A/N Disclaimer: Very bloody/visceral chapter with language. Take necessary precautions, because this isn't a pretty one.
A cold white sun rose hauntingly over the quiet desert.
Sam shrugged off sleep, arousing slowly and groggily. She'd neglected to even throw the blanket over her for the rest of the night, falling on the dry earth and passing out after Storm's death. Her jacket had done a poor job insulating her, leaving her frozen to the core. The night had all been too much for her overburdened mind to bear; though she was now just one of two contestants left in the Hunger Games, she felt more stress than over.m
Alone. I am alone.
The loneliness hit hard as Sam struggled to pull things together. She looked around for her backpack but it was nowhere to be found - not as if she'd need it anymore. The Games would have to end today; the audience would be thirsting for blood after a day full of violence and action that had begun with the Cornucopia and had ended deep into the night. No doubt no one in the Capitol had slept – Sam wondered how late into the morning it actually was. Had the sun actually rose, or was that some trick by the Gamesmakers to delude her into thinking it was early?
For that matter, were the Gamesmakers tricking her now?
Would Storm come running out of the tree grove, calling her name and wide-eyed in relief of seeing her? Would Gannet wake up on the other side of the eucalyptus trunk, rubbing her green eyes and asking what they would do for the day? Was she even in an arena period, or had this all been some psychotropic experience the Capitol had launched on her to play tricks?
"Pick up your sword, Sam," she grunted to herself in a monotone voice, begrudgingly accepting reality. "Stand up, Sam."
Somewhere Royal was waiting – of course, the only place she could be. The Cornucopia. Sam knew in a straight-up fight she had little chance. The silver-haired vixen held a formidable advantage in a sheer arsenal with her long-range arrows – even with the shield, Sam wondered if she'd be able to defend herself against the kind of pinpoint accuracy Royal had demonstrated in knocking out Cascade and the girl from District 9. Her shots had simply looked so easy – and now she knew Sam had the shield; she'd seen her take it and defend against her shot.
The scimitar would be a problem, too. It was a far longer weapon than Sam's proven but stout kukri, and if Royal kept her footing she'd easily be able to outmaneuver her opposition and strike from distance. Sam trusted her shield more in such a situation, but Royal seemed far quicker and more agile than the blunt Fresco. The Careers had seemed distinctly afraid of her.
What to do…what to do…
What Sam really needed was a strategy. But what was there? The weapons were gone apart from what was immediately on hand. She couldn't lengthen the Games out; the Capitol would clamor for a resolution today. There was no closing the physical gap; not by a mile. Same went for the experience – Royal was a Career. Sam was just a girl from a ranching district.
"They're big, but sometimes the Careers take things too straightforward," Dallas's voice from the first full day on the train came ringing back in Sam's ears. "You've got a better chance if you out-think them and use the environment to your advantage. Play smarter, not harder."
Okay, that was nice advice when there was actually an environment left, but the Gamesmakers had pretty adamantly flooded the entire canyon. There was the tree grove, the Cornucopia, and a whole lot of desert. Not a whole lot to work with. Besides, he had said that to Laredo and Sam, not to a fresh-faced Career with a proven record of murder.
Well, it worked on Laredo.
Sam went back to the beginning. What kind of strategy could she use? Advantages over Royal were slim, so find one that worked – she was smart, of course. Royal undoubtedly was too, but would they go punch-for-punch in the brain category? If nothing else, that was a start.
Use the environment. Play smarter. What environment?
The mutt, Sammy. The swimming one.
Sam shuddered at the ingenious yet hideous thought that crawled into her mind. The environment had very nicely killed off Laredo, no matter how much she beat herself up for it. The tentacle beast had to be in the area after swimming right by her and Storm the day before – but would it give her enough of a boost to take out Royal? Could she rely on a Gamesmaker contraption to win?
It was worth a chance, no matter how long. Better than nothing.
Finding the swimming mutt would require heading back towards the flooded canyon, and Sam had a pretty good idea where she'd be able to make her endgame. Royal had likely camped near the Cornucopia if she hadn't gone out hunting herself; all the better to use the food and water she'd won. If Sam could sneak out of the grove right at the edge of the water, she had a chance at provoking the mutt before Royal engaged.
Muted light filtered through the ragged tree canopy as Sam began on her way. It wouldn't take her more than a few hours to reach the canyon and the Cornucopia, but the arena's lighting had taken on a particularly dim shade. She wasn't sure if it was her own thoughts or a purposeful act, but her spirit waned in the final hours of the Games.
This is it, Sam thought. Going home, or the end of everything. Kill or be killed. Black and white, no shades of gray.
She wished Storm were here beside her still, giving her the confidence she needed. His arm at her side, his muscular body beside hers – she missed anything that would give solace from the jilted loneliness that followed like a cancer in her shadow. As she moved grimly on, the words and goodbyes from the past few weeks came pouring back one last time.
"Don't hold back, Sammy. Come back to us – I know you can."
"I'll be the first one waving to you when you get off that train from the Capitol. You're gonna be a winner."
"Just know…you're my champion. I'd put the odds in your favor any day."
"You're still my friend, Sam. I'm glad I got to know you."
"You can touch the stars, Sam. You're the brightest star there is."
The weight of the words stunned her as the grove cleared. Sam had envisioned her death a quiet thing in the arena, quickly forgotten by a Capitol crowd lusting for bloodsport. But people had looked out for her, with and without her notice – Jake, Clay, Clara, Dallas, Agrippa, Storm, Gannet…hell, maybe even Cheyenne and Augusta. She wasn't a nobody. She was one more act of valor removed from a victor, a name immortalized in Panem's records. She had survived this far.
I can't let your deaths go in vain…Gannet…Storm…
She didn't want to join them in those stars just yet.
The grove opened quickly back into the expanse of the desert, giving Sam a clear view of the flooded canyon. No ripples or oddities stirred the brackish depths, but no doubt that could change. The Gamesmakers had to have their climax…she just needed to stir it up.
Keeping as low a profile as possible, Sam slung her shield over her back and grabbed a handful of rocks. With a heave, she hurled the stones one after another into the newly-formed river – sploosh, sploosh, sploosh! Nothing came forth, not even a sign. Frustrated, Sam grabbed another rock and drew closer to the water. It was a risky move with the tentacle mutt potentially anywhere, but she had to see if she had a chance.
It was hard to see anything in the deep. Swirling currents churned along far below the unbroken surface, but Sam couldn't figure if it was simply normal channels or an actual sign of things to come. She hurled her rock into the water again in frustration – how was she supposed to lure this thing here? She hadn't even thought up a plan; just an outcome. This was exactly the sort of strategizing that got people killed in the Hunger Games – full of potential success, but poorly thought-out and planned.
She saw the first ripples in the surface just as the arrow sang through the air.
Sam heard the thunk! of an impact before she felt the pain. Shock gripped her as lancing anger shot up from her ankle, where Royal's arrow had just missed the front of her leg bone. She fell to one knee as another arrow whizzed past where her head had been. The miss gave Sam just the time she needed to shrug off the pain of the hit and unloosen her shield to catch the next shot. Tham! The slamming noise of the arrow's strike into the center of the shield indicated Royal's accuracy still rang true.
The vixen emerged from the edge of the grove – she'd been right there the whole time! Seeing the shield, she scowled and slung the bow across her back, unhooking the scimitar from her belt and charging. Sam had enough time to break the arrow in her calf off just before the arrowhead when Royal came smashing in.
Steel clanged against steel as the last two tributes opened their fight. Instantly Sam knew she was having problems – her ankle injury wasn't bad, but it wouldn't take her weight as it used to. Already she was forced to rely on her shield and kukri more to ward off Royal's rain of scimitar attacks than maneuverability and footwork; it was a losing proposition. The girl from 1 assaulted her with vicious speed and quick, tight strikes with the sword; Sam just narrowly avoided a grisly wound with each blow.
Royal slammed Sam's blade out of the way and sent her shield flying with a well-placed kick, leaving the two with nothing for defense besides quick wits and their weapons. Sam backpedaled with sweat popping out from every pore, unable to even think about launching an offensive with the hail of blows Royal rained down. The girl's District 1 Career training showed up clearly here in close quarters; Sam felt herself constantly on the verge of making a costly mistake. One slip or a misjudged swing would cost her life.
Royal's training won out, giving her the chance to land an elbow to Sam's face after an unsuccessful attack. Sam stumbled back in pain, reeling from the hit. The girl from 1 swung her scimitar around her fist, circling about Sam like a trained alpha predator. Her silver hair glowed radiantly despite the dim sky, a sparkling, unnatural weave that was an alien to this parched land.
"I guess Fresco killed off your boy," she spoke, her words light and soprano yet laced with an undercurrent of poison. "Unless you did it yourself. Feeling a little bloodthirsty?"
"What happened to your Career pack?" Sam spat back, keeping her weight on her good ankle.
"This is an arena, not a team-building exercise," Royal sneered. "I don't need any little buddies like you. But if it's just you and me left…well, I guess I'd better make it a nice show when I kill you, huh little girl? Where are you even from, some forgotten village of bumpkins?"
"District 10," Sam shot back, buying time. She knew what was stirring in the water – she'd heard just a sound of something odd during the fight. The pitched battle with Royal would kill her; she needed the Capitol and Rex now.
"Oo-ooh, look out," Royal laughed at Sam's defensive reply. "We've got a little feisty one. Is that what that boy you were with liked? You and him, feisty? It'd be steamy television, I'd say so myself. Two country bumpkins in the desert…"
Heat welled up in Sam's stomach at Royal's taunt. How dare she talk about Storm that way after all he had done? What nerve she had – she who had been more than happy to kill in cold blood, without thought or remorse. What right did she have to lord him over her?
"Don't wanna talk about it, I guess," Royal shrugged. "How anticlimactic. That's fine. I bet it wasn't very good. Maybe I'll get you to talk when I tear you into a pulpy mass."
Sam had steadily been backing towards the flooded canyon as Royal spoke, and her foresight paid off. As Royal prepared to launch another wave of attacks, the surface of the murky water broke forth with a roar.
Rubbery purple arms spotted with needles and suckers swung wildly in every direction as a truly grotesque head rose from the new river. The aquatic mutt sported four black eyes that darted about over a gaping mouth filled with spiky white teeth. The eyes had an eerie quality – sunken into its face, it was difficult to tell whether they were even eyes at all except up close, or just deep ocular pits. Its head, rather than being alien and animal-like, instead bore far too many unnerving resemblances to a human. The gray flanges that stuck out from the rubbery skin did it no favors, but its entire orientation – with even a spotted ridge that could pass for a nose and white color stripes that could easily have been mistaken for eyebrows – gave off the unnerving impression that the Gamesmakers had created this beast specifically to shock both tributes and the audience alike.
How appealing that it had waited until the Games's climax to show its true self.
Royal and Sam lunged in different directions as the mutt slammed two arms down where each had been standing, grabbing and swinging for prey. Sam watched it drag her shield into the water, crunching it between rows of teeth in an arm and leaving the dangling metal to splash harmlessly away.
She hadn't remembered it being this big…
Royal swore and went for her bow, quickly nocking an arrow and firing at the creature. The beast roared in anger as the arrow smacked into a tentacle, its face coming around on the tribute from District 1. Royal backpedaled and launched an arrow at Sam – terribly wide, but more to keep her honest rather than for actual effect. Sam was struggling enough to keep the mutt off her; it was as if it could keep track of both tributes at once, managing a two-way battle it could in no way lose.
The mutt scored a hit, slamming an arm into Sam and wrapping up her injured leg. She yelped in fear, hacking at the arm with her kukri. The beast screamed in rage, pulling back – but not before leaving a crippling blow. It locked its teeth in her calf much as Sam had seen it do with Laredo days ago in the cave, ripping away an explosion of red.
Sam screamed with the shooting pain that rocketed through her body, threatening to knock her unconscious. She fell to the desert with a sense of finality, unable to even consider standing on a now devastated limb. Blood ran freely out on the ground, her crimson life spilling onto the sandy earth and drawing into dirty pools.
That's it, Sam. That's all she wrote. You tried, baby. You tried so hard. Sometimes the good story is just a fairy tale.
Royal let another two arrows fly into the creature, slamming home with both shots. The first caught it in its gaping mouth, the second in one of its four eyes. The mutt bellowed in agony and pulled back, retracting its arms and falling beneath the surface. The vixen from District 1 shouldered her bow violently, spitting on the ground in disgust and pulling out her scimitar. Sam weakly grabbed her kukri to defend herself from her position on the ground, but Royal smacked aside the weapon with ease.
"Fucking Gamesmakers are screwing with my kill," Royal snarled, her eyes ablaze with anger and arrogance. "I'm gonna give a good performance and you throw that fucking animal in."
A thought flashed through Sam's mind. Was she really insulting the Gamesmakers live? There was no way they could cut that out at the climax of the Games. That was not a way to earn favor in the Capitol.
"I guess I'm going to have to just enjoy this more," Royal inhaled deeply. "Well, princess, what was your name again?"
Sam breathed hard, struggling through blood loss to stay defiant in the face of her to-be killer. "Sam. My name is Sam."
"Oh, well, Sam," Royal let the name fall off her tongue like a curse. "It doesn't matter what your name is. No one's gonna remember whatever you did, dead here in the desert. No one's gonna remember anyone in these Games but me. Actually, I take that back – they're gonna remember you after what I do to you. District 10's gonna be scared to send another tribute after this. I hope you said good-bye to your mommy and daddy. Do you think they're back home in whatever shithole you live in, crying right now?"
"Whoever's watching back home is proud," Sam retorted with as much bravery as she could muster. "I tried for my district. For my friends. Family."
"I bet. You tell yourself that," Royal laughed haughtily. "Such a sweet little girl. Too bad naivety dies in here. You're gonna die already with that wound, but I want to get my fill in before we go. Let's start with your other leg, huh? Can't have you do something dumb like try to run and end up killing yourself."
Royal drove the scimitar down without hesitation into Sam's Achilles tendon on her still-functioning leg. Sam clamped her mouth shut as best as she could to contain a scream, but squeaks of pain escaped her trembling lips. Was this how she had to die? Destroyed to the point of some bloody abomination by the hands of possibly the most sadistic tribute in the Games?
The mutt disagreed.
As Royal prepared to increase the intensity, the aquatic beast lurched once more from the water. It trumpeted a loud call, throwing its tentacles into the desert air and dragging itself onto the land. In full force, it was a terrifying foe – enormous and slimy, the beast slowly undulated its way across the sand towards the two tributes. Royal turned about, assured that Sam wasn't going anywhere and moved to face down the mutt. She nocked an arrow and fired, but the creature had adapted. Using its tentacles as ablative armor around its vulnerable head, it crawled forward like an unstoppable freight train.
Jake's voice hung in Sam's head from back in the Hall of Justice in District 10: Stay strong, Sammy!
Get the sword. Get it. Keep fighting.
With every ounce of life she had left, Sam forced her arms forward in the dirt. Blood trickled out of her like a fountain, yet she forced herself on inch by inch to the kukri that laid ten feet away. She reached her hand out the final distance, her fingers just missing the inlaid hilt of the weapon.
Get it! Reach!
Got it!
Sam's fingers closed around the hilt. She pulled it in and forced herself to flop over to her back, wincing through the agony blasting her legs. Ten yards away, Royal was struggling to stave off the beast with her scimitar – too close for arrows and unable to backpedal significantly without giving the mutt all the time it needed to grab her. Sam knew she had failed abysmally at the knife-throwing station during training, but she needed a miracle now.
She summoned all her courage and remaining strength and hurled the kukri at Royal's exposed back.
Thunk!
Royal stumbled forward and coughed as the curved blade planted into her kidney. The mutt took advantage immediately, lunging at Royal with a pocked arm and snatching her about the waist. The vixen from District 1 screamed shrilly, writhing against the blade in her back and a desperate fear of the inhuman, carnivorous monster that latched onto her shoulders and chest with a second arm.
Who's the real monster here, Royal? Sam thought, exhausted and panting through the pain.
With a thunderous, triumphant war howl, the mutt shook its head violently and pulled its two arms latched around the girl apart. Royal burst at the torso, shredded like paper into two grisly pieces. The mutt tossed her lower half into its mouth, holding her twitching upper body like a trophy before depositing the remainder to finish its meal. Sam just caught a flash of silver hair disappearing into the monster's gullet before she was gone. Royal was dead – never to be recovered.
Sam slumped back on her elbows, breathing hard as the cannon sounded a final boom! The mutt barked at her and undulated backwards towards the flooded canyon, sliding away back into the murky water. Her blood littered the ground, she'd taken the worst agony of her life, and she'd needed more than a little help, but Sam had beaten Royal.
She was a victor. The shy girl from District 10 had won the Hunger Games.
Sam barely heard Claudius Templesmith's voice as she struggled to beat off her mounting blood loss: "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the victor of the 98th Hunger Games – your tribute from District 10, Samantha Parker!
Her vision clouded and blurred as the hovercraft floated into view. For Sam, everything went dark.
A/N: Don't go away just yet! Two more chapters in this installment. Tell me what you thought of the final arena fight – good, bad, Royal too ugly, the mutt too messy? Yeah, it was messy. That was the reason for the disclaimer at the top.