Chapter Seventy-Five: Will You Remember Me?

Night Eight

Clara Ridley, District One Female

Running hurts on multiple levels at the moment.

I hate that I somehow still couldn't do any more than chip damage to Godric and Sienna. I hate that the fucking bitch from Eight somehow hurt me far more than I ever hurt her. I hate that my cut leg is sending very loud and very painful objections any time I do something mildly strenuous. I hate that I couldn't even get anything from the stupid Feast, thus erasing the whole point of me coming there.

Yet, I'm not out of the running just yet. Two cannons fired in quick succession after I left: unless one of them was for the one tribute unaccounted for at the Feast, it means at least one of Godric or Sienna died, preferably both. Two on one is hard. One on one, I'm pretty sure I have the upper hand there, even with all these injuries getting in the way.

Fucking Lacey. Somehow almost managed to ruin everything for all of us. My only consolation is that Godric took some hits as well, meaning we should be on something resembling even ground even with the hitch in my step. When I find her again it's going to take every ounce of restraint I have left not to just snap her neck for some cheap catharsis.

I'll have plenty of time to fantasize about that soon enough, though. Since the Feast, I've made quite the trek from the Cornucopia, meaning if someone was tailing me at this point, I definitely would have spotted them, and even the chances of my camp being stumbled upon by accident are quite low. Therefore, I might as well try and get some beauty sleep. There's no way the Games are lasting until tomorrow night, so I want to be well-rested for the inevitable in the morning.

I've gotten used to roughing it these past eight days, so I just find some flat ground and prepare to crash hard. I would have fallen asleep almost right away, but before I do, the Capitol anthem starts playing and I instantly snap awake if only for a little longer: it's in my best interest to see where this goes.

The Gamemakers take their sweet time starting the show: the anthem drags on and on for about five times longer than it needs to be before the faces in the sky start appearing. Sienna comes first, which results in a big sigh of relief: even if Sienna's way less combat-oriented than me, she and Godric at the same time are still too much to take in a straight fight without any tricks. Then Lacey, who I wish I could have killed myself but am glad is dead either way, at least it means she can't anger anyone else like she did me. Last, of course, comes the boy from Eleven, who fell at my hands this morning. He had the highest score of all eighteen non-Careers, yet he died in such a stupid way: what a pity that District Eleven got their hopes up for someone that brain-dead.

That means Godric's the only person left that I care about. The girl from Six might have been buddy-buddy with Lacey, which means I'm not going to be forgiving with her, but she's just a speed bump on the way to Godric. Based on what little I saw of her fighting, or more accurately, not fighting, she won't last a second against either me or Godric.

"Tomorrow's the day," I say. "I'm getting out of this Arena tomorrow. Tell everyone you see that when the sun sets tomorrow, Clara Ridley will be your next victor. I'll be home before long, don't you worry."

Okay, now I can actually sleep. I doubt the Gamemakers will send a mutt or a tribute after me this late in the Games: they have reasons to keep us both alive for just one more night. Godric and I have a score to settle and the skill to make the inevitable final battle entertaining to the masses, and that's enough to get me to tomorrow morning.

Everything starts fading out within seconds. Look out, world. When I wake up tomorrow, I'll be ready for anything, and anyone who stands between me and the Victor's Village will get sent home in a body bag for their troubles. That's just how things were meant to be, and nothing in this universe is going to change that.

Zari Morelett, District Six Female

The anthem manages to rouse me from my sleep. At least two other tributes died at the Feast based on the cannons, and that's not counting the tribute who died earlier today. This is my opportunity to determine my final opponents, and whether or not I have any chance of making it home alive.

Then the first picture they show is the girl from Four, and my face falls.

That means the girl from One and the boy from Two both survived.

And I'm still here.

If they're both alive and I haven't been dead all along, then that means… no, no, no—

As if to confirm my suspicions and nothing else, Lacey's face replaces the other girl's in the sky. She smiles down at me for a few seconds, but then the anthem ends and her picture is replaced, like Lacey never existed except in my mind.

The boy from Eleven comes up last. I knew little about him other than that he scored exceptionally well, but I do know he wasn't a Career. Even if I'm sure he'd cut me down in combat, at least he'd probably make it quick. I don't know what the Careers are capable of, other than murdering everyone I've been close to the entire Games. A few seconds later, the sky goes blank, and just like that, I'm left alone once more.

It takes a lot to keep from crying. The odds were never in my favor from the start, but this is just ridiculous. Maybe the Gamemakers want to ensure a Career wins this year to prevent the same fiasco as last year from occurring, but in that case, at least I thought I'd be dead by now, not a pawn in a game that was rigged from the start.

And yet, I'm alive, and the last non-Career to boot. An outcome I'm sure nobody expected, not even me.

That has to be worth something, right?

No, not enough. It's not worth my life. It's not worth my family's grief. It's not worth anything that matters.

While I'd love to stay positive, there just isn't a reason to do that anymore. Every door available to me has closed. Every ally rests in peace. Every outcome I can think of ends with my death, an early grave somewhere in the District. What good can be found in that? Not much.

I need to think more logically, and if that means the positivity has to go, then so be it. I simply don't have another option.

If I need to get real, the one revelation I've finally been required to accept comes front and center: I'm going to have to drink the serum. Go big or go home. Going home was never an option. Had Lacey or Toren been here instead of me, they would have done that without a second thought. I'm going to have to do the same.

With that on my mind, I choose to keep myself awake just a little longer for something that might honestly be the most important thing I could have done up to this point in the Games when everyone else is considered. Tomorrow, I'm not going to have time for anything but the trip to the Cornucopia and the inevitable battle that will commence there, so I have to spare just a little bit of time tonight. This will likely be the last time I have a chance to say something for the cameras. With the end nearing either way, I want to leave something behind to be remembered by.

If I win, then this message will probably be played in the recap of this Games on loop, forever. And if I lose… this is goodbye.

"To my parents, my siblings, my friends, and everyone in District Six," I say and sign simultaneously, eyes trained on the cameras that I really hope are there. "Thank you. For everything. I'll do everything I can to make it home for you. Whether or not it works is not my decision to make, but I'm going to try."

Even in the stillest hour of the night, I'm sure some permutation of my family and friends are watching the TV, hoping for the same outcome that I am no matter how impossible that seems. I can't see or hear what they have to say about me, but I can feel their hope powering me for what has to be one last big push.

And now, I have no excuse to shun the serum. Even if it might not be enough, I at least have to try.

After I finish comprehending that, I decide to try and get a little more sleep: fighting a Career at full alertness is hard enough, I don't want to find out what it's like when I'm tired. I collapse on the ground, curling up into the tightest ball I can, rocking gently back and forth as I wait for the night to overtake me.

Thankfully, it grants my request for what might be the last time, sending me drifting into a peaceful oblivion where all my worries fall away.

Godric Runestone, District Two Male

For the first time since the start of the Games, I slept inside the Cornucopia, largely shielded from the elements. It wasn't a fancy hotel or anything like that, but after almost a week of roughing it outside not having to deal with the biting wind or the moon's harsh glare makes it feel like a little slice of paradise.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to enjoy it for long: I stayed awake long enough to watch the anthem (which revealed the girl from Six as the unknown tribute instead of the boy from Eleven, much to my surprise), then clocked out for just long enough to regain most of my energy, knowing Clara would be more than willing to attempt a cheap shot this close to the end. I don't know much about the girl from Six, since she didn't really make a strong impression on any of us before the Games, but for all I know, she could be into that too, perhaps even more so since she scored much lower than we did.

I spent most of the evening trying to prepare for the finale. Not too hard, because I didn't want to lose any liquid that I couldn't afford to at this point, but hard enough to shake off whatever rust I might have. Clara definitely did the same, so every second I spend not training just knocks me further behind.

Still, there has to be a balance. Hence, even though I woke up on my own, I'm probably going to sleep for just a little longer: not too late, but long enough to ensure I'm at my absolute peak when the end comes.

Ever since I knew I would enter the Games no matter the cost, I envisioned myself making it to the finale, every other tribute falling one by one until I stood alone atop the Cornucopia. So far, I've managed to live up to that vision for the most part, even with the many, many speed bumps in the road that I couldn't quite have accounted for at that age. The final phase of that plan has arrived, and all I have to do is succeed one last time, or at least do well enough to come out on top in the final battle.

Yet, I still have some time before I charge into that battle. And while I could very well pull this off, there still is a chance I never make it out of this place. Plenty of Careers in years gone by have left things to remember them by in the past before the finale, now it's my turn to take up their mantle.

No matter what happens, today is going to be the first day of my new life, and the time has come to buckle up and face it. I might as well face everyone else here while I'm at it.

I stand just outside the Cornucopia and face outward, because I presume that's where the highest concentration of cameras in the Arena are pointing, and I compose what may very well be my final message to the world.

"I'll be home soon," I say. "I only have so much control over whether I come home alive or dead, but I'm going to do everything I can to be your victor. Nothing else will satisfy me, and I don't want to leave this world just yet. We'll see how it goes in the morning, but I'm not backing down this close to the end."

There. That meant something, or at least I hope it did. Maybe Crag would have said something different, but there's no way he can send anything to me now: it must be crazy expensive at this point and I don't even think it'll help that much.

Very soon, there's no reason I can come up with for staying awake even a second longer. It's still night. It was a long day. Everyone else has to be sleeping at this point, I might as well do the same. Even if Clara or the girl from Six tries to sneak up on me, I'm sure I've impressed the Gamemakers at this point: they'll want to keep me alive for the finale if nothing else. At least, that's how Games of the past have worked, so I hope that trend continues for this one.

The ground may be lumpy and covered in bristles, but at the moment, I don't care: all I need is to close my eyes for a bit. Oblivion overtakes me before I have the chance to see what's beyond it, the world disappearing into the aether.

Summer Coxell, Head Gamemaker

Today's the last morning of the Games. I know it. The other Gamemakers know it. I'm sure the tributes and citizens all know it as well. There's nothing left to accomplish other than ending the Games: no alliances to test or break, no scores to settle, no tributes who shouldn't be given the chance to come out on top. No obstacles remain whatsoever.

This was a lovely first year in the driver's seat, all things considered. Things went smoothly pretty much the entire way through. The only major bump in the road came when the Careers split up far earlier than anyone expected, but even then, I'd like to think my team and I adjusted to this development as well as possible. Even though it's anyone's game now, there's nothing I have against this development.

The occasional question comes my way, but I manage to answer everything without so much as breaking stride, everything at this point remaining simple and clean. However, just before I reach my station, I get pulled aside by Terry, looking far more exuberant than I expected for eight o'clock in the morning but still cogent enough to recognize they need me for something nonetheless.

"Hello, Terry," I say. "What's your question?"

It's a fairly logical one, given previous years. "Are there any tributes I should favor for the finale? Or at the very least, is there a tribute you'd prefer to win at this stage?"

I shrug. "Not really. All of them winning would make for some pretty solid stories. I'm sure the magazines and news outlets will eat this Games up no matter who comes out on top."

Terry doesn't look convinced, but at the very least he seems willing to hear me out on this one. "Okay. If the girl from One wins, what's going to be the major takeaway there?"

"She's the antithesis of a Career, even if she has all their training," I say. "If she wins, it'll show that perhaps the Career pack isn't as much of a worthwhile tradition as otherwise remembered. She'd have looked at the rules being a Career saddled her with, said 'fuck this,' broken them all to forge her own path, and won anyway. That's a damn impressive victory if nothing else."

His questioning continues on a logical path from there. "Boy from Two?"

"Easiest one by far," I say, which is true for several reasons even if I only cite one. "Legacy Career. Even if he wants to be seen separately from his father if his interview means anything, legacy victories only come once in a blue moon. They'll be all over that."

That leaves the most difficult question for last. "Aren't you nervous that if the girl from Six wins, the finale will just be seen as a rehash from last year?"

"I'm not too worried even if that one wins," I say. "She's not a relative non-entity stealing the victory at the last minute because everyone else was too stupid to take him out first. She's an underdog that's been thoroughly broken over the course of the Games finally steeling herself against her demons and using both her newfound resolve and the serum to overpower a stronger foe."

Terry nods. "Well, all of those things sound good to me. Not sure how everyone in the Capitol will take it, but I'm sure we'll all hear their opinions once the Games are over."

That's very true. "It's almost never about who wins the Games. It's about how to spin their victory the best you can."

Before I was promoted to Head Gamemaker, several of the more senior members of the team had shared this very wisdom with me, which had come in handy time and time again when unconventional tributes pulled off victories. Barring the last Games, we'd been on a run of fairly conventional victors, an even mix of Careers and strong outliers, so it hasn't come in handy that often, but it doesn't make the reasoning behind it any less valid.

A few more minutes pass, the sun rising over both the Capitol and the Arena. Even as all of my Gamemakers buzz around the floor, all three of the remaining tributes are asleep: maybe they need a bit longer than I expected. Having them fight tired doesn't seem like a good idea, but having nothing going on for an extended stretch, even this late in the Games, might be even worse, so I resolve to give them an hour or so before waking them up myself.

Not much else happens in the Arena during that hour once my coworkers settle into their stations: the girl from One wakes up on her own, but the other two continue snoozing past the point of acceptability. A bit of intervention is necessary there, so I start making an announcement, the volume cranked up as loudly as possible to ensure it reaches all ears.

"Attention, tributes. Congratulations on making it this far in the Games. While I won't tell you anything too revealing about the finale, it's in your best interest to be prepared for anything. May the odds be ever in your favor."

Not much substance in the announcement as a whole, but it still accomplishes its purpose: both of the other tributes shoot awake within the first few words, both of them grabbing weapons before realizing the source of all the noise isn't something they can fight. Once that's done, neither of them attempts to go back to sleep and instead prepare for what's sure to be their final day in the Arena, the sun beginning to bake everything and the heat rising to an oppressive temperature once more.

Time for final checks. "Anything important happens since everyone woke up?"

"Nothing's changed," Terry says. "There's only three of them left, and they're nowhere near each other. I was going to try and drive them toward each other anyway, but I can't be alone in thinking it's about time to end things. Should I commence the finale?"

I nod. "Commence the finale. You know what to do."

"That indeed," Terry says, rushing back to his station.

"Okay, everyone, the time has come to start the finale," I say, announcing it to the room this time. "We're getting everything in gear right now. I'm going to give the tributes some time to fully wake up, but once that happens, it's go time. Am I clear?"

Everyone in the room says something affirmative in response, or at least nods in confirmation. I can't say my work here is done, but all that's left to do is steer the Games to their natural conclusion. As long as a tribute makes it out of here alive, all outcomes from this point onward are good ones.

This has always been my favorite part of the Games past the Bloodbath: that beautiful moment where the last remaining threads of the story being tied themselves up in a neat little bow, leaving the Arena as a monument, a reminder of all that had transpired inside of it.

For me, at least, the time to do things has ended. All that's left for me now is to watch.

Shorter chapter this time around: I couldn't think of anything that would warrant stretching Night Eight out to two chapters, so I crammed everything into one. Night Eight's meant to be a breather after the disaster that was last chapter, so not much was ever going to happen in it anyway.

Next chapter starts the finale, which will have two parts. The first part is already done and just needs revising, while the second part needs some work before I can release it to the world. The first part should be out in a few days, though, since it's pretty short.

That's all I've got this time around. See you next chapter for the beginning of the end, one last time.