I'm so sorry this is later than I thought it would be, but I've been soooo busy in the past week or so. I got back to school ten days late and my teachers were kinda like, "Oh hey welcome back, and as you're here, you can do all the work you missed in a week, on top of all your other work! Yay!" so I've been a bit snowed under. Also we just moved house, which made it all a LOAD worse.
Anyway, here it is, hope you enjoy it!
Day Twelve
Cleo Berkeley was jolted awake by the sound of a blast. She sat bolt upright and looked around. She was sat atop one of the crumbling pillars, a hundred foot off the ground. She had returned to the Cornucopia Hill after she had seen Jayson lumber off. The Cornucopia itself was impenetrable as ever – the stupid fish-boy had done his work well. And she didn't feel like sitting by the fire and waiting for someone to attack her. So she had scaled the most sturdy-looking pillar, and slept on the top of it. She was a very still sleeper, never moving, so she wasn't worried about falling. But just for safety she had carefully tied a rope around it and herself so that if she fell she would be caught a few feet down.
For a moment she wasn't sure what had awoken her. The sun was below the horizon, the arena dark and hazy. But then the sun broke over the rooftops, flooding everywhere with light. And she saw that another part of the arena had blown up, a cloud of smoke was rising into the sky above the rubble. As she watched, another section blew up, then another, and another. Soon the entire arena was just a mass of broken bricks, wood and dust, with the four main roads and Cornucopia Hill the only things still clear.
With a grin, Cleo carefully got to her feet, spinning round in a circle to get a 360 degree view. These explosions would make killing other tributes all the more easy. Some of them might have even died – she didn't think all of them, though, the Gamemakers would have announced it. She was glad she still had at least one opponent left, for she wanted to know the feeling of killing the last opponent, of becoming the victor. Having the Capitol do it for you wasn't quite the same.
She cut the rope and slowly climbed down the pillar, jumping the last few feet. She would go through the rubble and hunt down the remaining tributes as they tried to climb out. Perhaps for the last one she would drag them to the nearest main street and make a proper fight of it. Give the viewers a show. But as she walked down the hill, she heard a shout.
O
Jessalyn had woken to see the walls of her shelter shaking as a bomb blew in the arena. She scrambled towards the door as cracks appeared in the walls. Another bomb blew, closer, and the cracks connected, boards above her were breaking and falling on her. She suddenly realised what was about to happen, and just had time to roll over to cover her bow and arrows, wrap her arms around her head and close her eyes before everything blew up around her.
She was shocked to find, a few moments later, that she was still alive. Her bow was broken in half, as were most of the arrows, but her sword was okay, protected by the scabbard and her body. A gash from a sharp edge of tile curved down one cheek, covering that side of her face in blood. A hundred smaller cuts and bruises covered her body. She suddenly became aware of pain throbbing through her left hand. Moving slightly so she could see, she felt her stomach roll unpleasantly as she looked at her hand. A stray arrow had punched through the middle of her hand, and was poking out the other side. Blood was trickling from it, and it hurt like hell. She struggled not to be sick as she thought about it. She was trapped down in the dark, with just a small triangle of light above her, and only one working hand. Everything around her was destroyed, just bits of wood and brick all covered in a fine layer of dust. She too was covered in dust – it was in her mouth and eyes too. She coughed and gasped for breath, inhaling the dust and feeling it sear her throat and lungs. Luckily she had filled up her water canister, and managed to unscrew it with her right hand and pour half of it onto her face and mouth, washing away some of the dust. Then she tucked away the canister, and set about getting out.
She started off reaching towards the triangle with her right hand, leaving the left carefully cradled against her chest. She managed to get the tips of her fingers through, and widen it a little, making it bigger. Pushing apart tiles and wood and stone, she managed to get her head and shoulders into the sun. A broken door and bricks covered her torso, but she managed to shift them. But when she tried to pull her legs out, she couldn't.
Grabbing and throwing some boards away, ignoring the splinters that stabbed her palm, she found that a large chunk of a brick wall had not shattered into tiny pieces like the rest, and was now lying across her legs – mainly her left. She tried to shift her legs out from underneath, but could only get the right one out, the other was trapped. Nor could she lift the wall – it was far too heavy.
She fell back against a door, tears prickling her eyes. She was dead. If she could not get her leg out, with her hand she would be a sitting duck for the next tribute who wandered by. And even if it wasn't Cleo or Jayson, she didn't think Diesel would be so merciful this time round. Hopefully he would kill her cleanly though. A bad taste filled her mouth as she thought of what Cleo would do to her if she found her sitting there helplessly. These thoughts sharpened as she heard shouts nearby.
She scowled and sat up again. She would not be helpless. Shifting so that she could get her shoulder up against the wall, she gritted her teeth and pushed it with all her might. To her amazement, it moved – only a tiny amount, but enough for her to wriggle her leg out. She pulled herself to her feet, flexing her legs to get blood back in them.
Next thing she concentrated on was her hand – whoever was shouting could wait. The part of the arrow that had not gone through her hand had mostly snapped off, leaving a splintery end. She carefully smoothed off the arrow so that hopefully no splinters would get stuck in the hole. Then, quickly, without thinking too hard about it, she grabbed the sharp point of the arrow and pulled. She was unable to hold in a pained moan as the arrow left her hand. However the hole was pretty clean, at least once she had cleaned it off and wrapped it in a bandage. She couldn't move her middle two fingers at all, and her pinky and index only a little. But that was okay – she was right-handed anyway, and her bow was broken.
Now she was upright, she could see the full extent of the damage. The entire arena, apart from Cornucopia Hill, was now at about waist height, with the odd wall or pillar still standing. She jumped as she heard the shouts again. Scrambling over rubble, left hand cradled against her chest, she came to the corner of a house and climbed up it one-handed to see what was going on.
O
Diesel had been near the Eastern Road when the bomb blasts went off. He had managed to protect his head and chest from flying bits, but his wounded leg hurt from the impact and the breath was blown from him. He lay for a few seconds, waiting for the last couple of bombs to go and the dust to settle. Then he slowly pushed himself out of the rubble and got to his feet.
The arena was gone – the rich, the barracks, the slums. Only the Cornucopia Hill stood, a huge mound rising up above the rubble, and in the distance the thin forest. The Gamemakers had obviously decided to step up the game a little more. He wondered what was going to come in the next few days. Then he wondered whether he'd be alive to find out.
Brushing dust and bits and pieces out his hair, he clambered towards the Eastern Street. It had been left bare – he guessed the other three had as well. In his mind's eye the arena now looked like a massive compass, with north, south, east and west and the Cornucopia in the centre, pointing north.
He staggered down the Eastern Road, sunlight burning his eyes. The explosions had disoriented him somewhat, and he felt dizzy and strange as well. Probably he got knocked on the head by a stray brick. But as he stopped to rest his bad leg and decided what to do, he felt a colossal fist punch the small of his back. He was sent flying, crashing to the ground a few feet along. He couldn't help yelling out as the sharp point of a broken brick caught his injured leg.
'Weak little boy,' growled Jayson. His voice was deep and rough, with a slightly guttural edge to it. He towered over Diesel, massive fists clenched above him. 'I'm gonna kill you soo easy.' Diesel knew that in a straight fight he had no chance. Jayson would crush him or smash his head open with that hammer of his. But maybe with a rapier? If only he could convince him…
With a smile he held up his hands in a sign of defeat. 'Fine, fine, kill me. There's nothing I can do, you've got me trapped, the whole of the Panem is watching, and I'm helpless at your feet.' Jayson gave a satisfied smile, and Diesel realised that there was no way he'd push Jayson into feeling dishonourable that way. He'd have to go head on into it. 'But don't you think it's a little too easy?' Jayson's brutish face was suddenly etched with confusion.
'Too … easy?' he grunted. 'You tricking me, Seven?'
'No, no, of course not! But don't you think, if you're going to kill me, it should be in a more exciting, honourable way? Nothing gets sponsors like honour and excitement.' If Jayson was too stupid for hinting, he certainly understood sponsors.
'How do you want to fight, Seven? A wrestle?' he leered, flexing his massive biceps. 'Or have you got your own hammer somewhere?'
'They're much too boring, don't you think?'
'How do you know?'
'I know these things. But how about swords? All the best Hunger Games duels are with swords. And look, you still have one.' Jayson frowned, looking down at the short sword at his belt, then shrugged and tucked his hammer away, pulling out the sword with a dull rasp. Diesel took this as leave to get to his feet, and stiffly stood up, pulling out his rapier and stepping back a few paces.
Jayson scowled at him. 'You run, Seven, and I'll smash your back and leave you to die,' he growled.
'Run? On this leg?' laughed Diesel. 'No chance!' They stood facing each other for a few moments, until Jayson jumped forward and slashed at him in a downwards arc. There was immense power in the blow, but to Diesel it seemed to be in slow-motion, and he easily jumped out the way, stumbling slightly on his leg. Jayson frowned in annoyance but attacked again, Diesel side-stepping it easily. The duel continued as such, Jayson constantly stomping after Diesel and waving his sword about, while Diesel seemed to almost dance around him, always out of reach. And all the while Jessalyn watched from her corner-wall, and Cleo, unseen by all, from the shadowy remains of an alley.
Jayson slowly seemed to get frustrated, which just meant his blows were wilder and even more badly aimed. But Diesel was also tiring – the strain on his leg was starting to trouble him, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. A couple of times he didn't jump out the way fast enough, and Jayson's blade passed hardly a hair's breadth from his body, or he had to give a glancing parry. When he did, the blow jarred his arms horribly.
Soon the fight was more even, Jayson pressed Diesel more and more. Diesel started to fight in earnest, stabbing and cutting at Jayson as much as he could without getting killed. First couple of blows just caught Jayson's belt or cut material. But then Diesel managed to slice open his face along his cheekbone. Jayson stumbled backwards, his free hand going to his face and coming back bloody. He stared at it for a few moments, before giving a roar and running forward, sword raised. Diesel couldn't get out of the way in time and lifted his rapier in defence. Jayson's blow hit it with such force that it snapped cleanly in two, and the sword kept going. It cut through his shoulder to the bottom of his ribcage almost splitting his left shoulder and head from the rest.
Diesel's mouth fell open in a look of silent surprise. He dropped the rapier and his hands closed around the hilt of the bloody short sword as if to pull it out. But before they could he tumbled forward onto the stones, dead. Jayson gave a satisfied smile as the cannon boomed, and swaggered away. A metal arm extended down and lifted Diesel's body up and away.
DIESEL! Sadness. It's all going down in the next chapter. That one might be a while coming, just to warn you all, and I'm sorry, but as I said at the start of the chapter, I've got a load of schoolwork and also extracurricular and socialising and other stories. So I'm sorry, but that's life.
List of the Dead
Hareld Wyre
Jenna Monroe
Nathaniel Merezald
Pau Furnely
Ginevra Helena di Cosimo
Patrick Volta
Trix Lexon
Amore Gemini
Odio Gemini
Tabytha laDawn Carmahel
Dawn Shentell
Sephiria Raven
Scott Fosters
Violet Queens
Ember Gildern
Kai Septor
Lottie Blacilla
Skye Coral
Niall Hoult
Sparkle Velia
Diesel Cain
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I hope I didn't miss anyone off! With these points you can buy things. The prices will go up through the chapters, so don't spend all your points now – you may need them later:
Water Purification Tablets: 70P
Matches: 70P
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