The Cost of Survival

Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings

Looks like preferences are divided between shorter chapters or longer ones. I'll take this into consideration. :)) We'll see how things go from here and figure out a workable middle ground. :) Based on how the outline for chapter 20 is looking, it might turn out longer than this one, so… :D

Also, I apologize for how short this chapter was. Thesis is really kicking me around and robbing me of writing time. :\

Chapter 19

Day 2

Arena. 72nd Hunger Games

The tremors beneath him, as well as the hand on his shoulder was what woke Mike. The first thing he saw was Santana's wide-eyed face, yelling at him to get moving. Then he became aware of the shaking walls and floor, accompanied by falling debris. Blinking back the last few trickles of sleepiness, Mike scrambled out of the sleeping bag and hurriedly bunched it up and stuffed it into his bag. While Santana got Lauren up, Mike wore the straps of his bag on his good shoulder.

The ground continued to shake, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay upright. Knowing that he had to be ready for whatever was coming, Mike fumbled for his knife while trying not to drop anything or fall over.

Wide cracks were starting to spread over the floor, like a web creeping their way. In his haste to stagger away from the cracks, Mike bumped into Lauren. She tensed at the contact and glared down at him.

That was when the opposite wall burst into spray of rock and an enormous beast about the size of a bear emerged. It had coarse, dark fur coating its body while its face held pale, filmy eyes. What looked dangerous and deadly were the long, curved claws of its massive paws.

Mike felt his breath catch in his throat and pressed himself against Lauren without really thinking. In response, she bared her teeth and shoved him away.

The beast's twitching, feeler-lined nose faced them, and just as it began crawling forward, the tremors increased again, and another mole muttation clawed its out of the wall behind them, sending them scrambling out of its reach and still struggling against the trembling earth.

By the time he'd found a relatively solid portion of ground, Mike realized he was separated from Santana and Lauren by two snarling monsters. A third clambered out from the floor, coming from a gaping hole that had been just a crack less than a minute ago. Its milky eyes locked on Mike and its nose twitched once, twice.

Mike's left hand held on to the straps, steadying the bag, while the right tightened its hold on the knife. Every muscle was tense, and his mind was torn between staying still and hoping the mutt would loose interest, or running now because it looked like it was going to charge at any moment.

Running would bring him further away from Santana though…

The coarse fur along the beast's shoulders rippled as it tensed, then lunged forward.

With a short, strangled gasp, Mike turned and fled down the tunnel. He could worry about Santana and Lauren later. The priority now was to get away from the monster chasing after him.

At first it ran on all fours, chasing him in bounds, and Mike only had to focus on running.

When it dove underground, splitting the rock and soil like it was as easy as swimming through water, Mike's heart raced, moving even faster, just when he thought it was already thundering at its fastest.

But he couldn't just blindly wallow in fear. Mike reminded himself that he had to think this over and use his head.

As he continued to sprint along the tunnel, he constantly checked over his shoulder and let his eyes dart from wall to wall. If he didn't stay alert and ready, the mole muttation could easily burst in from nowhere and rip him wide open with those formidable claws.

Though in theory, the idea of staying alert sounded practical, it still wasn't enough to prepare Mike for when the mutt tore through the wall to his left and tackled him to the ground. It knocked the wind out of him, and the shock of it all stunned him for a few precious seconds.

The pressure of a heavy paw against his chest brought Mike back to the present and his mind raced for the fasted solution to fix this before his ribs caved in and punctured his lungs. Already, he was struggling to breathe, and the feeling was reminding him all too well of when got his ribs broken by Puck's drunk father.

Tensing the muscles along his right arm and ignoring the throb of his shoulder, Mike readied the knife and brought it straight into the paw. He made sure to dig right through the thick fur and into the flesh, right until the only thing that stopped it from going further was bone. The knife was in all the way until the hilt and blood gushed out of the wound.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as the paw left his chest, allowing his ribcage to expand with the air his lungs needed to regain their bearings.

While the beast thrashed about in pain, Mike pulled together the strength he had left and used it to get up and continue running down the tunnel, leaving behind the beast's roars and wails.

Eventually, the sounds faded into silence.

Before Mike could even start imagining that he'd left the mutt far behind and was now in the clear, the ground started trembling again, proving that no, he was still very much in a heated danger zone.

After getting stabbed in the paw, the mutt must be furious. It could come out of nowhere again. Any minute now.

Gritting his teeth, Mike forced his legs to go faster and ignored the burning tightness in his chest from the effort of running so fast with barely any pause for rest. Even if long hours of rehearsals with Brittany helped with some increased stamina and endurance, terror did speed up Mike's breathing and heart rate, and that was taking its toll on his body.

Just focus and keep running. Mike told himself, tightening the hold he had on his bag, and regretting the loss of the knife. He also told himself to think things through a little more next time. Losing that knife was dumb.

The run took him to an enormous cavern with high columns and a space so much wider than the previous tunnel. Mike realized he'd almost forgotten what it was like to be in an open area.

Regardless, this wasn't the time to admire the view, and the mutt might catch up at any moment. Mike looked over his shoulder to see if it had surfaced yet, or if there were any cracks along the floor to show that it would be emerging soon.

Too late, Mike failed to notice a small stalagmite before his foot bumped straight into it, tripping him. With the speed at which he was running, Mike didn't have the control to stop himself from tumbling forward, and as the ground sloped underneath him, he realized he was going downhill. He scrambled for some hold to stop or at least slow his descent.

Then the ground just disappeared with a loud splash, and Mike found himself sinking deep into freezing water.

Arena. 72nd Hunger Games.

The bag bumped against her back with each stride as Santana ran, shoulder to shoulder with Lauren. They took several turns and passed several forks in their path and just sprinted down whatever looked nearer because there wasn't any time to choose. There were two mutts chasing after them, and it was this varied combination of charging or randomly popping out of the ground that kept Santana on the edge and frustrated by how hard it was to predict the beasts' movements.

In the rush and panic, Santana just barely managed to stuff her blanket into the bag, and the further they went, the more she felt aware of how it was awkwardly sticking out and bumping into her legs.

Just as frustrating to Santana was the axe at her side. Running with that weighing her down wasn't something she was used to, and it was starting to tire her. Breathing was also getting increasingly difficult because of the burning feeling spreading over her chest. On top of that, her legs were starting to wobble.

In most of the scenarios Santana pictured in her head before the Games started, she never imagined having to spend so much time running for her life. This was kind of pathetic.

"Fuck this." As if a similar thought had just crossed Lauren's mind, she came to an abrupt stop and in one quick motion, turned around and swung her blade, slicing through the foreleg of the nearest mutt. It let out a startled yelp and scrambled backwards. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

Taking advantage of the mutt's hesitation, Lauren moved forward, swinging her broadsword and slashing at whatever was in reach. The mutt recovered from the shock and started fighting back, swiping its claws and snapping its jaws. Lauren was just as ferocious, even daring to use her fist whenever the mutt came within close range.

Not to be outdone, Santana turned to meet the other beast with a swing from her axe. It was faster and lighter on its feet than the other one, and managed to duck away from the axe's path, and before Santana could swing again, it lunged.

Without enough time or space to move her axe soon enough, Santana tried dodging to the right, but forgot to take into account the blanket trailing behind her. Though her body had successfully evaded the attack, the damn blanket went straight into the mutt's mouth.

Snarling between a mouthful of thick cloth, the mutt jerked its head back, effectively pulling Santana closer, staggering and struggling to regain balance.

Not willing to be eaten by some Capitol-engineered mutt today, Santana reacted quickly, readying her axe so that once the beast was within her range, she struck, cutting deep into its shoulder until it emitted a scream of pain.

Was that Brittany's voice?

Stiffening, Santana tried to listen for the voice again, almost sure that it was Brittany. That was her voice. That was her scream. She was in pain somewhere! Were there other mutts further down, attacking her?

Something hard and heavy slammed into Santana's chest with an impact strong enough to send her crashing straight into the wall to her left. The collision sent jolts of pain through her arm, ribs and head.

Dammit, not now.

The realization that it was just inside her head sent frustration in to mingle with the pain of the impact. Santana tried to blink away the distracting thoughts, and just in time saw a gaping mouth coming straight towards her.

Arena. 72nd Hunger Games.

Desperate for air and struggling to fight back the rapidly mounting panic, Mike floundered in the water, weakened by his sore shoulder, weighed down by the pack and exhausted by the run. In the dark depths of the water, and steadily getting more and more desperate for air, Mike was too disoriented to figure out where the surface was.

He clawed at the water and still couldn't figure out which was the right direction.

His head was pounding and his lungs were screaming for air. Panic was making his heart hammer painfully against the inside of his chest.

Weights seemed to attach themselves to his limbs as the tightness around his head and torso increased. It became harder to swim, to move, to blink, to even think.

By the time something pressed itself against his body, Mike was too weak to fight back. It was useless to even try, so Mike let someone else's legs propel him onward, towards some direction that didn't make sense at first.

And when Mike's head burst through the surface of the water, he gasped in huge gulps of air, never feeling more thankful for it than in this moment. But no matter how much Mike's disoriented mind tried to get his body to move and swim, it remained uncooperative. Thankfully, the rescuer didn't let go immediately, even put in the effort of pulling him along in the water and finally dumping him in the shallows.

Through vision still blurry from being underwater, Mike saw the figure of a person standing a short distance away, on what looked like more solid ground. The colors were all wrong- blotches of what didn't look anything like the colors a person normally had.

Then Mike realized that the person was getting further away, and it was because the bag was dragging him back down. The water still wasn't ready to relinquish its hold on him. It had him and it wanted him back. This wasn't over.

Weakly, Mike clawed at the mud and tried to resist.

The rescuer noticed, and took action, grabbing onto the bag and using it to pull Mike along until he was completely on solid ground. Still disoriented and exhausted, Mike lay where he was, still gasping for breath and struggling to get his vision to focus and clear up.

"Mike, are you okay?" That was a girl's voice. "What happened?"

As he tried to make sense of the rescuer, Mike noticed that the murky colors were caused by splotches of mud and other unidentifiable gunk clinging to the person's skin and hair, as if she'd been using it to camouflage herself earlier, until the swim ruined the disguise.

"Mike?"

By the time his vision cleared up, Mike recognized Harmony of District 8.

Arena. 72nd Hunger Games.

Acting on reflex, Santana lifted her axe just before the jaws could close down on her head. The blade was what met its teeth instead, locking between the molars and digging into the gums. Blood started to ooze down the axe's blade, and a drop or two hit Santana's face.

Though it made her cringe with disgust, she kept her arms up and her muscles tensed, pushing the mutt's head away from hers, fighting back against its attempts to close the distance between them.

The effort was making her arms tremble. Santana gritted her teeth and refused to give in.

The stream of blood trickling down the axe head grew stronger, thicker, and that seemed to be more than enough pain for the mutt to handle. It started to jerk its head back and forth, even trying to tug at the axe while its paws flailed blindly.

Concentrating on maintaining her hold on the axe, Santana didn't notice the swiping claws until one raked down her side, tearing through part of her jacket and sending ripples of pain over her skin.

She gasped and almost let go of the axe.

With one last agonized roar, the mutt tore its mouth free and practically dived into the ground, digging through until all that remained was the disturbed ground and flecks of blood.

Contorting her face into a look of disgust, Santana wiped away the mutt's blood. Her body was already starting to ache, but now wasn't a particularly good time to dwell on that.

Looking in Lauren's direction, Santana saw that the other mutt was now covered in deep gashes, and its left eye had been turned into an indistinguishable mess of blood. Soon enough, it also gave up trying to maul Lauren and retreated to the burrow the other one made.

"Yeah, that's right!" Lauren shouted after the mutt, "Run and hide like little shits!" For all her tough words, Lauren looked just as beaten up as Santana felt, especially with the adrenaline draining out of them fast. There were tears and clumps of dirt all over Lauren's jacket, and her lip was bleeding.

Taking her eyes off Lauren, Santana looked herself over and found that the mutt's claws tore through even the undershirt, and reached her skin. There was some blood already coming out through the cut, but it looked shallow and thin. Nothing compared to the huge chunks Lauren took out of that mutt.

What concerned Santana more were the bruises and stiffness she would probably soon feel all over her left side.

Still, despite the soreness and the drained feeling, the last thing Santana wanted to do was look as weak and small as Lauren was always implying. Now was a good enough time to start yelling at each other instead of complaining about injuries. "Oh, wow! Is that really how you talk to your family?" Santana made sure to follow it up with a look of shock and dismay. "Tsk tsk."

Lauren had been dabbing at her lip, and froze at the taunt. Then her split lip spread into a crooked smile, "At least my family's tough and badass. What about you? Were you raised by squirrels or mice?"

At least squirrels or mice are adorable. That's what Brittany would have said, but Santana knew better than to use that kind of retort, and instead resorted to a sarcastic laugh. Lauren could win this one for now.

The next priority though would have to be finding a relatively safe place to rest, and some food and water.

District 7. 72nd Hunger Games.

The Career Pack wasn't the only formidable group prowling through the arena. Rick had formed a pack of his own with his district partner Giselle, and with the vicious-looking Sheila from Eleven. They didn't show as much camaraderie as the Careers though. With this group, it was straight-to-the-point and emotionless. Like the killing was just business to them.

As she waited in bed for lunch to be prepared, Brittany watched Rick's pack track down Shane, who spent the night under an overhanging rock. He looked like a tough guy more than capable of fighting off an enemy or two. Those huge hands and thick arms definitely didn't look like they were there just for show.

But the run from the bloodbath, and the lack of food or water was taking its toll on the big tribute. He spent the whole morning walking almost aimlessly along the tunnels, only to come up empty. Now, he was back under the makeshift camp of his rock, and was resting under it.

Brittany had to stop herself from biting her still split and worn out lip. The camera showed Shane lying on his back with his eyes half-closed and his mouth open slightly. The screen cut to Rick's pack drawing closer, while Shane remained oblivious to their presence.

Sheila and Shane were district partners, how was this actually even happening?

A sickening feeling in Brittany's stomach almost robbed her of her appetite as Sheila lashed out with a scythe, murdering Shane before he could even fight back. The curved blade cut through skin and flesh like he was nothing more than the morning's harvest. Sheila's face didn't betray any regret.

It almost looked like she enjoyed it even.

Brittany couldn't help but cringe, and a part of her mind managed to choose this time to recall the way Santana killed that little girl. The way the axe's head just wedged into the girl's skull, cracking it like an egg… it was still difficult to come to terms with the fact that it just happened. It happened in real life. Like it really, actually did.

And just like every time she felt uncomfortable with the fact that Santana just killed a person –a living, breathing person who had once had dreams and fears and aspirations—Brittany remembered that look right after.

Like it was something Santana actually regretted and wished she could take back.

Santana was like one of those expensive and rare sweets that Dad used to import from the Capitol. They were coated in a nutty, kind of hard layer on the outside, but on the inside there was this really soft and sweet milky chocolate.

That's how Brittany saw Santana, and she hoped that being in the arena wasn't going to scrape out that soft inside and just leave the hard casing empty.

There was some consolation Brittany could draw from the fact that Santana and Mike seemed to have gotten very close lately. If she could actually fall into his arms and seek some comfort in him, that meant that she had actually gotten through her fears and let someone see what was inside her hard casing. That meant that there was still something inside that casing.

As much as the idea of Santana killing people brought a lot of discomfort, Brittany could also feel pride in Santana for the other, better things she'd accomplished so far.

With impeccable timing that seemed almost designed to mess with Brittany's head, the screen then cut to Santana and Lauren limping along one of the tunnels, leaving behind the disturbed rock and earth that stood as evidence of the mole muttation attack.

Their movements were sluggish and drained, and a closeup shot of Santana's face showed frustration and an off-color mark to the side of her forehead that was sure to be a defined bruise in the morning. There was a tear in her jacket, and she'd unzipped it to press her hand against her side. Brittany remembered the scratch sustained probably around dawn, as indicated in the footage shown this morning, of any interesting things that happened to the tributes while viewers slept.

The screen panned away from Santana to get a look at Lauren, who was covered in blotches of color. Given the quality of her television, Brittany couldn't tell which parts were bruise or just dirt. The look on Lauren's face though showed that of an exhausted person just about ready to snap and release her pent up anger at the nearest target.

It was worrying because Santana was the nearest target.

They had some sort of alliance worked out, sure. But Brittany still couldn't bring herself to put much trust or faith in it. The relationship was so rocky and unpredictable with how their taunts sometimes tended to go beyond the realm of friendly banter. It really didn't seem like an alliance that was built to last.

It should be Mike with Santana right now. He'd know how to keep the situation calm and talk Santana down if things got too heated.

After spending so much time with Tina, Brittany was fairly sure that Mike must be pretty good at helping agitated people relax. Tina always seemed so much calmer whenever she was with him, and it made sense that it would be because of him.

Speaking of which, Brittany heard the door opening, followed by Tina's voice calling out, raised and excited, "Britt! You'll never guess what's happened!"

"So should I still try guessing or…" Brittany watched Tina come bounding into the room, tray in hand and miraculously not spilling anything despite her excitement. She didn't give Brittany much time to try guessing anyway.

"Mrs. Fabray is back!" Tina placed the tray on the bedside table and helped adjust Brittany's pillow so she could sit up higher. "Like she's at her house right now!"

The movement still tugged at her mangled back and sides, and her legs were still too sore to do anything other than stay limp, but the pills from Mrs. Rose brought about so much improvement. Brittany was torn between feeling thankful for the respite, and completely dreading the moment when their supply ran out, leaving her to deal with slugging through the pain out of sheer will.

"That… that doesn't make sense." Brittany accepted the tray and placed it across her lap. "Mike's right there and he's fine."

He was right there.

It was on the little television screen right now. Mike was sitting by a lake, shivering a little as his slowly drying clothes still clung to his body. The jacket was draped over a stalagmite to dry. He looked tired and a little bruised up, but otherwise okay. He was talking to Harmony now, and she didn't look like she had any plans of harming him. Why would she after she went through the trouble of saving him?

"Mentors only come back if their tribute's…" Brittany stopped herself from finishing the sentence without thinking, and before the pause could get too awkwardly long, finished with, "…gone off to vacation in the clouds."

"I…" Tina glanced at the television as if to draw some reassurance from Mike's appearance. "Yeah." Her voice came out unusually soft. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Th-that's what's intriguing about this. A lot of people are talking about it, but she hasn't come out of the house yet so…" Tina shrugged. "Nobody's talked to her."

Brittany looked at the screen just in time to see it cut away from Mike to show the Careers walking along the tunnels together, weapons drawn. Hunting for tributes, no doubt. After all, there was no need for them to hunt for food when they had claimed the Cornucopia as their base.

"Something must have happened…" Despite her drinking problem and her sometimes obvious reluctance at being a mentor, Judy Fabray never went home early. She only came back if her tribute did. Dead or alive.

Mike was clearly still alive and still in the arena.

"You don't think Mike's…"

"No." Brittany spoke up before Tina could even finish a sentence so ugly. It was fearful and paranoid and pessimistic, but it just couldn't be possible. "I'm sure of it. We just saw him! That was a live screening, Tina. I'm sure he's okay!"

Panic and agitation managed to grasp Brittany and cling to her voice, raising it and intensifying it until she had to collect herself and regain composure. Her breathing had grown rapid and labored. It took a moment to steady it. The bowl of soup and the spoon were rattled by the movement, but didn't spill.

"Yeah…" Tina still sounded doubtful.

"Yeah." If Brittany hadn't been confined to staying in bed, she would have reached over, grasped Tina's hand, and squeezed it. Unfortunately, she was too far away. If Brittany tried, she would probably end up toppling off the bed and spilling the soup all over the place.

Tina swallowed, then spoke as if she was still trying to convince herself. "Yeah, he's okay."

"He is okay."

Nodding, Tina walked over to lean against the wall. Brittany had started thinking of it as the usual spot Tina took whenever they talked. "I still wanna get some answers though." There was a little more confidence in her voice, as if resolving to take action helped soothe her. "I'll try to drop by over there after Amy gets home from school."

Tina looked at Brittany and softened, "She can take care of you while I go for a quick trip to the Fabray house, right?"

Those words managed to strike a chord with Brittany, reminding her all too well of how helpless she was in this situation. Completely dependent on people who were taking care of her even if they weren't even obliged to.

"Y-yeah…" Brittany remembered to answer. "That's fine."

Tina didn't seem to notice the change in mood, too focused in the theories and plans running through her mind. "Something's up. I just know it."

The only reason Brittany was still alive right now was because Tina and her family had acted out of immeasurable kindness. If nobody attended to her wounds after the Peacekeepers were done, Brittany probably would have just bled to death wherever they left her. If not that, then the starvation or dehydration would have gotten her.

"Tina…?" Even if Tina was still caught up in her own thoughts, Brittany felt an overwhelming need to express gratitude.

"What?" Tina raised an eyebrow and looked at Brittany. There was mild impatience in the tone, like Tina would rather be left alone for a moment to think things through, or if a conversation was to be had, it should be about the Mrs. Fabray mystery.

Brittany hesitated, but when Tina's impatience softened to concern, it had to be said. "You really don't have to do…" It was tempting to say something like 'do the kind of kind things that winged kittens do for puppies with thorns in their paws'. But this was Tina and not Santana, so Brittany instead gestured with her good hand towards the tray and her overall body. "All this."

Tina's brow furrowed.

"You and your mom really didn't need to-"

"Just shut up, Brittany." Tina interrupted in a blunt, intimidating tone.

Uncomfortable and uncertain, Brittany looked up at Tina. "What…?" The usual defense mechanism of talking about forest animals or unicorns was just forming in Brittany's mouth, but before it could get out, Tina started speaking again.

"We're doing this because we care." The quick flash of déjà vu distracted Brittany for a moment. This sounded so much like a conversation with Santana. "We look out for each other, Britt."

Brittany blinked and reminded herself this was Tina.

"You were looking out for me last week, and now we're taking care of you." At this, Tina started out with a soft, gentle tone. It felt warm and soft and friendly. She moved closer and touched Brittany's shoulder.

Then the air seemed to shift into dark and intimidating. "It's what we do. It's how shit works in this hellhole, got it?" The words were almost growled out, laced with bitterness, narrowed eyes and bared teeth.

"Y-yes, ma'am!" Was the first thing Brittany could think of saying. She thought she jumped from topic to topic and mood to mood, but Tina was something else.

Things shifted again. Tina softened, letting the fierce look to her eyes give way to guilt. "I'm sorry… that... that didn't come out right… I-I just… it's just that sometimes life here… It's like… That's one of the few things to… Sometimes I don't…" She stumbled over her apology, starting sentences and restarting them and getting tangled up in the unfinished strings. "It's just like-"

"It's okay." Now that Tina was nearby, Brittany could reach over with her good hand and take hold of Tina's. "I get it."

It was a lot like Santana again.

They hated the kind of life lived here in District 7 even if it was the only one they'd ever known. But as much as they hated it, there were parts of it to love, too. Like the closeness between friendships and families that made living through the hell just a little bit lighter. It helped them survive every day.

"Britt, I'm really-"

Brittany stopped Tina from stumbling over anymore apologies. "Really, Tina. It's okay." She squeezed Tina's hand. The splinted finger still made it awkward, but it was the best Brittany could do, given the circumstance. "And thank you for all the help… really."

"Santana would've wanted it." Tina said, using her thumb to lightly stroke the back of Brittany's hand. "And I'm pretty sure you would've done the same thing if we'd have switched places…" This time, Tina made it a point to meet Brittany's eyes. There was uncertainty there, and she needed reassurance. "Right…?"

"Of course." Forget barely having any money or struggling to get enough food for the week or lacking so much knowledge on how to tend to injuries other than typical once sustained from mild beatings or lashes. Brittany would still do whatever it took to take care of Tina if they were to have switched places.

"And that's just how things work here." There was still the same bitterness in Tina's voice, but it was mingling with something like hope, and comfort.

"That's just how it works." Brittany agreed.