If there is one characteristic of great warriors throughout history, it is that they have always been able to find a way to use their surroundings against their enemies. Whether it is two cavemen trying to bash each other with clubs or two attack hovercraft pilots thousands of feet in the air, one thing seems to hold true: the one who can make the other come to them on their own terms will usually triumph despite overwhelming odds and strength. This is what I always loved about Katniss Everdeen. A skill that I have practiced years to develop (not entirely successfully, I might add) always seemed to come to her completely naturally: make them fight your fight.
Now, as I find myself backed against a lethal wall of energy, in the open and downhill from a mob of killers armed with the latest technology of death, I know that this is certainly not where I want the first showdown to occur. I run north, skirting the force field towards a rock outcropping. It is almost a natural wall that leads from the edge of the cliff back into the forest. As I reach its steep crags, I begin to climb as fast as I can. Just as I reach the top, I look back over my shoulder and see the three hunters break through the tree line. The first takes aim and fires. He is a poor shot and his bullets hit the rocks a few feet to my left. Just as the rest take aim, I dive behind the outcropping and run back uphill towards the jungle. The hunters now have two choices: climb up the outcropping after me with their heavy equipment, or go back into the jungle and find a way around. Either one they make, it still gives me time.
Facing them unarmed would be suicide. Even if I got the jump on them, by the time I finished the first one, the other two would have me dead to rights. No, whatever I do has to be fast and precise. I need something…need something…then I see it, exactly what I am looking for. Just as I suspected, this vein of rock must be an old lava flow that eons ago ran from the volcanoes in the island's center down towards the sea. Lava is a miraculous substance: composed of dozens of different materials heated to thousands of degrees in the depths of the earth. Most of these minerals are rather inert and uninteresting, but every once and awhile, a little bit of sand melts and cools just right to form a magic tool that helped our ancestors survive the stone age: Obsidian or volcanic glass. About a hundred yards inside the trees, a slightly different shade of stone juts out from underneath the rocks. I dash down the side of the outcropping and toward what I hope will be my salvation. I look around trying to find a rock that will serve my purpose. After all, I only have time to try this once. Eventually, I settle on a fist-sized round stone, raise it high over my head and strike down hard at the lava flow. Nothing happens.
I can just begin to hear the hunters in the jungle. Looks like they went with option two and went back into the treeline to find a way around.
"C'mon, you bastard," I mutter angrily. As I raise the rock and slam it down again. Still Nothing. Doubt starts seeping in. Did I not recognize the rock correctly? Am I doing this right? Am I wasting valuable time? I decide to try once more before I bolt and run. This time, all bets are off. I rise to my feet, hold up my cave hammer, and wail down with all my might.
"CRUNCH!" I hear as the rock gives way. It is absolutely perfect. Lying at my feet is a four-inch long sliver of translucent black glass. Along the side which peeled away from the lava flow is a perfect edge, five times sharper than a surgeon's scalpel. I have a weapon, and that may be enough.
I pick up my primitive knife and continue running north into the jungle. The hunters must have found a way around the outcropping because I can hear them growing closer as they hack and slash through the tangle of leaves and vines.
"Fight on my terms….fight on my terms…" I repeat the thought over and over again hoping for another useful revelation. Obviously, I have to take them by surprise. Not an easy task considering they can still follow my tracelet's signal. The trees? No, If they spot me up there before I can make my move, I'm a dead man. There must be something else. Rocks, vines, roots, a hole, anything! Panic begins to rise inside me. However, just as I think my string of good luck is finally running out, I spot it: a break in the tree line. A large depression in the ground has filled with stagnant water. The mire is almost black with decaying plant matter, but it is perfect for me. I see some reeds that have grown at the water's edge. I find a thick one, break it off at the base, and try to breathe. Not a lot of air, but enough, considering I must remain completely still.
They are very close now, probably no more than a hundred yards away. I'm amazed they haven't tried to fire at me again, but I figure after the chase I've put them through; they want to be slightly more up close and personal in their final business. I slip beneath the murky putrid mess. The stale smell is awful, like rotting garbage that has been left in the sun for too long, but I don't even think about it, the time to strike is so close, that I must remain completely focused. Four inches beneath the water, and I've already disappeared. My breathing through the reed snorkel is as quiet and light as I can make it without blacking out. I rest my feet gently on the bottom ready to spring my trap. I focus on becoming completely invisible, a part of nature itself that is about to strike those arrogant enough to challenge it.
They plunge through the trees and come into view. I can tell from their panting that they are exhausted, weighed down by their weapons, armor and gear in this heat. The words they say are muffled by the still water, but I can still hear their exasperated anger.
"You said he would be right here!"
"Are you sure you're reading that thing right?"
Another one pulls out a tracelet receiver.
"Look, at the indicator!" The one with the receiver has his back to me, and the others are distracted. The time is now.
I fly from the water like a missile and leap forward, wrapping my arms around the one with his back turned toward me. Everything around me turns to slow motion as I reach up and grab the hunter's chin, exposing his neck before I slash the obsidian blade in my hand across his throat. He falls limp and I feel the warm flow of fresh blood in my hands. I drop my cave knife and use him for a shield as I reach down to his hip and draw his pistol.
The second hunter standing just four feet in front of me freezes in fear. I do not hesitate as I aim and fire. The bullet strikes home, punching a hole straight through his visor, splattering it with brains. Before he even hits the ground, my eyes move to the third and final hunter. He is not as stunned as his counterpart was. I see his assault rifle start to move to his shoulder. I drop my human shield to the ground and jump at a sharp angle as a burst of rounds slices the air where I was just standing. As I fly through the air, I take aim once again with the pistol and fire a snap shot. The bullet glances off his armored helmet, but the shock is enough to send him tumbling to the ground stunned.
As he tries to claw to his feet in the soft mud, I calmly walk over and kick him in the side. He collapses onto his back and my boot's sole finds his throat. He gasps for air, but it is no use. He is now my prey. As the world returns to normal speed, I reach down, unbuckle his chin strap, and toss his helmet aside. He stares up at me with gaping mouth and terrified eyes. I keep the muzzle of my new pistol pointed squarely between them.
"How many more?" I ask without pity or emotion.
"Ppplease," he manages to choke out through the pressure of my boot.
"How many more."
"The old man's got an army! At least a hundred more guys, plus all the computer freaks in the compound. That place is harder to crack than "The Nut" was back in the war."
"Are they all as good as you?" I ask sarcastically.
"Better, better, man. Hey, I just do this because of the money. That's it, it's only business. Nothing personal. Really, I swear."
"What about the others you killed? Were they personal to you? Because they were sure personal to me."
"C'mon, please. I have a family!" I can tell from his face he's about to black out.
"So do I." At that moment, my finger squeezes the trigger. A gun shot rings out through the jungle. Then, there is only silence.
For a moment, I look down to where the man's face once was. The adrenaline that has been my salvation since the beginning rapidly fades away and I soon realize that I am shaking like a leaf. Nausea sets in and I vomit the contents of my prison breakfast all over the jungle floor. I have killed before, but never this way. Never this personal and never this close up.
Somehow, my heart prays that this will all be over now. Ohm will realize that he made a terrible mistake, release Lizzy back to me, and let me escape with her as he flees into the sunset, never to be heard from again. My brain, however, is too old to believe in fairy tales. If this hunter was telling the truth, then there is a long way to go before I know what it is like to be safe again. The battle has begun: first blood has been spilled.
Rapidly, I begin the work of stripping everything useful of the bodies of the fallen. Each has a canteen strapped to their waist. I grab the nearest one, raise it to my mouth, and empty it into my dehydrated body without stopping. I grab the ones from the others for later. The second one I killed also had a radio strapped to his vest.
"Might as well," I think to myself. "I may even be able to pick up on some enemy chatter." I hook it securely to my belt and place the earpiece in. The weapons and ammo are also obvious choices. I unclip all their bandoliers, and throw them around my chest. I also keep the pistol, two hand grenades, and a hunting knife. In one of their pockets, I also find a pair of night vision glasses just like the ones Katniss used in the Seventy-Fourth Games. I decide to leave the body armor and helmets. I don't what them slowing me down as much as these jokers and if the Mark 17 lives up to the test that I put it through back at Special Defense, they wouldn't do me much good anyway. Next, I pry the tracelet receiver out of the hands of my human shield and click on the display. My exact location is displayed precisely.
"If, I'm going to live through this, I've got to do something about this damned tracelet." The plan that crossed through my mind earlier returns and I immediately begin cutting the rubber soles off the dead hunter's boots. As fast as I can, I slice them into thin strips and place them in my pocket.
Finally, as I sling an assault rifle across my chest, I realize something that lifts my morale to the highest point since this all started:
"I am armed, I am dangerous, and they know it." I reach down to the radio and click the transmit button.
"Did you see that?" I say with a quiet fury into the microphone. "Did you see what I did to them? Let her go, or the same thing will happen to all of you…" I quickly release the button and prepare to run. Before I even have the chance to take one step, Ohm answers back.