Chapter 13.
A jolt in his back told Eamon the hovercraft had reached its destination, and his heart sunk. Some small, deluded part of him had hoped that the hovercraft would fly forever, perhaps taking him and the rest of the tributes to a strange, faraway place where children weren't killed for entertainment. Well, he was partly right, at least.
Eamon watched as one by one, tributes were escorted to their underground Launch Rooms underneath the arena. He scratched his forearm where the Peacekeeper had injected the tracker and his mind wandered once more. He hadn't slept well that night, as was to be expected. Vivian and Fingle had been as accommodating as ever that morning, but Nott was nowhere to be seen. Eamon hadn't seen him since then. Was he busy? Had something happened? Or did he just not care enough to say goodbye? Was he still angry at Eamon? Even then, that didn't excuse him from not saying goodbye to Madeline.
He was interrupted from his poorly-timed paranoia as Madeline next to him was escorted none-too-gently to her room, where Sylvia would be waiting for her. He wished it was Fingle instead – he seemed to get on well with Madeline right from the start and would surely be able to help her keep calm. Moments later came his time to leave the relative safety of the hovercraft. When he arrived at his Launch Room, Alexis was already there and waiting. The room was small, but enough to contain a lounge, a locker, some food, a shower and a changing room. And of course, the tube in the corner that would elevate him to almost-certain death in a few minutes time.
"Hey," said Alexis looking up, "How you holding up?"
Eamon struggled for an answer, "How should I be holding up?"
She tried to respond but seemed to think better of it.
"I guess we should go over what you'll be wearing."
She laid out several items of clothing on the lounge, including an orange singlet top, black padded cargo pants, a pair of black and orange, half-finger, leather gloves, a belt with a pouch attached at the hip, and a pair of thick-treaded leather joggers.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"It won't be cold, that's for certain. They would have given you a jacket if it were. Lots of climbing gear though. Canyons, mountains, cliffs, lots of elevation change, that's my guess."
"Yeah that was my guess too."
District 9 was hardly abundant in rugged terrain, but the lack of familiarity didn't overly faze him. It could be much worse, after all. He went to go change, and when he came out, he indeed looked more likely to be going abseiling than killing.
"It's not the most protective, but it should do the trick," said Alexis, making a few adjustments.
He made a non-committal grunt and sat on the lounge with one eye on the tube, the other on the ticking clock on the wall.
Finally, it was time. A voice counted down from ten. Eamon made to step into the tube, his heart racing.
"Eamon," stammered Alexis, who had clearly been trying to find the right words to say since he walked in. "I realise I'm not exactly the first person you would want here, but for what it's worth, I still think you're probably District 9's best shot to win since Nott."
He laughed, but not unkindly, "If anything I'm District 9's worst shot to win."
And with that the platform began to rise, and Alexis disappeared from sight. Eamon looked up and a long way above him he could see bright blue, cloudless skies and a glimpse of the sun shining innocently. Suddenly eight years of training and a score of ten felt relatively miniscule in the grand scheme of things.
I have to stick to my procedures, he thought. Let's see… There's a sixty second countdown; in the first fifteen seconds I have to get a feel for the arena and think of an exit strategy; the next fifteen – study who is positioned where; the next fifteen – check out the Cornucopia, decide if I want to go, and figure out what to go for. And then the final fifteen is the hardest – getting ready to run.
He had the sinking feeling he'd forgotten something important. Or maybe it was just overall anxiety. No-one wants to die after all, and certainly not like this.
His pedestal reached the surface and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. It was hot, but not overly so. Out of the corner of his eye, twenty-three other figures had similar reactions as they rose up out of the ground in a semi-circle formation.
The familiar sleek, horn-shaped structure of the Cornucopia was instantly recognisable, with various weapons, backpacks, containers and crates visible at its maw and even more deep inside. A neon-blue clock was projected just above it.
A deep, magnified voice boomed out over the arena, "The 68th Hunger Games will commence in one minute. May the odds be ever in your favour."
The clock began counting down from sixty. Eamon turned every which way, trying to take in every detail of the arena. They were boxed in on almost all sides by towering plateaus, mesas and mountains that pierced the sky, but there were slopes of a gentle enough gradient to run up. There were four passes in between mountains that seemed to lead down to a forest of deciduous overgrowth. The Cornucopia was nestled in a rugged valley that seemed to act as a mid-point between the two extremes. So, the question was… high or low? Offense or defense? It was a no-brainer, and yet, he still couldn't shake the feeling he was forgetting something.
Still the clock ticked down and Eamon's focus shifted to where the major players were positioned relative to him. Blair and Jasmine were next to each other on the far-left side of the semi-circle, four positions away from him. Axel was just two positions to his right, with Vesper right next to him. Hilda and Landon were a bit further down the line. He had hoped Madeline would be next to him, but no luck; she was on the far-right side, sandwiched between Dennis and Francesca, the high-scoring District 10 girl. She looked nervous, but her stance was firm and eyes fixed squarely on the Cornucopia. With a start, Eamon realised what he had forgotten that was so important: he and Madeline hadn't come up with a plan to meet after the Bloodbath, if they even survived that long. He'd just have to hope he could find her during the chaos.
With thirty seconds left and his mouth running dry, Eamon's attention turned to the Cornucopia. He scanned frantically for the glaive and as luck would have it, he spotted the polearm-like weapon stashed in the very depths of the horn alongside similar weapons. He could always use a lesser weapon it was true, but alas, the allure of his most proficient weapon was tempting him into the trap of the Cornucopia. His goal then, would be to reach the interior first, and then wing it from there.
His analysis was very much everything he'd rehearsing for years, but with fifteen seconds left it felt like that could all go horribly wrong in practice. Ten seconds. Seven. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Eamon had leapt off the pedestal on the count of one, but didn't land until after the cannon went off, thus avoiding triggering the mines planted in the base. This gave him a minor head start, but he wasn't thinking about the others. He wasn't thinking at all; just watching the entrance of the Cornucopia grow bigger and bigger until it swallowed him whole. Eamon had practiced the Cornucopia run before, but this was different. Nothing propelled him forward like the thought of the primal stampede surely closing in behind him. Slipping in between the assorted piles of loot, his hand reached out for the glaive resting peacefully in its rack, and that's when three things happened all at once.
A knife whizzed past him and embedded itself in the wall. A cannon rumbled, and for one time-stopping nanosecond, he thought that cannon had belonged to him. He grabbed the glaive and whipped around as another deep, magnified voice similar to the previous one announced, "District 12: Cecilia Moreau."
Eamon was face to face with the camel-faced Axel Costa. He didn't think he'd have to face a Career so soon. In cramped quarters such as these, the glaive was hardly in its element, so Eamon did the only thing he could. As Axel made to grab another knife lying on top of a crate, he lunged and drove the tip of the glaive straight into Axel's stomach. The sensation was like nothing he'd ever experienced. Axel dropped the knife instantly and looked down in horror, his mouth open in a noiseless scream. Eamon could feel the glaive sink through the flesh and pierce the squishy, soft matter inside; causing him to gag.
He yanked the glaive out with similar revulsion and as Axel collapsed, couldn't quite believe what he'd just done. Another cannon sounded, "District 1: Axel Costa."
Another cannon snapped him to his senses, "District 6: Ivanna Merchant," as he could briefly see Vesper Rhodes outside yank something silver out of the dead girl's throat, before escaping high up into the mountains. Seemingly no-one else had come inside, leading Eamon to believe Axel had come in to secure it for the Careers. And sure enough, they all seemed to be engaged in their own battles despite the broadcast of Axel's death, giving Eamon the slightest of reprieves.
With no time to waste, he hoisted a pair of backpacks lying on the ground onto each of his shoulders and wedged two lunchbox-sized containers containing who-knows-what between his back and the packs. He took the knife that Axel was about to use and crammed it in the pouch on his belt. The more he could gather for himself and Madeline, the better. But… where was she? There was no sign of her anywhere amongst the mass of orange-clad chaos.
In the midst of the melee, one of Eamon's suspicions was confirmed as Karmichael Damocles of District 5 pounced on a girl with uncanny speed and brutality for someone who'd scored only a three and not trained, causing, "District 8: Paige Delaney," to ring out over the arena. He saw Dennis and Hilda run the length of the Cornucopia chasing the District 3 girl, who seemed to have stolen something they wanted. To almost no surprise but maximum distaste, Landon was in the middle of the bedlam looking almost mirthful as he was crushing the skull of a now-unrecognisable boy with nothing but his bare fists. Only the cannon of, "District 8: Owen Magnussen:" identified him.
Eamon couldn't find Madeline anywhere, but something bizarre had caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Blair and Jasmine had seemingly made it not two steps away from their pedestals and were engaged in a violent-looking brawl in the dirt. He had no time left to spare in the Cornucopia as the horde grew smaller with each kill or tribute gone running. Eamon didn't hesitate. He lodged the glaive through the strap of his left pack and bolted back inside to grab the familiar pair of three-pronged weapons off a rack.
Time to go, he thought desperately. I'll catch up with you soon Maddy.
As he ran towards the pair of writhing girls, Eamon felt a terrible shame about leaving Madeline to fend for herself. His only consolation was that he hadn't heard the sound of her cannon. If only he knew where she'd gone. If only he'd been more prepared…
At a few paces away, Eamon jumped and delivered a swift kick to Jasmine's ribs, causing her to keel over face-first, her striking platinum-blonde hair ruined in the dirt. He pulled Blair to her feet and for a second it appeared like she was about to attack him, until she recognised him. He thrust the sai and one of the backpacks into her hands and made for the pair of them to run off.
Blair looked back at Jasmine, "We need to kill her now," she said urgently.
"No time!" he said hurriedly. That wasn't true; there was just enough time, but Eamon didn't think he could stomach another kill after Axel.
They fled into one of the passes that led down into the forest where the trees would hopefully throw off anyone chasing them. As they did, another cannon exploded, "District 3: Zoey Townsend."
The passage leading down into the forests was steep and treacherous, causing them both to almost lose their footing multiple times. They didn't stop running one reaching its shelter however, and Blair had no problem keeping up with Eamon; if anything, he was struggling to keep up with her. Roots, rocks, vines and deciduous overgrowth slowed their pace, but not by much. They rounded a large corner at the base of one of the mountains bordering the Cornucopia and WHAM! Blair ran headfirst into another tribute. It was Spencer Nash – the District 7 boy. They both fell back, but Blair recovered quickly. Spencer recognised who they were and if he didn't appear terrified before, he certainly did now. It appeared he'd run straight from the Bloodbath without visiting the Cornucopia, but not fast enough.
"Please!" he cried desperately. "Take me with you! I can be your ally! Just please don't—"
Eamon had barely opened his mouth to respond when Blair shoved her sai through Spencer's throat. Eamon recoiled, and she none-too-gently placed her foot on Spencer's chest to pull her weapon free. Yet another cannon heralded, "District 7: Spencer Nash."
Blair grabbed Eamon by the wrist and began dragging him as far away as possible from the Bloodbath.
Well, the Games have begun, and the Bloodbath is over with as many questions raised as answers given. Here are the current placements:
24th Place: Cecilia Moreau - District 12 Female. Killed by Hilda Blythe.
23rd Place: Axel Costa - District 1 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.
22nd Place: Ivanna Merchant - District 6 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.
21st Place: Paige Delaney - District 8 Female. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.
20th Place: Owen Magnussen - District 8 Male. Killed by Landon Starr.
19th Place: Zoey Townsend - District 3 Female. Killed by Dennis Kessling.
18th Place: Spencer Nash - District 7 Male. Killed by Blair Lynch.
Let me know what you think! A lot of unknown tributes died, true, but there's no shortage of intriguing developments to take away from this chapter. Also, if you would like to get a better idea of what the arena should look like, let me know in a review, and I'll post a link to some pictures at the end of next chapter ?
