CHAPTER 2 - QUARTER QUELL BLOODBATH
Concrete surrounded Basal, an underground storage space meant for tributes before they were raised into the arena. He'd thrown up on the hovercraft ride over, motion sickness or fear the culprit. He sat woodenly as his stylist dressed him.
Basal wore a temperature regulating under-layer, a thick, wool hoodie, and pants and a coat made of rain-resistant material. As he moved, the material was silent.
The stylist droned on about how strong he was, and if he was more confident he might have chance at winning. Basal remained silent until he was thrust into a glass test-tube.
The pedestal below his feet started to rise.
It couldn't be happening this fast… it felt like he was Reaped yesterday.
But it was.
Basal thought about stepping off the plate and blowing himself sky-high, but he wanted to protect the D6 kids, even if he didn't bother to remember their names. Their presence had been enough to make him care.
As Basal rose, the tube lightened. Not a piercing, disabling beam, but rather a soft glow.
Gentle light covered a lush garden, with beautiful adornments, statues, and trellises. White stone buildings lay beyond the garden, various structures surrounding the tributes. There was a soft hum, a gentle song, and it didn't seem to be coming from speakers.
Being faced with muttations right off the bat would be an unfortunate twist. Basal hoped that wouldn't happen.
As the angelic scenery fell out of focus, Basal stared at the tributes.
Something was wrong.
His mind faltered, then caught up a few moments later.
There were only twelve tributes surrounding the gleaming-white cornucopia.
Basal's mind spun. Where were the other tributes? Was there another cornucopia close by? Was his alliance here?
Basal scanned the tributes and saw both D6 kids, along with four out of the six careers.
The tributes present appeared to be random. It wasn't all boys or girls, it wasn't one tribute from each district. Basal couldn't spare time to think about the logic. He kept scanning the tributes.
A cannon boomed, to indicate a ten second warning. Cannons continued to boom with each passing second.
Basal noticed there was a host of larger, more powerful tributes here. Along with the four careers, there was the girl from D8, the boy from D10, and the girl from D5.
Two more petit mid-aged tributes, fifteen or sixteen, looked petrified. Basal couldn't remember what districts they were from.
Basal mustered his strength, and honed in.
A final, louder, cannon boomed to signify the beginning of the games.
He hoped the D6 kids would run for the hills, but they both sprinted for the white horn, adrenaline and over-confidence clouding their judgement.
Basal wanted to run away. But he didn't.
He sprinted head-first into the action, pulling a short sword from the grass on the way to the horn. He didn't think about what the weapon in his hand meant.
One of the smaller tributes fell, a knife to the throat. Blood cascaded from her neck, sending thundering shivers down Basal's spine. He averted his eyes. As he did so, he tripped over a backpack, mistakenly dodging a swing from one of the career's swords. The metal sailed right over his head.
Basal rolled, avoiding another blow.
The D6 boy started running towards him.
"No!" Basal yelled, urging him to flee. His scream turned the attention of the career on the D6 boy.
Beside Basal, there was a flash of movement followed by a spray of blood. Another tribute cut down beside him, by a different career. The stickiness seemed to seep into his skin.
Basal tried to locate his alliance. The D6 boy was dodging and running from the career. The D6 girl was standing between the pedestals and the horn, looking entirely lost.
He looked back to the tribute cut down beside him. Fear-filled, nearly lifeless eyes stared back at him. He lunged and stabbed the offending career in the back, falling as he did so.
Her legs stopped working, but she swung her arms wildly at him, knives in hand.
The D6 girl screamed. Basal lost sight of her.
Basal's chest and forearms were slashed up, but the career was paralyzed at an awkward angle. The cuts weren't life threatening. Basal clubbed her head with the hilt of his sword, ending the movement.
A shriek stole his attention. A mousy career (D4 boy?) grasped the D6 boy by his collar. The career pointed his sword at Basal, indicating the next action was for him, then began sawing the other boy in half.
Basal shot to his feet and started screaming. The sides of his mouth tore. His vocal chords were raw. He couldn't hear the D6 boy's cries over his own. The remaining careers circled him. His life was about to be over. He was a failure, he failed the D6 kids.
Basal thrashed and spun madly. His weapon collided with nothing, but nobody landed an attack on him, too unpredictable, or too much of a spectacle to enjoy.
The D6 girl came into view. She lay on the ground, bleeding, reaching for him.
Basal started sprinting. He dropped the sword, scooped up the girl, and ran for his life.
On his way out of the garden, arrows penetrated his back and legs. He didn't fall, though.
Basal sprinted out the gardens, through winding, white-washed buildings, over a white sand beach, into a sprawling, white-washed castle.
He sprinted to the top of the tallest turret, only stopping when there were no more stairs to run up.
The careers didn't follow him.
"We're okay now, we're okay." Basal said to the girl as he gently set her down. He collapsed beside her on his stomach.
"They didn't follow us, we're okay." He said, catching his breath.
"Hey, kid. Are you okay?" Basal was so sorry he didn't remember her name.
She didn't respond.
Basal pushed himself up, looking over her. He turned her little brown eyes towards him. They stared back, absent of life.
Wretched sobs erupted from Basal's chest. He was sputtering, drooling, unable to breathe, choking on his spit, gasping for air. He hugged her small body, and apologized to her.
He didn't let go even when a threatening hum seemed to begin ascending the stairs. If it was a mutt, he didn't care if it killed him.
An angel stared down at him, looking impatient. The figure emitted a glow from their body.
Basal didn't fight as the creature took the D6 girl.
The angel retreated down the stairs with her body.
Basal looked at his shaking, bloodied hands.
He heard a sound and looked to his left.
The D6 girl sat in the corner of the turret, hands trying to staunch the flow of the wounds on her abdomen.
Basal was familiar with seeing ghosts, it didn't freak him out. He prayed that her soul would not get stuck in this mock-heaven, though. She deserved real heaven.
"You don't have to fight it." Basal said, trying to comfort the ghost girl. She looked towards him, still alarmed.
"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Basal asked.
The ghost shook her head, but continued to bleed.
"It'll stop eventually, just try not to worry about it." He said.
The ghost studied her chest. The river of blood did not slow, but she no longer looked distressed about it.
"We should have a nap. Come here. I'll keep you safe." Basal laid on his side and opened his arms.
The ghost settled against his chest, resting her head.
Basal locked his arms around her, vowing never to let her go.
He fell asleep in the glowing air, not hearing the five death cannons signifying the end of the bloodbath.