Chapter Nine
Thomas watched Newt being guided in the opposite direction and it filled him with an awful, sinking dread. He resisted the hand of his own guide on his arm, watching Newt walking away from him. Just before he turned the corner out of sight the blonde turned, his eyes meeting Thomas's and a grim smile on his face.
"See ya up there, Tommy." he called back.
Thomas's heart seized as his best friend stepped out of sight. He allowed the man beside him to walk him down a corridor and into a room which appeared empty but for an odd glass pillar in the centre. He walked towards it automatically, surprised when the man who was with him tapped a flat little panel on the wall and the glass cylinder slid open.
It was a glass tube, hollow on the inside. Thomas was pretty certain he was supposed to get inside but the thought made him feel uneasy. He wondered briefly if any tribute had ever suffocated in there before it released them into the Arena. Taking what was likely going to be his last breath of free air, Thomas stepped into the tube.
He quashed the bubble of panic when the door slid closed again, the seam disappearing like it had never been there. He tried desperately not to think of it as a glass coffin. It was an elevator, it was going to take him up and turn him loose into the giant cage that would be the death of him. He looked out at the man who had been assigned to ready him in his tube, grateful at least that Newt would have the familiar, if not comforting face of the ratty-looking Janson when he was sealed into his own glass tube. The man smiled at him and Thomas tried to smile back.
It wasn't long before he had to close his eyes and try to steady his breathing. He could hear the muffled voice of the man counting down in what was, to Thomas's ears at least, the most bizarrely blank tone.
Oh gods, here we go.
NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN
Newt squeezed his eyes shut as the tube began to move, feeling queasy and light-headed. When the air opened up above him it was almost a relief. His heart felt like it would soon beat its way out of his chest. The sound of air moving made him open his eyes to look out across the BloodBath area, the place where he was likely to die. He ignored the urge to look at the other tributes, knowing that a good look at his surroundings could be vital.
The sight of grass almost pained him. He hadn't expected anything familiar like that, and as he turned his head - careful not to accidentally tumble from his little circle and blow himself up - he saw a tree-line only a few hundred feet behind him. Dense greenery, brown bark and lots of shadows even in the late morning light. Strong possibility.
To his left was a body of water, looking bizarrely out of place and suspiciously blue. Newt had never seen water so clear and inviting, and very loud warning bells pealed in his head, sending his heart into overdrive.
Okay, okay. Good. Slim it.
Two directions down.
Focus.
To the right there seemed to be a lot of dirt and dust, an indeterminable distance between the BloodBath Circle and what looked to be actual shucking buildings. The air over that way seemed to move, shifting, and it took Newt precious seconds to realise it looked like sand was whipping around. Now was not the time to be wondering about the Science behind the sections of an Arena.
No time to analyse.
Take it in.
Centre yourself.
Where are you?
Straight ahead, behind the tributes who faced him across the huge circle and the scattered supplies, was a rocky wall, looking so strange it was like it belonged there next to the desert-like dusty part and its buildings. The stone was grey and ashy, draped in something green. There was a gaping black column just in the middle of the grey stone, looking faintly like a doorway. From what he could see the inside looked shadowy and dark, plenty of places to hide. Maybe caves or something. Nothing familiar though, not like trees. Trees were something he understood. Newt was feeling the tiniest bit more optimistic and he listened to the booming sound that signal they had ten seconds left until the were safe to step from their plates.
He knew where he was going.
Direction chosen.
9
Check.
8
Now where the shuck is Tommy?
Newt's gaze danced over the furthest tributes, not even long enough to see faces. He'd know Thomas's outline anywhere.
7
He would even bet the brunette was clenching his hands at his sides, probably had his head down, concentrating on his breathing. He knew Tommy was worried about him.
6
There were so many of them, so many people, children who stood to kill or be killed. Boys and girls his own age, many of them younger than him.
5
Some of them were going to be dead seconds after the last booming canon of the countdown. The ground would soon be watered by the spilled blood of some of those who stood around him now.
4
Possibly his own blood. The odds were stacked against him, as a Glader and as a scrawny blonde who was only really good for climbing trees and casual bow-work.
3
Tommy.
His eyes landed on him at last, ridiculously far away, at least a dozen Gladers to his left. The turquoise water glittered behind him, throwing his shadow off, but it was him.
2
His eyes were locked on Newt and his face was darkened, set in a grim expression. His hands were fisted by his side, fingers curled hard in the material of his trousers. His head was ducked, his jaw clenched, face remaining immobile, his gaze heavy on Newt.
1
At the very last second Thomas looked from Newt to the treelike behind him, an almost imperceptible flicker, a flash, briefer than a blink. But Newt saw. And he knew Thomas knew he'd seen.
BOOM
Newt threw himself backwards so hard he almost didn't manage to get his feet to turn in time to catch his body. He hared it towards the tree-line, not daring to look back, knowing it was bloody stupid thing to do. He could hear the commotion all around him, heard the scream of someone, the yells of so many others. He could sense that other people were moving around him but he didn't stop.
When he reached the tree-line he kept right on running, darting between the trees and grateful that at least he could do that. He kept his feelings suppressed, draping a heavy tarpaulin over them and buttoning it down. Any wrong move could be his end.
When he really couldn't run any further he slowed, swallowing his breaths as he strained his ears. His blood was rushing in his ears and his heart was an almost constant vibration in his ribcage as he pressed against a tree. His legs felt weak and he already wanted to throw up but he pushed it all aside as he looked around him.
If anyone was behind him he could have seconds, maybe less. He'd have to get used to thinking on his feet, keep a constant eye on his surroundings. He took a proper look at the trees. They were slimmer than the ones in the Glade, the branches more spread out. But they were tall, and the branches were well-covered and sturdy-looking, each bough abundant with leaves. If Newt could get far enough up he'd be hidden from everyone on the ground.
Savouring a moment of breathing the sweet-smelling tree smell that was so similar to, and yet so different from, the trees back home, Newt pushed himself to his toes to test the strength of the highest branch he could reach. It held.
With one last gulp of air he set to work hauling himself up.
