Chapter 21: Status Quo
"Pick up the pace."
I glare at the head in front of me. "What's the rush? It's not like we have anywhere to be."
Cato throws a fleeting, but unhappy look over his shoulder. "We'll never find anyone sitting still," he says. "Besides, I didn't think you'd be eager to stay in one spot."
I don't have to see his face to know that it's condescending. The impulse to roll my eyes is nearly too great, but I manage to refrain. He's right, at least about me not wanting to stay in one spot. But he doesn't have to be so condescending… or so eager.
"Well we don't have to move so quickly. We're wasting a lot of energy marching around with no purpose."
Cato stops suddenly and I jolt back. His face is the picture of impatience when he turns to look at me. "Do you just enjoy contradicting me?"
"No."
He sends me an unamused look. "The purpose is to find the other tributes, and then kill them."
The statement is said so bluntly that it should bother me, but it doesn't. That makes me more uncomfortable than the statement itself. Especially after what happened yesterday. Cato doesn't terrify me any less, but there's something different in our interactions now. I'm nearly positive that it's all in my head. I don't have any illusions now of what Cato is really capable of, but he didn't kill me. Maybe it's not exactly right to compare him with Karn, but I can't help it. They both had that dead look in their eyes, but while Karn's were painted with fogginess and instability, Cato's were hardened, but otherwise unreadable. And unlike Karn, Cato could have killed me, or at least tried to, but he didn't.
That doesn't mean my opinion of him has changed, or that I'm any less angry about how he treated Tilver, but the fact that he can go from inhumane to falling into that weird sort of peace with me… I shake my head. I don't know what it means, or why I think it could mean anything at all. Thinking about it is just as much a waste of energy as wandering around aimlessly.
I'm saved from having to respond to Cato's comment by the sound of rustling. "Do you hear that?"
Cato glances at the rock wall behind me, his eyebrows furrowing. He nods, indicating for me to turn around. My heart rate increases thanks to the look on his face. I follow his instruction.
"Are those…" I squint, not quite trusting my eyes. "Are those bats?"
"Looks like it."
"If bats are the size of dogs," I mumble. "We should probably move."
"You think?"
I send him a sarcastic smile and then walk away quickly, leaving him behind me.
Most of our conversation for the day goes the same—bickering with a strong undercurrent of hostility. I'm just thankful that the hostility stays in conversation and doesn't progress to anything more. I realize that I should probably be more careful about how I talk to Cato, because if I've learned anything from our interactions, especially the ones on the roof, it's that Cato is extremely quick to anger. He doesn't like people talking back to him, and I have little doubt that I'm trying his patience. It gives me a weird sense of satisfaction, which I quickly try to tamper. That will only get me into trouble. I remember what Haymitch said about not being openly antagonistic when it comes to Cato. Haymitch will kill me himself if I keep digging a bigger hole for myself. It's practically all I can think about when I lay down to sleep.
Three days. That's how long it's been since we were separated from Mace and Nerissa. Since it's been just Cato and me in this horrible place.
I slice aggressively at the animal in my lap. The stupid squirrel attacked while we were walking. One minute it's quiet, and then next, the tiny animal comes flying out of a tree—and I mean literally flying because apparently squirrels can do that. Cato sliced it out of the air easily enough, and I can't forget the face he made when I picked it up. The disgust was clear and completely amusing, even more so when I told him it was lunch. I move to toss the squirrel's kidney to side, my nose wrinkling at the scent, but then I stop. There isn't that much meat on the squirrel, the kidney's edible, and I'm hungry. I put it with the rest of the usable meat, and it's the first thing I place over the fire.
I catch sight of Cato as the food cooks slowly. He's staring intently at the kidney on the branch, his face scrunched together. My own face begins to scrunch because of his, partially in an attempt to keep from laughing and partially because I'm confused as to what's got him so disgusted.
"Is that edible?" he asks, nodding towards the skewered organ.
"It's a kidney," I say. He raises an eyebrow. "Yes," I amend, "it's edible."
There's a few seconds of silence and then he speaks again. "So this is what you do in your district?" he asks.
There's obvious distaste in his voice, like he can't possibly comprehend someone doing this for a living. Like he's one to talk.
"It's not that bad."
He glances over to the pile of discarded body parts and frowns. "You sure about that?"
"Not that much different than what we're doing here," I tell him. He narrows his eyes slightly, and I quickly amend my comment. "Besides, it's just a dead animal. Never had squirrel before?"
"You have?"
"Yeah, but not one that flies," I say before snapping my mouth shut.
Squirrel meat isn't typical; it's one of the things I worked with in the Hob. Obviously it's illegal, and I just admitted to eating it in front of all of Panem. Not that I think they'll be many consequences. Everyone will probably just chalk it up to how poor Twelve is. Still, I need to change the direction of the conversation. Or stop it all together.
Cato seems to be of the same mind because the only thing he says the rest of the meal is that we start moving again when we're finished. I can't decide if I hate doing the same thing day after day or if I prefer it. I'm not used to unpredictably. Every day in Twelve was the same routine. I know how to get by this way, but unlike the people of Twelve, the Gamemakers hate predictability. The thought makes me edgy as we pack up and begin wandering again. Cato still insists there's a purpose to it. I still argue the opposite.
I glance up at the sky, frowning at the gray color. This is one type of predictability that frustrates me.
"It seems like a schedule," Cato says from beside me.
I turn my gaze to him, my frown deepening. "What?"
He nods up towards the sky and says, "Four days before the storm hit last time."
He's right of course, and I'm glad that I don't have to explain it. It's makes my stomach churn. I would rather not get swept up again because chances are I won't be so lucky next time. Maybe Cato wouldn't either. I can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand he hasn't killed me yet, but on the other… I catch sight of the Cato's newly acquired spear, the one he must have picked up after his fight with Tilver.
The words are out of my mouth before I have time to stop them. "What happened with Tilver?"
Cato's head snaps up to look at me, his eyes narrowing on my face. "Why?"
"No reason," I say quickly, "I was just wondering." Because I'm afraid you're going to do the same to me. "That was his, right?" I ask, nodding towards the spear in his hand.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you just leave it?" I already know the answer and it's not the question I really want to ask.
He pulls to a stop. "God-dammit, Twelve, why won't you just leave it alone?" he growls.
"Why did you just leave him there without finishing him off?" And just like that it's out there, the real question.
He takes a step closer to me, his gaze threatening and unwavering. "He would have died. There's no way that he would have survived more than a few minutes," he says, his voice taking on the same tone he had that day. Then he's walking again.
I release a shaky breath, but follow after him. I don't ask any more questions because I think I have my answer. I couldn't figure out what that tone meant at first, or I didn't care to. But now I know what it sounds like. Frustration. I realize that maybe there was another reason behind Cato's coldness regarding Tilver. At least partially. He said it perfectly: 'I struck him myself.' And it didn't work. He failed to kill Tilver. It's a failure in Career eyes, and so he had to make it better. He had to make it look like he didn't care, like it didn't bother him. Otherwise it just makes him look weak. It's no excuse, but at least it makes sense. I'm dimly aware of the fact that this just might be an attempt to justify it to myself, but I shove the thought away.
"Stop moving," Cato's voice says, breaking me out of my thoughts.
"Wh—"
"Quiet."
The urgency in his voice forces me to listen. My body responds before my brain really processes the instructions. The light wind that blows through the air makes me flinch. The previously quiet arena is suddenly too loud with the sound of animals and wind and snapping twigs.
Cato is staring intently at something over my left shoulder. My neck strains with the urge to turn but I don't. The loud noises of the forest suddenly die down and then I hear a clicking noise. It sounds like a horse's hooves, but a shadow shifts between the trees and I know that it's not. At quick glance, it looks like a fallen branch. But then it bends at the joint and the shadows clear away. There's more clicking and the creature moves into view. My eyes widen as I take it in.
The spider is far larger than normal. Its beady eyes, all eight of them, stare intently at us. It has to be at least six feet tall, its large, brown body covered in hair.
"Cato…"
"What?" he hisses, still looking over my shoulder.
My eyes shift to the pointed fangs hanging from the creature's mouth. I shiver at the sight. They're large and black and clear liquid drips from them to the forest floor.
"I think there's one behind you."
His eyes flit to the side, but he doesn't turn his head. "A spider?"
"Yeah."
"Two more on your left."
"Got any ideas?"
"Kill them."
"Genius."
The clicking sound returns and Cato tenses in front of me. My eyes fly over the area, looking for any way out. There's a flicker of something to my right. I squint to see it better, the sun shining brightly off the tiny fibers. I can't tell what it is until I see a small bird suspended in mid-air. It's a web, one large enough for the mutt spiders.
"They're backing us in."
Cato's eyes don't move. "I know. I see it."
The coil of fear is unwinding rapidly, spreading adrenaline through my body.
"Run?" I ask, praying that the answer is yes.
"East," is all he says.
He shifts the spear in his hand, and there's a horrible hissing noise from all around us. Neither of us waits another second before bolting.
The sound of hissing and clicking echoes loudly all around us as we take off. They're already close. I didn't even think about how fast they could be. I force my arms to move faster. Branches and leaves smack into me with every step I take, roots and twigs making me stumble. How close are they now? Fifty feet? I suck air into my burning chest, my legs moving quickly beneath me.
Cato runs beside me, but he's having trouble keeping up. I can hear him panting. He slips back every few seconds and then catches up again. He can't sustain it. I'll lose him eventually. It's just like the last arena, I think, as the spider mutt hisses. I'm faster, I could leave him behind. But this time, there's three of them. I won't be safe. Suddenly, there's the sound of snapping, and then a tree begins to drop. My legs strain with the effort but I manage to turn just as the tree hits the ground. The earth vibrates beneath me and I feel it through my whole body. I don't slow down though. I can't.
I suck in a sharp breath. I can't think about what will happen if it catches me. The clicking of its legs matches the beating of my heart and it's all I can hear. My head snaps to the side where Cato was but there's only a blur of trees. I risk a glance over my shoulder. The beady, black eyes of the spiders stare at me, their legs scrambling quickly to follow after me. Only me. Cato and one of the mutts are nowhere in sight.
The nausea and crippling fear bubbles up, and it would be so easy to just give up now. But Mabel's voice rings in my ears, telling me that I have to try, so I do. I can't give up now. I pump my legs faster.
Yellow and blue flashes in front of me suddenly, the green fading. I break through the tree line, the gold of the Cornucopia shining harshly before me. Tributes could be lying in wait.
I sprint forward. There's nowhere else to go. I can feel myself tiring out, blackness settling at the edges of my vision. I step onto the stone bridge. I'm halfway across when it tilts to the side, sending me stumbling forward. I'm on my feet quickly, but it's not enough. The mutts are too fast. One large leg collides with my body and I'm sent tumbling back.
I skid across the ground, the air leaving my lungs in one breath as I stop a few feet from the Cornucopia. I can see its shadow loom over me even with the dark spots in my eyes. I can't think of anything but the people I'm letting down. I'm sorry, I think as I hold my breath and wait for it to strike.
It doesn't come. I can feel their shadows over me, but they're still, their beady eyes staring straight ahead at the gold mass in front of them. For seconds, that's all they do.
They're blind.
The realization comes suddenly. It's why they didn't attack earlier. They found Cato and I when we were talking, but they couldn't find us when we were silent. It's why they only responded any time we made noise.
Think! How does this help me? I can't get up without making too much noise, but I can't sit here forever. I try to focus on what's around me, if there's anything I can use to my advantage. Aside from the Cornucopia, the floating island is empty. I can hear the water rushing below me, and I shift my gaze to the edge of the stone and the tilting path. There's nothing to stop them from going over if I could get them there. Even if it doesn't work, I just need enough space to get away.
My pulse thumps loudly in my ears as I reach for one of the rocks on the ground. I snap my wrist and send it flying towards the edge of the island. Both spider mutts jerk on the spot, spinning and scurrying towards the sound. I push myself up, but fall over when I try to stand, my shoulder colliding with the Cornucopia. My leg is numb, and I look down to the see the pant leg torn, a bumpy red rash forming on my skin. The sound of my body hitting the metal alerts the spiders to my presence, and they both turn, ready to charge again. One is too close to the edge though, some of its legs slipping, sending it tumbling down into the canyon below.
I suck in a heavy breath through my nose, but it's too loud. The second spider charges towards me, and I throw myself to the side to dodge the attack. It hits the Cornucopia, making it disoriented for a second and giving me enough time to stumble to my feet. I force my numb leg to move, but it's no use. I only make it to the edge of the path before it's on me again. I fall backwards, the spider stopping once it's above me. It raises its head up, fangs ready to strike. I reach for a knife on instinct, my arm swinging into one of its legs as the fangs come down. The force of my blow knocks it off balance, the sharp teeth landing on either side of my shoulders, digging deeply into the stone surface. I can feel the world titling on its axis, but then I realize it's just the bridge. I want to cry when it hisses and rears its head back again. Instead, I throw my body to side. The platform rolls with me. I see the spider tilt, its legs catching me as it slides. My lower body falls from the surface as the spider flies into the water below.
My elbows push painfully against the rocks, my hands tightening their grip. My stomach drops to my feet when one of the rocks begins to slide, and I know I don't have much time. The platform will only tip more if I try to swing myself up, but I can't hold on forever. My arms and my lungs burn from the strain. I look to the platform that holds the Cornucopia on my right. It's only a foot away, but I'm too afraid to let go and grab it. But I can't be. I'll fall to my death anyway if I don't try.
But then a few horrifying seconds later, the platform shakes and rights itself. Mild relief settles in my stomach, sending adrenaline through my limbs. It's now or never. With a deep breath, I lift my right arm and throw it forward.
There's a terrifying second of emptiness, but then it catches a rock further from the edge. Slowly, I push all of my weight onto my left elbow, using my right hand to pull my body forward. Another pull and my upper body rests on the stone. It's enough to swing my legs over, or at least one. The numb leg refuses to cooperate, and I'm forced to roll the opposite way to get my whole body up.
I lay flat on the ground, staring up at the darkening sky as relief surges through every nerve in my body. I can't hear anything but the beating of my heart and the shallowness of my breathing. I'm alive. We're al—
I bolt upright, my head whipping around. There's no one here, just as I suspected.
Cato is gone and I am alone.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Sorry this is both late and short. I've been sick all week and I have two midterms due Monday, so life has just gotten in the way a bit.
SylviaHunterOfArtemis: Guess now they don't have to worry about getting along hehehehe
WhiteEevee: Cato can be sort of pleasant if he wants to be, can't he? AHHHH thanks, I was pretty proud of that line, not gonna lie
FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff: hmmm civil? is that possible?
SecretsWithSouls00: haha I try. I don't want to do anything or my readers a disservice by making things up
lovewords: nope, no Mace or Nerissa, but now no Cato either... where will this go? dundundun
Anyway, thanks so much for reading and sticking with me!