Chapter Fourteen
My eyes adjust to the bright light of dawn. The first thing I notice is the towering mountains that surround the landscape. Their jagged peaks are capped with snow, glistening under the early morning sun. The slopes are rugged, covered with dense pine forests that taper off into rocky cliffs and hidden ravines. The air is crisp and cold, filled with the scent of pine and fresh earth.
In the very center of the arena, the golden horn-shaped Cornucopia stands as both a symbol of hope and despair. Its gleaming structure catches rays from the sun, and reflects them in a dazzling display of light. The Cornucopia is enormous, easily towering over the surrounding landscape. Its smooth, polished surface curves gracefully, widening at the mouth and tapering to a sharp point at the end.
Surrounding the Cornucopia, the ground is meticulously cleared and leveled. The Cornucopia itself is filled to the brim with an array of equipment necessary for survival. The mouth of the horn overflows with various backpacks, each one packed with different essentials. Some bags contain food, while others hold basic medical supplies, or tools for building shelter. The interior of the Cornucopia is lined with rows of neatly stacked crates and barrels, promising a wealth of resources for those brave enough to reach them. Weapons of all kinds are scattered around the entrance—knives, spears, bows and arrows, and even a few hatchets and machetes.
To my left, a sprawling meadow stretches out, a stark contrast to the harsh imposing mountains. The meadow is a sea of wildflowers, their vibrant colors painting the landscape with hues of purple, yellow, and red. Tall grasses sway gently in the breeze.
Cutting through the meadow, a clear stream winds its way from the mountains, its waters sparkling in the sunlight. The stream leads to a large dam at the far end of the meadow, a formidable structure of concrete and steel that holds back a vast reservoir of water. The dam's presence is both a blessing and a curse-it promises a source of water but also represents a strategic point that others will undoubtedly seek to control. The sound of water rushing through the dam's spillway creates a constant, roaring backdrop. If this arena wasn't dangerous and everything in it, I would be in awe of its beauty.
The ground beneath me looks soft and spongy, with patches of clover and buttercups. At first glance, it seems like any other part of the arena, covered in dirt and grass. However, embedded just beneath the surface, are deadly landmines, programmed to detonate if any tribute steps off their plate before the sixty seconds have passed. The knowledge of this lethal feature keeps everyone frozen in place, hearts pounding as they count down the seconds in their minds.
I scan the circle of tributes, all equally spaced from the Cornucopia, searching for Wesley. To my immediate left stands Jaime, the psychopathic lumberjack. Lovely. To my right is the girl from District Twelve, whose name I can't remember. Her frame is scarily thin, her light gray eyes darting around wildly. I frown to myself; she doesn't have a fighting chance. It's not fair. At least with Zane and me, who have training, it will be a fair fight.
I finally spot Wesley, four plates down from me. He stalls tall, poised in a ready position, prepared to sprint when the gong sounds. His eyes are fixed ahead, staring murderously at someone obscured by the giant structure of the Cornucopia. If I had one guess, it would be that it's most likely Zane.
The minute is almost up, so I get ready to book it to the Cornucopia, my eyes dead set on the set of knives and the spear calling my name. I spot a crossbow that I will save for Wesley if he doesn't reach it, but that's unlikely to occur.
Then, the gong sounds.
Without a second thought, I launch off my plate, my muscles coiled and ready to spring. The world narrows to the distance between me and the Cornucopia. My feet fly over the soft ground, my boots having perfect traction.
Jaime charges to my left, almost as fast as me. The girl from District Twelve hesitates, her fear palpable. I sprint forward, refusing to be distracted.
As I near the Cornucopia, I see Wesley also sprinting, his form resembling an arrow arcing from a bow, he darts toward the Cornucopia with a deadly precision, cutting through the chaos with single-minded determination. I watch as he reaches the Cornucopia before anyone, grabbing the crossbow, and haphazardly throwing a backpack on his back. I can hear the sounds of grunting and fighting from behind the Cornucopia.
I focus on the sleek spear leaning against the opening of the golden structure. Jaime is right on my heels, his focus undoubtedly on the giant axe that sits atop one of the crates. I reach my destination a few seconds before him, but that's all the time I need as I snatch the spear, its weight familiar and comforting in my hands.
Before I can think about it, I reflexively send the spear flying into Jaime's back, just as his fingers find purchase on the axe. He drops to the ground, motionless. The shock of what I have just done freezes me in place. I stare at his lifeless body, the blood pooling on the ground around him. His eyes, once filled with the menacing glint of a murderer, now stare blankly into nothingness. I've killed him. A human being. My mind reels with a mixture of horror and guilt.
I am pulled out of my daze as the male from District Eight charges towards me, his mace raised in the air. Instinct takes over, the need for self preservation overpowering any other emotion I am experiencing. I rip the spear out of Jaime's body, the sickening sound of it dislodging echoes in my ears. I block a lethal blow from District Eight's mace just in time. He pulls back, aiming lower this time, but I block that hit too. Our eyes lock in a deadly dance of survival, and I can see the desperation in his eyes.
Tired of playing this game, he lunges at me, knocking us both to the ground. His weight crushes the air out of my lungs, and he grabs ahold of the spear, pressing the bar into my throat. I kick at him as hard as I can, but he sits on top of my legs, rendering them immobile. Panic sets in as the edges of my vision blur. Just as I think it's over, Evander shoves a sword through District Eight's chest, the blade going through him like butter. His eyes widen in shock before the life drains out of them.
I push District Eight off of me and inhale the deepest breath I've ever taken. My throat aches from the pressure, and I cough, gasping for air. Evander curtly nods at me before running towards the female from District Eight, who is trying to avenge her fallen district partner. It doesn't last long—Evander whacks the edge of his blade into her neck, a swift and brutal execution.
I quickly grab my spear and look around. Wesley is fending off the female from District Seven and the male from District Ten. The female has her arms locked around Wesley's neck, while the male is landing punches into his abdomen. He blocks almost every punch, the weight of the female on his back, making it difficult. I decide to help him out, by grabbing her shoulder violently, and jerking her roughly off his back. She lands on her back on the ground and I quickly thrust my spear into her chest cavity. I make sure not to watch her face, unsure of how much more death I can handle.
"Thanks," Wesley breathes, as I retrieve my spear from her body. Wesley blocks District Ten's right hook, and kicks his legs out from underneath him. Wesley brings his crossbow up, and shoots an arrow into District Ten's head in one fluid motion.
More tributes start charging the Cornucopia, and Welsey begins taking them out one by one with his crossbow. Each hit lands in their heads—a quick, merciful kill. Like how you would put an animal down. I run back to the Cornucopia, and slide a backpack on my back, and look for the knives. I don't see them.
Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain shoots up and down my right leg. I drop the spear, and fall to the earth, spotting Inara stalking slowly towards me, the set of knives strapped to her abdomen. A knife sticks out of my thigh. She leaps on top of me, her lips curling into a sick smile. "This should be fun," she remarks, raising a knife high above her head. I use my knee to knock her off balance. When she shifts sideways, catching herself on the ground, I roll out of her grasp. I crawl forward to try to reach the spear, but Inara grasps my ankles, and drags me painfully towards her. My nails claw the earth.
"I'm going to appreciate this sight, you—defenseless," Inara sneers. "The mighty Amara from District Four…" she cackles. Abruptly, a blade hacks into her neck, cutting off her laughter with a gurgle. Hot, sticky blood splatters across my face. Lira stands behind her, sprayed freshly in her blood.
"Idiot," Lira spits, wiping her face with her sleeve. Never have I been so glad to see someone.
"Thank you," I say, as Lira helps me up. She reaches to remove the knife, but Wesley shouts for her to stop. He stands behind her, crossbow hanging off his shoulder, blood soaking his pants and jacket. Evander steps around from behind the Cornucopia, the pair from District Five, Faelina and Caelum behind him.
I notice the fighting and screaming has ceased, meaning the other tributes who weren't killed in the bloodbath have scattered across the arena. The silence seems louder than the chaos just moments ago. Now that the battle is over, we just have to stay alive. I wonder where Zane is. The thought chills me, knowing he's possibly lurking around somewhere, unless he's dead.
"Shit, Amara," Wesley breathes, as he kneels down beside me. His eyes roam over my leg, assessing the damage done by Inara.
"How bad is it?" I ask, watching his face. His face is an unreadable mask, but his eyes are alight with worry.
"No arteries seem to be hit. You're lucky Inara wasn't that great at throwing knives," he responds, his voice cool, but his concern evident. "I'm going to need to remove the knives and sew you up. I just need the supplies," he says confidently. Suddenly, thirteen cannons ring out one after another, signaling that thirteen tributes have died in the initial bloodbath. They don't bother sounding them live, seeing as how it would be too much to keep track of, so they wait until the fighting has stopped. Eleven tributes remain.
We look at each other for a brief moment before Evander speaks, shocking all of us, "What do you need?" he asks Wesley.
"I'm going to need a suture kit, or a needle and thread. If there's iodine, I'm going to need that too. Infection is the highest risk after I get the bleeding to stop," Wesley explains. Evander nods, and starts combing through the supplies, opening bags and emptying them out.
"We're going to need water, I can take Faelina and Caelum with me. Evander can stay here to help you," Lira says, her eyes shifting back to her district partner.
"Fae. Just call me Fae," the young girl squeaks, her blonde hair french braided, the tail hanging over her shoulder. She looks so tiny, and innocent. My heart breaks for her, having to see all this carnage and the thought of someone killing her churns my stomach violently. Caelum grabs a hatchet from a nearby body, tucking it into his belt before they head out towards the spring in the meadow.
"Where's Zane?" I ask Wesley. He stands up, taking his belt off. He refuses to look at me. "Wesley, where is Zane?" I ask him again, my voice hard.
"I don't know. He took off running towards the mountain," he says emotionlessly as he wraps his belt around my thigh, and tightens it hard, cutting off the blood flow to my leg.
"So he's still out there," I say, looking back at Jaime's blood-soaked shirt, and the hole I put in his district partner's chest. I guess I have it in me to kill, but do I really have it in me to torture Zane like I planned?
"This is all I could find," Evander says, bringing Wesley iodine, and a plethora of bandages.
"That's better than nothing. Thank you," Wesley says, grabbing the bottle of iodine and pouring it over my wounds. Instantaneously, a white plastic rectangle floats down from the sky, attached to a small silver parachute. A gift from a sponsor!
"What is it?" I ask, as Evander grabs it, and removes the parachute.
"A suture kit?" Evander says, unsure, throwing the box to Wesley. His face lights up at the sight of the contents.
"Yes, a suture kit," Wesley beams. "Okay, I'm going to remove the knife from her calf. I need you to apply pressure as soon as it's out, and hold it there," Wesley tells Evander. Evander crouches by my leg, holding some gauze, ready to apply pressure when Wesley removes the knife. "Brace yourself," Welsey warns me as he yanks the blade out of my flesh in one hard tug. Blood starts steadily flowing and Evander presses the gauze firmly to my calf, applying hard pressure. My vision gets blurry again, and I take deep breaths in through my nose, trying not to pass out.
"You with me?" Wesley asks, eyeing my face anxiously. I nod faintly, closing my eyes. A few moments pass, and I feel the dizziness subside.
"You're not going to like this, but I don't have any anesthetic," Wesley tells me. I peek open my right eye, and see him threading a thin black string through the eye of the curved needle, almost like threading a fish hook.
"What's an anesthetic?" I ask him warily. His eyes are laser focused on preparing the needle.
"It's something you give a patient so they won't feel pain," Wesley responds, picking up a plier-looking instrument. "Are you ready?" Wesley asks me, motioning for Evander to remove the blood soaked gauze. He checks to see the wound has stopped bleeding before he gets to work.
"Ready as I'll ever be," I mutter, looking up at the sky, trying to focus on anything other than what's about to happen. I feel the sharp prick of the needle going through my skin, and the light tug of the thread. I hold my breath, trying to keep the dizziness at bay, and from screaming out in pain. I feel another sharp sting of the needle, and more tugging. I look down quickly, and realize that was a mistake, the gruesome scene causing my vision to instantly fade to black.