Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.
Note: We finally made it to the Games! I'm so excited!
Just a few things before we get started. First of all, I realize that during the bloodbath and immediately afterwards, it's sometimes hard to keep track of exactly where all the tributes are. Especially since there are forty-six of them, and especially since most of the focus in the bloodbath is on the tributes who are killing and dying, not the ones who simply (and sensibly) run away. So if you don't hear from a particular tribute in this chapter, don't worry. That doesn't mean they're dead. That doesn't mean I don't like them. It just means they weren't doing anything particularly exciting during the bloodbath. Which means they're alive.
So, to help alleviate a bit of the confusion over where everyone is and what everyone is doing, there's a map on the blog with arrows showing where every living tribute is. There's also an "Extra Goodies" section of the blog that will have things like arena outfits and mutts (once they make an appearance). But don't go check out the blog until after you read the chapter, because I'm going to keep both the map and the tributes section up-to-date as far as deaths go.
On that note ... Deaths. It's the Hunger Games. Tributes die. Some of them die in the bloodbath. Everyone knew that when they submitted. If your tribute happens to die here, I'm sorry ... but there was a 97.826% chance it was going to happen at some point, so please don't take it personally.
Lastly, if you haven't voted in my "final eight" poll, please do at some point. I'm going to leave it up for another chapter or two, and then a new one will go up. Just one thing, though. *Gets up on soapbox.* When you're voting for the final eight, please do actually vote for eight tributes. I say this every time, but there's always that person who only votes for seven, or five, or even one. I check the poll regularly and I'm pretty good with math, so, yes, I can tell. I realize you (probably) have a favorite, but voting for only that tribute for the final eight doesn't actually help anyone. It messes up my data, and, frankly, it annoys me. Now, I'm not quite petty enough to kill a tribute off sooner just because people only voted for them in the poll – especially a poll that's not going to have an effect on my decisions, anyway – but it certainly doesn't help their chances.
*Gets off soapbox.*
Okay. Now that that's out of the way ... One more thing before tributes start dying. Not everything in this chapter is entirely chronological. You'll see why once you start reading, but, just so you're aware ahead of time, the order in which tributes die as you're reading is not quite the same as the actual placements. It's very close, but if you're looking for an exact placement, check out the blog. After you read the chapter.
I promise that'll make more sense once you start reading. So, on that note ... On to the bloodbath! Let's see some death!
Bloodbath
The Same
Eldred Brand, 45
Bartender
This wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind when President Grisom had offered him a new job.
Eldred watched as the Victors slowly trickled into the bar. Vernon and Tobiah had passed out somewhere around two in the morning and simply slept there. The others had been arriving on and off for the past half hour. After saying one last goodbye to their tributes and seeing them off, there wasn't much else to be done. Nothing except wait.
Fortunately, he was good at waiting.
Because that was his job now. Wait. Watch. Listen. Learn. He was now President Grisom's eyes and ears among the Victors. At least during the Games.
And after … that was the part the president hadn't been particularly clear on, but Eldred had a hunch that his performance during the Games would have some impact on his post-Games duties.
Eldred smiled a little at the thought. A new job wasn't something he'd ever expected – and he certainly hadn't expected the president himself to ask if he wanted one. Or to ask him anything, really. Nobody ever noticed the secretary.
Then again, nobody ever noticed the bartender, either.
Not that he'd ever wanted the attention. Not really. In politics – maybe in any sort of job – attention came with a price. But in politics it came with a particular sort of danger. The more noticed a person got, the more enemies they made. Any big move was an opportunity, but also a risk. He'd never been a risk-taker. He couldn't afford to be recklessly ambitious. He had a family to think of. And he had been happy where he was.
Or, at least, he had thought so.
But this – this wasn't a dangerous assignment. Not really. Any enemies he made here would be back in the districts in a few weeks. Not that he was expecting to make enemies. Ideally, they wouldn't really notice him at all.
A few of them already had, of course. Harakuise had immediately pegged him as one of the president's men, but Harakuise's loyalty was well-known in the Capitol, and he had been nothing but friendly the night before. Tobiah had spent his first few drinks complaining that Eldred must not be a proper bartender, but after a few more rounds, either Eldred had gotten the hang of it or Tobiah had been too drunk to care whether the drinks were perfect. He certainly didn't seem suspicious.
And aside from those two, the simple fact was that most of the mentors were too worried about their tributes to pay much attention to a bartender who didn't seem to know quite what he was doing.
Finally, all the mentors had arrived and found their places. Some were clearly old friends. Others had grouped up based on which tributes were allies at the moment. But there didn't seem to be any major splits, any groups who simply despised each other, any ill will – even between the Careers and the non-Careers. The Games had given them common ground, brought them together, united them.
Just as they were supposed to.
Silence filled the room as the image on the screen changed. So far, the focus had been on Constance, who had been providing an in-depth analysis of the tributes' scores and interviews, all of which, in a few moments, would mean nothing. Then, suddenly, mid-sentence, the image changed to that of an island, barely visible through the curtain of rain that seemed to surround it. Two hovercrafts appeared on the screen, descending towards opposite sides of the island. Soon, silence was replaced by confused murmurs. The arena usually wasn't shown until the launch. Until the tributes could see it themselves.
Instead, as the hovercrafts continued to descend, the screen split to show the inside of the two hovercrafts, each containing roughly half of the tributes. The hovercraft approaching the southern edge of the island contained most of the non-replacement tributes, each dressed in a loose-fitting khaki jumpsuit with their district number sewn in black on the left breast pocket. A pair of tall black boots finished the simple outfit.
Glancing at the images from the second hovercraft, which was approaching the northern shore of the island, Eldred was pleased to see that the replacement tributes had fared no differently. Aside from the fact that their jumpsuits were grey, their outfits were identical. That was enough, though, to make the two non-replacement tributes in their hovercraft stand out. The other two from Eleven – Elani and Philus – were clad in the non-replacement khaki outfits, but, for whatever reason, had been positioned in the second hovercraft.
Finally, both hovercrafts landed on opposite sides of the island. Immediately, a voice started counting down. Sixty. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight…
One by one, the tributes registered what was happening. There were no launch tubes. There was no preparation. They couldn't even see outside – didn't even know where they were. And, more importantly, didn't know that half the tributes – maybe some of their allies – were on the other side of the arena altogether.
A few, however, seemed to suspect it. In the southern hovercraft, Septimus nodded at Liana, satisfied that most of their alliance was present. One glance at Harakuise was enough to tell Eldred it hadn't been an accident. Sariya, Thane, and Audra nodded, registering the fact that one of their alliance was missing, but didn't seem altogether unnerved by Delvin's absence. Most of their alliance, after all, was still in tact.
Fifty. Forty-nine. Forty-eight.
Inviticus simply shrugged off the fact that two members of their alliance were missing. The ones he trusted – or, at least, the ones he trusted a little more – were there, and that was what mattered. Jaime and Nallea nodded along, but Auster looked more uncomfortable. He was outnumbered now – the only District Four tribute in their alliance.
India and Horatio, on the other hand, were taking the realization in stride. Neither had made a secret of the fact that they didn't have any allies. They had no one to worry about but themselves, and now, it seemed, that might give them an advantage. Barry and Eleanor, as well, seemed quite content with the arrangement. Paget's gaze made its way around the hovercraft, clearly discontent, but his sister looked almost relieved.
Forty. Thirty-nine. Thirty-eight.
Mavina, on the other hand, was glancing around nervously, as if looking harder would suddenly make her missing allies appear in their hovercraft. She caught Zach's gaze, and he tried to smile encouragingly, but it was clear that he was unnerved, as well. Domingo and Calantha both glanced nervously at Gadget. Three out of four members of their alliance were present, but Ivira, who had clearly been their leader, was not. Beckett, too, seemed at a loss, his gaze darting from one side of the hovercraft to the other in search of allies who simply weren't there. Baylor glanced around, looking for Melody, then nodded a little.
At the bar counter, Lander turned to Carolina. "You told him, didn't you." But it wasn't an accusation – simply a statement of what they both already knew. Carolina nodded, and Lander smiled a little. "Good."
Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.
In the other hovercraft, Adelia was smiling a little as she glanced around at each of her allies, who nodded in turn, all of them accounted for. Elani, Philus, and Pan, as well, were grateful – if a little confused – to find themselves in the same group. Fallon and Elizabet quickly found each other, each managing a small smile, grateful for one piece of luck. Louis simply shrugged, and Ciere, as well, didn't seem to care one way or the other.
Alexi, on the other hand, was glancing around frantically, while Presely, as well, seemed a bit confused. Kendall glanced at Brevin, clearly not happy that he was the only ally she had at her side, but willing to make do. Ivira's expression was stony, but her eyes told a different story. Just behind her carefully-guarded expression, there was panic.
Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen.
Melody took a deep breath, nodding a little. Maybe she and Baylor had come up with some sort of plan for finding each other. Delvin was already eyeing the exit. Whatever his alliance had initially planned, he clearly had no intention of taking on anyone alone and unarmed.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Shale and Indira shared a look, and Shale nodded. Indira turned to Jarlan and Imalia. "Does the offer still stand?"
Six.
Jarlan nodded. "Absolutely."
Three. Two. One.
Mavina Perrot, 17
District Four
Three. Two. One.
Mavina flinched as the gong sounded. She wasn't ready. She wasn't prepared for this. She had assumed her allies would be with her – at least at the start. But Jarlan and Imalia were nowhere in sight. And Zach—
Zach was already running. Already out the hovercraft door. Quickly, Mavina shook herself from her daze. He had the right idea, of course. Their allies must be in another hovercraft. It had probably landed nearby. Maybe they were right outside. All she had to do was get out.
But, as she sprang up, ready to follow Zach, something grabbed her. No, not something, she realized too late. Someone. In one quick motion, Inviticus slammed her into the hovercraft wall. The back of her head struck metal, and blood began to flow. Pain flooded through her head, but she could barely feel it through the haze. Her vision was starting to blur.
Her head struck the wall a second time, and Inviticus let go. Mavina crumpled to the ground, helpless. As everything started to fade, she could see tributes running. Running past her, out the door. Leaving. That was all she had wanted. To leave. To get out.
It wasn't fair.
Something pressed against her throat. A boot. Mavina gasped for air, but she didn't have the strength left to fight back. She closed her eyes, wishing. Wishing that she could go back. Start over. But there was no good wishing for any of that now. And there was a part of her that simply wished it was over.
Soon, it was.
Jaime Gloire, 18
District One
The plan had to change.
Jaime met Naella's gaze as most of the other tributes fled the hovercraft. The plan, until the night before, had been to turn on Inviticus in the bloodbath. No one would blame them. He had been openly hostile towards pretty much everyone. And, even without him, they were still one of the stronger alliances.
Until now.
There was no telling where Kendall and Brevin were. No way of knowing whether they were nearby or on the other side of the arena. That left their alliance with four members. They couldn't afford to lessen that number – not when Septimus and his allies were still nearby.
Naella seemed to be on the same page, but Auster paid no attention to them. Assuming the others would have his back, he lunged at Inviticus, who was still standing over Mavina's body, his foot on her throat.
Jaime didn't think. She didn't have time. If it was between having Inviticus as an ally and having Auster, there was no contest. She knew Inviticus. She had trained with him. She knew his strengths and weaknesses. Maybe she couldn't trust him, but she could predict him. She could use him.
So as Auster lunged, so did she. Naella was at her side in an instant, pulling Auster off of Inviticus. Before Auster could offer a word of protest – or perhaps let it slip that this had been their plan all along – Jaime wrapped her hands around his throat. Auster's face turned a deep shade of red, his eyes full of panic. Then hatred.
Jaime forced herself to watch. Finally, Auster stopped thrashing. After a moment, she could no longer feel his pulse as she gripped his neck. His eyes glazed over, and then closed. His body went limp.
Still, she didn't look away. She couldn't.
"Looks like you were right about District Four, after all."
Naella's voice finally shook Jaime from her trance. Jaime gritted her teeth. She should have been the one to say it. To blame District Four. To side with her district partner. Instead, she simply nodded and seconded Naella's opinion. "Looks like."
Inviticus smirked. Cocky. Sure. Confident he would have been able to handle Auster even without their help. Eventually, his pride would get the better of him.
But not yet. They still needed him. Jaime glanced around the empty hovercraft. "Looks like it's ours," Inviticus noted.
Jaime shrugged. "If we want it, I suppose. There's not much here. Maybe the cornucopia's outside." She headed for the hovercraft door and looked out, but there was only rain. Pouring, blinding rain, and no sign of the other hovercraft or a cornucopia. She turned back to Naella and Inviticus.
"Or maybe we should just stay here a while."
Septimus Drakon, 18
District Two
There was no cornucopia.
That was the first thing Septimus noticed as he stepped out into the pouring rain. The second was that the hovercraft had landed on a beach. Sand stretched out to the left and right as far as he could see. Trees hid his view of whatever else might lie inland, except for a few higher slopes that appeared rockier.
Tributes were running – some one way, some another. Septimus glanced at Liana, who was looking to him. They were all looking to him. Septimus pointed inland, where a group of tributes was running for the tree line. "Them!"
That was all it took. They followed his word without question, racing after the fleeing tributes despite the fact that they had no weapons themselves. Most of the tributes kept running, ignoring them. But one of the tributes – the tall, burly girl from Eight – turned, unsure. Perhaps trying to figure out whether she should run or stand and fight. Gadget called to her allies, and the two of them turned. Hesitated. Kept her attention on them.
Just long enough.
Septimus and Liana reached her first. The girl dodged his first punch, but, in doing so, she ignored Liana, who dove for her legs. They both tumbled down into the wet sand, but Liana was ready. Gadget wasn't. Her eyes were still open as Septimus kicked a spray of sand into her face, blinding her. Liana turned away just in time to avoid a mouthful of sand herself, rolling away from Gadget as Septimus stepped forward to finish the job.
The girl lashed out, but the blow was clumsy, and he dodged easily. Septimus smirked as the girl struggled to her feet, blinking sand from her eyes. A blow to the knees knocked her down again, and this time she stayed down as Septimus pressed his knee into her throat. The girl's eyes widened briefly, her arms and legs flailing, but, soon, it was over.
Septimus nodded, satisfied, as Liana offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. "That's one," she shrugged then glanced around, looking for their allies.
"There." Septimus pointed towards the tree line, where Thane, Sariya, and Audra were still chasing after Gadget's allies. Chances were, they wouldn't catch them, but at least they had the right idea. They were the largest alliance in their portion of the arena. They might as well act like it.
They already had a huge advantage.
Domingo Ibanez, 14
District Seven
Stupid.
"Damn it," Domingo gasped as they ran. "Damn it, damn it, damn it." Stupid. They shouldn't have stopped. If Gadget wanted to stay and fight the Careers – or the almost Careers, or the semi-Careers, or whatever they were – then that was her choice. That didn't mean the rest of them had to stay and die with her.
"Keep running!" Calantha insisted. She was right, of course. He was wasting his breath. And the others – the pair from Nine and his own district partner – were quickly catching up.
Domingo's mind raced. They had to do something. Something quick. Something clever. But he couldn't think of anything clever. He couldn't even think. His heart was pounding too quickly. The rain was too heavy. Everything was going wrong.
"Split up!" Calantha yelled over the rain, and Domingo didn't think twice. Calantha split off to the left as he ran to the right, trying desperately not to trip over the tree roots that had begun sprouting from the ground as soon as they had crossed the tree line. The boots weren't helping. They were clunky and clumsy and quickly filling with water. But he didn't dare stop to take them off – not with the others on his tail.
Instead, he kept running. But the boots were growing heavy. His legs were tired. Before he realized he had tripped, his face was in the dirt. He rolled over, prepared for the worst. Prepared for three tributes to appear, ready to beat him to death.
But only one tribute was standing there. Audra. His district partner. Waiting. Hesitating. Where were the others? Had they gone after Calantha, instead? Domingo inched backwards, not wanting to make any sudden moves. Nothing that might provoke his opponent.
His opponent. She certainly didn't look like she wanted to attack. And she was as weaponless as he was. If he could grab a tree branch, maybe he would stand a chance. Maybe. Domingo glanced around frantically, but there wasn't anything within reach.
Then Audra took a step back.
She didn't say anything, but the message was clear. Domingo sprang up and ran, and, this time, Audra didn't follow. One step. Then another. Soon, there was enough distance between them that Domingo allowed himself to slow down a little. Even to smile. Calantha was nowhere to be seen. Gadget was probably dead. And there was no telling where Ivira was. But none of that mattered right now.
He was still alive.
Paget Astier, 15
District Six
They were still alive.
Paget was almost laughing as they ran. Would have been laughing, if he wasn't so out of breath. He and Cordelia were still alive. Their allies were nowhere to be found, but, for the moment, that didn't matter. They were alive.
Part of him had feared – for a while, at least – that the Gamemakers would find some way to target them during the bloodbath. It had been known to happen, after all. Instead, they were still on an equal playing field. Even more equal than he had assumed at first, because, unless there was a cornucopia hiding somewhere that he hadn't seen as he was running, they were all unarmed.
Even the Careers.
Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to think that meant they should attack the Careers. But the thought of the various Career groups prowling about, trying to find a cornucopia that didn't exist – it was an amusing thought. Paget smiled to himself as he and Cordelia slowed to a quick walk across the beach.
The rock came out of nowhere.
Paget didn't even see it until just before it struck him in the chin. More startled than hurt, he turned to see where the stone had come from, only for another one – a larger one, this time – to strike him in the chest. Paget stumbled backwards a little as a girl came running towards him. One of the older girls – from District Three, maybe? Yes, District Three, he realized as she got closer, the number "3" on her jumpsuit quickly becoming visible.
"Run!" Paget shouted to Cordelia. And they did. But not quickly enough; he knew that even as he said it. The girl was faster. Stronger. Maybe together they could fight her off, but maybe not. She was armed – with rocks, at least. They were already exhausted from running.
He had to choose.
There was no choice. Paget turned and ran back towards the girl. Cordelia slowed. Stopped. "Go!" Paget shouted over the rain. "Cordelia, go! Run!"
The third rock struck him in the head. Paget staggered as the girl tackled him, another rock in her hand. Larger than the first three. Jagged. Paget threw a punch, grazing her chin, but the girl quickly pinned his arms beneath her knees.
The rock came down hard. He could feel blood – wet and warm and sticky. Flowing down his face. Paget lunged forward with what little strength he had left, trying to head-butt the girl, but she was too quick. The rock came down again, harder this time. Everything was beginning to blur. Paget coughed, spewing blood into the girl's face as the world grew dark.
He just hoped Cordelia had gotten away.
Audra Trevaille, 18
District Seven
He had gotten away.
Audra clenched her fists as she made her way back to the tree line, where she could see Septimus and Liana waiting. Domingo hadn't gotten away. She had let him go. She had hesitated. She had thought she could do it – thought she could kill him – but, when it had come down to it, she hadn't had the guts.
But she couldn't let Septimus and Liana know that. So she put on her best annoyed expression and repeated the lie out loud. "He got away."
Septimus nodded, unsurprised. Did he know? Had he known that she would spare her opponent? That she wouldn't have the strength to do what had to be done? But if he thought she was weak, then why would he have asked her to join his alliance in the first place?
Just then, Thane and Sariya came trudging back from the forest, also empty-handed. Unharmed. Did that mean they had lost their target, as well, or simply that they'd been able to kill her without much of a struggle? Thane shook his head in response to her unasked question. "She got away."
Got away. So had the girl actually escaped, or had the two of them intentionally lost her? Thane looked irritated, Sariya a bit more relieved. Septimus, on the other hand, simply shrugged. "There's still plenty of time. And they're not our biggest threat. We should put some distance between us and the cornucopia, such as it is, since there's not really anything useful there, anyway."
The rest of them nodded easily. "Which way should we go?" Liana asked.
Septimus pointed inland, towards the trees. "That's where most of the tributes went. That's probably where we're most likely to find food, as well. It doesn't look like water will be a problem. And we can use branches and rocks to make weapons."
Audra nodded. Weapons. Weapons she didn't even know if she'd be able to use, when the time came. She had been so certain. So sure that she could do what needed to be done. Now everything was different.
But she couldn't let them know that.
Kendall Rios, 18
District Four
Three. Two. One.
Kendall lunged immediately. She had chosen her target as the clock was ticking down: Fallon, the younger girl from Seven, one of the farthest tributes from the hovercraft door. Not the most impressive target, perhaps, but that way, Kendall could take her down and then move on to another opponent, getting two kills out of the way early on.
She didn't anticipate the other girl. Ciere, the older girl from Seven, who threw herself in Kendall's path. Kendall didn't hesitate. One target was as good as another, in the end. Kendall's first punch landed squarely on the girl's jaw, the second in her gut. The girl fought back, but even Kendall could tell it was mostly for show. That she wasn't really trying.
Not that it would have mattered if she was. Kendall was stronger by far, and soon had the girl pinned. Without hesitation, Kendall grabbed Ciere's head and slammed it down on the floor of the hovercraft. Once. Twice. Then a third time just for good measure, even though she was clearly already dead.
Kendall scrambled to her feet, glancing around the hovercraft, which was nearly empty. Brevin had stayed – maybe to watch her back, in case she became a target. Not likely, since the only other tributes who had remained were Jarlan, Imalia, and their new friends – the older girl from Ten and the older boy from Eleven.
Kendall eyed them for a moment, weighing her options. There were four of them. But only two of them were trained. Two against two, really. Would she and Brevin ever get a better chance?
But could she count on Brevin to back her up? Against their own district partners? Maybe it was better to wait. There were other options. Other targets. Jarlan and his group could wait.
For his part, Jarlan didn't say a word as Kendall and Brevin headed for the exit. The advantage in numbers was his, but he didn't have it in him to order his allies to attack the two of them. Not when he could simply let them walk away.
Kendall stepped out into the rain.
Brevin Tolett, 17
District Four
He hadn't imagined it quite like this.
Brevin shook his head as he followed Kendall out of the hovercraft. Where were the others? Where was the cornucopia? Where were the weapons?
Where was the excitement?
Everyone else seemed to be running. A group of six tributes was headed towards one of the forested slopes in the distance. The trio of younger tributes from Eleven was running along the beach. Everyone was running away. Would he and Kendall be able to catch any of them?
Just as he was considering trying to chase down one of the younger, slower ones, however, he spotted someone else in the rain. Someone just standing there. Staring. Looking for someone. For his allies, perhaps. Alexi, one of the boys from Six. A younger girl pulled at his sleeve, trying to urge him on, but, as Brevin called to Kendall and pointed towards them, a second girl – an older one – ran up, grabbed the younger girl's hand, and pulled her away as Brevin and Kendall ran towards the boy.
Finally, the boy regained his senses and began to run. But not quickly enough. Brevin had spent his life running along beaches. This was what he was born for. Kendall was close behind him as he tackled the boy, but she gave him his space. She'd already gotten her kill.
This one was his.
There were tears in the boy's eyes as Brevin wrapped his hands around his throat. "Please," he begged, thrashing about in Brevin's grasp. "Please, just let me go. I won't—"
"You're right; you won't," Kendall sneered. "You won't get the chance. Do it, Brevin."
Brevin hesitated. But only for a moment. If he didn't, Kendall would. So what difference did it make? He squeezed. Harder. Harder. The boy gasped, flailed, but, finally, went still. Brevin let go, staggering to his feet. Kendall nodded approvingly.
"Not bad."
Presley Delon, 13
District Six
He was dead.
Presley didn't look back. But she knew. Alexi had frozen. The Careers had been running towards them. He was dead. Or, if he wasn't, he would be soon.
It wasn't fair.
Presley gripped the other girl's hand as the pair of them kept running. She knew she should be grateful. Glad she was safe. But all she could think about was how unfair it was. Alexi had never hurt anyone. He had even been kind. He hadn't done anything to deserve this.
None of you deserve this.
Nicodemus' words echoed in her mind as she kept running. She had known, on some level, that he was right. That the Games weren't going to be fair. But there was a part of her that had still pictured it otherwise. Imagined deaths in the Games the same way she had always looked at death: retribution against those who deserved it.
But none of them deserved it.
No. No, that wasn't quite true. There were a few who deserved it. Not her. And not Alexi. But the tributes who had killed him – the Careers. Maybe they deserved it.
So she would kill them.
But not now. Not here. Not without any weapons or allies. Unless … was the other girl her ally now? She hadn't let go of her hand since they'd run from the pair from Four. Had the other girl lost her allies, as well?
Finally, the pair slowed, and Presley glanced up at her companion. One of the girls from Eight, she was pretty sure. "I'm Presley," she managed between gasps of air.
The girl smiled a little. "Ivira."
Ivira Spielreyn, 16
District Eight
She hadn't had much choice.
Ivira shook her head as she and Presley stopped to catch their breaths. Maybe a little thirteen-year-old wasn't an ideal ally. But Calantha, Domingo, Gadget … Who could say where they were? And she needed someone.
Ideally, she would have wanted the boy, too. But if he was going to be stupid enough to stand there while the Careers attacked, then he wouldn't have been much use, anyway. Presley, on the other hand – if what she had said during the interviews was true – could be a valuable asset, despite her appearance.
And she didn't exactly have any other options.
"Where should we go?"
The question caught Ivira off-guard. She hadn't expected the younger girl to accept her as an ally so quickly. Ivira studied her companion for a moment. Something in her voice was a little off. A little too eager to please. A little too happy to go along with whatever Ivira suggested.
Ivira shook the thought from her head. Now wasn't the time to be picky. She'd had her choice of allies during training. But now all of that had fallen apart. Much as she hated admitting it, she had been wrong. She hadn't anticipated the Gamemakers splitting them up.
Who could have?
Jediah Bouvier, 15
District Eight
"You were right."
Jediah finally smiled a little as the six of them came to the base of the large hill. "About the groups, maybe," Adelia agreed. "I wasn't counting on getting soaked. We'll need to find some shelter as soon as we can – dry off a bit, hope the rain passes."
The rest of them nodded. It was a reasonable plan. And most of their allies simply looked happy that they were still alive, that they were all together.
"How did you know?" Nadine asked quietly as they started to make their way up the slope.
Adelia shook her head. "It was just a guess. From the start, they'd been treating us as two groups. Two different outfits during the chariot rides. Two different sets of clothing during training. I guess I didn't want to believe that they were just doing it to be cruel. I wanted to think there was another reason – a better reason."
Jediah nodded. "And you were right."
"I had no idea about the cornucopia, though," Adelia admitted.
"Do you think there is one somewhere?" Aleron asked. "Maybe it's just hidden. Maybe if we find it…"
"Maybe," Evander agreed. "But I wouldn't be surprised if there isn't one at all. There was another year when they didn't have any weapons, wasn't there?"
"Five years ago," Adelia offered. "But that was a tundra. At least here, we have branches. Rocks. Vines. Things that we can use to make weapons or traps. There are trees, so there's probably some sort of food. And it doesn't look like we'll have to worry about water. It could be a lot worse."
Jediah smiled a little. Even if she was just acting, just trying to stay positive for the sake of the cameras, Adelia's attitude was contagious. He was glad she had been right about the groups, glad their group hadn't been separated. So far, this wasn't so bad.
It almost seemed too easy.
Jarlan DuMorne, 18
District Four
It almost seemed too easy.
Jarlan cocked an eyebrow as six cannons rang out. Six. Only six. Forty-six tributes, and only six deaths.
He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.
On the one hand, it meant more of the competition was left. The more tributes died in the bloodbath, the fewer they had to face later. But, on the other hand, fewer deaths meant a greater possibility that Mavina and Zach were still alive … wherever they were.
The four of them had glanced outside – enough to tell that they were on a beach, and that there were trees farther inland. But they had decided to wait for the rain to die down.
"If the rain dies down," Imalia pointed out for the third time. "For all we know, it won't. Shouldn't we be out there, learning more about the arena? Exploring? Searching?"
"Hunting?" Shale offered.
"Well, yes," Imalia admitted. "We're supposed to be Careers – or, at least, some of us are. And it's the bloodbath – or, at least, it was. We're not supposed to just … sit here."
Jarlan shook his head. "What's gotten into you?" She had never been this restless during training.
"What's gotten into me?" Imalia demanded. "You wanted to be the leader. So why aren't you leading us anywhere?"
Indira stepped between them. "Easy. Take it easy. You're both right. Imalia, I don't like sitting her any more than you do. And I think you're right about the rain; I don't think it's going away any time soon. But Jarlan's right, too. We have plenty of time. We should see if there's anything else in here we can use – anything we can take apart and use as weapons, or any supplies. There are still forty tributes in the arena. We can afford to wait a little while – say, until after the tributes' faces are shown in the sky tonight, so we know if any of our other allies are still alive."
Our other allies. She said it so easily, just assuming that, if Mavina, Zach, and Beckett were still alive somewhere in the arena, and if they happened to find each other again, they would all be one big, happy alliance.
Jarlan shook the thought from his head. Why not? He had wanted Beckett as an ally, as well, in the first place. He had extended the offer to all three of them before. Why shouldn't it still stand?
Maybe that was why Imalia was upset, even if she wouldn't say it. When Indira had asked if the offer still stood, he had said yes without thinking. Without consulting her. It was a little thing, but if it tipped the balance of power in the alliance…
Maybe this was going to be more complicated than he'd thought.
Bierce Lascher
District Four Mentor
"Well, at least it's not fire."
Bierce smiled wryly as Kalypso took a seat beside him. His arena had been a forest fire, which had led to one of the shortest Games on record: only four days. But that was four days too long. After returning to District Four, he had sworn off anything to do with the Games. Career training. Mentoring. And yet here he was, mentoring. Because they needed him.
But did they? Naomi and Mags were already mentoring two tributes. If Kalypso had done the same, he could have stayed in District Four. And maybe if he had stayed, if he had kept an eye on Misha…
Maybe District Four wouldn't have lost two tributes in a bloodbath that had only killed six tributes overall.
Kalypso shook her head, as if she knew what he was thinking. "Don't. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. Mavina didn't really grasp what she was getting into. She was never going to make it out alive."
Bierce nodded. She was right, but that didn't make it any easier. "And Auster?"
There was no easy answer for that. Auster had only died, it seemed, because the others had decided that District Four wasn't trustworthy. Then again, he had been about to attack Inviticus. Had that been part of the plan?
He could always ask Naomi, of course, but he had enough to worry about. Jarlan was still alive, with an alliance that was at least somewhat in tact, thanks to their new recruits. And they held the cornucopia, such as it was. A single hovercraft wasn't much of a cornucopia, but at least it was shelter from the rain.
It was certainly better than nothing.
"They come. They fight. They destroy. They corrupt. It always ends the same."