Chapter Sixty-Nine: The End Begins Again

Day Seven

Zari Morelett, District Six Female

As the sun reveals a clear sky, I take note of our meager supplies. The two of us are wealthy in serum, but poor in just about everything else. I'd have happily traded both vials in for a day's worth of food and clean water as soon as we had them, but Toren has other plans.

"We need this for combat," she'd told me. "When it's down to just us and the Careers, do you seriously think you can take them on without this?"

I know she's right, but that doesn't make my stomach hurt any less. At the very least we still have some water left over from the last rainstorm, which we really need since the sun wants to cook us all to death at the moment. It takes quite a bit of reserve not to chug a whole container of water at the moment, and it's early. Once the sun's all the way up, this place will be a picturesque version of hell.

Nevertheless, time's not going to freeze while we figure out what to do, so it's time for the same question as every other day. "What's the plan?"

Toren, despite her low score, takes the initiative like she was born for this. "We need to start tribute hunting. The audience is going to get bored with us if we don't kill anyone, and before you ask, no, that girl from Three doesn't count. It's kill or be killed."

"How about we just stick to food for now," I say, my stomach growling in response. "We'll cross that bridge if we see another tribute."

"More like when," Toren says, but I have my doubts that will happen spontaneously anytime soon. There's only eight of us left and I don't think the Gamemakers have done anything to shrink the arena like they did last time, so the odds of us running into anyone (or anything, frankly) without any warning or at least some form of indication beforehand is comfortably low.

What that'll take the form of still worries me. The Gamemakers have been surprisingly light on the disaster level this year: besides a few mutts and debatably that rainstorm (which was bad, but if I remember correctly from school even getting struck by lightning isn't fatal most of the time), the conditions have been surprisingly tame. Maybe they're holding back for some kind of monumental horror to provide a pulse-pounding finale: a fire, or a flood, or a tornado, or somehow all three at once. There's no predicting what could happen; pattern recognition only goes so far.

Usually, I'm not the one for doom and gloom, but this is far from the best time for optimism. "Should I be worried the Capitol wants us dead?"

Toren doesn't move an inch. "I don't think so. Soon, though."

Might as well keep going, so I have an idea of how nervous to be. "How long do we have?"

"We're the two lowest-scoring tributes left, and I'm willing to guess most of the others at least have some blood on their hands," Toren replies. "I'm sorry if I'm being depressing, but realistically we have until tonight. We don't get something done before sunset, we're probably screwed."

I can't say that depressed me any more than any of the other horrifying stuff I've seen in here, but that's far from an uplifting thing to hear.

Toren continued, barely even pausing for breath. "We live until either the Gamemakers get bored with us or the Capitol gets bored with us. And the Gamemakers always like to have a finale worth watching, that can't be far away. Games have been endurance tests in the past, but this doesn't look like one. Another week, maximum. Probably less."

I'm not a Gamemaker and never planned to be one, but that seems logical enough.

A few more minutes of slow packing ensues, then Toren starts motioning for me to pick up the pace. "We're burning daylight, let's go, let's go, let's go."

She's right, we have to get moving. As relatively enjoyable by my now very skewed standards as this conversation is, it's not going to inspire much sympathy for us if this keeps up all day. "Yeah, I kind of let time get away from me. Let's get it going." By the time I'm done, everything we have, save weaponry, is stored as securely as possible, and everything else is in our hands even though the knife doesn't want to stay there.

Both of us stand and start walking, the backpack containing our meager supplies bumping reassuringly between my shoulder blades with every stride. As expected, Toren takes the lead, and I follow right behind her, the two of us going to great pains to make as little noise as possible.

All that conversation and I still don't know whether our plan is to attract attention or avoid it. I'm sure Toren has some kind of ideal scenario going through her head just like I do, even if mine is wholly incompatible with reality. I don't want to die, but I don't want to kill either. Unfortunately, I have to pick one.

Judgment day is coming. I can only hope it's my choice to make.

Sienna Starboard, District Four Female

Fortunately, Godric's as good at hunting food as he is at hunting people, which is a useful skill despite how ugly that sounds. Before long we have enough meat to last us the rest of the games so long as we ration it carefully.

With the basics taken care of, at least for now, the two of us fall into semi-casual conversation, looking in all directions to prevent any potential ambushes. Clara's set us both on edge, and her plan cost her absolutely nothing, meaning I expect copycats in the near future.

At some point, I decide to bring it back up again. "You think we should push through until morning just in case Clara tries to attack us again?"

"I think Clara's smart enough to know trying that again tonight isn't a good idea, but I'm not sure," Godric said. "I'm guessing we'll be fine, or at least that we have the same chance of being ambushed at night as anytime else as long as we're here. I'd avoid messing with our sleep schedule this far in: if we fall asleep in a bad place things we could be dead in a hurry."

That's a fair point, not that it makes me feel any less nervous about not being at full alert at all times; surprise attacks are perfectly viable here and it's gotten Careers killed time and time again. We have to be the most important targets left unless there's some superteam we don't know about, and I'd like to think Sirena would try to send a message about that if it was happening. Plus, I doubt Clara would be the kind to attract non-Career allies considering how she treated everyone outside our sham of an alliance on the Training Floor, and besides the two remaining anti-Careers I'm reasonably confident in our ability to fend off everyone else, even if they're on the same team.

All six of them represent someone that has to die. I think I could handle them if provoked enough, but considering my first kill was someone who would have died without me anyway and my second kill was batshit crazy and in the process of trying to murder me, there's no guarantee. What happens when there's someone who can't fight back? I don't know, and I don't want to know. There's just too much—

A firm poke to the back jolts me back to attention. "You okay? You seemed kind of lost for a few seconds."

"Sorry," I say, stiffening back up and rejoining Godric from where I started to peel off from him. The last thing I need right now is to be lost in my thoughts. That's how you die, and Godric dies, and everything you worked for gets scattered to the wind.

While I can't say things change much after that in a physical sense, but the atmosphere's definitely shifted. A few minutes pass by in silence, the two of us looking for anything that might be out of the ordinary. Then, once we emerge from some of the thickest brush I've seen while in the Games, Godric takes the initiative to break it up.

"I'm sure this goes without saying, but I've got something to ask you," Godric says like the words just came tumbling out all at once. He even stops walking, which I take as my cue to stop as well.

Just like that, Godric looks me right in the eye. "If and when she, or anyone else, tries to attack us, are you going to stand by me?"

Despite the surge of fear and adrenaline that accompanies that statement, it's not a hard choice to make. Godric's done too much for me to bail on him now.

"Yes," I say, and I mean it. "I've got your back."

Pulling this off won't be easy, but we have a clear path to the end. While many Careers finished their journey through the Games on their own, including Sirena, there have also been plenty of others where the last two tributes were Careers, or at least allies. Julius and Cassidy three years ago, Polaris and Ocean the year before that, heck, even Candle and Reynold from that weird puzzle arena. The two of us have everything set to make sure we're the last ones alive.

I don't want to know what will happen after that. I'm sure Godric doesn't either. But the day's approaching, and it'll only ever get closer.

Thomiah Marshall, District Eleven Male

I have to give it to Lacey: the going's been tough and she hasn't complained once. She hasn't said much of anything since we've allied, truth be told, but what rule says she needs to say a damn thing?

She didn't hesitate to kill when the time came, either: not necessarily a skill you want to have anywhere else, but it's quite useful here. Even afterward, she showed little sign that it affected her much: she cleaned off her blade the best she could, waited for the body to get collected, then marched on. In another life, she might have openly scared the pants off of me. Here… I can't necessarily say she isn't scaring me at least a little, but I at least have a reason to hide that.

We're walking through a stretch of woods with a clear path, leaving footprints behind us in the drying mud. While I'm sure that can be tracked, I'm sure there'll be a dryer place we can use to break up the trail in case anyone tries following it. Plus, that might provide a great opportunity for us to do the tracking, which could swing us back in the Capitol's favor.

Neither of us is talking beyond the bare minimum to stave off boredom, the two of us not wanting to attract any undue attention. In the liminal period between one sentence and the next, I finally hear something besides the wind.

I put a finger to my lips and Lacey promptly shushes; if it's a hidden tribute, might as well strike while we have the advantage. The two of us freeze, making sure the noise isn't some figment of our imaginations or anything along those lines, then I hear the rustling again. A slight sound, but it could very easily be a hiding tribute. Lacey takes the initiative, advancing slowly toward the bush, taking care not to make noise. I'm silently cheering her on, but hoping that if it's another tribute, it's at least quick.

Then the source of rustling emerges. False alarm; not a tribute, just a rabbit. Doesn't stop Lacey from killing it anyway with a knife through the brain, though. "Food's food, might as well."

Rabbits aren't that common where I'm from, but I'll assume they're edible until I get hard proof they aren't. Unless they're secretly mutts, the Arena fauna is almost always edible anyway, and I'd rather have more sustenance than less.

Still, Lacey's shown no hesitation to kill whenever the opportunity has arisen, even if admittedly that's only happened twice so far. Best to make sure I'm seeing things correctly. "If we find another tribute, you're ready for what comes next, right?"

"We'll do what we have to," Lacey says. "Only one person gets out of here anyway. Might as well try to make sure it's one of us."

That sounds exceptionally ominous. If I wasn't watching my back before, I definitely am now, since that sounds like a veiled threat if I've ever heard one. Betrayal wasn't something I considered with my former allies, but Lacey brings no such guarantees with her: we're working together out of convenience and nothing else. If she ever finds the other girl she keeps talking about, nothing says she won't just take me out while I sleep and split whatever supplies I have with her.

For now, though, it's probably wise to keep her around, at least until the Careers are no longer a serious threat. There's no chance I can take on more than one on my own, while with her, who knows? It's the Games, anything can happen.

I'm not expecting a miracle, but nothing's stopping me from hoping for one.

Rhaemyr North, District Three Male

I haven't quite reached panic mode yet, but that hour is nearing. I've gone over twelve hours without any supplies, my head feels like it wants to explode, and I've been oscillating between hunger and nausea for far too long.

With only eight of us left, I don't think the Games are going to last that much longer, but if I'm in anything but peak condition when the finale arrives, there's no way I'm coming out on top. Of course, there are still three Careers left, so the odds of me even making it to the finale isn't great anyway, but let's be optimistic, at least for a little. I've made it further than I'm sure most expected, after all.

However, that doesn't stop me from being in a bad spot from any practical perspective even if I ignore the obvious lack of food and water. No guaranteed enemies, but the chance of making friends is a hair above zero, so I'd assume everyone wants me dead until proven otherwise. No set location to hide in the event things go south. Limited at best means of regaining everything I've lost, or at least enough that it matters.

The biggest problem? At this point in the Games, I'm completely out of my element. The Gamemakers were pretty generous with supplies at this year's Bloodbath, meaning that there had to be plenty of stuff left over that wouldn't be missed. Unfortunately, that time has come and gone. Everyone else is probably working with scant supplies at best, apart from maybe the Careers, and the availability of said supplies keeps dwindling by the hour. I don't know what plants I can eat or where I can get water that's safe to drink or how to catch the animals that were once everywhere.

I thought I could steal enough to make it out alive, but what's the point in being good at stealing if no one has anything to begin with? None, that's what.

At the very least, I know I've been through worse. Hunger and thirst weren't uncommon back home, and even the rainwater had a high enough chemical concentration that drinking it in anything except dire circumstances was ill-advised.

I've made do without before. What makes this time any different? Not the fear of death, that was ever-present until Alice found me. Not the isolation, I'd learned to deal with that long ago. Not the sheer strain, I learned to adapt quickly enough that it's never been a problem.

Maybe it's the memories. Or something along those lines. Whatever, I don't have the time to be poetic right now.

These Games may remind me of the worst parts of my life, but one way or another, I know this chapter is rapidly drawing to a close.

I'm not sure why this chapter took so long. I've neared the finish line, it's time to throw down the gauntlet and kick back into high gear one last time.

Once we get to fewer than eight tributes, the chapters will probably get a bit shorter so I don't have a ton of duplicate POVs, so that might speed things up. I still have to be the one to write it, though.

I'd like to thank everyone who's stuck with me after all this time, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. See you next chapter!