Plato has had enough. The boy from 7 is uncatchable. Cass is our only chance. Relief ripples my aching body as Plato orders us out of this watery maze. We spent so long hunting the boy all over the lagoon that we have lost our bearings. We leave just after sunrise and use the sun as our guide. My skin is burnt from being out in the open. I've heard of particular underwater plants that – when their sap is rubbed onto the skin – it prevents sunburn. Cass would know, she's from district 4, the fishing district. If she were here, she could have caught the boy from 7 and probably would have found the much needed sunscreen plant.
Cass and I have built up a mutual respect for one another. She is kinder than the other careers and is not bloodthirsty like them. She is likeable like Patreeko, her district partner, was. Also, her eyes bring back fond memories of being with Aliss.
At midday we take shelter from the sun under a shallow rocky cave. We each eat a handful of nuts. A canon booms. Another tribute dead. Only four rogue tributes left and five careers. I should have run away ages ago. I am surprised our pack hasn't turned on each other yet. I'll take watch tonight at camp then steal away with my pack in the dead of night.
After 13 hours of exhausting travel, we eventually make it to the edge of the lagoon. We drag ourselves onto the shore like a trio of half drowned rodents. Cass sits on the damp beach. She seems to have constructed a small raft. "You have been gone for days!" she yells at us. "I take it that you killed someone? I heard a canon," Plato ignores her and walks towards the Cornucopia in the distance. Daimen follows but not before having a thoughtful look at the raft. Cass watches them go then looks at me. She smiles. Her dark brown hair blowing in the breeze. "Plato wants you to go in tomorrow morning," I say. "You're the only one who can catch the boy from 7,"
Cass roles her eyes. "So the canon was not one of our kills?"
"Afraid not" I reply. I change the subject. "Nice raft," I say, studying the crude pile of logs tied together with rope. "Oh thanks," she says. "I needed something to do. And I suspected that I may have to go in there at some point" She points at the lagoon. I look at the raft again. The raft certainly would make the traveling a lot less exhausting and would allow you to avoid the only hostile creatures the lagoon had to offer; tiny red fish that bite your leg when you get too close to them. Not life threatening but quite painful.
Cass leaves her raft by the lagoon. We head towards the Cornucopia to join the others. It's getting dark.
As we all eat around a large camp fire, the face of the girl from 9 shows in the sky. Her death was responsible for the canon at midday. She probably succumbed to dehydration or infection.
I look behind me out our dwindling supplies. It will not last us much longer.
I look into the faces of my fellow careers. Without a doubt every one of us has a plan. A plan which involves murdering each other in our sleep, or simply running away like I plan on doing.
I offer to guard first. Now is the time of my escape. The backpack lies against the cornucopia. Begging for me to pick it up and run. I must be patient. I should wait until everyone is asleep.
I lie on top of the cornucopia. The cold metal piercing my back. I don't enter the sleeping bag. The cold will prevent me from dozing off by accident. I just lie still watching the stars.
A twig breaks. I freeze. I slowly turn my head to the right and look towards the camp. I see no movement. I suspect its Daimen. I tense up, ready for action but restrain myself at the last minute. Daimen knows I am on watch. If he goes for the backpack I'll fight to the death for it. The whole camp will wake and there will be another bloodbath at the cornucopia. Daimen is not stupid. It can't be him. Then what is it? An animal? Another tribute? My imagination? My eyes search the dark but I see nothing except the outline of the tents. Nothing. No wait! Yes. There it is. Two figures in a low crouch, moving towards the camp. The boys from 3 and 8. It must be them. I realize they probably haven't seen me. I am flat on my back on the Cornucopia. They think there are no guards. The two figures are now beside the dying fire. I see the orange light reflect off their faces. They crouch barely ten metres from my position. I dare not move. In fact this could play in my advantage. If they kill my allies then great! Even if they steal my pack I wouldn't mind. Four dead careers would be worth it. But how could they kill us all? They know there are five of us. Suddenly it dawns on me. They must have been watching this camp for days. Figuring out a strategy. Only Cass and Trizzy have been here for the past few days. The two boys were probably absent when the rest of us made our return from the lagoon, and now they have come back and are walking into terrible danger. There are over twice as many careers as they anticipated on this raid. The best-case scenario is that everyone dies, leaving me untouched on the cornucopia.
As the boys pull out knives, ready to crawl into tents, intent on slitting the throats of the two girls, Plato's tent moves. He's awake. The boys freeze. Plato's head pokes out of his tent. He spots them instantly. He lets out a murderous roar loud enough to wake up every bird in a 500-metre radius. I see the look of shock that crosses the boy's faces in the firelight. Plato was the last thing they were expecting to see. Within seconds all the careers are out of their tents armed with whatever weapon was closest to them. The two boys run. Plato points at Cass. "Guard the camp!" he screams at her. Plato, Trizzy and Daimen give chase to the two boys who sprint towards the forest. I slide off the cornucopia. "Go on! After them!" yells Cass in desperation. I look towards the backpack then to the woods. I could so easily make a break for it with my pack. I'm faster than Cass is, and besides, she may not even chase me if I flee. However if I chase the two boys then I could potentially rid the arena of two more tributes. I could outrun them over long distance. I take one last look at the backpack then sprint towards the trees, picking up a spear as I run through the camp. I still have my allies. They won't kill me yet. The chance of killing two more tributes is just too good to miss. I can break my allegiance after they die.
I crash into the undergrowth. I see the torches of my allies in the near distance. It takes only a minute before I pass them. I don't have a torch but I keep on running. I can just make out the silhouettes of my targets crashing through the woods in front of me. They begin to split up. I make a split second decision to take the one on the left.
I almost lose him multiple times. Whenever I lose site of him I stop running and I listen. The sound of his feet crashing on twigs and leaves points me in the right direction. In no time at all I am close enough to hear his desperate breaths as he runs for his life. I am just fifteen metres away. My spear arm arks back. I take long strides then release the spear. There is half a second of silence before I hear the spear impale the boy's body. He crashes to the ground. Killed instantly. As I run to his body his canon sounds. I pull the bloody spear out of his back then look around. I see my ally's torches nearly one hundred metres away to my right. The other target must be ahead of them somewhere. The thrill of the hunt is rushing through my veins. This is the first time I have felt this. I twirl the spear in my hand and sprint towards where I think my target might be.
As I draw nearer I hear Plato cursing. I stop and call out to them. "You lost him?" I ask
"Yes," the monster replies. He curses again.
"I got the other one," I say. I reason that if they have lost site of him then he's probably gone. But I refuse to let this opportunity fall away. I can feel the adrenalin pumping through my veins.
I stalk off into the dark forest. I will find him and kill him. As I move silently through the trees I try and keep my ears peeled for any give away noise. I hear a rustling sound, which I estimate to be thirty metres in front of me, slightly to the right. I creep up until I am metre from the spot where I heard the rustling. He's playing the hiding game now. I stand still. Suddenly, as if he had materialized from the forest floor itself the figure of the boy appears right in front of me. I see a flash of steel in the moonlight and use my spear to deflect the knife attack. I fall to the ground. The boy grabs my spear and yanks it free from my hands. I feel the toe of his boot slam into my cheek. I blindly kick out with my own legs and manage to kick his knee. He grunts and the tip of the spear impales the forest floor inches from my head. I stand up and start punching him anywhere I can. In the face, the ribs, the throat. I don't bother with my sword. We both land sprawled on the ground. I feel a rock near my hand and pick it up slamming it into his face. I hear movement behind me and the rest of my group appears. Plato draws his dagger ready to kill the boy, but Trizzy stops him.
"We need to find out where they put our stolen supplies!" she hisses.
"I'm gonna kill him now!" yells Plato.
"Idiot!" she yells. "You can kill him after we torture him. Or don't you want to find out where the rest of our supplies are?"
Plato thinks for a moment then lowers his knife. "Get a fire going," he orders Daimen.
We have the boy tied up in vines. He's the boy from 8. He sits against a tree trunk. Semi conscious. Trizzy is set on the idea of torturing him to expose where the stolen supplies are kept. The fire is small. The blade of Tizzy's dagger rests in it. It begins to glow orange with heat. Plato sits silently. He slaps the boy if he begins to moan. I sit silently too, dreading what's to come. Daimen sharpens his hook weapon. I decide that it suits his personality.
Trizzy takes the hot knife from the coals of the fire. "Where are the supplies?" she asks the boy from 8. "I don't know," he mumbles. She instantly grips his right arm and presses the blade into his exposed wrist. He lets out a blood curdling shriek. I look away. "Where are the stolen supplies!?" Trizzy screams. She enjoys this too much. "Lost! All lost!" sobs the boy. "We don't have them!" Something about his tone informs me he is telling the truth. "I think he's telling the truth," I voice to Trizzy.
"Shut it!" she replies. The burning coals reflect off her cruel eyes as she glares at me. I watch as she angrily thrusts the red-hot blade straight into the boys forearm. The scream he lets out makes vomit rise up the back of my throat. I turn my head away and that's when I notice it. Daimen is missing. He's finally done it. How long has he been gone for? No doubt he is on his way back to camp ready to scoop up my survival kit and flee. Panic sets in and I stand up. The screams beside me pierce my eardrums. I can't take it any more. This alliance is over. I've tolerated these sadistic killers for far too long. As I watch Trizzy carve bloody lines into the screaming boys face I feel my hand grip my sword. I slide it from its position in my belt and the moonlight shines off the blade as I raise it. I bring the blade down again and again into Trizzy's body. Blood splatters everywhere. All over the forest floor, all over me, all over the screaming boy and all over a bewildered looking Plato. Trizzy's screams cut through the night, louder and more vomit inducing than the ones she could coax out of the boy from 8. Plato makes a move at me but I kick the coals of the fire at him. He falls back screeching, clawing at his face.
Everyone is screaming. I have never heard anything worse in my life. The hacked and slashed body of Trizzy writhes at my feet. Her whole body saturated in red blood. The red liquid seeps and gushes from deep lacerations in her flesh. With one final sweeping cut I decapitate her. Her head roles into the remaining coals and her hair fizzles in the fire. I can still hear her scream resonating in my ears. I want the screaming to stop. I want it to stop! I lash out at the boy from 8. My blade cuts deep just below the neck. His scream turns into a gurgling sound as a fountain of blood erupts from him mouth. Plato has stopped screaming and has grabbed hold of a spear. I turn and run. I hear a canon shot. Then another. The number 6 flashes in my mind. What does that mean? Six tributes remaining. That's what it means.
My legs work on their own. Never slowing. Running from Plato and in the direction of the cornucopia. In the solid ten minutes that I run, no spear impales me. Plato must have fallen behind or maybe he never gave chase. The moonlight shines off the cornucopia as I see it through the tree line. I crash through the trees and onto the dirt plain that surrounds the Cornucopia. That's when hear the third canon shot.