Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or The Hunger Games.

Note: Just a friendly reminder to vote in the survivor poll if you haven't yet. The next poll will be up with the next chapter.


Someone


Francine Temple, 43
March 26, 16:51 MST

They were all looking for someone to blame.

Francine shook her head as she scrolled through the updates on her phone. It would probably be better to stop looking. None of it was good. There were updates from Grand Junction, where it had now been confirmed that at least eleven people had been killed by the tornado. There were protests across the country – protests that in places were turning into riots. Mutants protesting the Games. Humans angry with the damage the tornado had caused, calling on the government to do something. And a number of people who just seemed to be … well, angry in general, and were glad to have a reason – or maybe an excuse – to scream and chant and boo, and even to cheer for anyone who offered what seemed like a solution.

And they had a solution. Well, Mack had a solution. The "incident" in Grand Junction, as he was calling it, was even more proof that mutants needed to be contained. Isolated. Somewhere where they wouldn't be a danger to society – or to themselves. The tornado, after all, he had been quick to point out, had also been deadly to mutants. They were in just as much danger from a rogue mutant's out-of-control powers as any human would be.

He made it all sound so reasonable – until you actually thought about it. And so many people were perfectly content not to think about it. Even on the occasions where someone did point out that Rick's powers had only gotten out of control because he was in the Games to begin with, someone else would inevitably point out that there were plenty of non-Games-related examples of powers getting "out of control," whether accidentally or not. How many tornadoes had mutants caused? How many fires? How many mysterious deaths? If all the mutants were isolated from the general population, how much would those statistics drop?

And that was the problem. She wasn't certain – not really certain – that those numbers wouldn't go down. Mutants did kill people. Florence and Alannah had been deadly long before they'd been chosen for the Games, and a number of others had simply been lucky. Lucky that a fire hadn't killed someone. Lucky that the first thing they'd melted had been an object rather than a person. Lucky that no one had been close enough – until the Games, at least – to be struck by their lightning. Mutants were dangerous.

But…

But were they more dangerous than humans? There wasn't exactly a shortage of ordinary humans who had killed, or who had caused accidents that could have been deadly and had just gotten lucky. It was just a matter of scale. A determined human with the right weapons could still only kill a certain amount of people. They couldn't destroy an entire island. They couldn't send a tornado barreling across an entire city. That was what was terrifying about mutants – the sheer amount of damage they could cause at once, even if they didn't mean to.

Except once you really thought about it, even that argument fell apart. That reasoning was, at best, a good reason to isolate some mutants. A few. The ones who were really dangerous. But even then, why not just give them a collar and send them on their way? Most of them would probably accept that as an alternative. Vi would have been more than happy to just take one and keep it turned on for the rest of his life. How many of the others would have happily done the same? So many of them hadn't even wanted to use their powers.

And some of their powers weren't a threat. Most of the contestants wouldn't have been a threat, wouldn't have even thought of harming someone else, if they hadn't been forced into the Games. They'd been happy to use them for singing, or playing baseball, or providing special effects in a school play. They'd been kids. Now…

Now they were killers. Or they were dead. Francine laid her phone face-down on the table. They were dead. So many of them were dead. Twenty-eight last year. Twenty so far this year. Eight more would die before the Games were over. And more next year. And the next. And the next.

"Francine?"

Francine nearly jumped at the voice. Nicholas' voice. When had he come in? "Sorry. I was just…" She trailed off. There was no good way to finish that sentence. He knew how she felt about the Games. How she'd always felt about the Games. She'd been holding out hope, until now, that something would come along and change people's minds. That something would be the last straw.

But maybe there was no last straw. Maybe there was just no changing some people's minds. Or no changing enough people's minds. People saw what they wanted to see. They interpreted things in a way that aligned with how they already viewed the world. And enough of them viewed mutants as a threat – had always viewed mutants as a threat. Nothing they'd done had really changed anyone's minds; it had just made them more vocal.

Nicholas took a seat next to her. "I have something for you." He held out a folder.

"What is it?"

"A job."

Francine opened the folder and scanned the contents. "Georgia?"

"Alvin has some friends at his old university down there who are looking into different applications for the sort of technology we use for the Sentinels. Sentinels can detect individuals with mutations. They want to know if the technology can be modified to search for different conditions and diseases – from a distance, or at home, without a trip to a doctor. Think of the possibilities. They have the biological knowledge. What they need is someone familiar with the technology."

Francine leafed through the papers. "Why?"

"Because you're one of the leading minds in the field. That's why we recruited you in the first place."

"I mean, why now?"

Nicholas leaned forward. "Francine, we've been working together for almost two years now. I consider you a friend, even if you don't. I believe that friends can disagree – even strongly. But sabotage is another story."

Francine blinked. "Sabotage?"

Nicholas nodded. "Please don't insult me by acting surprised. I didn't want to believe it, and I don't have any concrete proof, but once Anita told me that the last cameras to be repaired just happened to be the ones in the right area for those storm chasers to find Seb … Well, it's not hard to connect the dots."

Francine said nothing. It wasn't hard to connect the dots … except there were no dots to connect. Sure, she'd been hoping that Seb might be able to escape, but she'd been just as surprised as anyone else to see those storm chasers on the screen. And there was no concrete proof of sabotage because there hadn't been any sabotage. Not by her, anyway. She hadn't leaked the footage of the Games. She hadn't been the one communicating with Piper.

But if Nicholas thought she was…

If he thought it was her, then that meant someone else was still in the clear. Still flying under his radar, free to operate. If she took the blame, then he would stop looking. She leaned back a little. "Then why this?" she asked, giving the folder a tap. "If you think I'm sabotaging the Games … why find me a job? Why not just get rid of me?"

"Because that wasn't the only thing Anita told me. She said something else – something interesting. A good plan isn't one where someone wins, she said. It's where nobody thinks they've lost. No one has to lose here. You take the job, and if what they're trying to do works, you'd be saving lives. We'll cover moving expenses for you and your family. Your daughters are what, fourteen now? You'll be able to spend more time with them … and I think you'll sleep a bit easier, too."

Francine crossed her arms. "And what about you?"

Nicholas smiled warmly. "I sleep just fine, thank you. I have no qualms about what we're doing here. But I respect that you do. I always have. Why do you think we had a vote in the first place? I wanted to know where people stand. And I always wondered why you stayed, even after you'd made your position clear. Alvin's here because he enjoys saying 'I told you so' too much to leave. But you were really hoping that things would change, weren't you."

It wasn't a question. Not really. He knew. She hadn't actually sabotaged anything, but she had been hoping to change things. To make a difference from the inside. She hadn't been able to change anything. But maybe someone else could, if she stepped aside.

Nobody thinks they've lost. She could walk away. Whoever was actually trying to stop the Games could breathe a bit easier. And Nicholas would think his problems were gone. Nobody would lose.

Except the mutants who would still die.

Francine gripped the folder. They would die anyway. Whether she stayed or left, they would die. Whether she slipped away quietly or insisted on proving she wasn't the leak, they would die. No matter what she did, they would die. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't change anything here. So maybe she should focus on what she could change. Finally, she nodded.

"When do I start?"


Frederick Bouvy, 17

Eventually, they would have to start thinking about their next move.

Frederick pulled the sleeping bag a little tighter around himself and Kenji as the sun dipped lower behind the mountains. Their next move. Their next plan. Not that he'd really had much of a plan to begin with. Getting Seb to the caves and out of the Games – that was the closest he'd really come to having a plan. Ever since the Games had started, he'd been simply making it up as he went along, doing whatever seemed like it made sense at the time. Leaving the house Seb had created, trying to find food, stealing from the others, teaming up with Henry and then with Kenji – none of it had ever really been a plan.

But helping Seb escape – that had worked. Or at least, as far as he knew, it had worked. His part in the plan had worked. Whether or not Seb got out, of course, was out of his control, but it had felt good to accomplish something. Something beyond simply surviving. Now … now he was back to simply doing things one after another and hoping that they worked out.

It had worked so far. He was alive. Alive and in pretty good shape. And he and Kenji still had quite a few supplies. They had enough food to last them a while, and they'd found water. How many of the others were in that good a position?

Frederick shook his head. They really had no way of knowing. Maybe none of the others were in good shape. Maybe all of them were. There had been plenty of supplies at the start of the Games, after all. Maybe the others still had plenty to work with, too.

Frederick nearly jumped as something landed on the sleeping bag. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed that something had been coming towards them. Kenji pulled away quickly, as if worried that the object might explode, but then relaxed a little. "Looks like they're still sending stuff."

Frederick raised an eyebrow. "I guess so." But what could they have sent? The pair of them had plenty of supplies. Then again, Kenji had said that the MAAB had sent a little plastic house to give them a clue about where to go next. Maybe that was what they were sending – some sort of hint.

Kenji picked up the package – a small envelope, but whatever was inside it wasn't flat. Not just a letter, then. Kenji turned it over. "I think it's for you."

"What makes you say that?"

"It's got your name on it – your full name."

Frederick took the envelope. Sure enough, his full name was one one side of the envelope. Frederick William Philip Bouvy. Carefully, he opened the envelope and slid its contents onto the sleeping bag. It was a toy car. A little red race car, as well as he could tell in the dim light. And a small slip of paper. Carefully, he unfolded the paper and read the message. "Ask Kenji about Hot Rod." He shook his head. "I don't get it. What's that supposed to mean? Why do they want me to ask you about a car?"

But Kenji was staring silently at the slip of paper. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "It's not about a car."

"Then why did they send a car?"

Kenji shrugged. "Why'd they send a plastic house instead of a message telling us to look for a house? They want this to look like a game. But if they want me to tell you about Hot Rod…"

"What's Hot Rod?"

"Not what – who. He's a person. One of the teachers at the school – the school my brother and sister went to. The school the coaches taught at. He taught a lot of the technology courses, so my sister spent a lot of time with him. He was one of her favorites. Great sense of humor, she always said – and always a good sport about the fact that she liked to hack into the system to change her grade. Not that she ever got a bad grade in his class anyway, but it was a bit of a running joke between the two of them. He'd try to make the system un-hackable, and she'd find a way around it. He was the sort of teacher you could joke around with like that – not that much older than some of the students. Someone who still remembered what it was like to be a kid, you know?"

Frederick nodded. He wished he could remember what that was like – being a kid, going to school, hanging out with his friends. It seemed like such a long time ago. And even if he somehow made it out of the Games alive, there was no going back to that. He wouldn't be going back to his school, his family, his friends. So why had the MAAB wanted to send them something that would remind them of everything they could never go back to?

Frederick turned the car over in his hands. Hot Rod. "Why did they call him that – Hot Rod?" he asked.

Kenji shrugged. "Just a nickname. A lot of the teachers didn't go by their given names – at least not all the time. But his name was Rod; they just added the 'hot' part. I don't know. Maybe someone thought he was hot."

Rod. Frederick stared at the car. Could that be it? Could that be why whoever had sent the message had wanted him to ask? Frederick gripped the car tightly, his voice trembling a little.

"What was his full name?"


Kenji Rose, 12

"What was his full name?"

Kenji blinked, trying to remember whether Nami had ever mentioned a last name. But he hadn't really been the sort of teacher who went by "Mister Something." It had always been Hot Rod or sometimes just Rod. But he was pretty sure he'd heard his mother call him–

"Roderick. I think his name was Roderick. I don't know about a last name."

Frederick's face was white. "I think I do."

Kenji stared for a moment before realization dawned. "Your brother," he said softly. "You said his name was Roderick."

"Yeah."

"Did he go by Rod?"

"I … I don't know," Frederick admitted. "I was so young when he left. But he did like cars. Trucks. Anything with wheels. Was that his thing – some sort of power that had to do with technology?"

Kenji shook his head. "I don't think so. I think that was just something he was good at. I'm pretty sure his power was telepathy. Reading minds." Exactly the sort of thing that might get someone sent to a mental institute if his family hadn't realized what was going on – or even if they had.

"You keep saying was," Frederick said quietly. "So have I, actually. Do you know what … what happened to him? Whether he's alive?"

"I don't know." Kenji glanced down at the car the MAAB had sent. Or at least, they'd been assuming that it was the MAAB sending things. And physically, at least, it probably was. But this didn't feel like something they would send. The other things – a flashlight, the plastic house, a map – had been things that would help them in the Games. This … this was different. "I'm not sure they know, either," he added.

"Who? The MAAB?"

"Well, them too, I guess, but I meant our coaches. Ian, Maria, Vincent – maybe they don't know whether he's alive, either. They couldn't tell me anything about whether my brother and sister had made it out, either."

Frederick nodded slightly. "Maybe that's for the best."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean … if it's not good news, would you really want to know? If it turns out that my brother is dead, or that your brother and sister didn't make it out, either, would you really want to know in the middle of a fight to the death?"

"Of course I'd want to know the truth! I–"

"Even if it might cost you your life?"

"How?"

Frederick leaned forward. "Think about Seb. His uncle died when they came to collect him – right in front of him. He had to deal with that, and it affected how he played the Games. He was ready to let you kill him back there in the caves because he understood how angry you were that his dog had killed one of your friends. He was ready to sacrifice himself if you would let me go, because he didn't want anyone else dying for him. It could have gotten him killed."

Kenji nodded. "But it didn't."

"Exactly. Because it was you he was talking to. You didn't want to do anything that would let your family down, didn't want to kill unless you had to because you know that's not what they would want. He got lucky. And so did you. Neither of you really wanted to kill the other. You can't count on that happening next time."

Kenji looked away. Frederick was right. There were contestants out there who wouldn't be as reluctant about killing. Contestants who had probably killed already. Contestants like Florence.

"My family was the reason I joined up with Florence in the first place," he admitted quietly. "She went to school with my mom, and I … I was so relieved to find that sort of connection with someone. I didn't even think twice…"

Frederick wrapped an arm around Kenji's shoulders. "Hey. I didn't mean that you should start second-guessing all the decisions you've already made. Those decisions are the reason you're still alive. We've both made it this far. I just meant…" He trailed off for a moment, as if trying to decide what he had meant. "I just meant, neither of us needs any more baggage right now, right? Nothing that might be a distraction. So as far as I'm concerned right now, my brother's still alive. If I make it out of here, then I can deal with the fact that … maybe he isn't. But for now, he is. For now, your siblings are still alive. Maybe all three of them are off on the run together somewhere. That sounds good, right?"

Kenji nodded weakly. It did sound good. Isamu and Nami and Hot Rod – out there somewhere causing all sorts of trouble. It sounded a lot better than the alternative. "Yeah," he agreed. "That sounds good."

And for now, that was good enough.


Savannah Kingston, 19

That was probably good enough for now.

Savannah leaned back against one of the backpacks as the last few bolts of lightning disappeared into the evening sky. The wind that Liv had created was beginning to die down, as well. Now there was nothing to do but wait. Anyone who wanted to find the pair of them would probably be able to do so very easily. But would anyone actually come? Would anyone actually want to attack someone who could create lightning and someone who could create storms?

Maybe. Maybe not. But even if they didn't – even if no one came – then at least they had sent a message. They had told everyone nearby that they weren't afraid, that they were quite happy to let people know where they were. They had issued a challenge. If no one actually took them up on it … well, there wasn't much they could do about that.

"If no one comes, we can figure out something else in the morning," Liv suggested.

Savannah raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you aren't also a telepath?"

Liv chuckled. "It doesn't take a telepath to figure out that you want this to be over as much as I do. Everyone probably does. It's just that none of us really know how many of the others are left, and people are less likely to make a daring last-minute move if they're not sure it's the last minute." She shook her head. "Did you do sports in high school?"

Savannah blinked. That wasn't exactly the sort of question she'd been prepared for. "No. Not really my thing. Why?"

"I'm on our school's rowing team … was on our school's rowing team. Part of a race is knowing when to make a move, when to take a risk. I thought…" She shook her head. "We'd been doing so well – Lee and Elena and I. Sure, we hadn't done anything spectacular, but the three of us were still alive, and we were in pretty good shape. When we got that envelope from Vincent, I thought that meant it was time – time to make our move. I was wrong, and now … now they're dead. So how can I blame someone else for not wanting to take that sort of risk?"

Savannah nodded. "I thought the same thing – that the envelopes meant something. I thought they were leading me towards a fight. I thought I was ready for a fight, but…" She shook her head. "I guess they don't really know what they're doing, either."

"You mean the coaches?"

"The coaches. The MAAB. All of them. I mean, sure, they have a little more information than we do. They know how many of us are left, and who is left, but they don't know how we'll react to something they send us. I mean, how do they know that we wouldn't get those notes with directions and immediately decide to head the other way?"

Liv blinked. Then she shook her head. "It never even occurred to us to do that."

Savannah shook her head. "Me neither. But some of the contestants might have – if they didn't feel like they were ready for a fight, or if they weren't certain who they would be fighting. You and me – our powers are strong enough that we don't really mind broadcasting where we are to the rest of the contestants. If they find us, we have a pretty good chance of coming out on top. Not everyone is in that boat, so not everyone is going to react the same way."

Liv raised an eyebrow. "You really think that's true?"

"What?"

"That we have a good chance of coming out on top – if someone finds us."

Savannah hesitated. The words had left her mouth before she'd really realized what she was saying, but … well, wasn't that the idea? Wasn't that why they'd been trying to draw people in – because they thought they would have a good chance of winning a fight? She nodded. "I'd say so. Don't you?"

Liv was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I guess we do. On paper, at least – between your power and mine. It's just … not something I would've thought about the other people I was working with. Lee and Elena – their powers weren't the most … dangerous."

Savannah nodded, thinking back to the talent show. It seemed like ages ago, but she was pretty sure. "Lee was the one who could control colors, right? And Elena – didn't she turn into some sort of metal?"

Liv nodded. "Yeah. Not the most threatening abilities, but I guess that's not really what I was looking for at the time. I was looking for people who could work together, people who could function well as a group, people who were willing to buckle down and do what had to be done. And … they were. That's the thing. They were all willing to do what they had to do. We did work well together." She shook her head.

"But that wasn't enough."


Liv Holle, 18

"But that wasn't enough."

Liv shook her head, staring off into the distance as the light continued to fade. It hurt to admit it, but it was true. She, Lee, and Elena had worked well as a group, but that was never going to be enough to win the Games. They had been lucky to survive as long as they had. In the end, being willing to fight and being able to hold their own in a fight were two very different things. It had only been a matter of time before they ran into someone with a stronger power – or, as it had happened, with better weapons.

"We had the opposite problem," Savannah admitted. "Between my lightning and Coburn's fire, we could have done some serious damage, especially with Lilith to help us channel that energy. But we didn't want to fight. At the start, we were just trying to get as far away from everyone as we could. We fought back when we were attacked, but…"
"But that wasn't enough, either," Liv agreed.

"Yeah."

"And now you're wondering whether sitting here and just waiting for people to come along amounts to the same thing – just sitting back and waiting to be attacked."

"I … well, yeah, I guess so. What if we just end up scaring everybody away, and that makes the Games even longer?"

Liv nodded. She didn't really have a good answer to that. Maybe there were no good answers. "I don't know. There's not really any way to know how the other contestants are going to react. But there has to be some way to…" She trailed off. "How did they find each other last year? At the end of the Games, when there were only a few of them left. How did they know where to go?"

Savannah shrugged. "They didn't, really. But Penelope – she made the island collapse, so they were all trying to find solid ground, and ended up heading in the same direction." She chuckled. "Don't suppose you can do anything like that with the weather?"

Liv shook her head. "Making mountains collapse is a bit out of my league."

"What about rain?"

"What about it? We've had quite a bit of rain since the Games started."

Savannah nodded. "Exactly. We've had rain. We've had snow. It's been very wet, overall. I don't know if that's normal for Wyoming, but I mean … it can only take so much, right? What if it rained more? A lot more? And kept raining?"

"You think it would cause a flood?"

Savannah shrugged. "I don't know. That's what causes floods, right? A lot of rain, with nowhere to go? People would head for high ground, right?"

"Maybe. But there are quite a few options for that. We'd have to hope everybody picked the same mountain."

Savannah nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Probably a silly idea."

"Not necessarily. But we'd want to make sure we were close to high ground first."

"There's that, I suppose."

Liv nodded. There was that. And there was also the other thing. The thing she hadn't told Savannah. The fact that there was someone else who could control the weather. Someone else who had made the tornadoes. Someone she had to assume was still alive. If it started to rain that much, would the other person be able to do anything to stop it? Or would they be just as powerless as she had been against the tornadoes?

"Let's wait until morning and see what happens," Liv decided. "If something happens during the night and someone finds us, fine. If not … then we can figure out where we go from there. Deal?"

"Deal?"

Liv nodded, trying to relax. But she couldn't shake the feeling – the nagging feeling that now that the idea was out in the open, it would be harder to ignore. It was something that Lee and Elena wouldn't have thought of. But they hadn't been trying to draw the other contestants into a fight. They had been ready for a fight – occasionally looking for a fight – but the idea of forcing other contestants together … they would never have just assumed that was a fight that they would win.

But Savannah – she seemed pretty confident that a fight would go their way, if it came to that. When it came to that. And if other people weren't going to come to them…

Wait until morning. Liv repeated the words to herself, trying to calm her nerves. There was no need to get impatient now. They could afford to wait. They could wait until morning, at least.

Then they could decide what to do next.


Henry Helstrom, 14

Eventually, they would have to decide what to do next.

Henry winced, trying to hold back a groan as they tried to settle the golem into a more comfortable position. From what they could see of Rick's face in the fading light, they hadn't been entirely successful at stifling the sound. At least Rick knew better than to ask if they were okay. They weren't. Neither of them were. And they weren't going to get any better by just sitting here and waiting. They would have to come up with a better plan.

But that … well, that could wait until morning. It would have to wait until morning if they wanted to be able to communicate properly. A combination of charades and guesswork had been good enough so far, but it was getting too dark for that. The sky was growing cloudier again, which meant the moon and stars probably wouldn't be bright enough to see by. So unless…

"Don't suppose you happen to have a flashlight in there." Henry nodded towards Rick's bag, and immediately wished they hadn't. For a moment, they shut their eyes, trying to get a grip on the dizziness and the pain. When they opened them again, Rick was holding a headlamp – but unscrewing the back and holding it out towards Henry so they could see that it was empty. "No batteries?" Henry concluded, and Rick nodded. Henry shook their head. "Why would they give us headlamps with no batteries?"

Rick shook his head, then pointed at himself. "You took the batteries out?" That got a nod. "Why?"

From the movement of his lips, a few words got out before Rick remembered that wouldn't do any good. He thought for a moment, then made a circular motion with his hand. "The circle." Rick nodded, then pointed to the bag. "The bag was at the circle. You left the bag at the circle … and you thought someone else would take it, and they wouldn't realize the batteries were gone until it was too late." Not a bad idea, really. "So what happened to the batteries?" A circular motion again, but smaller, faster. "They got sucked up by your tornado?" Rick nodded. "So someone out there could find a bunch of batteries scattered all over the place and wonder why." Rick shrugged. "You better hope they didn't hit anyone, though. They might charge you with battery."

Rick shook his head, but he was almost smiling as he reached into his backpack and pulled something out. A pretzel. He pointed to something on the pretzel, and Henry nearly burst out laughing. "Salt. Yeah, they could charge you with a-salt, too. Good one." They held out their good hand for a high-five, and Rick gave it a gentle tap.

"Clever idea, taking the batteries out," Henry offered. "I mean, it looks like it backfired a bit, but still a clever idea. You were really thinking ahead. That's something I certainly wasn't doing." They shook their head. "If I'd been planning ahead and thought – really thought – that I'd be here a week after the Games started … I think I would have played things differently. But I wasn't thinking that far ahead, because I just assumed that something would go wrong. Because it always has. Something always goes wrong – and it's usually something you can't plan for. So I guess I've never really bothered planning that far ahead."

Rick cocked his head, and there was just enough light left for Henry to catch a glimpse of his expression, which said "Why are you telling me this?" far louder than words would have. But somehow, not being able to hear the words they were saying made it easier to say them. "Look, we're both probably going to die out here, right?" They didn't wait for an answer. "I mean, look at us. Look at how badly we're hurt. And look at the people we know are left – and the ones who might be. Our chances are shit. They've always been shit. But you took that and tried to make it into a plan. That's pretty neat."

Henry took a deep breath, trying to clear their head. "So let's … let's do that. Let's get a good night's rest – as good as we can. And in the morning … we come up with a plan. Deal?"

Rick nodded.


Rick Clifton, 19

"Deal."

Rick knew Henry couldn't hear him, but it felt good to say it, anyway. It certainly felt better than admitting the truth. He hadn't been the one who had suggested taking the batteries out of the flashlights, after all. He hadn't been the one planning ahead. That had been Vi. Always planning ahead. Always playing along. Always wanting to convince the MAAB that it was worth keeping them in the game.

Slowly, Henry lowered themself until they were lying on the ground, staring up at the sky. Rick was still trying to figure out a way to communicate that he would take the first watch when a smaller golem formed itself out of the nearby ground. "Wake us if anything interesting happens," Henry mumbled before closing their eyes.

Rick raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he lay down. It wouldn't do any good. He could always stay awake, of course, but he couldn't stay awake forever. And if they were going to come up with some brilliant plan in the morning, it would be best to do it on a good night's sleep.

Rick closed his eyes. A plan. The thought left him with a sinking feeling, because the thing about a plan was that any plan to kill the other contestants meant finding the other contestants. And they only knew where one of the other contestants was – the girl who had been shooting lightning into the sky. She was back in the direction of the circle. But that plan hadn't exactly worked out so well the last time. Both he and Henry were in bad enough shape as it was. Neither of them was in any condition to dodge lightning.

But what other choice did they have? They didn't know where any of the others were. And neither of their powers was going to be much use when it came to looking for the others. Unless…

Henry's golem had found him. And it hadn't even been looking for him. He'd thought that maybe the creature was leading him into a trap, and had followed it anyway. It hadn't turned out to be a trap after all, but what if … what if it could be? What if someone else might fall for the same thing? Someone who might not realize it was a trap – or maybe someone who was certain they could overpower someone who was trying to bait them into such an obvious trap.

Of course, they would need quite a bit of luck to make it work. The golem that had found him had been looking for water; he'd just happened to be in the right spot. But the chances that some of the other contestants were near some sort of water … that seemed like a pretty good bet. How had the golem found the water, anyway? Could it sense water? Maybe. Maybe it had just gotten lucky. He would have to ask Henry in the morning.

Morning. It could wait until morning. It would have to wait until morning. Rick rolled over a little, trying to find a more comfortable position. Or at least a position that was a little less painful. It was easier when there was something else to do, something else to focus on – easier to ignore the pain that always lingered there in the background, waiting for his attention to waver long enough to remind him that, yes, he'd had a nasty encounter with fire not that long ago and he hadn't really done much to treat it besides wrap it up and stuff himself full of painkillers. He'd thought maybe that would be enough to keep him going until the end of the Games, and then…

Rick clenched his fists. He hadn't really been thinking about the 'and then.' After the Games … it seemed so far away. I just assumed that something would go wrong. That was what Henry had said. Maybe he'd been doing the same thing all along. Had there ever been a moment when he'd thought – really thought – that maybe he would be one of the ones to make it out?

Rick shuddered. There hadn't been a moment. There had been two. At the start of the Games, when he'd killed that boy just outside the tunnels. And then when he and Vi had come back to the tunnels and killed the other boy.

The other boy. Manaka. That was his name. Had been his name. He'd told Rick that, when he'd suggested that they team up. It had never even occurred to Rick to accept his offer. Two survivors. Those were the rules. There hadn't seemed to be any point in teaming up with more than one person. Now that Vi was dead, though, there didn't seem to be any downside to teaming up with someone…

Someone. And he'd picked someone who was deaf and could barely move on their own. But maybe … well, maybe that was the only sort of person who would have him – someone who realized that they were both lost causes. He and Vi had teamed up in the first place because they'd both gone to Judah for help after realizing that their powers would be useless in a fight. Now, he and Henry were both injured, both terribly ill-equipped for a fight and both resigned to the fact that a fight was what would have to happen, anyway. Rick finally managed to relax a little. He could work with someone like that.

And it seemed Henry had decided they could, too.


Kiara Moore, 15

"Looks like they decided to stop for the night."

Kiara nodded as she and Fae finished off a box of poptarts. Now that it was dark out – nearly pitch black with the clouds blocking the stars and most of the light from the moon – the lightning had also stopped. That seemed a bit odd, really. After all, if whoever was shooting off the lightning was trying to lure in the other contestants, then it would certainly be easier to see the lightning at night. Not that it had been hard to see at dusk, but it would be even easier now. So why stop?

Kiara shook the thought from her head. Maybe they had decided to get some sleep. Or maybe that was what they wanted the other contestants to think. There was no way to be sure – not without going back to check – and she was in no mood for mind games. If someone else decided to take the bait, all the better. If not, maybe whoever was back there would get even more desperate and try something even riskier. Either way, their best bet was to stay put for the night and not do anything rash. After all, it had worked so far.

Except when it hadn't.

Not doing anything rash hadn't helped them at the start of the Games, when the other group had decided to attack them. Not taking chances hadn't kept the vampire and the werewolf from deciding they were a good target. And not taking risks hadn't saved them from the tornado. Iola had saved them. Iola had made sure that she and Fae had survived. She couldn't let that be for nothing. They had to make it out of here.

Which meant that eventually, they would have to fight. Eventually, they would have to kill. They would have to take a risk.

But not right now. Not tonight. And not that big a risk. Kiara stared off into the darkness. She had managed to talk Fae out of going back and attacking whoever was at the circle shooting off lighting.

So why was she still trying to talk herself out of it?

Kiara glanced over at Fae, barely visible in the dark, polishing off the last of her poptart. She had talked Fae out of it because someone had to. Someone had to be the voice of reason. But the truth was, she was just as ready to be done with the Games as Fae was. The truth was, she wished there was someone there to hold her back.

She wished Iola was there to hold her back.

Kiara sighed. Iola hadn't had any more of a plan than the rest of them had. Survive. That had been the plan. Make it through the day, then make it through the night. Rinse and repeat. But eventually, that would stop working. It had stopped working for Iola. One of them might be next. She might be next – or Fae might be next.

She wasn't sure which thought scared her more.

Wordlessly, Kiara wrapped an arm around Fae, who snuggled a little closer. She hadn't expected that at the start – hadn't expected to get this close to anyone she was working with. This was a fight to the death, after all. Yes, two of them could survive, but that wasn't a guarantee that two of them would. Either of them could die. And Iola had died. And she had still gotten attached. Maybe it wasn't possible to work this closely with someone for this long and not get attached.

And maybe that was it – the fact that the Games had lasted this long. She hadn't expected them to. Last year's Games had been over in a matter of days. If that had been the case this year, would they still have gotten this close? Maybe. Maybe not. There was no way of knowing, really. Maybe being in this sort of a life-and-death situation was enough, no matter how long it lasted.

And maybe … well, maybe that was for the best. Having Fae here – being this close to Fae – it was better, somehow, than just fighting for herself. It meant more. Iola's death had meant something because she had saved them. In this cruel, heartless mess, she had still managed to make her sacrifice mean something. That had to count for…

For what? Who would care? Besides her and Fae, of course. Did the MAAB care? Did the coaches? Maybe the coaches, but … well, they couldn't really afford to get attached, either, could they? Not when twenty-eight of them were going to die. Did they really care which two of them made it out alive? After all, they hadn't cared enough to tell her the truth.

Kiara's stomach churned at the thought. That wasn't fair. Vincent had made a choice. Probably the choice he had thought was best at the time. A choice he shouldn't have had to make – just like the rest of them. Every choice they'd made since the MAAB had brought them here was a choice they shouldn't have had to make. And that included the coaches. Had to include the coaches, because if she made it out…

If she made it out, she would be one of them. She would have to work with them. And she would have to make the same sort of choices. Choices that could help one contestant while harming another. Choices that could lead to people's deaths. Choices that would lead to people's deaths.

Kiara gave Fae's shoulder a squeeze and drew her a little closer. She was getting ahead of herself. They weren't out of the Games yet. For all she knew, they might not even be close.

But on the other hand, maybe they were closer than she knew.


Lea Cervantes, 18

Maybe she was closer than she'd thought.

Lea managed a smile as she picked up the pace again. The last of the lightning had died down a little while ago, but it had looked close. Closer than she'd thought the other contestants would be, at least. Of course, it was hard to be certain with lightning. Didn't it have something to do with counting the seconds between the flashes and the thunder? One second was … what? Five miles? Ten? Something like that, anyway. Except there wasn't any thunder. Still, the lightning looked close.

Lea rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. Maybe she was getting closer, but she was also getting tired. And it was getting dark. Clouds almost completely hid the moon, but maybe that was a good thing. She would have to stop eventually, so maybe now was as good a time as any. No one was likely to stumble across her in the dark. Most people probably wouldn't be moving in the dark.

Most people. That was assuming that there were enough people left for 'most' of them to be more than a few. If there were only a handful of them left, after all, the chances of any of them just happening to find her were pretty slim. Of course, that meant the reverse was also true; she wasn't particularly likely to just happen to stumble across someone in the dark.

But was that good or bad?

Lea stretched her arms, shaking her head, trying to keep herself awake. For now, it was probably good that she wasn't likely to find anyone just yet. She didn't really feel ready for a fight. Not that she ever had. Not that she ever would, probably. But … well, maybe after a good night's rest…

But she was so close.

Close to … what? If she was getting close to the other contestants, that was an even better reason to rest while she could. She could feel her legs slowing a little as her mind and body argued. She was tired. She needed rest.

So why did it feel like she should keep going?

Because that was what the message had said – or at least what the message had implied. All it had really said was "342°." That had led her to food, and she had just assumed that she should keep going. That was what she'd been doing anyway, after all. That was the idea. Head back towards the others. Play the Game. Hope it wasn't too late to give herself a chance.

A chance. That was something she'd never really had with Elio, after all. They'd never had a chance – not a real chance – of making a difference in the Games. She'd wanted to be a hero. But maybe there weren't any heroes in here. Maybe the best she could hope for was being a survivor.

And maybe that was enough.

Lea shook her head. Enough for who? It was enough for her. That was what mattered right now. And if it wasn't good enough for God … well, maybe He shouldn't have let them put her in here in the first place.

No, that wasn't going to help. Anger wasn't going to help. Well, it might help keep her awake, but it wasn't going to help keep her alive. Anger would just cloud her judgment, and she couldn't afford to make mistakes.

Not when she'd already made so many.

Except … had going with Elio really been a mistake? Yes, it meant that she'd been far away from the rest of the contestants, but she was still alive. Would she still be alive if she'd made a different choice? Maybe. Maybe not.

Lea nearly jumped as she stepped on something slippery. Something wet. She'd almost walked right into one of the small lakes. Okay, maybe it was time to settle down for the night if she hadn't even noticed the lake right in front of her. She could afford to rest for a little while.

She would just have to hope no one would find her.


Kylena Albright, 16

She would just have to hope no one would find her.

Kylena rolled over again, trying to tell herself the same thing she'd been repeating to herself for hours. No one would find her. No one would want to keep moving in the dark. And she would have to sleep eventually. It was definitely better to do it at night, when the other contestants were less likely to see her from a distance.

It made sense. And she'd been trying for … it certainly felt like hours. She didn't have a watch, but that was probably a good thing. Staring at a clock never helped anyone get to sleep. It was just so much harder to sleep now that she was alone. Now that there was no one there to keep watch.

Now that Jaime was dead.

Kylena squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, trying not to cry. Jaime was dead. They'd been together since the start of the Games, and now, just like that, Jaime was gone. Just like Evelyn and Makenzie. But this … this was different. She'd really been starting to think that maybe the two of them had a chance. They'd come up with some clever plans. They'd been playing it smart. They'd picked the right battles.

Until they'd picked the wrong one.

Now … now it just felt inevitable. Of course they would eventually run into someone they couldn't handle in a fight. Yes, she was still alive, but only because she'd gotten lucky. Lucky that Jaime had survived long enough to transfer their pain to their opponent long enough for Kylena to get away. That was it. She'd just run away. She hadn't won the fight; she just hadn't died.

Which was exactly what they'd done before, when Evelyn had been killed. She and Jaime had run away. They'd left Rick and Vi and just … run. But running would only help her for so long. She couldn't just keep running away and hoping the other contestants killed each other off … Could she? She couldn't really get that lucky.

But what was the alternative? The fewer of them were left, the more likely it was that the contestants she ran into would be ones whose powers were stronger, because they would be the ones who survived the fights with whoever they'd been fighting. What were the chances she would find someone who hadn't actually been in a fight? Probably pretty slim at this point. And yes, she'd survived a couple fights, too, but she hadn't killed anyone with her powers. She'd killed with a gun.

But … those contestants were just as dead. Maybe it didn't matter if they'd been shot or struck by lightning or swept up by a tornado. They were dead. She'd killed three people. And she was still alive.

And if she wanted to stay alive, she had to get some rest.

Kylena pulled her blanket a little tighter. At least that had had a chance to dry out. And it didn't seem quite as cold as some of the other nights had been. Or maybe she was just too tired to care.

Rest when you can. That had been Ian's advice at the start of the Games. She and Jaime had done their best to follow the coaches' advice. They'd followed the directions they were given. They'd played along with the Games. And what had it gotten them? Jaime was dead. And if she fell asleep, she might be next and never know it.

Rest when you can.

But if she couldn't

Maybe it was better to make some progress.

Kylena opened her eyes and slowly sat up and packed up her backpack, folding the blanket inside and tucking her pistol back in her pocket. She'd spent a while earlier figuring out how to reload it, then tested it to make sure she'd gotten it right. She'd missed the bird she was aiming at, but at least she knew her weapon would fire if she needed it.

When she needed it. Kylena glanced around one more time. When nothing came falling out of the sky to tell her this was a bad idea, she shrugged and set off into the night. Maybe the coaches were asleep, too. They had to sleep sometime, didn't they? And there was probably no one else on the move.

Probably. That was what she was counting on – that she wouldn't just run into somebody if she kept moving. Or that if she did, they would be asleep and wouldn't see her coming. That would make it easier to take care of them.

Kylena swallowed hard, her fingers tracing the outline of the gun in her pocket. It was one thing to kill someone in a fight. Someone who was trying to kill her. The contestants they'd fought back at the circle had been trying to kill them. At least the boys at the house had had a chance to fight back. If she came across someone who was sleeping, would she really have it in her to pull the trigger?

Part of her hoped she wouldn't have to find out.


Fae Tomasini, 13

Part of her hoped there would be more lightning.

Fae gripped her knife tightly as she stared off into the darkness, waiting. Watching. Well, watching as well as she could. The moon, just barely visible through the clouds, was sinking lower and lower in the sky. Kiara was still sleeping soundly, something Fae hadn't been able to do earlier. She'd offered to take over keeping watch after what must have been hours of trying and failing to get some sleep. She was tired, but…

But she couldn't help wondering whether they'd made the wrong choice. When they'd gotten the envelope back at the circle, they'd assumed – apparently correctly – that the coaches were trying to draw some of the contestants together. They'd headed off in the other direction because … well, because they hadn't wanted to fight. Plain and simple. They'd assumed it was a fight they wouldn't win.

What if they'd been wrong?

If they'd stayed where they were – if they'd tried to ambush whoever might have been coming – then maybe they would have had the element of surprise. That was probably more than they could hope for now. Now if they wanted to fight, they would have to go looking for the other contestants. They might be the ones being ambushed. Maybe whoever was shooting off the lightning had the right idea, trying to draw people in.

But what chance did they have against someone who could shoot lightning?

But eventually, someone would have to fight them.

They'll start to get tired. They'll start to make mistakes. And that's when we'll have a chance. That was what Kiara had said. But how many of the other contestants were out there thinking the same thing – that all they had to do was be patient long enough and wait for someone else to make a mistake first? What would happen if no one did? They couldn't just let the Games go on forever, could they?

Fae shook her head, gripping her knife. They could. It would be cruel, but that was the point. For all they knew, almost all of the contestants might be left. How many did they know for sure were actually dead? The boy Iola had killed the first night. The boy Fae had killed a few days later. And Iola. That was it, really. All they knew for sure, at least.

And probably Henry. Probably. They were probably dead by now, right? All it would take was for someone to find them while they were sleeping, or for them to lose their concentration on the golem for only a moment. That was it. They were probably dead.

Probably.

Fae's stomach churned. The thought should have been a welcome one. Henry had left them, after all. They'd left when they could have helped. If they'd been there to protect the group, Iola might not have died. She didn't owe them anything. They'd run away. She had stayed.

Except…

Except she had tried to run away too, that first night. Kiara had found her and brought her back. No one had tried to go after Henry. What would have happened if they had?

Stop it. She couldn't change any of that now. Henry was gone. They were probably dead. And she had done that. She'd had to do it, because she wanted to survive. And she wanted Kiara to survive. In order for that to happen, Henry had to die. Better for it to happen sooner rather than later.

I could have done something. But I didn't. That's what they had said. Fae shifted uneasily, the words still nagging at her. Almost as if Henry had been taunting her. Goading her. Almost as if they'd wanted her to scream and incapacitate them. Had they wanted her to? But why? Did they think maybe they deserved it? Did they feel guilty?

But that … that didn't quite seem right, either. If they'd felt guilty about what they'd done, if they were really sorry, then why not simply apologize? She would have–

What? What would she have done if they'd apologized, and if she'd really believed they were sorry? What would she have done? What would Kiara have done? Would it really have made any difference?

No. No, it hadn't been guilt in Henry's voice, now that she thought about it. It had been resignation. As if they'd known what she was going to do, even though it had caught Kiara off-guard. But how could they have known?

Unless they'd wanted her to do it.

Unless they'd decided it was better than the alternative.

Unless she'd had another option…

Oh.

Maybe she had had another option. There had been a few times during training when it had seemed like her singing had made it harder for Henry to concentrate on their golems. If she'd started singing, would they have been able to hold their golem together? She hadn't even thought of that – not until now.

But maybe Henry had.

Fae turned the knife over in her hands. Maybe she and Kiara would have a better chance in a fight than she'd thought. She'd assumed that if they found someone else, her best course of action would be to scream and deafen them. But that wouldn't stop them from shooting lightning bolts or whatever someone else might be able to do. But if she could distract them, disorient them – maybe they would have a hard time concentrating on their powers, too.

Could she really do that?


Vincent Reid, 28

Do you think she'll really do it?

Vincent turned to see which screen Penelope was watching. Liv was fiddling with the knife Savannah had given her to hold onto while keeping watch. Occasionally, she glanced up at the sky, at the clouds that were thickening even as the sun began to creep over the horizon. The other coaches were watching him, which meant Penelope had probably asked the question out loud. And they were wondering what he thought because … what? Because he was Liv's coach? The others probably had just as good an idea of what she was capable of.

Vincent shrugged. "Can she cause some flooding? I'd say so. We've seen both her and Rick cause it to rain before, and that's what you need, right? The right amount of rain in a short amount of time, and the ground can't–"

Penelope shook her head. That's not what I meant. I think we all know that she can. I'm asking whether you think she will. Rick didn't mean to cause those tornadoes, and he certainly didn't have time to think about what the effects would be outside the Games. This is different.

Vincent raised an eyebrow. Penelope's expression was unreadable, and the tone of her thoughts was as straightforward as usual. Whether there was disapproval or admiration at the idea of one of their contestants deliberately causing wholesale destruction outside the Games themselves, he couldn't tell. "You destroyed a whole island," he pointed out.

There was just a hint, just a flicker of a smile. But he knew the difference even before Penelope pointed it out. We were the only ones on the island. We were at least a hundred miles from shore. There was never any danger of anyone else getting hurt.

Vincent shook his head. "We tried to warn the MAAB. We told them they were biting off more than they could chew, no matter how much they tried to isolate the Games. They didn't listen."

Think they would listen now? That was Maria.

Vincent shrugged. "What are they going to do? Turn her collar on?"

Ian nodded. They could.

"They won't." Even Vincent was a little surprised by how certain he was, but he saw Penelope nod in agreement, and he plunged on. "They didn't do anything to stop the tornadoes. Maybe turning Rick's collar on wouldn't have helped much by the time it was obvious something was happening, but they didn't have to turn Vi's collar off. And let's not pretend they did that because it would save Rick. They did it because of how it would look. Maybe they didn't know exactly what would happen, but they knew it would be something big."

That was what they cared about, in the end. The MAAB didn't care – not really – exactly what happened in the Games. They probably didn't even care much about what the repercussions were outside the Games, as long as they got their results. As long as mutants looked like the monsters the MAAB thought they were. And sending a tornado barreling through the city? Intentionally causing flooding across whatever might happen to be in a storm's path? What could look more monstrous than that?

If a storm comes and wipes out half of Wyoming, none of us get what we want. That was what he had told Alvin when he'd suggested keeping Rick and Liv as far apart as possible. But he'd been wrong. The MAAB would get what they wanted. They always got what they wanted.

Vincent sighed and glanced at Penelope, who was watching him curiously. Maybe she was still waiting for an answer. "Yes, I think she will," he said at last. He raised an eyebrow as he caught another thought, coming from behind them. "And I think Alvin thinks so, too."

He turned in time to see Alvin smiling grimly as he took a few steps closer, positioning himself between Vincent and the fan along the far wall. Was it that obvious?

"Yes."

Nicholas says turning her collar on isn't on the table.

Vincent nodded. "Of course not. That's why she's here. I'm sure she'll give you a good show."

We're making preparations to evacuate once things get too bad.

"Sensible."

I don't suppose you want to send them anything.

Vincent glanced at Penelope. Liv wasn't her contestant, of course, but Savannah was. And it was Savannah who had made the suggestion in the first place. If she sent her a message telling her not to, maybe she would listen.

Except…

Except the whole point of sending messages to the contestants in the first place was to help them. And whether any of them liked it or not, there was a good chance that, as far as Liv and Savannah were concerned, causing a flood was the right move. It would give them the upper hand. Penelope shook her head. No, I don't think so.

Alvin turned back to Vincent, his thoughts swirling with the possibilities of what might happen with a big enough storm. Vincent hesitated. If he sent something, would Liv even listen? His last advice had gotten both Lee and Elena killed. She had no reason to trust any advice he might send even if he wanted to.

But that … that was just a background thought, really. The truth was much simpler than that – and much harsher. The truth was, he didn't want to send anything. He didn't want to stop her. He wanted this to be over. And if there were consequences outside the Games … well, maybe that was exactly what they deserved. He shook his head. "No."

Alvin nodded. He didn't look surprised. He usually didn't. He just looked resigned, and very tired. Okay. I'll come get you when we're evacuating.

When. Not if. Vincent leaned back in his chair as the door closed behind Alvin. Penelope nodded. You made the right choice.

Vincent shook his head. There were no right choices. Not anymore. But he'd made a choice he could live with.

That would have to be good enough.


"Because you know what it means to lose someone you love."