Title: Awake and Sing
Author: A Crazy Elephant
Summary: Or "Let the 10th Annual Hunger Games Begin!"
Category: Action/Adventure/Drama
Chapter Word Count: 3,150
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games universe and related characters do not belong to me.
Author's Notes: I'm sorry for yet another delay. I'm down to an exam and a design presentation now, so in a few short days I should be able to get back on something like a regular posting schedule. As always, I'd like to thank everyone who's read this far, especially those of you who've reviewed, alerted and/or favorited this piece. I love your feedback. ^.^
Chapter Fun Facts: Asian carp actually are an invasive scourge in Midwest waterways. There's presently a concentrated effort to keep them out of Lake Michigan, they're so destructive to the native ecosystems. Mags' midsize fish is not unusual either – it's not difficult for them to weigh over 40 lb (the record bowfishing catch in the US is 92 lb). And yes, Rose is an Everdeen. District 12 isn't very big and surly Katniss' father had to learn how to make a bow from someone.
Let me know what you think! = )
9 - Allies
If there are any cannons overnight, I don't hear them.
Instead, I wake stiff and shivering just before dawn. My pack has proved a poor pillow. The space blanket alone was unacceptable in staving off the cold. This is an issue to address today.
The first order of business is painfully obvious. The achy growl from my stomach cannot be ignored.
Yesterday, anxiety was enough to discourage hunger. Today, it's too much to ignore that my last meal was breakfast with Saoirse. Almost twenty-four hours ago.
My first stop has to be the canal.
I repack my things and clear out of the little metal cubby. It might be worth it to return this evening, but I'll need to replenish my water source. I'm not going to risk the cubby's discovery by lighting a signal fire.
I hike out again. Northwest, to hit the stream, but not the way I came from last night.
The grass I've been using for my baskets won't do for a net, but I'm able to devise a hook and line from the bungee hook that had secured the tarp and awl and the string in my jacket hood. I dig up a couple of worms from under a crumbling bit of pavement on a side street. It might be a long shot. I don't even know if there are fish in the canal. Let alone if they're the sort that would be interested in a worm. But without a net and short of any better bait, worms will have to do.
On the way, I set a snare or two with the creeping vine that climbs the tree trunks and the ruined structures. This is perhaps an even longer shot. The vine is tough, but it's dry and doesn't tie well. I haven't got a knife, so I have to hack the ends with the awl. It's tedious and messy, but it might be worth it if I nabbed even something small like a chipmunk.
I still make sure to collect tinder, too. I've been drinking water to stave off the gnawing hunger and I'm nearly out. The canteen can boil while I make a go of fishing.
When I finally reach the shore, it's all ready midmorning. I make the fire pit under cover of another ruined metal building. Set the canteen boiling with a fresh round of water while I cast my makeshift line from behind a particularly large hunk of cement.
Nothing happens.
I boil down a second batch of water and work on my bag-basket. I'm still feeling terribly exposed, down by the water. I'm not entirely sure what else to do. I haven't recognized any of the plants from training station on my hikes. There hasn't been hide or hair of anything like game either. No squirrels. No rabbits. No deer. Not that I have the knife to skin one, even if I had seen one, much less caught one.
I finish off my bag-basket around noon. There hasn't been so much as a nibble on my line. I fish out the canteen from the fire. Stamp out the embers with sand and a hunk of cement from the shore. Go back to my line.
I try fresh bait. Some aquatic plants from the edge of the canal instead of worms. Move the line farther upstream, back towards my little metal cubby. It's more exposed here, but the water's darker. Deeper. I replace the bait and cast again. While I wait, I start collecting grass for a sleeping mat. A mat will leave the tarp free to act as a second blanket. If I'm lucky, the added cover of the tarp will keep me warmer tonight.
The fishing line finally twitches mid afternoon.
I immediately abandon my weaving and dive for the line. Haul it back with all my might. The catch puts up quite a fight, but I keep hold. I am rewarded with a carp. It's a big one too. Just bigger than my forearm and wriggling for all it's worth. I'm a little proud my line held.
I'm admiring my catch when my luck runs out.
An arrow pierces the shore to my right. Then another.
A fresh wave of adrenalin shoots through me. Anger at my own stupidity too. That I could be so inattentive. I grab my carp, my pack, pull my awl from my belt and dive for one of the cement slabs along the shore. One that's nearly in its original position, propped up by the water. It's poor cover, but it's not an arrow in my gut.
Some competitor I am.
Barely twenty-four hours in the Arena and I'm dead.
I can't say it's horribly surprising. I've known since before my name was even pulled that I never stood a chance. My family knew it. Thom and Minerva knew it. Saoirse and Dio and everyone else in the damn Capitol knew it.
That doesn't make it any less terrifying.
Possible actions fly through my brain. There seem to be only two. One, wait here for my fellow Tributes to close in and kill me off. Two, hop into the canal regardless of what might be swimming in it and try and make a run for it.
I'm eyeing the canal behind me when someone calls out.
"Ho 4!" I pause. Chance a look over my cement slab.
It's Boy 7. We haven't spoken since the night of the opening ceremonies, but I recognize him from Training. He's a Seventeen. Averaged sized, not beefy like Flynn, but not scrawny like me either. Tanned skin. Long, shiny, dark hair. Eyes like coal. He's got a much bigger pack than my little red one. As Flynn observed, 7 carries an ax. A hatchet too.
"Hey darling!" He waves. "Just the girl we were looking for! Wanna drop that little stick pin, baby doll?" He calls, waving to the awl in my hand. We. So he isn't alone. This is not comforting. There's a grin on his face that I can't read. That doesn't do terribly much for my calm either.
"Don't look so scared!" He laughs. "We need you alive, doll!"
"A-A-Alive?" I call back. I don't trust him. I can't trust him. But I don't jump for the water. Not just yet.
"Least for now." He says. He waves his companions out of hiding. Girl 12 and Boy 11. Girl 12 is the one with the bow. She's a Seventeen. Tall, slender. Loopy brown curls the color of chocolate. Gray eyes. Striking, rather like Shep. Boy 11 has a spear. He's only a Fifteen, but he's nearly the size of 7. Dark skin. Dark eyes. Thin and willowy. A runner.
"W-Why me?" I ask.
"A few reasons." Boy 7 says. "One, by now, I'm sure you've noticed the alliance on the shore." I nod. "Four of them, four of us." He continues. "Two, you lit out of the Cornucopia awful fast, so I presume you missed the part when that Doil fella turned into a raving lunatic."
"W-What do you mean?" I ask.
"He ain't just killin'." Boy 11 puts in. "He's getting' his jollies first."
"E-Excuse me?"
"Raped his kill to death." Girl 12 explains. "Only cut and run with that hulk from your district tried to skewer him."
"Ain't safe with him runnin' loose." Boy 11 agrees.
"We need all the help we can get." 7 nods. "But most importantly, three," He continues. 7 motions to the carp. I've the awl in one hand, but I'm still clutching the line and the fish in the other. "Not much food in here." He says.
"Plants ain't edible." Girl 12 says. "Only food comes out of the rivers, the trees and the packs the Gamemakers piled up back at the Cornucopia."
"You have just acquired the first non-Gamemade meal." 7 continues. He nods again to my carp. "Here's the deal, 4." They're much to close to comfort now. I glance back again at the water. "You fish. Rose hunts. Badge here keeps that loony from raping us to death in our sleep. I'll keep the fire going. At least until the final eight or so."
"I- " I can't trust them. They need me to die if they ever hope to see their districts again. Just like I need them dead. There are no friends in the Games. 7 seems to see my mistrust. He smiles.
"Here." He pulls something from the pocket of his jacket. Throws it to me. I drop the awl to catch it.
A slingshot.
"You in 4?" He asks. I study them a moment. Then the slingshot.
I'm in.
We make a meal of the carp back under the cover of the trees. Carp are bony and not particularly good for much. They're really quite a menace in the freshwater deltas and not worth the catch. Waste of time and effort. Capitol citizens won't eat them so you don't get paid for pulling them in and risk a flogging for poaching if the Peacekeepers see you.
But we haven't had a decent meal since yesterday. My new allies have been snacking on apples pulled from the Cornucopia, but apples aren't protein like a fish. A bony carp is certainly better than no carp at all where calories are concerned. Boy 11, Badge, lends me a knife. Girl 12, Rose and 7, who's name turns out is Zeke, build a fire. They fill me in on what they know about the playing field and the Arena.
They had done well at the Cornucopia. Not as well as Flynn's team, but better than me. Rose made it out with the bow, arrows, a first aid kit and the bag of apples. Zeke got his ax, the hatchet and a pack with matches, a canteen and a sleeping bag. Badge picked up the spear, a knife and a small pack with the slingshot, more matches and a coil of rope.
Rose and Zeke had teamed up back in training when it had become clear that Flynn, Lace and the 2s were allying. The team was supposed to have included Rose's district partner, Sam and Zeke's too, the little Twelve named Hannie. Sam, since the explosion of Girl 9 at the start plate, has so far been nowhere to be found. Hannie had taken one of Phaedra's arrows to the back as they'd made a run for it after the bloodbath. I'm a little surprised to hear the audible sadness in Zeke's voice as he tells me this.
They'd picked up Badge just beyond the Cornucopia. His district partner had likewise gone AWOL. He'd seen what Flynn's pack and Doil had done. He hadn't been keen to strike it alone with the 2s, 1 and 4 all banded together and a psychotic madman on the loose. Signed on with Rose and Zeke after she'd bribed him with a couple of apples.
They'd decided to hunt me up after it was clear I was not going to team up with Flynn and the others. Apparently, they'd even toyed with the idea of winning me back in training. My survival skills hadn't gone unnoticed, but because I'd spent so much time with Flynn and the others, Zeke and Rose had dismissed the idea. That I was a free agent had driven them to revisit the plan. My survival skills, on top of a solid shot at sponsors, thanks to Thom, make me a valuable asset. The deal was cinched when Badge had found the slingshot in his bag. They'd know it would take more than a few apples to win my trust.
Regarding the Arena, they have discovered there are a handful of smaller canals south of us. Some are blocked off and stagnant. Some are as valuable as the large one I have been using.
There are little to no edible plants. Grasses and ivy mostly. Some hemlock, if you're looking to take the easy way out. But nothing safe or even helpful. There are birds and fish. Possibly a few chipmunks and a squirrel or two. Wolves or coyotes too, but those aren't worth the effort of hunting.
Besides Doil's obvious insanity, Flynn's team is by far our greatest enemy. They hold most of the other supplies. They hold the beach. And, according to Rose who was on watch last night, they're hunting fire starters.
"Canon went off early this morning. Few hours before dawn." She explains. I nod, though I didn't hear it. "Even I saw the fire. Someone in a plaza just south east of our camp. Likely thought no one would be awake that late and it got awful cold last night."
"How could you tell it was them?" Badge asks.
"We were close last night and the buildings amplify the sounds – heard them congratulating themselves on the way back to the shore." Rose explains. Zeke whistles.
"They ain't as bad as that Doil fella, but I'll be damned if they ain't as crazy as mudbugs on a griddle themselves." He says. "They've been going at it like the Games are their damn careers or something." Rose nods.
"Our mentor mentioned 2 was gettin' real tired of losing." She says. I nod too.
"Ours too," I say. "Said they were putting them to work." Rose snorts.
"This is why 12 loses, you know." She shakes her head. "Y'all start working early – we don't go into the mines until we're eighteen."
"You ain't doin' so bad, Everdeen." Badge reminds her. "Decent shot when you're actually trying to hit somethin'."
"Yeah, well, my brother's the smithy for them Peacekeepers. Got to test the things before they go to the Head for inspection." She snorts.
"They ain't got guns?" Badge asks. "Our Peacekeeper have all got them guns. And prods."
"They got prods, but you need the bows for the dog-mutts that roam the woods beyond the perimeter." She explains. "All drawn to sound. You get one with a gun, you bring out another four with the noise."
"Dog-mutts?" I ask. This is really the first time I've heard anything about other districts. We are taught their basic industries. Their locations in Panem. But nothing else.
"They let these dog-mutts run during the Rebellion." Rose nods. Takes a bit of an apple. "To sniff out resistance pockets hidin' in the woods around 12. Part of their Peacekeepin' duties is to kill the ones that get too close to the fence. Sometimes the boys even go huntin' them dogs for sport." Zeke nods.
"We got us mutts too. Bear-mutts mostly. Kept insurgents away from reaching logging outposts." He explains. "Tracker jackers too, lots of 'em."
"We got jacker nests something awful." Badge puts in. "Got 'em all over the orchards and in the fields. 4?"
"Some tracker jacker nests." I admit. "Lots of jabberjays."
"Hey, you get them mockers?" Rose asks. "We got them all over."
"11 too." Badge agrees. "Mockingjays nest in the orchards."
"No." I say. "Just the jabberjays. They're all feral now, just repeat any old thing to anyone." The others chuckle. We carry on like this. Laughing. Talking. Like we aren't being hunted by eleven of our peers. Like we aren't fully prepared to slit each other's throats.
A wave of sadness washes over me.
I actually like them. Zeke and his sassy tongue. Practical Rose. Fearless Badge. If we weren't supposed to rip each other apart, I like to think we might even be friends.
When we finish our meal, we start hunting for shelter. I don't mention the little metal cubby I used last night. First, because it certainly wouldn't sleep four. Second because when this alliance ends, and it certainly will, I might need it.
Instead, we find an accidental lean-to. An ancient metal panel has fallen against the side of a brick building so that the resulting structure is a rudimentary a-frame sort of shelter. It's not raised, but there will be more than just me so I don't feel so uncomfortable about bunking down at ground level.
Badge pulls a second panel from the rubble to cover one end of the lean-to. I cover the interior with my grass mat. It's still only half finished, but its something. The boys are sharing the sleeping bag. Rose and I will share the space blanket and the tarp.
For dinner, we each take one of Rose's apples. They only have at best another couple of days in them and we are not going to waste food. When the sun sets we agree to divide into watches. I take first watch, until the moon is a quarter of the way across the sky. Then Rose, Badge and finally Zeke.
We don't dare light a fire.
The anthem plays not long after we hunker down. There's only the one fallen tribute tonight. The one I hadn't heard. Girl 10. The boys are snoring the moment her face vanishes from the sky. Rose insists she can't sleep and sits up with me on my watch.
"The moon looks the same." She says.
"As 12?" I ask. She nods. "Looks like 4 too," I say. She sighs.
"We ain't never going to see them again, you know." She says. "Our districts." I nod. "Even if we can kill that Doil fella before he gets to us, we don't stand a chance against your district partner and his goonies." She observes. I snort.
"Y-You've a better shot at it than me." I admit. "You can actually use a weapon. It always comes down to weapons in the end." It's Rose's turn to snort.
"You got sponsors – I sure ain't got that." She says. "They all want to see you come home and make beautiful Victor-babies with Thom Argon." She snorts another chuckle. Once again, I am reminded of Shep. "Is all that real?" She asks after a pause.
"What?"
"With Argon. His quiet love for you, un-confessed until wretched fate threw y'all together one last time?" She asks with a teasing grin. I shrug.
"I don't know." I say. "He doesn't talk to anyone anymore." I explain. "He'd tease me something awful when we were children, but since he won, he's moved up the shore and tries to avoid everyone." This is not a lie. Rose nods. "Of course, I don't talk to many people either." She snorts another laugh.
"That stammer, yeah?" I nod. Rose snorts again. "Figures." She shakes her head. "You know, I think it's real." She declares after a pause.
"What? Thom?" I ask. Rose nods.
"Ain't nobody on earth can fake that look." She observes.
"What look?" I ask.
"That one he had one during that interview." Rose says. "That dopey look. You know, the one that's all stars and hearts and babies?" She explains. "Hard to hide, impossible to fake." She doesn't let me answer. "I hope you're worth it, 4."
I hope so too.