Author's Note: I can't believe that this is the last chapter for my fanfiction! It feels so… unreal, is the word, that I'm finishing it! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this! This will NOT be my last fanfiction, so keep your eyes peeled for more!
Chapter 12: It Kills 24
Number Of Different POVs: 3
Number Of POVs: 8
RIDGEN'S POV (DISTRICT 7 MALE)
I killed someone. I mean, I killed Opthalmius as well, but I didn't stick a spear through him, I didn't see his dying eyes with a look that resigned itself to death, eyes full of hatred for me.
Seeing—his, I can't think his name again, I'm not worthy of it—face in the sky today, the final legacy of the strong tribute from District Eleven. For the first time since entering the Games, I permit myself to think of my family: my seven siblings in the Justice Building, not understanding that I might not see them again—but now I have a chance to, now I might get a chance to see them. But the eighth, the oldest except for me at 10 years old, she understood what I was going up against: ruthless killers who would stop at nothing to make sure I don't get home.
The first thing I register when I wake up is the smell of damp soil. I drop from the tree that I'm perched in to look around. That's when I see the wave of water that is coming towards me. I instantly throw off my shirt so that it doesn't serve as extra weight. Then I drop everything but the spear and run.
My legs are pumping as hard as they can, fighting for longer strides. The trees are too low to keep me out of the water, so the only escape is forward. I don't like an escape route with no alternatives, but I don't have much choice unless I enjoy the feeling of drowning. I run and run because I can't swim, but it isn't fast enough.
As the wave overtakes me, I fight to stay above water, kicking my legs as fast as I can to keep from drowning. The current forces me under and I only have time for one breath of air before I'm plunged underwater.
My lungs scream as I fight to surface, but it's no use. I'll have to let go of the spear; the dense iron tip and stone handle make it too heavy to keep with me. I let go of it and manage to surface just before passing out.
When I get a breath of fresh air, I see that I'm almost at the Cornucopia. As I fight to stay afloat the wave peters out and my feet finally touch the ground again. I hide behind a tall oak tree, not wanting to make the first move when the wrong one could kill me.
CLEO'S POV (DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE)
The waves are lunging towards me, threatening to end my life. Without any thought, I start running. And running. And running. The pain in my legs, the jacket of weapons, the dagger clutched in one hand and the pistol in the other, become my entirety. I keep the jacket but strip off my shirt and slice off some of my pants to make them shorts because the less clothes on me, the better.
I feel the water lapping at my feet but I don't slow down. Suddenly a huge wave rises up behind me and crashes down, swallowing me up in the water. I catch only one gasping breath of air before the water swallows me under and I begin the fight for my breath, for my life, for victory.
OSHER'S POV (DISTRICT TWO MALE)
The cut on my cheek has stopped bleeding but hurts like hell when the salty water gets in it. I see a small figure in the trees. It must be Ridgen. I wonder how he survived. I learned to swim in my Career training, but in Seven it probably is not high on the list of priorities.
But if he's alive, Cleo might also be. Her cannon could easily have been lost in the rushing water. I hope she didn't drown; it wouldn't be a painful enough death for her. Luckily, I catch a glimpse of movement in a direction that isn't where Ridgen is; it must be her.
However, when it reveals itself, it isn't a tribute at all but instead a mutt. The creature has green scales and walks on all fours, close to the ground. It resembles a crocodile, but only vaguely. What crocodile has large dark-green wings and glowing red eyes? What crocodile stands up on its back legs and surveys the area, looking for prey? It has a forked tongue that flicks around and lets out a hiss then a low, long growl.
Someone has to make the first move or else this thing will. It's clear that the others, no matter how many of us that word refers to, are not going to. But I'm in too bad of a shape to attack. So I wait.
Suddenly the thing lunges towards the direction that Ridgen is, attacking him viciously, and I feel lucky that it didn't go for me.
RIDGEN'S POV:
The monster comes for me, teeth bared in hatred. I lost the spear to the wave, so the only way to kill this thing will be strangling it. I lock my arms around its neck and squeeze as hard as I can, hoping for it to die, but the scales act like armor that doesn't let me strangle it.
I keep my arms locked around its neck for as long as I can as it tries to sink its teeth into my chest, but I manage to stay on it. Its claws can't reach me, but suddenly it emits a loud, long roar and fire shoots from the darkness of its throat.
A nearby tree goes up in flames and I know that soon the forest will become ash. It runs into the fire and I soon realize that the flames don't affect it at all. But I am definitely not fireproof, as I am painfully reminded when the fire starts to kill me via burns.
I release the beast and run away, a section of my back blackened and numb from nerve damage. I can't run for long, though—upon entering the clearing, Osher runs straight at me. Without anything on me, my only hope is to make it over to the array of weapons that are, surprisingly, still there.
I sprint to the metal Cornucopia but just as I get close, Osher tackles me from behind, pinning me to the ground. He presses his knees into the burnt parts of my back that I can feel, the bright red ones. I want to scream in agony but I keep him from that satisfaction.
OSHER'S POV
I smile at the back of his head. If Cleo is dead, her partner is going to bear my revenge. I don't much care, to be completely honest. Then, with my sword, I slice off his left arm because he is trying to crawl towards Cornucopia. He doesn't scream. I remedy that by digging my sword into the burned part of his back, the bright red part, and twisting.
His shout rings out through the arena. Then I stab him in a thousand different places. Give the audience a good show. I can almost hear my District shouting it at me and comply.
Finally, after another thirty minutes or so of torturing him, I finish it with a long, deep cut across his spine and wait for him to bleed to death, which doesn't take a while. I step back and listen to the cannon, watch the hovercraft.
Why don't the trumpets ring out, declaring my victory? Anger pulses through me when I realize the answer. That little—oh, she will pay. She will pay her life for what she has done to me.
CLEO'S POV:
I'm a horrible person. After fighting for my life in the water, after kicking my legs and pushing through the water, I came in time to see Osher tackle Ridgen. But I also saw the lizard mutt, the one whose eyes locked on me.
I sneak around the outside to it, afraid to fire my pistol in case they hear the noise. So I wait to lunge and watch Ridgen dying. I could shoot Osher, could save my District partner's life. But I can't kill Ridgen myself. I just can't. I am a coward.
The mutt lunges at me and I try to attack it with my dagger, but the blade bounces harmlessly off. I need to shoot it. So I wait and, as the cannon booms, I fire at the creature, my bullet disguised by the cannon.
Osher looks up at the sky and waits. He thinks I'm dead! I can shoot him now; I can win. But I have only five shots left, and to miss would be death. I wouldn't get a chance to attack him again.
I run up from behind and stab at him with my dagger. But this is the Hunger Games, and the Gamemakers need action. So the ground he's on starts to rise up. And so does mine. Suddenly we are level with the platforms we started on. No. Not more heights. I won't let this happen again.
The thought occurs to me that Osher probably has much more to live for than I do at home. What do I have? A life on the streets—no, in the Victor's Village. But I don't have anyone to live for, just myself.
And it's enough, enough to slam me out of my thoughts and into reality as he attempts to push me off to the ground. I meet ˙his blade with my own dagger and we fight, but he has a distinct advantage with a much longer blade.
I'm at the edge of my pillar, close to falling to my death. He doesn't pause and just relentlessly pushes me back further and further and further. Just as I'm about to fall off, I come back at him with an attack to his gut, far below fighting distance. He blocks it easily, and I expected nothing less, but it's enough time for me to regain my footing and push forward again.
I take the pistol and fire straight at his skull. He barely dodges and it hits his jaw. I see hatred in his eyes but I ignore it and push forward. Suddenly the small gap between us is filled by another pillar, and another, and another, until we are on a huge platform in the sky.
I push down my fear of heights and, while I keep him off with one hand, I secretly grab a throwing knife from my jacket with the other. I toss it at him and we are so close that of course I get a clean hit just below the neck. He falls to the ground, blood burbling from his mouth as he struggles to survive.
OSHER'S POV
I see my mentor standing over me, smiling, extending a hand. I take it, surprised at how whole and complete my body is. "Time for the reaping," he says and I realize it has al been a bad dream… a bad dream… a bad dream where I lie dying on the rock but not the ground, dying at the hands of a girl from District Seven who can kill better than a Career apparently can. Who knows, maybe she was a serial killer back home. Whatever the case, in the dream I was dying and she was winning and winning and I was dying and it was a bad dream and I wake up and my mentor becomes her and it was all a bad, bad dream, and I sink into sleep…
CLEO'S POV
He's gone. I can see in his eyes when they go dull, I hear the cannon sound in the back of my mind, I can feel the sadness of a victor and none of the pride. I stay in that moment while I am loaded into the hovercraft. I stay in that moment while I see the highlights of the Games. I stay in that moment while President Snow places a crown on my head. I stay in that moment on the Victory Tour, and in the Capitol with many people, being sold by Snow. I stay in that moment until the time, years later, when I realize something: the Hunger Games every year kills not 23 people, but 24.