We drive for hours in an agonizingly boring silence. After steaming about Gale for far too long, I finally turn my thoughts to our potential survivors; Finnick, Annie, and, of course, Peeta.
"Hey," I begin, my voice rough from remaining quiet so long. I clear my throat nervously before continuing. "Johanna, what do you think is going on with these images? Have they ever had them of anyone else before?" I inquire, somewhat hesitant to ask this after the reaction I received from Snow.
She's quiet, as if sifting through a million thoughts to find the right answer. Finally, she says, "No, this is the first time we've been given images. It doesn't make sense to me; I don't understand how they could have possibly gotten pictures of them," she says, shaking her head resolutely as though confirming this to herself as well.
"Well, they were tipped off by other people; it's possible the other survivors took their picture," Foxface throws her opinion in, graciously uncalled for. Johanna cuts her eyes at Foxface in annoyance, shaking her head.
"With what camera? They're from the wild, dumbass; they don't have electronics."
"Well, bitch, let's hear you come up with something better," Foxface snaps angrily. I repress the urge to roll my eyes and attempt to mediate.
"Can we focus, please? Maybe someone from the rescue squad took them. . . but then why don't we have one of Peeta? Did either of you notice that there's hardly any information on him. . ." my voice trails off as I contemplate the data on my micro once more.
"Blond or brown hair, eye color unknown," Foxface begins, reading his description off her micro. "Approximately 6 feet. Damn! I do love tall men!" She exclaims excitedly, squirming in her seat. I see Johanna in the rear view mirror not bothering to hide her own eye roll now. For some unknown reason, Foxface's comment annoys me. I bite my tongue against a cutting remark and simmer quietly as she prattles on about him to us. Finally, leaving me content, she switches to Finnick. I cross my arms and lean back in mys eat, gazing out the window and allowing my thoughts to drift as Foxface drones on.
"Green eyes, oh, I love green eyes! Now this is one I want to rescue," she practically purrs, eyes devouring his holographic photo. I am unable to repress my snort of derision now, but Foxface doesn't seem to hear me over her steady gushing.
"Protective as he is over Cresta, I'm sure you won't get the time of day from him; probably too in love with her," Johanna says in a tight voice. It's obvious that she is equally fed up with our companion as well.
"Let me think. . . an unstable idiot or a soldier? As if that's a hard choice. Anyway, men can't refuse red heads; kissed by fire, we are," she says with an arrogant toss of her flaming red locks. Johanna glances at her briefly before returning her eyes to the road.
"Shouldn't you wear your hair in a different style when you're out on a mission? You're a Lure; what if one of them gets too close and gets hold of it?" she tells her, and I notice now that Johanna's hair is wound in a tight bun at the top of her head; simple, efficient, and very Johanna. I agree with her on this; Foxface's hair is a potential hazard, one more example of her arrogance. She doesn't seem to appreciate the criticism, however.
"I don't recall asking for your opinion, sweetheart, nor do I intend to. I've kept myself alive this long because I'm that damn good; it's not my problem if you need to play it a little safer," she snaps waspishly with another toss of her long hair. Johanna and I roll our eyes, and I train my eyes on the outside world once more in an attempt to block out Foxface's increasingly irritating voice.
"I don't think 'idiot' is the appropriate word. Being 'mentally unstable' doesn't make her stupid, it makes her sick and in need of medical attention. My guess is she has severe PTSD from living in the wild, and who knows what else she's seen," Johanna argues, and I sigh internally. Here we go again.
The two hot heads are off into a disagreement about Annie Cresta, and I do my best to ignore them; the sky is a beautiful blanket of purple fading into pink as the sun begins to set. The air becomes steadily chillier, permeating the vehicle, and Johanna turns on the heater eagerly. The world blurs by outside as we speed down a bumpy, broken highway. Other than the overflowing trees and tall grass, our surroundings are deserted. We've run into no Hollows so far, which is somewhat disappointing. I thought by now we would have passed at least one or two. So far though, nothing.
Johanna flips up the cover of her micro and checks our location. Though slowly coming closer to the city, we're still many miles out. I begin to fidget anxiously in my seat, my eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of life – or the undead. My disappointment is reaching it's peak when Foxface's voice pulls my attention from my own window to the windshield in front.
"Here come the crazies!" She exclaims excitedly, rising slightly out of her seat in anticipation.
My heart is racing as I lean forward between the two front seats, eager for my first real sighting. Just yards ahead of us is a pack of around twenty; stumbling about, traveling in circles amongst one another with no true sense of direction.
The vehicle's engine idles loudly as Johanna jerks to a stop. No sooner than we become still, every Hollow's head snaps up and targets us. Their mouths hang open hungrily, and their loud hissing can be heard already – it fills my ears and causes a tremor in my hands to begin. Though I've seen them hundreds of times in simulations and holograms, seeing them in the flesh sends goosebumps down my arms.
What's left of their skin is a dull, mottled gray with horrible black and green patches of rotting flesh. Their hair is lifeless, colorless, and stringy; matted to their skulls and bones by years of disease and inattention. But it is their eyes that startle me the most; glassy, bulging, and stark white with hardly any pupil or irises. Some of their bones are bent at odd angles, as if broken before they turned; in the worst cases, their heads are hanging unnaturally to the side, partially severed by the missing chunks of flesh. Worse, the skin is literally sliding off their faces, revealing the skull beneath; bare, rotting teeth and molding, cracked bones. My hands begin shaking harder with the nervous anxiety. Johanna presses a control on the dash and the hatch in the roof slides open.
"Foxface, you're on," she says, hardly glancing at the redhead. Foxface has already positioned herself to leap from the car. She pauses briefly and aims a glare over her shoulder at Johanna.
"I'm not the rookie here. Give the baby directions – I know what I'm doing," she says.
"Okay! Whatever! Just fucking go before they close in on the car!" Johanna shouts impatiently, throwing her hands up in the air. She continues muttering a slew of curse words under her breath as, seconds later, Foxface snarls and throws open her door, vaulting away from the vehicle, barely bothering to use her momentum to slam the door shut behind her.
Mere moments later and the pack is after her, scenting her on the air and tracking her progress with their inhuman gaze. The hissing grows louder, and they're extending their arms to grab her, making wild, snatching motions though they're still feet away. Sweat begins to pool on my forehead, and I wipe it away with the back of my jacket hurriedly; the sound of their groaning unnerves me, sends chills up my spine. I grab my bow, anxious to be armed in such close proximity to these lifeless monsters, and edge forward until I'm barely perched on the seat, my blood thrumming through my veins.
Foxface has sprung into action; she sticks her fingers to her lips and whistles shrilly at them, hungry for their attention and entirely unaffected by the fact that they're eager to devour her. She sidesteps away from the vehicle and allows the Hollows to close the distance between them. She's being arrogant again; it was never part of her training to let them in so close. One single misstep could be fatal and would end her life.
Just when I think her feet are stuck in place, the Hollows almost close enough to grab, she spins on her heel and sprints. They kick into gear now, running after her in their horrible, ungainly fashion. They are becoming more and more riled; running in packs does that to them. Foxface leads them away from the car and as the last one passes without pause, Johanna opens her door quietly.
"Take your position and guard me well, rookie. That's a big pack, and they're starving," Johanna tells me sternly, glaring at me briefly before leaping out of the vehicle lithely and swinging the door shut behind her.
I waste no time watching to see her catch up to Foxface and the pack. I thrust my bow through the hole above me and hoist my upper half up after it. I brace my feet on the wide shoulders of the two front seats and turn my body so I'm facing the pack to my right. Below me, yards away, they're snarling and closing in on Finch, who's running them in wide circles. Coming up behind the pack is Johanna, who is introducing her deadly axe's to the skulls of the ones lagging behind; legs too broken and rotted to run.
It takes only moments for the Hollows to catch Johanna's scent, and part of the pack comes to an abrupt halt, veering on her, while the rest continue after Foxface. Unfazed, she continues to slice her way through them with an unwavering accuracy. I pull an arrow from it's sheath and ready my bow, silently calculating where to strike first. I notice one off to her side that has yet to catch Johanna's attention, and I'm about to let my arrow fly when I notice this Hollow was once a child.
I freeze, my breath hitching in my chest, and lower my arrow fractionally. The small Hollow's head barely tops Johanna's waist; she's wearing a dress that's faded from time, dirt, and blood, shredded from wear and barely hanging onto her. What catches my attention most, though, is the two large gashes she bears, part of her initiation into this horrifying disease. Her right cheek has been entirely ripped out, bits of meaty flesh and muscle dangling from her face. Just below that, her throat has been torn open, chunks missing so that her head falls to the right as she drags her feet forward. Blood black as midnight has crusted around her lips, and her unnerving gaze is wide, focused only on her prey.
"Katniss!" Johanna shouts angrily as more Hollows bear down on her.
But I'm unable to move, unable to think about anything except that this Hollow was a child; a little girl with a mother, father, and a life, however short. I think of Prim, and how this could easily be her with a stranger staring at her remorselessly and putting an arrow through her skull.
"Don't just stand there! Quit being a little bitch, shoot them!" Johanna screams, her voice raw. She's breathing more raggedly now, energy flagging quickly under the onslaught.
The little girl is next to Johanna now, mouth opening eagerly as she howls hungrily, and before I can regain my mental strength, Johanna lets out a savage growl and buries her sharp blade in the small Hollow's head. She jerks the axe from the girl's skull and blood splatters her face as it falls, finally lifeless at her feet. Without a second thought, she turns to the other Hollows and begins swinging again.
Pull yourself together! I mentally scream at myself. They're not human. They're just animals. Though I tell myself this over and over, I can't quite grasp it. Though they don't look like us anymore, I know they once did. They were all human like us before they were turned. But I know that if I ever want to see my family again, this has to be done. Far too many lives have been lost to these monsters, to this disease, and once-human or not, if the madness doesn't end we will all be devoured by it.
I pull my bow's string tight and aim for a Hollow yards away, one that's still chasing Finch but is getting alarmingly close. She seems to be fumbling in her vest for something, probably some type of small trap she can assemble quickly to give herself a break. They're still running, but her circles are growing larger and she's far enough away that I'm worried for my aim. I lower the bow for only a second to crawl completely through the sunroof and stand with my feet flat on top of the car for a better view, pulling the arrow back in place immediately.
The string bites my fingers, anxious to be released, and I rest my hand on my cheek as I take aim. If I miss I could hit Finch, and that would be fatally disastrous. I have no other option other than perfect and absolute accuracy. I take a deep breath, and as I exhale I'm ready to release the arrow when I hear something behind me; hissing, and groaning. It's too close, not coming from any of the Hollows engaging Johanna. I'm about to glance over my shoulder at the sound when something slams into the vehicle.
The car lurches to the side, my balance is lost immediately, and I surge forward. There is a moment as the ground rushes up to meet my face that I realize the imminent danger I'm suddenly in, but before anything further can register in my mind I hear the crack of my head as I slam into the dirt and my world goes momentarily black. Precious seconds later, my eyes fly open.
"Johanna," I try to call out, but my voice is hardly above a raspy whisper. Dirt fills my nostrils and mouth, and I choke as I try desperately to regain the air that was forced from my lungs. I taste blood, sharp and metallic, as it pours from my nose and mouth. My head is spinning and I can't get a sense of direction, can't even figure out in which direction the vehicle is. I push my head off the ground groggily and my world tilts as pain reverberates through my temples. I groan in agony and try to pull myself to my feet, but the fall has dizzied me and I can't see straight. My very vision seems to be echoing, and everything is doubled and hazy. I call for Johanna and Foxface again, but even I can't hear my voice.
Instead, I hear the eerie hissing of the Hollows as their attention turns to the easy prey struggling on the ground. Adrenaline rushes through my veins now like fire, and I scramble awkwardly to crawl clumsily underneath the vehicle to the other side where I force myself to my feet. I see the creatures round the front of the car, the ghostly white of their eyes devouring me already. What little oxygen I have in my lungs freezes and my body goes cold with terror. I try to pull my bow up, but my vision is still swimming and I know I can't aim.
In the horror of my fight or flight moment, I panic and begin to stumble away from them, attempting to run. My body collapses forward as I struggle to stay on my feet, barely catching myself with my palms before my face can slam into the ground once more. The fall seems to steady me somehow, though, bringing everything into sharper focus, and I stumble to my feet once again; this time when I run I am centered. The battle soon fades into silence behind me as I sprint for the growth of trees just ahead of me. Branches and leaves bite at my face as I tear through the woods, anxiety and desperation fueling me, urging me on. Beneath the cover of the leaves this forest is dark as night and the creatures chasing me disturb the heavy silence with their hungry groans.
As I delve deeper into the forest, my senses begin to slowly return, but my panic only increases – I can hear them. They're fueled by my scent and hot on my trail like a pack of feral animals; starving and clawing at the bit for just a taste. I'm unsure how many there are. Five? Seven? Ten? Too many to take on at once. The ground is speckled here and there with light from the moon shining through patches in the branches overhead; it occurs to me how long I have been running, how deep in the forest I must be.
I can barely see in the dim light, and my strength is flagging. I stumble once, twice, and then feel my foot catch on something twisting up from the forest floor. I fly forward, hitting the ground with a resounding thud. My breath leaves my lungs in a painful gasp and I struggle to my feet as I try desperately to suck oxygen back into my body. I'm not quick enough in efforts, though. The forefront runner of the pack reaches me and my fingers shake, my nerves shot, as I pull a knife from the crisscrossing straps across my chest. He is on me mere moments later, and I release a desperate, hoarse cry as I drive the knife into his skull, directly between his dead eyes. His body goes slack against my arm and I shove his decrepit body off me, disgusted; the blade releases from his head with a sickening, sucking sound. Finally, my breathing is controlled again and I'm moving once more. I fumble to put my blade away quickly, my feet moving again before I can think clearly. The others are close now, too close. I need to act immediately or I will die.
My ears are filled with the hissing and growling of the Hollows behind me, and in my half-crazed mind I can almost feel their hands grabbing the back of my jacket, jerking me to the ground, ripping me apart. I can smell the rotting flesh falling from their bones clearer than ever before; they are practically on top of me now. I force myself to breathe through my mouth and think. Think! My heart is racing, my feet are numb from running. I know I can't keep going much longer, so I do the only thing I can think of – my last resort. I leap to the nearest tree and begin climbing as swiftly as possible.
Bony hands claw at my boots and one gets a solid grip and pulls, dragging me down a several inches. My hands tear open as I desperately cling to the tree, trying futilely to climb back up. I kick fiercely, thrashing and jerking as much as I can without losing my hold. A scream of fear and despair is torn from my throat, and with one last mighty lunge upwards I free my foot and pull myself onto the lowest branch. I don't allow myself time to catch my breath, instead climbing further up the tree, eager to put as much distance as possible between myself and the savage Hollows. Finally, when I'm four large branches up, I sit and lean my back against the wide of the tree. I close my eyes and try to block out the screeching of the animals below me. I'm safe, for now.
I take deep breaths, trying to slow my rapid heartbeat. I pull my sleeve down over my hand and begin wiping gingerly at the now dry blood caked beneath my nose, on my mouth and covering my chin. I pinch my nose gently, wincing slightly at the contact. It doesn't feel cracked or broken, I just gave it a good slam earlier. I feel a gash on my chin, and small cuts on my cheek from the gravel in the dirt. The blood has ceased to flow now, though the evidence of my accident remains on the front of my clothes.
I squint in the direction I came from and wonder if Johanna and Finch made it out alive, as I barely managed. The moon has risen high in the sky now, and the darkness envelopes me. I can't see very far from where I sit. I strain my ears trying to hear any sign of my squad, but I've run much too far. As it's too dark to shoot the Hollows snarling at the base of my tree, I lean my head back against the rough bark and close my eyes, attempting to rest. I silently pray that Johanna and Finch will come looking for me and find me, but I know it's too farfetched. If they're alive, they will have contacted HQ telling them what happened and continued on with our mission without me. I resolve to try and contact them tomorrow, after I've dealt with this pack of Hollows at the base of the trees.
The Hollows continue trying to reach me all night. When dawn starts to break and the sunlight returns my sight, I draw my bow from my back. Now that I can see clearly, it takes only seconds to slaughter them all. I don't have a second thought about killing them now, not after they've chased me from my team and treed me all night. Now I'm more angry than scared. When the easy battle is over, I climb down from the tree and retrieve my arrows. "That's one lesson they don't teach you in training," I think to myself. "When night falls, you get to high ground."
I stare at the dead Hollows at my feet. They're dressed in clothes so tattered, torn, and dirty, I can't even tell the color or patterns. I see what once seemed to be five men and three women. Five men and three women who had families, hopes, and dreams. Maybe they had love, but even if they didn't have any of that, they at least had their lives. And then when the virus got them, they became nothing. Empty.
I can't stand to look at them for long, and the smell is making my eyes burn. I can't get too sentimental; they're not people, and they were dead long before they met me. The leaves under my feet break the silence of the woods as I turn and walk away from the pile of bodies. I have to remember my goal: find Peeta, Annie, and Finnick and get them to safety.
I look at the micro on my wrist, ready to try and contact Johanna or Finch. That's when I see the large crack on the screen. It must have shattered during my fall, leaving me unable to contact my squad or HQ. I let the news sink in, leaving me numb once more. I am truly alone out here.
It seems one of the only uses I can make of the broken micro now is to check my location, as that is a pre-programmed feature, all of our maps having been loaded directly to our devices. I'm approximately three miles outside of the deserted town where our last sighting was. Getting to this town will be the easy part; finding the three of them and walking hundreds of miles back to Verona, while keeping myself and everyone else alive, will be the difficult part. It's a long shot, likely to fail; but it's my job and I refuse to return to Verona and face the shame and humiliation of having been separated from my squad and coming back empty handed.
As I delve deeper into the woods, my stomach begins to growl. From my loaded vest I retrieve a package of dehydrated powdered food. I'm unsure exactly what it's supposed to be, but I know it contains precious calories that will give me energy. I sling my bow over my back and arm myself with a blade as I eat the tasteless food, keeping my ears and eyes remain alert as I walk. Hollows can be so quiet, attacking you as you walk without any warning. The woods are eerily silent as I continue onward. It's cold out here, beyond the walls of my artificially heated city. I can see my breath when I exhale. The crisp air stings my lungs, but I welcome the pain. It keeps me awake – keeps me focused.
After what seems like hours of walking, the woods come to an end and I stumble onto what was once a highway. The pavement is now deeply cracked, grass growing through and reclaiming it's place. Large chunks have been blasted away completely by the wars of the past. I pause just at the edge of the woods, contemplating. Is it safer to be in the open, or should I remain concealed? I look around and see nothing in sight in either direction. Maybe, I decide, I won't be as surprised by a Hollow if I'm out in the open. With this decision firmly in mind, my feet hit the pavement resolutely and I make my way swiftly to the city.
The sun is high in the sky now as I reach the outskirts of a town; I'm not exactly sure how large the city is, but from my map it certainly doesn't look small. I imagine finding these illustrious survivors won't be easy. A little belatedly, I hear the familiar hissing of a Hollow and turn to face it. I find myself feet away from what used to be a man. What's left of his skin is gray and peeling from the bone, oozing blood and rot. I can see his skull in places where the skin has fallen off completely. He growls again, unruly, reaching towards me with hands like claws. Fresh meat.
I stumble backwards, my nerves once again controlling me as before, and blindly reach for an arrow from my sheath. He's coming closer with every second wasted. Accuracy. Speed. Consistency. I load the arrow and pull the string back tightly, my hand resting on my cheek. Let it go, I tell myself. But just for a moment, I hesitate. He's so close now, I can see every harsh detail of his rotting face. If I don't let this arrow go, everything will be over. Somewhere in the back of my mind I hate myself for my fear and hesitation, and so my fingers release the string with a snap. The arrow slices through his skull and his head drops on my boots as he hits the ground motionlessly. I stare into space where the Hollow once stood and swallow thickly. All of my training seems to have gone to waste if I have to force myself to kill these monsters, but it turns out Gale was right. This is not at all what I thought it would be. I force myself to retrieve my arrow and continue ahead.
I quickly discover that the farther into the city I go, the more Hollows I encounter. The city isn't quite as large as I'd expected, but it still plays host to immense amounts of Hollows. I realize this fully as I turn onto a main street in the city and see it littered with these creatures; all walking around aimlessly as if lost to the world. And they are lost, all of them. I managed to conceal myself behind a building before any of them catch sight of me or get my scent. I lean against the broken, brick building and wonder how I'm supposed to proceed. I have no chance on my own against all of these beasts.
I realize as I'm pondering my situation how bleak it seems. I'm chasing on a hope that these survivors are even in the city; risking my life for people who may have already moved on to somewhere safer. I certainly wouldn't stay in this city, not as infected as it is. You're just a sitting duck, waiting to be devoured and turn into that which preys on you.
I turn around and begin to exit the city the way I entered, deciding to look for an alternate route inside.
It takes hours to walk the outskirts of the city, but eventually I decide on entering a small suburb. It seems to have less of a chance to be as overrun as the core of the city, where survivors would flee hoping for protection. There are rows of houses side by side, most caving in and rotting but some still in fair condition given the circumstances. But as I make my way down the broken sidewalk it is not the houses my eyes are trained on, but the pack of Hollows I see ahead, polluting the street. I lose count around thirty and sigh to myself defeatedly. My only option now is to kill them all. It is the only way I can enter the city from this side, through this neighborhood, and no where else was any less overrun than this. I know that I should quickly get used to killing them, because deep in the city there will be many more where these came from.
As long as I stay well out of their sight and don't let them get my scent, I can take this group out myself using arrows. I click my one into place almost soundlessly and take aim at the closest Hollow, when I notice something out of the ordinary from the corners of my eyes. . . scattered on the ground, just feet in front of me, are dead Hollows. To the naked eye, this would be absolutely normal, but mine is trained and I catch the evidence most would overlook; these Hollows have been freshly slaughtered. The blood pooling on the road is still damp, I notice upon closer inspection, and a knife protruding from the skull of the closest Hollow is clean, containing no rust. Hope rears up in me as the realization dawns on me: someone was at this exact spot recently.
Barely seconds pass as I turn over this revelation in my head, and then I hear a voice in the distance shouting, far enough away that I can barely make out the words. I strain my ears, and think I hear someone shout run! The next cry sends an icy shiver down my arms; I instinctively tighten my fingers around my bow until my knuckles are white. The voice, the name they scream, springs me into action and my feet begin pounding the pavement before I can think clears.
"Peeta!"
A/N: FINALLY! I'm so sorry it took me a month to update. I started a new job and have been seriously lacking extra time, and so has my beta.
I really hope you liked this chapter! :) Leave a review and let me know what you think.