top of the castle as the first few rays of dawn began to shine through the clouds, trying to figure out how to get back inside safely.
It didn't matter. They weren't her problem anymore. Wes was gone. And Kilian was gone, too. Two of District Eleven's tributes, gone just like that. Shanali was the only one left, and she was heading back to where she had left Ronan. But that wasn't really her problem, either. Shanali was someone else's responsibility. Was it Tamsin or Elijah? She couldn't quite remember. But she knew it wasn't her. Wes had been hers…
And she hadn't been able to save him. Even if she'd been able to convince the sponsors to send him something, nothing would have made a difference. The Gamemakers had wanted one of the tributes dead, and Wes had drawn the short straw. In the end, that was all there was to it. There was nothing she could have done. Nothing anyone could have done.
But did that make it better or worse?
Neither, Violet decided as she opened her eyes, ready to stumble back towards the bar in search of a refill. To her surprise, the glass was already full, and Jasper was sitting beside her. "Thought you might want another." He drained his own glass.
Violet raised an eyebrow. "What are you so upset about? Your tribute's still alive."
Jasper shook his head. "Thanks to sheer dumb luck. It could just as easily have been her if she'd volunteered to go first. Just lucky that it was Mae instead." He plopped down on the couch beside her. "Now we're down to two. Could've been one if the Gamemakers had decided to send the dogs after Genevieve and Macauley once they were done. Hell, could've been none if Aleyn had gone after Consus instead of Wes. He got lucky."
Violet took a long drink. "That wasn't luck. He proved that he was valuable to the group. He was the one who got them weapons in the first place. None of them were going to go after him."
"Unless they figured that he was the biggest threat," Jasper reasoned. "There's no telling what people will do when they're under enough stress." He shook his head. "But that's not the reason I wanted to talk to you."
Violet cocked her head a little. "What do you mean?"
"There's something going on with some of the other Victors." He nodded towards a group in the corner that seemed to consist mostly of the younger Victors. "Tosh sent me to see if you wanted to join us."
"Join you? For what?"
"I'm not sure. But it might be something important, and since you don't have to worry about Wes anymore…"
Violet glared, resisting the urge to toss the rest of her drink in his face. "Looks like mostly Careers," she muttered, which was only half-true. Duke and Basil were sitting with them, along with Brennan and Kyra. But the others – Tosh, Imalia, Camden, Harriet, Oliver … What were they all up to?
Part of her was curious. Part of her just wanted to be left alone. Violet sighed. Maybe there was no harm in finding out what they wanted, at least. She would have the rest of the Games to drink. Besides, it wasn't as if she had anything to lose. "Fine," she muttered as Jasper helped her to her feet.
"This better be good."
"The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, and these are of them."