Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.
Note: Just a friendly reminder to vote in the "final five" poll if you haven't already. A new poll will be up with the next chapter.
Also, a reminder that my sister, MonieGalad Baggins, has an open SYOT, the first chapter of which is now up! So send some tributes her way. :)
Day Four
Prove
Eloise Davies
District Nine Mentor
She was surprised they had stayed together this long.
Eloise nodded, still watching the screen as Thane made his way north – farther and farther away from his two remaining allies. She had been skeptical when he'd snuck out of the greenhouse for apparently no reason at all. But now it seemed he had made the right choice. Imalia and Indira waited a short distance away from the greenhouse, ready to set their plan in motion. Sariya was still keeping watch, but Audra was sleeping soundly. She had no reason to suspect that one of her allies had left.
Eloise took a drink. She should have seen it coming, of course, the moment Thane and Sariya had allied with each other on the train. The alliance was never going to last much longer than it had to. They had allied in an effort to appear strong, each hoping that having the other as an ally would be enough to create that illusion.
And it had worked – for a while. It had been enough to earn them an invitation into Septimus' alliance. But, in the end, it had been Septimus' leadership that had held the group together. Without him…
Without him, Thane had no reason to stay. The two girls certainly weren't helping the image of strength he was trying to project. What some in the audience would perceive as sympathy and human decency on Audra's part, others would see as squeamishness. And Sariya's initial reaction of horror upon learning that Audra had played a role in Septimus and Liana's deaths wasn't winning her any points with the audience.
Thane's best option was to leave. Sariya's best option was to stay. That was one of the things few people seemed to understand about the Games: that the same strategy simply wouldn't work for everyone. What was working for Thane – being willing to simply take off and leave his allies – wouldn't have worked for Myrah. What had kept Melody alive so far – allying with every tribute who crossed her path – would have gotten Sariya killed.
She hadn't understood, either, of course, when she was a tribute. During training, she had allied with three younger, weaker tributes because they had reminded her of her own siblings. She had foolishly assumed that what had kept her family alive in District Nine – supporting and helping each other through the difficult times – would also mean success during the Games.
She had been wrong. And she had paid for it. But she had learned. Thane and Sariya were learning, too. Maybe in hindsight, allying with Septimus had been a mistake. But it was a mistake that had kept them alive for three days, while more than half the tributes in the arena had perished.
That had to count for something.
Sariya Charsley, 16
District Nine
The fact that she had stayed had to count for something.
Sariya slowly made her way to Audra's side and, as gently as she could, gave her shoulder a shake. "Audra. Audra, wake up."
Immediately, Audra's eyes flew open. "What is it?"
"It's Thane," Sariya whispered, hoping she sounded convincingly worried. "He's gone."
"Gone?" Audra's voice was suddenly frantic. "What do you mean he's gone?"
Sariya shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know where he went. I just woke up, and he was … just gone."
Audra quickly got to her feet. "Then we have to leave. Now."
What? "Why?"
Audra quickly slipped her boots back on and stuffed a few carrots in her pockets. "We don't know how long he's been gone – or where he went. What if he finds another alliance and offers to bring them back here to kill us in exchange for his life?"
Sariya's heart began to race. A day or two ago, that idea might have sounded far-fetched or paranoid. But now … after what Septimus had done, after what Delvin had done, after all the betrayal and double-crossing … now it didn't sound so crazy.
Sariya shook her head, silently cursing herself for not having thought of it. She had assumed that Thane simply wanted to get away. And if he was coming back to kill them, he probably would have done it by now. He had been gone for hours.
But she couldn't tell Audra that. Not without revealing that she had been watching. That she had known Thane was leaving and had done nothing to stop him. That she had let him go without a fight. Without a fuss. Without even a word.
And if she told Audra that, her ally might begin to suspect her. She had put both of them in danger, after all, without even realizing it. And for what? Because Thane was her district partner? Because it only seemed fair to let him go? Because she hadn't wanted to argue with him? Hadn't wanted to fight him?
Because she hadn't wanted to kill him?
That was the truth, after all. She had never wanted to kill him. Even now, more than halfway through the Games, she didn't even want to think about killing him. About killing any of her district partners. They were all still alive, after all – all four of the tributes from Nine – as long as none of the recent cannons had been theirs. How could she be the one to break that streak?
But, eventually, someone had to. Only one tribute could make it home. And, if she wanted it to be her, then it couldn't be Melody, or Myrah, or even Thane. They had to die. They all had to die.
But they didn't have to die yet.
Silently, Sariya slipped on one of their helmets, grabbed her hand rake, and followed Audra back out into the night. Back into the rain.
Then they heard the voices.
Audra Trevaille, 18
District Seven
She wished she could make out what they were saying.
Audra and Sariya crouched low just outside the greenhouse, listening. The voices were loud – shouting, even – but she couldn't quite make out the words over the rain. Both of the voices sounded angry. They would have to be, of course – angry and quite distracted – if they had managed not to notice the two of them sneaking out of the greenhouse.
Audra glanced at Sariya, who shrugged, deferring. Passing the decision back to Audra. Audra's gaze strayed to the weapon in her hand. If the other tributes weren't armed…
On the other hand, she and Sariya already had everything they needed. Food. Weapons. Their helmets. Silently, Audra reached up and switched her helmet's light off. It wouldn't make much of a difference here, of course. If the two tributes were ignoring the light that was shooting up into the sky, they certainly wouldn't see the light on her helmet.
But if they ventured closer…
Maybe this was their chance. When the lights had first come on, after the ship exploded, Audra had been convinced the Gamemakers were rewarding them. Was this the reward? The chance to make their first kill?
Could they afford not to take that chance?
Audra gripped her weapon tightly. So far, they hadn't done anything that would make much of an impression on the sponsors. They had followed Septimus pretty much without question for days. She had found the helmets in the plane, but only because Septimus had insisted that someone climb up. And she had been responsible – albeit a bit indirectly – for the deaths of two of her allies.
So maybe she had done something, at least. Sariya, on the other hand, was probably itching for the chance to prove herself. Especially since she had let her district partner walk off with food, a weapon, and one of their helmets. Not that she'd really had a choice, of course, if he'd managed to sneak off while the two fo them were asleep, either, but, still…
"Let's get a closer look," Audra whispered, and Sariya followed her lead. Together, they snuck closer and closer to the voices in the darkness. They could always turn around, if it looked too dangerous. If there was a large group. If—
But it wasn't a large group, Audra realized as they finally crept close enough to see what was happening. There were two girls. Older girls, but they didn't seem to be armed. One of them lay on the ground, clutching her leg and shouting at the other. "If you had just killed that stupid boar a little quicker—"
The other girl gave her a kick in the stomach. "Well, if you hadn't suggested that we split up, maybe there would have been more of us around to kill the boar!"
"What's the matter – Don't have enough pigs to practice on in District Ten?"
Another kick. "Well, there seem to be plenty in Four! Do you even care that your district partner is dead?"
"Well, he probably got skewered by a boar because his useless ally wasn't quick enough!"
Audra gripped her weapon. Jarlan and Shale. They were talking about Jarlan and Shale. The girl from Four – she had been the one who had suggested they split up. The one who had ordered Delvin to kill Jarlan. And now she was injured. And the other girl was unarmed.
It was almost too perfect.
Audra shook the thought from her head. Maybe it was a little too perfect, but they couldn't afford to pass up the opportunity. Neither girl was armed. Neither was paying any attention to them. Audra nodded to Sariya.
And they both charged.
Indira Serren, 18
District Ten
She didn't see the two girls charging.
Indira reached down and scooped up the crowbar at Imalia's feet. She hadn't seen the two girls charging. But Imalia had. That was her job – to watch, waiting for the two tributes in the greenhouse to attack while Indira did her best to make both herself and Imalia look as vulnerable and defenseless as possible.
But they were anything but defenseless.
Imalia had barely given her a nod of confirmation, but that was all she needed. Indira whirled around, swinging the crowbar as hard as she could at the tributes she knew would be there. The crowbar connected with a tribute's stomach, knocking her off-balance. Immediately, Imalia joined the fight, tackling the girl Indira had just struck, wrenching away her weapon – some sort of small, hand-held rake – and plunging the pointed end into the girl's neck.
Meanwhile, the second girl – from District Nine, Indira was pretty sure – had managed to graze Indira's shoulder with her own hand rake. But Indira took a step back, taking advantage of the crowbar's longer reach. She swung again, this time striking the girl's hand, knocking the weapon from her grasp.
As Imalia scooped up the weapon, the girl turned to run. Indira hesitated only a moment before giving chase. The crowbar swung again, this time finding only air. But the next time, the blow struck one of the girl's legs. Indira dove, clutching the girl's legs tightly, but dropping the crowbar in the process. "Imalia!" she shouted.
And, to her surprise, Imalia was there almost instantly, holding the crowbar that Indira had dropped. "No! Please!" the girl shouted, but Indira held on tightly as Imalia drove the pointed end of the crowbar into the girl's stomach. There was a shriek – almost like the sound the pig had made – and then a cannon.
But only one cannon. Breathing heavily, Indira and Imalia made their way back to where the other girl lay, trying to staunch the flow of blood from the wound in her neck. Imalia nodded to Indira, gesturing towards the hand rake that lay on the ground by the girl. Offering her the kill.
Indira's stomach churned. It was only a matter of time now. The girl was as good as dead. Wasn't it better to put her out of her misery? Still, she hesitated. Imalia took a step closer. "Together?"
Indira nodded, and picked up the weapon. But, as she knelt by the girl's side, the girl glared up at her, her gaze fierce, but her voice garbled by blood. Still, she managed to get out one word. "Traitor."
Imalia's crowbar came down. Indira buried her weapon in the girl's chest. The cannon sounded. It was over.
But what had she meant?
"Who knows?" Imalia shrugged when Indira asked. "Maybe she thought you were someone else. Or I was someone else. She was dying. Delirious. It doesn't matter."
Indira nodded. But she couldn't shake the feeling that it did matter. That the accusation had been more than a dying hallucination.
Indira pushed the thought away. It wasn't important. Not now. Not when they had just killed two tributes.
They. Indira glanced up at Imalia, who nodded. Smiling a little. "Not bad for your first fight."
Indira nodded. Glanced at the bodies. The blood. The blood on her own hands. It was an odd compliment, but, somehow, she had the feeling Imalia meant it. That she had done well. She had held her own. They had killed two tributes together. And maybe it was horrible, but at least they hadn't been younger tributes. Not like Shale's district partners. They'd had a fair chance. And they had lost.
Could it really be that simple?
Imalia Grenier, 17
District Four
Could it really be that simple?
Imalia gripped her crowbar tightly as she and Indira gathered up their supplies and made their way to the building. Now that they were closer, she could see that it was, indeed, made of glass. A greenhouse of some sort. It took a little while, but they finally managed to get everything inside: the pig, the potatoes, the crowbar, and the two hand rakes and pair of helmets they had taken from the other tributes.
Not bad for a night's work.
For the night did, indeed, seem to be ending. The rain still pounded the glass dome, but light was starting to creep into the sky in the distance. Imalia and Indira leaned back against the wall of the greenhouse, exhausted. "I'll take the first watch," Indira offered.
Imalia was too tired to argue. But the cameras were still watching. She couldn't afford to appear weak. Dependent on her ally. "Are you sure?" she asked. "If you need some sleep, I could—"
Indira shook her head. "I'm fine. I'll wake you in a few hours. Get some rest."
Imalia nodded and lay down. Her leg still ached where the boar's tusk had sliced it, but, still, it had felt good to do something. Something that didn't involve plotting to kill her district partner, fighting off a boar, or killing small tributes. Two tributes were dead, yes, but it had been a fair fight. A good fight.
The sort of fight she had been expecting when she'd volunteered.
Maybe that was it. This was the sort of fight she had trained for. She hadn't volunteered to kill wild pigs or to cut down tributes who weren't a threat. But this … this was what she had volunteered for.
It had almost been fun.
Imalia glanced up at Indira. The older girl was trying to hide it, but Imalia could tell she had felt it, too. The rush. The adrenaline surging. The uncertainty of facing an opponent who was actually a challenge. The thrill of the victory.
A small victory, maybe. But a victory, nonetheless. And each small victory brought them one step closer to the final one.
No. No, not them. Imalia closed her eyes. The rush was beginning to wear off, giving way to the realization that, eventually, there would be no them. Eventually, Indira would be an opponent, as well. But for now…
For now, they had made a good team – she had to give Indira credit for that, at least. It had been Imalia's plan, of course, but, for a few moments, she had questioned whether Indira would have the guts to carry it out.
She shouldn't have doubted her. Indira didn't want to kill. Few tributes did. But, when it had come down to it, she had killed. Just like Imalia.
Maybe they weren't so different.
Indira had reminded her, after all – however inadvertently – that there was a reason she had volunteered. And maybe that reason hadn't been particularly compelling. Maybe it hadn't been a very good reason at all. But she was here now. And she had no intention of dying here.
And the only way not to die was to kill. The fight had brought them closer. Two tributes closer to the end. Sixteen tributes left. And they were two of them.
Imalia clenched her fists. No. No, not they. She was one of them. One. One tribute. Only one could make it out alive. Only one.
And it was going to be her.
Myrah Lanhart, 14
District Nine
It wasn't going to be her.
Myrah clenched her fists as Adelia explained her plan and the three of them gathered their weapons. Maybe someone had to kill the girl who was stumbling closer and closer to them in the growing light. Maybe someone had to do it. But it didn't have to be her.
It wasn't going to be her.
Fighting the Careers was one thing. The Careers had meant to kill them all. Would have killed them all, without batting an eye. But this girl … she hadn't done anything to them. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn't her fault.
But it wasn't their fault, either.
It wasn't Myrah's fault she was trapped in a death match with a slowly dwindling number of tributes. It wasn't her fault she was going to have to kill eventually, in order to make it home. It wasn't her fault that the Capitol had dumped them all here, that the audience was sitting around waiting, watching to see if she would make a move.
Maybe it was time for her to make a move.
Adelia and Evander each had a kill, after all. Maybe it was her turn. Her turn to take initiative.
Myrah gripped her knife tightly. That wasn't Adelia's plan. Adelia's plan wasn't particularly complex, of course, but it would probably work. They would circle around the river. Cut off anywhere the girl might run. And whichever way she ran … that person would kill her.
But maybe there was a better plan…
Myrah glanced at Adelia and Evander, still arguing in the corner about whether or not it was a good plan. There was nothing to argue about, really, but Evander was probably hoping that, if he stalled long enough, the girl might simply leave. Turn around and go back the way she had come.
Slowly, Myrah crept out of the house. She could do this. She would do this. Silently, she tucked her knife in her pocket. The girl was standing on the other side of the river, staring at it. And with good reason – it seemed quite a bit higher than it had been the day before. But that wasn't important right now.
What was important was that the girl hadn't seen her.
Myrah took off running. Sure enough, that caught the girl's attention. "Back there!" Myrah called as soon as she was sure the girl would be able to hear her. "Back there! Careers! Hurry! Run!"
The girl ran – back along the river the way she had come. Myrah followed, glancing behind her every now and then. Pretending to see someone following them. Finally, the river narrowed enough for Myrah to splash across, and the pair kept running side by side.
"I think … I think we're safe," the other girl gasped, slowing to a halt.
Myrah shook her head, stopping beside the girl, anyway. "They killed them. My allies. Those two cannons – we weren't watching closely enough. No warning. I barely – barely snuck out the back." She buried her face in her hands, hiding the fact that there were no tears to hide. "I … I'm all alone."
The other girl nodded. "I'm all alone, too. My ally … a boy killed her. One of the boys from Three. Caught us off-guard and just … just attacked us." Her tears were real. "I didn't even try to fight him off. I just … I just ran."
One of the boys from Three. Aleron? Aleron had killed her ally? It must have been. He and Evander were the only tributes left from Three. And if Aleron had killed her ally, that meant he might still be around somewhere.
That changed everything.
Elizabet Brower, 15
District Ten
This changed everything.
Elizabet stared at her new ally, still not quite believing it. She had assumed, when Fallon died, that she would be on her own for the rest of the Games – or however much of it she lived through. She hadn't imagined being able to find another ally this late in the Games – but now one had practically fallen into her lap.
It seemed a little too good to be true.
But her story – if a story was, indeed, what it was – made sense. There had been two cannons shortly before the girl had fled the houses. There were a few Careers left; she knew that much, at least. And the girl did seem to be pretty shaken up.
But still…
Elizabet clenched her fists. She had hesitated once – and Fallon had died. She couldn't afford to make the same mistake again. But could she really afford to pass up a chance at an alliance, when the Careers might be nearby? When the boy who had killed Fallon might still be nearby?
Besides, the girl didn't seem to be armed. Then again, Elizabet's own knife was in her pocket. Maybe the girl had one, as well. But if she'd had one, wouldn't she at least have taken it out when she saw the Careers?
If she was even running from the Careers…
Elizabet shook her head, standing again. "I … I think I should keep moving." I should keep moving. Not we. Hopefully, the other girl would take the hint. She couldn't afford to take any risks. Not now. Having no allies was better than having an ally she wasn't sure she could trust…
The other girl looked up. "Please … Can I come with you?"
"I don't think … I don't think you'd want to."
"But I do. Please. I don't have anyone else."
"Neither do I, but—"
"Then we should stick together. For a little while, at least. Please?"
Elizabet hesitated. No. No, this wasn't right at all. The girl was too insistent. Too helpless. She couldn't have made it this far simply by begging and pleading. Elizabet took a step back and drew her knife. "I said no."
For a moment, there was silence. The other girl hesitated. Her hand moved towards her pocket. So she did have a weapon. But she must have decided against it, because she simply shrugged. "All right. I hope the Careers don't find you."
Elizabet nodded. "You, too." She took a step backwards, keeping her eye on the girl. "Good luck."
But before the other girl could wish her luck, as well, a sharp pain shot through her back. Elizabet turned, surprised, to see a boy holding a bloody knife. The same boy who had killed Fallon. "Run!" Elizabet shouted, sinking to her knees as the world began to grow blurry.
But the girl didn't run.
Aleron Blanchet, 15
District Three
Myrah wasn't running.
Aleron took a step back as the girl's cannon sounded. Myrah hadn't run from him. That was a start, at least. She had drawn her knife as the cannon sounded, but she hadn't attacked him, hadn't warned the girl when she had seen him sneaking up behind her. Could it be that she still trusted him?
Were they still allies?
Aleron bent down and pried the knife from the other girl's hand. "There aren't any Careers, are there."
Myrah shook her head. "Not nearby, I don't think. Jediah killed one of the ones who attacked us when…"
When you ran. She didn't say it, but she might as well have. It seemed like it had happened a lifetime ago, to someone else. "So why did you leave them?"
Myrah nodded towards the body at his feet. "To kill her."
Aleron cocked an eyebrow. "Good job."
Myrah scowled. "I was doing just fine before you came along."
Aleron shrugged. "And we did better together."
"I don't need your help. We don't need your help."
We. But she had said I first. She was learning. Whether that was good or bad, Aleron wasn't sure. It certainly made her more dangerous. But it could also make her more useful. "So we just … walk away, then?"
Myrah gripped her knife. "If you're lucky."
Aleron smirked. "I'm feeling lucky. How about you?"
"You're not going to kill me." But she didn't sound so certain.
"And you're not going to kill me."
"Why not?"
"Because you understand. You know why I ran. It was the best choice. They were going to die eventually. There was no reason for me to risk my life, too."
"Nadine and I did."
"And look where it got her. You obviously got lucky. Do you really think that would ever happen again?"
Myrah took a step back. He had hit a nerve. What had happened back there? "How did you survive?" Aleron asked.
"I…" She looked away. "You're right. I got lucky. The girl … she went after Nadine, instead. It could have been me."
Aleron nodded. "It could have. But it couldn't have been me. I made sure it wasn't me. And that's what you need to do – right now. Make sure you're not next."
"What do you mean?"
"If we go back to the others now – to Evander and Adelia – they'll expect everything to go right back to normal. Back to watching each other's backs, to being ready to lay down our lives for each other. And you would. You would die for them. I saw you jump off that roof to help Jediah. You would do it again in a heartbeat." He shook his head. "That's why you need to get away from them."
"And go where?"
"With me."
"Why should I trust you?"
Aleron shrugged. "You shouldn't. That's the point. You can't trust me. You certainly wouldn't lay down your life for me. Which makes me a much safer person for you to be around." He shook his head. "Does that make any sense?"
But he already knew the answer. He could see it in her eyes. Slowly, Myrah lowered her knife.
"Where are we going?"
Adelia Luciano, 16
District Eight
"Where did she go?"
Adelia drummed her fingers on the table, frustrated. She and Evander had been ready to attack. Ready to carry out her plan. But, the moment they had turned around, ready to step out the door, they had realized Myrah was gone. And, when they had looked out the door, the girl from Ten was gone, as well. Then the cannon had sounded.
It didn't make any sense.
"Myrah!" Evander called over the rain. "Myrah!"
Adelia shook her head. "That's not going to do any good."
Evander didn't seem to be listening. "Myrah! Myrah, where are you!"
"Stop it!" Adelia didn't realize she'd slapped him until she yanked her hand back, and Evander stepped back, startled. "Stop it!" she repeated. "That's not helping! If she left, yelling for her isn't going to bring her back."
"But what if she didn't leave? What if someone took her? What if she—"
Adelia shook her head. "Then she's probably dead. You heard that cannon. And if she is dead, then whoever killed her is nearby. Do you really want to attract their attention?"
"But what if she's not dead? What if she managed to kill them? What if she's out there somewhere, and she's hurt, and—"
"Then she'll be dead soon. I'm trying not to get us killed, too. If you want to go out there and look for her, then go!"
She hadn't expected him to actually do it. But no sooner had she said it than Evander had turned and headed out the door, his knife in one hand and a hammer in the other, running away from the river – the opposite direction from where they had seen the other girl. "Evander!" Adelia called. "Wait!"
But it was too late. Too late to get him to wait. Too late to get him to think. He wasn't thinking about anything other than trying to save his ally. An ally who, for all they knew, was already dead.
Adelia leaned back against the wall, clutching her knife. She could follow him. But what good would it do? Even if she caught him, she would never be able to convince him to come back. Not until they were sure that Myrah was dead.
But what if she wasn't…?
Adelia shook her head. If she wasn't dead – if she had simply left on her own – then, clearly, she wouldn't want to be found. She wouldn't want to come back, even if Evander managed to find her. So his errand was still useless. There was nothing for her to do but wait. Wait and see if either of them came back.
Maybe it would be better if they didn't.
Adelia turned the knife over in her hands. She had always known – they all had – that their alliance wouldn't last forever. She had expected it to last longer than this, but maybe … maybe it was time. Maybe they wouldn't be coming back.
And maybe that was for the best.
Evander Mercado, 16
District Three
Maybe this was for the best.
Evander didn't even look back as he raced blindly in the direction he assumed Myrah had gone – away from the houses. Away from the other girl. Even if he was wrong – even if Myrah hadn't come this way – maybe it was best to put as much distance between himself and Adelia as possible. If Adelia didn't care enough to help him look for their missing ally, then maybe he was better off without her.
Evander shook his head. Maybe he should have seen it coming the first time Adelia had been reluctant to go looking for Aleron. But he had believed – had wanted to believe – that she had argued against going after him simply because they would have had no idea where to look. But he had a pretty good idea where Myrah had gone.
There was no way anyone could have come into the house and taken her without him and Adelia realizing it. So she had left. And, if she had left, there were only two possibilities. Either she had been horrified by the fact that they were contemplating attacking the other girl, who appeared defenseless, and decided to leave, or she had gone after the other girl on her own.
He wasn't really sure which one was more likely.
Myrah hadn't seemed particularly disturbed, after all, when she had learned that he and Adelia had killed Presley and Ivira. This wasn't any different.
Was it?
But Presley and Ivira had found them. Would have attacked them, if Adelia hadn't attacked first. Maybe. Probably. They had offered to help them fight off the Careers, but afterwards…
On the other hand, he had never told Myrah that. Never told her that he and Adelia had been the ones to attack. For all she knew, the other girls could have made the first move. He and Adelia could have simply been defending themselves.
And there was certainly a difference between that and what they had been planning to do.
Evander stumbled forward in the rain. If Myrah had simply wanted to get away from them – away from both them and the other girl – then this was probably the way she would have gone. But if she had been planning to attack…
Evander clenched his fists. No. No, he simply couldn't picture that. What reason could she possibly have for wanting to take on the other girl alone, rather than waiting to attack together? No, she must have gone this way.
"Myrah!" Evander called frantically as he ran. "Myrah! Myrah, come back!"
But part of him knew. If she had run away because of what they were planning to do, then she wouldn't want to come back. And no amount of screaming was going to change that. Finally, Evander's pace slowed to a walk. Running wasn't doing any good. Screaming wasn't going to do any good.
He would simply have to hope for some sort of sign to follow.
Delvin Flynn, 18
District Six
He wished he had something to follow.
Delvin gasped for breath as he finally reached the top of the hill. The view on the other side wasn't particularly spectacular: more trees, and more of the same blinding rain that had been soaking them since the first day. Delvin shook his head. Septimus had said, so long ago, that the constant rain meant that the water would eventually rise. So at the top of a hill was probably the safest place to be.
But how long could he stay here?
Delvin sat down, leaning back against the largest tree he could find. He could stay a little while, at least. He would have to. He had been on the move ever since running from Septimus and his allies. All through the night, he hadn't dared to sleep, for fear that someone would find him in the dark.
But would it really be better if they found him in the light?
Delvin struggled to keep his eyes open – just a little longer. He couldn't sleep. Not for long. But, once he fell asleep, there would be no one to wake him. His allies…
No. Not anymore. They weren't his allies now – any of them. And if, by chance, they found each other again, he was certain they would see it the same way. He was on his own. And, for the most part, that was probably a good thing. But when it came to sleep…
Delvin rubbed his eyes. He would have to sleep eventually. Maybe now was as good a time as any. Light was just beginning to appear in the sky. Other tributes would just be waking up. They wouldn't want to start moving right away. They would want to eat first – if they had food. Or maybe they would want to sleep a little longer.
Just like he did…
Delvin stretched a little. Maybe it didn't matter at all, in the end. If the Gamemakers wanted other tributes to find him while he slept, that was exactly what would happen – whether he was asleep at night or during the day. But he had done nothing to upset them. Nothing except refuse to turn back and head towards the light behind him. But surely that wouldn't be enough to upset the Gamemakers or the audience. For all they knew, he was headed for the other light, which was still a good distance away.
For all they knew, resting was part of the plan.
Finally, Delvin lay down and closed his eyes. It would have to be part of the plan – whether it was a good idea or not. He would just have to trust that his previous activity would be enough to compensate for the fact that he needed to rest now. He had already done enough. He hadn't personally made any kills, perhaps, but he'd made – and broken – several alliances, and his actions had led other tributes to their deaths. That had to count for something.
Delvin clenched his fists. Enough. The more time he wasted debating the idea, the less sleep he was likely to get. Silently, he took a few deep breaths, trying to focus on the sound of the rain. Trying to will his body to relax. Trying to sleep.
And, to his surprise, sleep came easily.
Naella Sareen, 18
District Two
The light was easy to follow.
Naella clutched her screwdrivers as she and Jaime made their way through the jungle. She had been worried, when dawn had started to creep over the sky, that it would be harder to follow the beam of light in front of them. And it was a bit harder to make out, certainly, but still clear enough.
Clear enough for them to follow.
But follow until they found what? At least one tribute, certainly, but which one? Jaime had seemed fairly certain that it would be the boy from Seven, since Septimus' group had been heading farther inland, and Brevin was with the other group of tributes. But it had been days since they had seen either Septimus or Brevin. They had no way of knowing where they would be by now.
She wasn't sure which to hope for, either.
The boy from Seven, certainly, would be the easiest kill. But not particularly impressive. How he had managed to last this long, Naella wasn't sure. Maybe he had found the building with the light fairly early on, and had been there this whole time, hiding. On the other hand, there had been a body on the screen at the lighthouse. And he had been holding a bloody knife.
So however young and inept he appeared, they already knew he was a killer. And he had a weapon. Which meant they would have to be careful.
The same, of course, was true for Brevin. Whether or not he had any kills, they had no way of knowing, but he was trained. They had initially accepted him into their group, after all. And he'd earned a nine in training.
Training. That seemed so long ago. So long ago that the six of them had been roaming the training area together. What would happen if it was Brevin up ahead? Would they be expected to treat him as an ally?
Then again, treating him like an ally didn't really say much. They'd already killed two of their allies. Why should Brevin be any different than Auster or Inviticus?
And what about the last option – Septimus' three allies? Septimus was gone, as was Liana, but that didn't make them any less dangerous – especially if they'd managed to find some actual weapons. So far, the only weapons Naella and Jaime had were the tools they'd found in the hovercraft. If the other group had real weapons, was that really a fight they could expect to win?
"Look!" Jaime's voice shook Naella from her thoughts. There was no point, really, in worrying about who they might find – not now that they were here. Naella looked where Jaime was pointing. The beam of light was coming from a hole in the ground – a hole that had probably, at one point, been covered by the hatch door that lay open beside it. A rope dangled down into the hole – probably how the tributes had gotten down there.
So it wasn't the greenhouse. And it wasn't the walled building that Brevin was in. That meant Jaime had been right, after all. The boy from Seven was somewhere down in that hole.
Now they just needed to flush him out.
Melody Anson, 15
District Nine
The Gamemakers were flushing them out.
Melody rubbed her eyes as Philus shook her awake, pointing frantically at the shore. Or, at least, where the shore used to be. The water level had crept up during the night, and was now only a few feet from where they had stopped to rest. Melody gave Baylor a shake, and he woke up immediately. Had he even been asleep? "What is it?"
"That." Melody pointed at the water. It didn't take Baylor long to register what it meant. The Gamemakers wanted them to leave. To head uphill. But were they simply trying to get them moving? Or was there another reason?
Was there someone on the other side of the hill?
Melody shook her head. That didn't matter right now. Right now, all that mattered was getting away from the water. She couldn't swim, and she was pretty sure Baylor and Philus couldn't, either. Their only choice was to leave.
As quickly as they could, the three of them started up the hill.
But 'as quickly as they could' wasn't particularly quickly. The path was slippery from the rain, but it wasn't just that. She was tired. They were all tired. Hungry. Wet and cold. For days, she'd only eaten what she'd managed to find in the forest – a few berries here and there, a few roots. She'd hoped that might change with Baylor's arrival, since the sponsors had seemed to be favoring him. But, so far, they had sent nothing.
Suddenly, Baylor gave a cry, toppling forward and landing face-first in a pile of mud. Melody hurried to her ally's side, helping him up, but, as she did, something slipped out of Baylor's pocket. His compass. Baylor scooped it up again, ready to resume their flight, but Melody pointed. "Look!"
Baylor glanced down at the compass. "What is it?"
"The needle. You said it was pointing towards me before – and that's how you found me, right? But look. I'm here." She took a few steps back. "Look where it's pointing."
Baylor cocked an eyebrow. "Uphill. Maybe that's where the Gamemakers want us to go next."
Philus shook his head emphatically, tugging on Melody's sleeve. He made a few gestures with his hands, ending with his hands around his neck in a choking position. Melody nodded, understanding. "What if they're leading us into a trap?"
Baylor thought it over for a moment. "Maybe they are. Or maybe they're trying to show us something. We're one of the larger groups left. If they're trying to lead us somewhere specific … Maybe it's not a trap. Maybe it's a gift."
Melody shifted uneasily. "A gift?" If it were a gift, they could have just sent another parachute.
"An opportunity," Baylor clarified. "What if they aren't leading us to another tribute because they want the other tribute to kill us? What if they're leading us there to kill them?"
Melody swallowed hard. She wasn't sure if that was better or worse. But she also knew she couldn't let that show. She couldn't afford to look hesitant. Baylor already had a kill to his name, after all. If it started to look like she couldn't measure up…
Melody nodded. "Then what are we waiting for?" She nodded towards the top of the hill. "Let's go."
Baylor looked surprised by her sudden agreement, but not as surprised as Philus, who looked like he was about to run. Melody almost wished he would. If he simply took off, he would make himself a target. And if the Gamemakers and the other tributes were busy targeting him…
Stop it.
Melody grasped Philus by the hand, smiling. "Come on. You'll be fine. Let's go." She couldn't let him run away. Not now. Not when it would mean his death. But death could also be waiting for him up ahead.
Would this really be any better?
Kit Rawlins
District Eight Mentor
At least it was better than turning on each other.
Kit slid a little closer to Nicodemus as the pair watched the screen together. Baylor, Melody, and Philus were still headed uphill – directly towards the spot where Delvin had finally decided to rest a little more than an hour earlier. From the looks of things, he was still sleeping soundly.
But would that still be true when Baylor and his allies reached him?
Kit glanced over at Nicodemus, who was watching the screen just as silently. There was nothing to say, really. Either Delvin would wake up or he wouldn't. Either Baylor and his allies would be able to kill him, or…
Or he would kill them. Those were the only options, really. There was no middle ground. There was no scenario where all four tributes came out of this alive. Kit shook his head, wishing there was something he could do. Some way they could all survive.
But there wasn't. He had tried. And failed. And the tributes last year had tried and failed, as well. He wasn't about to make the same mistake again.
"Sometimes there's nothing you can do," Nicodemus said with a sigh.
Kit cocked an eyebrow. There must be something Nicodemus could do. After all, it wouldn't take much to wake Delvin. Any sort of gift would do – the pinging noise from the parachute would probably be enough to rouse him, alert him to the danger.
Nicodemus shook his head, as if reading Kit's unasked question in his face. "No, I'm afraid I haven't had any luck with the sponsors. Not that it's the tributes' fault, mind you. It's who the sponsors have to deal with in order to send them something. I'm not exactly the most popular person in the Capitol right now."
Kit shook his head, pointing to himself. He wasn't exactly at the top of the Capitol's "favorite Victors" list at the moment, either.
Nicodemus smiled good-naturedly. "True, they probably wouldn't exactly be lining up to shake your hand, either. But Carolina and Lander … well, they've been among the Capitol's favorite non-Career Victors for years, and even more so since they finally tied the knot. What you did wasn't enough to erase that. They managed to send Baylor that compass on the very first day."
Kit nodded. That was certainly true. But Nicodemus wasn't District Six's only Victor. That much, he was sure of. But he couldn't quite remember who the other one was. He glanced around the room, searching for whoever was supposed to be helping Nicodemus.
Nicodemus nodded to a couch in the corner, where two men were passed out, an assortment of drinks scattered around them. "Vernon's not exactly the most popular with sponsors, either." Nicodemus shrugged, as if none of that was Vernon's fault. "Mind you, he used to be. Before his son, Luke, died in the Games, he was … different. The Capitol loved him because he'd managed to surprise them. Joined up with the Careers during training, then immediately turned on them in the bloodbath. Caught them completely off-guard.
"That was his specialty, apparently – surprises. Figuring out exactly what the audience or the other tributes thought he would do next, and then doing the exact opposite. And it worked. It got him out of his Games alive. But not without cost. We're all killers, and we all have to deal with that. And we do it in different ways. Some of us deal with it by training others, helping them to avoid the mistakes we made. Some of us shut people out completely – and it takes us a while to open up again. Some of us cope by trying to make a positive impact on our district – whatever that looks like.
"Vernon was one of those. He tried to be a force for good in District Six. He took in three boys off the streets, adopted them, taught them a trade. He saw it as a way to make up for what he'd done during the Games. He never thought – never imagined – that one of them would end up being reaped.
"Luke's death … it broke him. His drinking drove his other two sons away. He withdrew from everything and everyone, because the last time he tried to make a difference, it went so completely, horribly wrong."
Kit looked away. Nicodemus might have been talking about Vernon, but he might as well have said Kit's own name. He'd been shutting people out since last year's Games, since his attempt to make things right during his Victory Tour had brought only pain.
"I didn't know any of this when I met him, of course," Nicodemus continued. "I wasn't worried about how he felt, what he had lost. I was a tribute. All I knew was that it was Vernon's job to help get me out of the Games alive, and that he didn't seem the least bit interested in lifting a finger to help me. For a long time, I resented him – until I learned what he'd lost." He shook his head. "The Games take their toll on all of us. All of us. Even the most hardened, the most confident, the most well-prepared. In the end, we're all broken – just in different ways."
Kit nodded a little as Baylor and his allies continued to make their way up the slope. Maybe Nicodemus' words couldn't fix everything – the Games, the Capitol, the horrors of last year. But, for a moment, Kit felt a little less broken. A little less alone.
And maybe that was enough.
"I think you're a lot stronger than you know … and I'm going to prove it to you."