Chapter Eight: Tremors
A/N: I am incredibly jealous of everyone lucky enough to already be enjoying summer vacation. I still have three more agonizing weeks until freedom, and six final exams to take. Hang in there, fellow school prisoners! We can do it! Anyway, here's chapter eight.
Every so often, the laboratory workers in Three have to attend mandatory safety briefings. They're always held on Fridays and last the entire day. My parents, as laboratory workers themselves, are no exception to this rule; two or three times a year before the Games, I would find myself home alone, basking in the short-lived freedom brought about by a lack of supervision.
On one such evening last year, I was excitedly sneaking bits of non-productive sugar food from the special occasions cabinet when I heard a loud crash from down the hall.
The noise startled me, and I swore as the cookie tumbled from my hands and crumbled on the kitchen tiles below.
"Dash?" I called out, suspecting that my older brother had knocked something over. He often got spontaneously angry, and household objects commonly became the unsuspecting targets of his rage.
Then I remembered that Dash had left the house that morning.
Not a second after the thought entered my head I heard the screaming.
"WIDGET!"
The voice of a little boy. I raced to the bedroom, where I discovered the source of the crying. Coyle, then two, had at some point woken up from his nap and accidentally pulled down the dresser. My little brother was thrashing around frantically, trapped underneath its wooden frame.
I quickly freed him from his predicament, rushing him to the bathroom to clean up the small cut he'd sustained on his left arm. All in all he came out unharmed, if not a little bruised, but the memory of his screams left me wincing every time I saw that ugly wooden thing for a month afterwards.
The entire incident flashes through my mind now, in the darkness of the arena. I jolt upon hearing my own name, and it takes me longer than it should to remind myself that my brother isn't here with me.
Who is it then? Who's tortured voice is that? The only person in these Games who ever really called me by name is dead. Kim clearly isn't dying; she looks at me now, confusion evident in her gaze.
Ranther knows my name. He said it just two days ago as he proclaimed me a girl not worth fighting. But it can't be him, because the day that Amaranth Bernal begs me for help will be the day President Snow abolishes the death penalty.
So then who on earth...?
Then it hits me.
Clink.
It has to be him. I'd forgotten about the boy in my obsession with feeding myself, but it occurs to me now that his tribute photo hasn't been broadcast in the sky yet. He's still alive.
Although that probably won't be true for much longer.
More footsteps. I try to separate them, to try and figure out just how many dangers there are in the vicinity. Beside me, Kim is trembling. The poor girl has just been thrown from one near-death experience into another, with only a quarter-night's rest to recharge.
But who am I kidding? This whole thing is one giant near-death experience.
Well, for most it's just a death experience.
The screaming has reduced to whimpers, with the occasional sob thrown in. I don't dare move a muscle.
A shrill giggle cuts through the night, and I close my eyes reflexively in fear. Beside me, I can hear Kim draw in a quick breath.
"Oh, just look at him. It really is hilarious."
If there was any doubt in my mind as to whether or not I was in danger, that doubt has definitely been eradicated.
"But really," the voice, definitely feminine, continues, "I didn't know it would be this fun. Enobaria leaves so much out."
There's an audible grunt, before another voice responds. "Come on. Finish it already. It's been going on long enough."
"You really don't know how to enjoy the moment. It's been a bloodless night, and I'm not about to rush things."
An impatient sigh. "No. Zandria, this is ridiculous. He's a kid."
Of course. It just has to be her. I can't go one day without seeing someone malicious.
"Oh, they're all kids. Age is but a number."
"Bullshit. Save your barbarianism for that ass from Nine."
Another loud sob interrupts the conversation, and I cringe at the pain dripping from that one sound. I want to run away. I want to disappear. But at the same time I want to comfort him, this helpless boy from home; I want to ease his suffering.
I am torn.
Then my name once more reaches my ears. "Widget..."
And before I can stop myself, I'm climbing over my ally and clawing for the hollow's exit.
Kim's reaction is immediate. A thin and surprisingly strong hand latches onto my arm, yanking me back. When I turn to look at her, I see her glaring face outlined in shadows.
"Are you crazy? No. Suicidal?" she asks me in a barely audible whisper.
"I... I have to..." I struggle to free my arm from her grasp, but the girl from Twelve is unrelenting.
"You have to what?"
I don't answer.
"What?" she continues. "You have to give yourself over to a bunch of heartless vultures? For what, Widget?"
I finally yank my arm free, and look away.
"I don't understand. I thought you were smarter than that," she breathes, a note of betrayal and sadness tainting the hushed words.
She's right. She's more than right, but I can't idly sit by while this boy, a child from my own District, dies a mere twenty-five feet away from me. I can't look at her, because I know she won't understand. Her District partner has probably already been shipped home in a box. And not alive.
I can't look at her, because if I do I just might realize my own fallacy.
As I carefully make my way out of the shelter and slip behind a neighboring tree, a wave of helplessness washes over me. What am I doing? I left my knife behind in the hollow. And I'm just a powerless laboratory apprentice - I couldn't save him even if I were armed.
My mentor must be screaming at his monitor for me to turn back.
Sorry, Beetee.
In the darkness the trees provide much-needed camouflage as I make my way closer to the scene. The voices have momentarily quieted, but that doesn't make the three tributes ahead any less detectable.
I see the male Career first. He's leaning up against a tree in what should be a casual stance, but the grip he has on his sword handle and the restless way he jiggles his foot on the ground radiates a frustrated impatience. A short distance in front of him is his female counterpart, who exudes an entirely opposite aura. Unlike the other Career, Zandria appears to be completely at ease. She, too, has a sword strapped to her side, except she makes no move to grab it.
The girl from Two appears to be laughing openly at something ahead of her, but my vision is obstructed by branches and I can't see that far ahead. Filled with dread, I carefully tiptoe around the tree directly in front of me and slide as quietly as I can behind the next one, inching my way closer to the Careers.
When I am only fifteen feet away from the male, hidden from view by just darkness and a single wide tree trunk, I stop. My heart pounds furiously in my chest, but nonetheless I cautiously peer out from behind my barrier and scan the space ahead of me for the source of the sobbing.
That's when I see him, kneeling pitifully. His face is angled so that the artificial, Arena-generated moonlight hits him perfectly, clearly illuminating his features.
And he's unrecognizable.
The first thing I notice are the welts. They cover every inch of his face, disfiguring it beyond recognition. One of his eyes is swollen shut, and the other one is barely open; the glinting tear tracks staining his cheeks are the only visible sign of emotion. The rest of him is so red and puffy that I doubt he could frown even if he wanted to.
The sight almost makes me want to throw up. It's something so raw, so painful to my sheltered eyes.
How did this happen to him? What creature lurks in this Arena that has the capacity to inflict so much suffering?
"Widget..." he murmurs, collapsing on the forest floor.
Zandria snorts, kicking dirt into my District partner's face. He barely even registers it.
"What's a Widget? What are you mumbling about, kid?" she demands.
Receiving no answer, the girl huffs, yanking the boy off the ground with unrestrained force. Another tortured sob escapes him as he's pulled to his feet; Clink stumbles a bit before falling back against a tree.
"Zandria, stop it. Who cares? He's delusional. Just stick him and be done!" the other Career throws his hands up in frustration, stalking over to his ally.
"No, I'm really curious now. What's a Widget, kid? Tell me," the girl grunts, tilting Clink's head up by his chin.
"Widget... She..." My District partner's one-eyed gaze travels away from Zandria's face, staring off ahead of him.
"If you don't stick him, I'll do it myself." In one swift movement, the male Career unsheathes his sword. The blade looks sharp and menacing, and for a moment I can only stare at it, entranced. Then Zandria pulls the smaller boy to the side, simultaneously slapping her ally's arm away.
"Oh, shut it. You've had three kills already. This one's mine."
"Well, get the hell on with it!"
While the two Careers bicker in the night, Clink's gaze shifts across the trees. His one eye lingers on a spot to my left, before slowly stopping to rest on me.
I freeze, not daring to breathe. Clink's eye is unmoving as he stares at my spot. I tell myself that I'm hidden; the branches and darkness are so thick that they should conceal me completely from his view.
Yet as soon as I shift my weight, he lets out a shrill, bloodcurdling scream.
His demeanor changes completely before everyone's eyes. The thirteen year old lunges towards me, hands outstretched. Zandria stops him from leaving by grabbing the back of his shirt, but his shrieking doesn't cease.
"What the hell, kid?" She yells at him, sharply slapping his welt-covered cheek.
The action seems to stun him momentarily into silence. "Those lava ants must mess up your brain," the girl snorts. "He's an absolute lunatic."
Clink sobs pathetically once more, sinking his knees. I wish so badly I could whisk him away from the masochists before him. No one deserves to suffer like that.
"Why won't you help me?" the younger boy cries, lifting his head suddenly and looking in my direction.
The male Career shuffles his feet, glancing at his ally somewhat pleadingly. "Zandria, there is no need to prolong-"
"Oh, come on! This is funny! Admit it!"
My District partner's whole body heaves silently. With a groan, he falls onto his back. "Dash said you would!" he yells at the sky. "He told me to find you!"
There are no words to describe the feeling that overcomes me with his statement. I can feel the bile rising in my throat as the meager contents of my stomach threaten to make a reappearance.
"But you don't care," the frail boy sobs. "You left me behind. You leave EVERYONE BEHIND!"
Zandria and her ally exchange glances. For once the girl from Two seems to be uncomfortable. "Maybe you're right," she shrugs, "we're probably just wasting time. I'll stick him."
"I HATE YOU! I HATE THIS!"
Clink continues to scream as Zandria raises her sword.
Then, almost as if sensing the end, he releases one final whimper. "I just want to go home..."
Clink lets out a broken sob as the sword comes down. The canon is instantaneous.
For a moment the two Careers stare at the body, seemingly stunned. Then the boy turns his back and begins trudging away, Zandria close behind him.
I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
Only when the sounds of their retreating footsteps are gone completely do I step out from behind my tree. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I shouldn't be lingering here at all; I know if I don't clear out for the hovercraft, the Arena will make me clear out. But these thoughts are suppressed by a more powerful urge to come closer, to really see him for myself.
My feet take me nearer and nearer seemingly without my permission. Before long I stop inches away from his face, and something inside me crumbles. I lower myself to the ground, eyes never leaving the shell of the boy who I not long ago stood next to on the Reaping stage.
His own eyes are closed, swollen completely shut now that he isn't putting any effort into keeping them open. The welts are horrendous, but I find that ignoring them isn't that hard. On the contrary, I find it easy to replace the marred face before me with the one I'd gotten to know this past week. He looks even more fragile in death - the strong façade he put up during training is gone, and all that's left behind is a little boy. A frail, weakened, helpless boy who perished long before his time.
I feel numb. He might have hated me, might have been jealous, might have called me selfish, but I could never be mad at him. How could you be mad at a boy like Clink? How could you resent a child, taken from his friends and family, left to die alone?
My cheek is wet. I lift my hand to my face, wiping it carelessly. The liquid is clear.
Tears. I'm crying.
I'm truly alone now. Clink was the last reminder of home, the only familiarity in a place so terrifyingly unknown. With him dead, my last tie to District Three is gone.
A twig snaps behind me in the darkness. I whip my head around quickly, my moment of grief forgotten.
Moments later I exhale a sigh of relief as a figure I recognize emerges from the trees. She approaches slowly, stopping a few feet away. Her dark eyes take in the boy, and she winces visibly at the state of his face. Her gaze settles on the number three sewn onto his shoulder, faintly outlined in the dim moonlight.
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
I can't think of an appropriate response. It feels wrong somehow, her apology. Her words make it seem as if Clink's death was my personal loss, as if he and I were friends. No, Clink wasn't a friend of mine; he would probably shudder at the thought of anyone referring to him as such.
Well, you are crying next to his body, Widget, I remind myself.
I settle on a nod in response. "Let's get out of here," I whisper back.
Kim holds my gaze for a moment longer before turning around and disappearing into the trees. I follow in her footsteps, pausing before I duck into the thick tree line to look back at him one last time.
"I'm sorry, Clink," I murmur. This may be the last time I see him in person, but there is no doubt in my mind that his last moments will continue to haunt me in my dreams for the rest of my life.
However long that may be.
—
I awake to an empty hollow.
Unlike with my previous awakenings in the Capitol and arena, this time around I know exactly where I am. Memories of the night before flood my mind: eating with Kim, bloodcurdling screams... and Clink.
But I don't let myself cry. I don't allow myself to feel the pain like I did with Mukta, because Clink isn't my loss to mourn. Back home in Three, there are undoubtedly people crying over him. People who've known him since he was just a baby. To those people, Clink meant something.
But he was never more than a District partner to me. I have no right to shed tears over his loss; it would be insulting to his memory and to all the people whose lives will never be the same without him in them. He wouldn't be crying over me if our roles were reversed.
No, I mourn the idea of Clink. My heart breaks for every single thirteen year old boy killed by the Capitol. I grieve for all of the future Clinks from every District in Panem who will die alone as he did.
I am snapped out of my depressing thoughts by Kim, who crawls into our little hollow with her shirt full of various plants and berries.
"Oh, you're awake," she says, unloading her spoils on the hollow's floor.
"Yeah."
"Dig in. I found another dandelion patch east from here, which is why breakfast is a bit too yellow. But I figured it was a good idea to nab 'em while we can."
I pick up one of the weeds, chewing the end of it idly. For several moments both of us sit there, eating in a comfortable silence.
Then I surprise myself by making a suggestion, and I don't realize how much I've thought about my words until they're out of my mouth. "I don't think we should stay here."
Kim looks surprised for a moment, before she collects herself and narrows her eyes. "Why?" She questions, twirling a dandelion stalk between her fingers.
"This place won't be safe for very much longer. We're surrounded by tributes. The girls from Seven and Eleven have set up camp somewhere nearby, and you heard the Careers last night. I'm also pretty sure I've spotted the girl from Five foraging outside. It's only a matter of time until someone picks us off."
Kim looks at me thoughtfully before shaking her head.
Irritated by the quick rejection, I press on with an argument. "Listen, it's just not safe to stay-"
"Hold on," the girl from Twelve interrupts. "I get why you're worried. But you do realize why this place is so packed, right?"
I stare at her dumbly for a few seconds.
"Wow. I thought you guys were all supposed to be geniuses in Three," she mutters, shaking her head once more. "Do you remember what kind of terrain you had to cross to get here?"
My mind takes me back to the first day, right after the bloodbath. "Yeah," I reply, "Dry grassland. There were abandoned ruins scattered everywhere."
"Exactly. No water for miles. As a matter of fact, the little pond nearby is the only source of water that I've seen in this whole area."
"But it can't be the only one in the entire arena," I counter. "Remember that bridge on the other side of the Cornucopia?"
Kim sighs. "That's a whole day's trek away from here. And we don't even know what's on the other side of it. Listen, Widget, from what I gathered from my observations in these last couple of days, this Arena is divided into more or less three major sections. There's this foresty-jungly patch, the grasslands, and the other ruiny-foresty area on the other side of the stone bridge. The grasslands are bone dry, and the other area is too far away. Leaving would be stupid."
I look down at my hands. She has a point. But there's this feeling in my chest that won't go away; an ever-present inkling that we're on the verge of something dangerous.
"There hasn't been enough blood," I whisper. "They're gonna do something soon."
Kim looks at me long and hard before turning away. "I know. But the best thing we can do is stay alive until then."
—
By midday the heat of the arena is stifling. If I weren't so concerned about bugs I would be peeling my shirt off of my sweaty body to get some form of relief. Across from me, Kim isn't faring much better; she seems to be coping with the rising temperatures by attempting to take a nap.
My throat burns as I try to swallow, reminding me that I haven't had anything to drink since yesterday.
Having nothing better to do, I decide to go out to quench my thirst. One of Kim's eyes cracks open as I crawl over her.
"Where are you going?" she asks quietly.
"I need water."
"I'll come with you."
With that we both make our way outside and through the trees, towards the clearing. Before long we find ourselves at the crystal-clear pond, and each one of us takes turns watching the trees as the other drinks.
After we're both done Kim occupies herself by picking handfuls of partridge berries from a nearby bush. Upon seeing my smirk, she shrugs. "I still haven't forgiven you," she mutters, popping a few of the pink spheres in her mouth.
Just as we're about to head back to our shelter, we hear the first boom.
I immediately reach for my knife, brandishing it in front of me somewhat uselessly. Kim's eyes are frantic as she scans the tree line for any disturbances.
"What was-"
A second resounding boom echoes all around us at my words, propelling us further into panic mode.
"I think it's c-coming from over th-there," Kim stutters, eyes wide with fear.
Both of us are paralyzed for a few moments, only shocked into motion when the ground beneath us starts to tremble.
"What the hell?" I exclaim, swiveling my head as the pond behind us starts splashing water everywhere. The tremors increase in magnitude, causing me to sway on my feet.
"It's an earthquake!" Kim yelps in realization.
The ground's shaking increases, and Kim falls over. I only have seconds to yank her out of the way before a nearby tree comes crashing down on the spot where she moments ago sat beside me.
"Oh my god," she sputters.
Around us trees continue to fall. The tremors are so powerful that standing up becomes impossible, and I find myself crouching down on my knees to stay balanced.
After what seems like hours, the shaking comes to a sudden stop. Kim and I sit there for several moments, taking deep, relieved breaths in the ensuing silence.
Our relief is short-lived.
Out of nowhere a figure bursts into the clearing from our left. The top of his head has a nasty gash running across it, and blood trickles in streaks like tears down his cheeks.
He doesn't see us at first, and in the time it takes him to collect himself I realize he's that boy from Seven. Barker. Maya's cousin-in-law.
By the time my brain realizes that hey, it might be a good idea to stand up and run, he's already turning around to face us.
He freezes for a moment, taking in the sight of us. Brown eyes widen, then narrow into slits seconds later. I tentatively rise up off the ground, not daring to tear my own eyes off of the tree-climber, who tenses at my movement.
Next to me, Kim makes an odd squeaking sound.
After several minutes of tense silence, the boy speaks up.
"That damn earth seizure destroyed my supplies."
Oh. I wasn't expecting that to come out of his mouth. His posture is still one-hundred-percent tensed and ready to pounce, but the words themselves aren't inherently hostile. Perhaps there's still hope.
"Ours too, probably," I chuckle, but it sounds forced. Kim lets out another high-pitched noise.
"Hmm..." Barker looks me up and down, eyeing the knife clutched in my hand. "You've got a weapon, at least."
"Oh, yeah... Um..." I struggle to find something to say that'll ease the tension a little. "I brought it along. Protection, you know..."
The dark boy nods appraisingly before taking a single step in our direction. I immediately take a step backwards.
"You wanna know something, Three?" The boy's expression twists into a sly smirk. "I was blown away when I saw your training score. Apparently, the gamemakers think we're of the same caliber."
"Oh, well," I stammer, taking another uneasy step back. "Those scores are all subjective, you know, and-"
"No, no. Don't downplay your achievement. It was quite impressive." His smirk morphs into something more sinister. "Since we're so evenly matched, what do you say we give the audience a showdown? Something to bet on, hmm?"
Two more steps forward. Two more steps back.
"As tempting as that sounds, Barker-"
"Oh, we're on a first name basis? I'm terribly sorry, but yours seems to have slipped my mind."
Another step forward. Another step back.
Jerk. "I told you my name in training, remember? It's Widget. We had a good laugh about Maya, and you told me-"
He doesn't let me finish. All at once he pounces, resembling a cat in the way that he lunges towards me. With almost super-human speed, the boy from Seven closes the distance between us, bypassing a frozen Kim and grabbing me around my middle. Panic seizes my brain as I thrash in his arms.
"Don't worry. I'm not cruel like the others. I'll make it quick," he murmurs in my ear before closing one hand around my throat.
All at once I can't breathe. The pain is made even worse by the fact that my neck is still bruised from when the girl from One almost strangled me two days ago. Except there's no knife-wielding Ranther to rescue me this time.
Knife-wielding...
It happens so quickly that I don't really have time to process my actions. One moment the boy's hands are around my neck, and the next they're bloody and slashed open as my knife drips red.
Barker lets go of me with a yelp, cradling his bleeding hands with a murderous expression on his face. "That stupid knife," he growls, looking up at me in rage.
Though the situation is dire, I can't help but feel pride for my quick thinking. Maybe I have adequate instincts for self-preservation, after all. However, my moment of pride is quickly dampened.
"You're going to pay for that."
I'm running before the words even finish forming on his tongue. I can hear him close behind me, but don't dare look back.
Except I'm coming to a dead end. Ahead of me is the pond, and turning around will be impossible. Trying to go around it will slow me down too much.
Barker realizes my hopeless predicament before I do. "Ha!" he exclaims. "I've got you now, Three!"
He's running faster than I am, gaining momentum with each step. Momentum equals mass times velocity. He's a bigger, heavier person, running at a way faster speed than I am...
He won't be able to stop.
I deliberately slow my footsteps just a tiny bit. I can hear his breathless laughs behind me as he gets closer and closer, anticipating my demise.
The pond is only ten feet away now. A look of determination on my face, I sprint until I'm only a foot away from the water's edge before sidestepping to the right.
I turn in time to see the look of sheer terror on Barker's face before there's a loud splash as his own weight forces him to leap through the air and land in the water.
He immediately goes under and doesn't come up for several seconds. When he does, however, he begins thrashing desperately on the surface.
Swimming isn't a skill most children in the Districts, with the exception of District Four, acquire. It just isn't necessary. Back home in Three absolutely no one knows the first thing about physically keeping yourself afloat. Many people could tell you the theory of flotation; most would be able to recite that an object immersed in a liquid or gas is acted upon by an upward force equal to the weight of the displaced fluid. Buoyant force arises from a difference of density between a fluid and the object immersed: its third-year physics at PATT.
But knowing the science behind buoyancy in no way equates to being able to swim or float yourself, and several tributes from District Three have fallen victim to drowning over the years.
Barker's whole life has centered on chopping trees. Why would he have to know how to swim?
The boy stares at me in desperation, pleading for help in between gulps of air. "Please! Please, Three-" his words cut off as he goes under. "Help me! I can't-" gasp, "swim!"
It's quite a sight to behold, seeing someone so strong reduced to this level of helplessness.
Hearing a noise to my left, I turn to find Kim coming towards me reluctantly.
"Where did you head off to?" I say annoyedly over the sounds of the drowning boy.
"I left," she says, unrepentantly. "I thought you were a goner. I couldn't help you."
I want to be angry at her for abandoning me. I want to so badly, but I can't. That would be hypocritical; I would have done the same thing had I been in her place.
Together we stand there as Barker's head bobs up and down. His screams eventually quiet as he dedicates all of his energy to staying above water. His jump carried him too far from the edge - he has nothing to hold onto.
"I want you to know that my respect for you has doubled," Kim says to me quietly. I turn my head to look at her again, only to find her gaze fixed to the still-thrashing Barker.
"Why?"
"Because if I were you I would have been dead in his hands."
The boy from Seven is now completely submerged. Bubbles rise up from his dark spot beneath the surface.
"Any minute now," the girl from Twelve breathes.
By the time the canon sounds I feel exhausted. Two deaths today. Both familiar people, both of which I witnessed. It's more death than I ever thought I would see in my entire life.
"I'm pretty sure our shelter's been destroyed by the earthquake," Kim says from beside me.
"Then we better get another one ready before nightfall," I reply.
The day is still far from over, but I feel as if I've been awake for weeks. My feet drag as I try to keep up with my ally's quick footsteps.
There are so many unknowns in my world right now. I don't know how long Kim and I will last in our alliance. I have no idea where our next shelter will be, or who will be the next to die in these Games. I don't know if I will ever see the ones I love again.
The only thing I can say for sure in this moment is that I leave the clearing ten years older than I was when I entered it. And if things keep progressing as they have so far, I will be a hundred by the time the Games are over.
A/N: This chapter was a bit harder to write for some reason. Unlike with the other chapters that all practically wrote themselves, this one required more thinking on my part. I think it came out okay in the end, though.
Not that I've been updating very frequently anyway, but I wanted to put it out there that the next chapter DEFINITELY won't be coming until after final exams, which for me are happening on the 13th, 14th and 15th. After that, though... FREEDOM!
Thanks for reading. I love love love getting email notifications on this story, so please keep them coming! Reviews, PMs, whatever. it's ALL appreciated. :)