Back during the Dark Days, District 10 had passed tradition down through word of mouth and oral histories. The cataloging of the Capitol's grievances against the land of cattle and ranches had never been forgotten, despite how some districts fared in the modern day. It was said that there were all types of muttations – or mutts, as the districts referred to them as – that the Capitol enjoyed spawning for the hardship of the rebels. Some were physical in nature – they killed, or destroyed, or harassed. These ranged from small and poisonous insects to larger meat shields that chewed up bullet fire in order to distract rebel military operations. Others played on mental fears and worries – Jabberjays fit this example to a tee, with their ability to record and disseminate information.
The worst mutts, however, combined both into a psychological and physical monstrosity – something born of horror and forged in pits of nightmares. Whatever the Capitol's most terrifying minds produced, the spawn of their labors feasted on fear and pain. The scars they left sometimes never healed.
As Sam got her first look at Storm's predicament, she knew which type of abomination the Gamesmakers had unleashed into the arena.
"Sam, go! I'll hold it off long enough and then make it to you!" Storm shouted, spear in a defensive position.
"Not without Gannet!" Sam countermanded, on her feet but unwilling to abandon the girl from District 4.
The mutt that scuttled before Storm came across as unlike anything Sam could have imagined as it unleashed another one of its terrifying screams – a death howl of human suffering and pain compounded a thousand times over. The best she could think of was a giant scorpion – an eight-legged creature with a hardened black carapace that reached up to seven feet high at the top of its tail, bulky enough to present a glaring and deadly problem facing off against Storm. Physically, the mutt had a decisive advantage – a powerful, spear-like stinger the size of a fist and as sharp as a scalpel complemented two thick ripping claws that snapped and cracked at the three tributes. As was the Capitol's tradition, however, those were the least unsettling attributes to worry about.
Human skin – human muscle – coated the limbs of the creature, stretching and straining with each movement. Each of the legs didn't end with the usual claw of normal scorpions, but with something that seemed closest to an armored human hand, stuck forever with fingers fused together. It was like a lab-grown chimera that had been thrown out and rejected due to sheer dismay, forced into the desert to overwhelm anyone unfortunate enough to look on to its cobbled-together self. Far more unnerving was its face – if its front could be referred to as such. Normal scorpions, the kind that fit into Sam's hand back on District 10's ranches, sported eight small eyes and little pincers – this instead wore two blood-red irises set in cow-like white orbs, staring at Storm and Sam from above what could only be called a mouth. The screams were the worst – without any hindrances in the way of its shouts, it was clearly obvious what the Capitol had done with this creature.
They had implanted vocal chords.
They tortured people, Sam thought in an instant as it moaned and howled at Storm. They tortured innocent people, and then recorded their screams and forced it into this sad monster.
The eyes of the scorpion mutt reflected such a sentiment – despite their color, something about them spoke of agony and regret, as if the beast wanted to do anything but slaughter the tributes before it. Yet the animal brain of it pushed the mutt on – snapping and sparring with Storm as it sized up the best avenue for attack against the spear-wielding human.
Gannet had cleared all but the lower half of her right leg out of the quicksand – and Sam figured that was close enough. She'd have to risk pulling the girl out – they had no time, not anymore.
"Gannet, give me your hand, okay?" Sam braved through the fear of the moment. "Give me your hand, I'm gonna help you out and then we have to run."
A thunderous wham! sounded out as the scorpion mutt went for a kill strike, slamming its stinger against a rock like an artillery round. Storm narrowly avoided the attack, slipping by just at the last minute. The rock exploded with force, showering bits of debris everywhere. The mutt grew enraged, swinging its claws like maces over Storm's head. One bad move by the boy from District 12, and he'd be heading home in a box.
Sam grabbed Gannet's wrist, planting her feet against a rock and hoping for the best. Gannet kicked her right foot against the muck, generating enough disturbance in the quicksand to produce some give. With straining effort from both the girls, the quicksand gave way and slopped back into the pool. Sam and Gannet both rocked back into the sandy desert floor, gasping for breath and panting from exertion. Neither had time to waste.
A splatter of blood splashed across Sam's face as she got up; horrified, she turned towards the fight. Storm had scored a lucky hit – his spear had gone clean through one of the human skinned-legs of the grotesque mutt, shearing it off at the second joint. The beast screamed – a torturous thing that forced Sam to squeeze her eyes shut and clamp her hands over her ears.
"C'mon!" Gannet pleaded in panicked fashion, dripping mud and grabbing Sam's hand. As the two prepared to run out of the area, the mutt slammed its tail down twice next to Storm, throwing him off balance and allowing it to charge. With a rush and a roar, it snatched the boy from District 12 up in one of its claws, preparing for the death blow.
"No! Storm!" Sam cried out, shoving off of Gannet and picking up the nearest thing – a sharp and heavy rock. It wouldn't kill something that size, but the only hope she had of saving Storm was to distract it…to get it paying attention to her. She couldn't lose Storm – no matter what he'd said and done, she couldn't let him get crushed or gored to death by that Capitol-built abomination.
In a rush of adrenaline-fueled courage, Sam hurled the rock with as much force as she could straight at the scorpion mutt's eyes. It was a near miss, but still managed to strike the beast straight in its gaping mouth. That had done the trick – with an inhuman, carnal snarl, it tossed Storm aside like a rag doll and charged headlong at Sam and Gannet. The two dashed for cover as the mutt made mincemeat out of several large stones.
"Gannet, get across the river, to the other side, run!" Sam shouted, looking back for Storm. "I'll get over there as soon as I can!"
That slight hesitation proved Sam's undoing. As Gannet made a beeline for the water, the mutt had just enough time to home in on its new target. A huge claw snatched Sam around the torso, picking her up and slamming her against the ground. She had just enough time to figure out the situation and look deep into the mutt's saddened eyes before it unloaded with the tail stinger. Even as she dodged her head and as much of her upper body as she could muster out of the way, the speed of the creature blinded her – in a flash, it sent the barb straight through her left shoulder and penetrating out the other side.
Sam screamed in pain, cramming her eyes shut as she tried to block out the agony of the blow. Bright crimson blood spurted out as the scorpion yanked its barb out, still pinning her to the ground as it prepared to finish off its quarry. Sam's eyes clouded up as if seeing the scene in a dream state – the mutt roared a forlorn cry as it arched its tail, ready to kill. In a flash, something interfered – a blur of brown ripped into the scorpion, driving deep into its left eye. The mutt roared in pain, dropping Sam and scuttling back as it tried to dislodge the spear that Storm had buried beyond the spearhead.
"I got you!" Storm lifted up Sam with both arms as she lolled in his grasp, head drooping and vision skewed. Warm blood lapped at her chest and arms, making her feel cold from the loss of fluid. The gory impact of the scorpion's stinger hadn't left a mess, but it had punched deep and hard – straight through the shoulder's muscle and just missing the bone. Sam was in no condition to fight or even move.
The scorpion mutt had its own problems now, ignoring the fleeing tributes as it slammed its tail down to dislodge the spear. Eventually it worked the weapon out, screaming and moaning all the way as the beast retreated back into its lair. A mixture of red human blood and brown fluid from the mutt left a battle scene behind on the sandy earth – the Capitol had certainly gotten its entertainment for the day.
Storm forded the river with Sam in his arms, stopping just long enough to get a glimpse of the mutt's retreat back to its hole. It didn't like water or it didn't like him – either way it was gone for now. The girl in his arms was a different story – Sam clutched onto consciousness as the pain eroded her will, threatening to overcome her with fatigue and agony. Gannet rushed up as Storm found the other bank, dripping wet from washing the quicksand off in the river and eyes scarred with worry. She had forged a deal with Sam – not with Storm, who could certainly kill her easily if he wanted to.
The boy had other ideas.
Sam heard the words around her as if through cotton, just catching Storm's authoritative commands: "The pack's got a medical kit, go get it now."
Gannet let her eyes fall onto the wound, seeing the blood – and shockingly to Sam fell straight into action, as if heeding a calling to save the only person who saw her as an ally in the Games. She made a break for the pack as Storm tore off his undershirt, ripping it into a long strand to bind about Sam's shoulder and stem the bleeding.
To Sam, the entire thing seemed surreal. What is he doing, she thought. He could kill me right now. Not much use keeping me around…injured, half-dead, only not crying 'cuz this hurts too much. Just let me go. Go win. I can't do anything else now…the Gamesmakers and their five score were right. Just let me go. Wish I could have seen the stars again, though.
Gannet hurried up with the medical kit, unraveling the large bandage to rip it in two. With a speed and grace that seemingly defied her diminutive stature, she compressed both makeshift pads to either side of the entry wounds and wrapped Storm's torn shirt tightly about that, making a fishing knot in the fabric that would allow Sam's circulation to keep flowing but would keep pressure on the wounds.
With a start, Sam coughed violently, a throaty, deep thing. She couldn't get enough air! It was like someone had cut off the ventilation, ripping out the oxygen from her lungs. She took small, short breaths that did almost nothing, providing just enough to keep going – just let it end already! I'm already dead! Her chest heaved in and out with labored motions, grasping for any and all available oxygen to keep her going. Red blood began staining the shoulder bandage; it was holding off extreme blood loss, but Sam no doubt was going to be in a battle to stay conscious.
Gannet inhaled sharply as Sam began to gasp and clutch for breath. She pulled Sam's knife from the fist that had clutched around it in a death grip, fishing a long piece of clear tubing from the medical kit and giving Storm a serious look.
"Do you have a water bottle or something that can hold water?" Gannet asked Storm quietly, her eyes focused on some point far in the distance.
"What does that matter?" he asked sharply – medical care was not his expertise.
"We have sharks in District 4," Gannet replied, her voice squeaking off each syllable as she steeled herself for the next step. She shrugged off Storm's accusatory tone, readying herself solely for trying to save a life. "Sometimes they attack people diving for fish and hurt them. I need to try something or I dunno if she's gonna be okay. Do you have a water bottle?"
"Yeah," Storm nodded, still unsure of Gannet's intent. "I'll go fill it up. Gimme a sec."
Sam felt Gannet's hand close around hers, sparking her to instantly clamp her fingers down. She needed something to hold on to as pictures and clouds crowded her vision – was this how death worked? As she gasped for breath, images flooded in – back on the plains, she sat amongst farm animals and warm bursts of prairie wind. Cattle lowed softly as herds grazed on her father's ranch, giving her the time and peace of mind to simply watch. That was the good thing with District 10, in some aspects – if you had some measure of wealth, like the Parkers did, raising the animals allowed for plenty of downtime. They knew how to take care of themselves, and it didn't take much to-
Oh God! What is she doing?
"What the hell are you doing?" Storm nearly swatted Gannet's arm away as she drove the tip ever so slightly into Sam's underarm, below the armpit and just above a rib. Beads of blood trickled out from the incision, drawing up into a puddle on Sam's sweat-soaked skin.
"My brother got bit by a shark," Gannet closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself a deep breath in to stay calm and shed the pressure of the moment. Relating the story to Storm eased her mind and allowed her to divert her anxiety elsewhere – after all, Sam had certainly saved her life by pulling her from the quicksand. She owed her ally a life. "A big one. My dad and I were the only other ones on the boat…blood had got in into the stuff in the chest. He and I had to do this…I'm sorry, it's gonna hurt."
Gannet picked around with the knife tip, finding the right spot in Sam's flesh and digging the blade in deeper. She grabbed the measure of tubing quickly and worked it into the incision. Sam gasped at the pain, her head still swimming with cloudy thoughts and now feeling the pulsing drum of fire erupting through her underarm and chest. The girl from District 4 didn't give up despite Sam's weak cries of fear and hurt, working the tube in until a small amount of blood began to trickle up. She allowed herself a brief smile – at least one small success had gone right through the ordeal – and stuck the other end of the tube into the full water bottle. They'd just have to make do getting water the old-fashioned way.
"I need to hold this down onto her so it doesn't go anywhere or slip," Gannet looked up at Storm, acknowledging him again now that she'd pulled off the procedure she'd only had a hand in once before. A lifetime of fine work with complicated knots and fishing from moving boats had paid off in a rather unlikely manner in the arena. "Is there…tape or something in that kit?"
Storm shook his head, still confused over what Gannet had done – regardless, Sam had caught a breath and no longer was gasping for air. "Just a couple sticky bandages. What'd you do anyway?"
"Okay, I'll use those. She has blood in her chest and it's pressuring her lung. That's what happened to my brother; that's how my dad explained it. I'm happy that worked…sort of. Can you cut her shirt off? I need to stick this tube to her."
She handed the knife the Storm as Sam's eyes followed the motions. What was she talking about? Gannet's words had passed right over the hazy scene, but her sense of calm in the heat of the moment – where had that come from? Sam had picked Gannet as just a little girl thrown into circumstances, yet she'd probably just saved her life. Great, now she owed everyone – Storm had been there for her after she'd accidentally killed off Troop with the burning brand the night before, and now the unlikeliest of tributes had just pulled her back from what she'd figured had been a terminal injury.
Guess the Gamesmakers will be unhappy.
Sam was only vaguely aware of Storm cutting through her shirt, leaving only her underwear and the bandage tie on her shoulder guarding her upper torso from the heat of the afternoon desert sun. Gannet wrapped the sticky bandages as best she could around the tube, hoping that infection wouldn't set in. The dry desert air provided less likelihood of disease – and besides, the Gamesmakers couldn't find a tribute slowly rotting away from sickness to be exciting, could they?
Sam caught Storm arguing with Gannet over where to move her, the two trying to stay away from Careers or any more mutts in her condition. It all blended together as her eyes drifted up to the sun and the sky – how strange it all was. Was this how it was supposed to be in the arena? Death around every corner, doing your best to avoid getting sent home in a pine box with each passing minute?
You shoulda just let me die, Gannet. Now you and Storm have to stay here with me.
Before Sam had time to debate the merits of her survival, welcome unconsciousness dove in, clouding her with soft and mutt-free sleep.
A/N: Okay, so that was kinda unscientific. Don't try that thoracostomy procedure at home!
Lemme know what you think about the fight scene – good, bad, need more action, freakier mutts? Tell me in the review section.