Chapter 8: This is My Stop
The lighter and sweater are critical. Indeed, they probably save Dean's life. With warmth and enough tools to make a small fire, Dean manages to last through the night.
Unfortunately, the fire brings more than just temporary salvation. As Day 6 in the arena dawns...
"Look, it's Twelve! Come on, let's get him!" The boy from District 4 leads his remaining lackeys in a brazen ambush of my tribute. Dean runs, fleeing through the lumberyard. The Careers eventually pursue him back to the base of the old railroad bridge. On one side sits an imposing stack of logs and lumber - the highest I've seen in the arena. In fact, it piles so high as to almost reach the level of the bridge.
Dean has no choice. He begins to climb. Watching him scale such an intimidating structure makes even the Career's leader take pause. But not the boy from District 2. He is starved for blood.
"Cut him off! Cut him off!" District 2 runs around the pile, and begins to scale from the opposite side. Scrambling over the logs and dodging occasional protrusions of bramble, Dean does not notice the impending danger. He beats the District 2 boy to the top of the heap, and pauses to catch his breath, preparing himself to try and reach the bridge.
Dean's brief rest is almost his undoing.
The District 2 boy must be in remarkable shape, for he lunges at Dean without even slowing down or appearing winded from his ascent. He slashes a longsword down towards Dean's head, but Dean parries with his meat cleaver just in time. There is a moment in which the blades are locked, suspended in space. The pressure from District 2 is making Dean lean back. But finally, Dean throws his body into repelling the assault, so hard that he makes his opponent lose his balance. Dean takes advantage of the moment. Getting a hold of the District 2 boy's arm, my tribute casts the enemy off the log pile. In fact, the motion causes an avalanche of logs, which the butcher's son barely avoids.
"Fuck!" yells the boy from Four. And he makes a break for it. The girl from District 1 isn't so lucky, and is crushed under the falling lumber. The District 2 boy lands amidst the debris. There's no way he's alive... not from that height...
Indeed, two cannons sound only moments later. BOOM. BOOM.
Still on top of what is left of the log pile, Dean shakily stands, doing his best to regain control of his breathing. Seeing how close he is to reaching the bridge, he leaps for a support beam and manages to clamber onto it. Inching along this, Dean scales the remainder and finally hauls himself up onto the tracks.
I must say, I've never seen an arena environment quite as interesting as this one. Sitting atop the bridge are two rusty railroad cars, coupled up to an even more dilapidated locomotive. The tracks must run on some kind of incline, perhaps due to effects from the earth below, for Dean has to trek up to the cars. Choosing the one closest to the engine, he scrambles inside to hide. I watch him so intently, I don't notice where he places his feet...
Dean takes a seat inside the railroad car. He doesn't need to nurse any wounds, thank God, but I can tell he is still weary from his battle with the boy from 2.
Suddenly, there is a CRACK as the cars come loose from the engine. Being on an incline, they begin to roll away, quickly gaining in speed and heading for the wooded trees lining the cliff that overlooks the lumberyard and Cornucopia. Dean is jolted from his place. Realizing his predicament, he can only hold onto a railing and pray the speed of the runaway train doesn't kill him.
All at once, a figure drops down from a hatch in the car's roof. Dean only notices out of the corner of his eye, as he has been watching the surroundings flash by. He doesn't even need to turn his head to know who it is. The boy from District 4.
District 4 only stands there, knives in hand and ready to attack. "This is my stop," he jokes, and I cringe at the morbidity behind the comment.
"My stop, too," Dean replies gruffly, still refusing to look at his greatest threat.
"HEY!" Who should appear from the next car but the boy from District 7. I had almost completely forgotten about him. He now throws an axe, which District 4 dodges before hurling a knife back. The knife finds its mark in stomach flesh, and District 7 crumples to the floor.
Dean takes the chance. In the momentary distraction, he dives for the car's emergency brake and pulls. The sudden stoppage of the train sends both remaining tributes toppling to the rotting wood.
As District 4 stumbles to his feet, Dean charges and punches him full in the face. District 4 staggers back into a metal column. Dean grabs for his knife and begins to bash his enemy's arm into the metal, trying to shake the weapon loose. District 4 flings his arm and smacks Dean in the face, but my protege goes for it again, twisting District 4's arm back so far, he cries out in pain. This action loosens the knife just enough for Dean to wrest it away. He punches District 4 in the face again, then kicks him in the stomach, before finally clubbing him over the head with the knife's hilt.
District 4 is now unconscious. Dean take the opportunity to search the dead body of the boy from Seven. He happens to find a pair of handcuffs on the corpse. Pilfering them, Dean then drags the District 4 boy to a railing and chains his opponent to it, trapping him like a mouse. Getting right in the boy's face, Dean growls, "You missed your stop!" before beheading his final adversary in one clean stroke. The cannon sounds.
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Victor of the 89th Annual Hunger Games: Dean Cronin, of District 12!"
The Mentors' Bar is ballistic, many of my colleagues coming up to me and shaking my hand in congratulations. I respond in a daze. For the first time in fifteen years, I am not alone.
I did it. I produced a Victor. I got a tribute out of the arena alive.
