Author's Note: This is it, guys. This chapter, we find out who wins and who dies, and after another chapter, our story will be complete. Thank you all for your lovely readership, and—as always—may the odds be ever in our final three's favor.
Fun Fact of the Chapter: How the Mentors Won Their Games, Part XVI. Last year's victor, Amy Oswald from Eleven, was saved from starvation early on in the Games when her mentor sent her a pickle jar—with a knife hidden inside of it. Amy relied immensely on this gift, living off pickles and stabbing any tributes she came across. It took nearly a month to kill everyone off. This was also the year Marius's friend Armen came in second place.
. . . . .
Aether Shadow, President of Panem
"And if he doesn't win?"
Amata pauses for a moment. One would expect her breath to be as erratic as her speech, but she is surprisingly calm as she stares at the surround-screen at the front of the room. "Then—we would have to—choose which—is the least t-threatening, Madam—President."
"They could both be viewed as Mockingjays. Victims of the system. Persevered despite the odds. Lost more than one person due to us. Or, at least, that's the perception."
"We can—change—perceptions," Amata says.
"Of course you can, that's your job." I stand and walk over to her. "The only problem is, the tributes are all cut off from your perception-spins, completely cut off. And they're the ones who make the crucial decisions here. We can only control them so far." A new thought occurs to me. "Has there ever been a Games without a victor?"
Amata's eyes go wide. "We—can't do that. The—audience—would lynch—us."
"We've got a rebel organization on our hands who just assassinated the Vice President, Amata." The Head Gamemaker glances at the screen nervously. I move to block her view. "The very heart of this nation is on the line."
"I—understand, Madam—President," she says. "But—would it really be so terrible—if one of—the others won? Jace is—going—out of her mind—and Chantelle is smart—enough to know—which side she'll need to be—aligned with, if a revolution—starts."
"I suppose." I pause, mulling it over. "Isn't everyone going out of their minds by now?"
Amata chuckles, though there's an undercurrent of nervousness. "Welcome to—the entire point—of the Hunger Games." She moves back over to the chairs in the center of the room where the other Gamemakers are working. "This is going to end—swiftly and—bloodily. Chantelle's heading out—towards the Cornucopia—and the—other two we're going—to chase there—with the wolf-mutts. All of them." She smiles, almost sweetly. "Good—plan?"
"Excellent plan," I say.
Within moments, the live broadcast shows an aerial view of the arena. We see wolves jumping up from underneath the cliffs and bounding through the forests all at once, howling. Jace wakes from a dream and stumbles out of the tree she's been hiding in, running as fast she can. Yon brings his axe down on a few of the mutts' necks, not seeming to understand that there are more coming that he won't be able to handle. Chantelle is the best off, reaching the Cornucopia quickly and hiding herself inside the tail of the golden horn, knife at the ready.
Jace zigzags through the trees, hoping to lose the wolves but mostly just frantic in trying to survive the next second, the next minute. Yon finally figures out that he can't win against a dozen wolves and is running as well. The wolves on Chantelle's side of the arena circle around the Cornucopia clearing, waiting for new meat to appear. Chantelle herself crouches down and grips her knife as tight as she possibly can. Waiting, just like the wolves.
There is a pause in the action for the briefest of moments, then Jacy Latone of District Nine emerges from the woods and darts towards the golden horn. Wolves close in from all sides. The girl runs into the hollow of the Cornucopia—
Perhaps they'll kill each other. Perhaps the boy from Eight really will win, and we'll have a malleable victor who never was and never will be on my list of rebels. Perhaps...
The fight inside the horn is cramped and dark and entirely on instinct. Chantelle's blade runs through Jace's shoulder. Jace's knife jams into Chantelle's side.
Yon reaches the clearing and hacks away at the wolves again with a facility that shouldn't be surprising, but is. As soon as he breaks a neck he whirls around to break another one. The remaining wolves—eight of them—gather at the mouth of the Cornucopia, preparing to rush him as a pack.
Chantelle twists her knife out of Jace's bloody shoulder and aims again two inches to the right—at the heart. Jace ducks and the blade hits her left eye instead. She starts to twitch in pain and her knife jabs up into Chantelle with each spasm.
The two wolves in front charge toward Yon, who slices one's spine but fails to hit the other at all. The second wolf starts at the boy, snarling. Yon brings the blunt of his axe down on that wolf's head as the other six run to catch up with their target.
Amata turns around to glare at the Gamemaker in charge of the muttations. "Pericles—you'd better not—let the—these mutts kill—"
Chantelle pushes Jace away as hard as she can and pulls the knife out of herself. Blood spurting out rapidly, Chantelle throws the knife at her competitor, but it ricochets off the side of the horn and clatters to the ground.
Yon kills another wolf, but the pack has begun to circle him now. "Yon—get out of there—Pericles—if your wolves—kill him—we'll have a-"
"A list victor." A list victor. No. That shouldn't be allowed to happen. The list tributes are supposed to be dead. My eyes are fixed on the boy from Eight, hacking at wolves as best he can. He's severely wounding a number of them, but a lone wolf-mutt has the fortune of being directly behind Yon...
Amata realizes this and starts screaming."PERICLES—YOUR GODDAMN WOLVES—ARE—KILLING—OUR CHANCE—!"
"You can't engineer everything, Amata!" Pericles snarls back.
"NON-LIST—TAKES FREAKING—PRIORITY—"
"Let the mutts do what the goddamn mutts want to do!"
The camera cuts to the fight inside the Cornucopia. Both girls have been knocked to the ground, both with numerous injuries, but neither of them are quite dead yet. "We should turn the mutts on them," I say. "Then both list tributes have been killed and we win."
"That's easier said than done, Madam President," says Pericles, having calmed down just a little. "But they have enough wounds that they could bleed out in time, if Yon keeps fighting-"
Yon and the wolves take over the broadcast as the mutt behind the boy rams his head into Yon's legs, knocking him down. He swings his axe and the wolf springs forward to get out of the way. The axe blade gets stuck in the ground.
Chantelle, inside the horn, slowly tries to get up. Her eyes are glassy and unfocused, but she crawls toward Jace and grabs hold of her throat—
The wolf sinks its teeth into Yon's neck and rips the head away from the body. Cannon.
Amata swears violently. She's worked herself into a fit over the Eight boy. Even I am tenser than usual. There's no avoiding a list victor now. But which one?
Chantelle has begun strangling the other girl, but Jace starts kicking up against Ten's chest to get her off. The tip of her boot digs into Chantelle's side wound. The Ten girl doubles over in pain and her grip loosens the tiniest bit.
Jace's hand searches the floor for a knife. Her hand finds Chantelle's blade and she slams it up into the girl on top of her. She can't see well, but she knows she's hit the heart when Chantelle's body goes limp all of a sudden, hands still wrapped around her neck. Cannon.
Jace closes her eyes and doesn't move for a few seconds. The Gamemaker Fabian speaks into his microphone. "Congratulations, Jacy Faith Latone, Victor of the 191st Annual Hunger Games."
Amata walks over to me, not even bothering to look as the helicopter descends into the arena to pick up the wounded new victor. "What are we—going to do?" the Head Gamemaker asks me. "About—possible—rebellion?"
I think for a moment, then respond as calmly as I can. "We find a way to use her against the rebels."