Chapter 5: The Fracture
It was late morning when the mine went off. Thunder sounded in the distance as the sun climbed into the sky.
Everyone stopped where they were, looking around. It took a few moments before Hob realized and said it.
"That was one of the mines."
The cannon sounded a second later, the blast reverberating across the Arena's artificial sky.
"Let's go see who it is," Clove said.
"Maybe the Districts finally got desperate," Cato decided. "Come on, let's move."
Hob considered pointing out that no less than two out of six in the Pack were District, decided against it.
"I've got to look good before I go anywhere," Hob mock-protested, holding up the can of styling gel he had yet to use this morning. In the usual style they had all adopted, with reasonably warm weather in the Arena, the boys had all been starting the day shirtless, eager to show off for the cameras.
"We can all look our best once we get back," Cato answered. Then he added with a smirk, "Besides, skinny boy, I'm always looking my best."
"Come on," Peeta said to Hob. "It's miles back there. Just hold on. I'll carry you."
"Why carry him?" Glimmer laughed. "Or do you just really like boys?"
"Yeah, you two need some alone-time?" Clove snickered.
"I don't care whether the Baker's Boy carries him or not," Cato declared, cutting off further conversation with a sharp hand motion. "You, Twelve. You wanna do that so it doesn't slow us down, hurry up, and let's go."
"Baker's Boy- let's go," Cato said, turning his attention back to Peeta.
Peeta nodded. "You got it." He knelt, looked at Hob expectantly.
"Alright," Hob said, embarrassed but unable to say no. He could run or even sprint well over short distances, sure, but this was not what his legs and lungs were ready for.
The crumbled city featured at the heart of District Three was a completely different landscape; short, quick runs to flee from Peacekeepers or factory workers in his earlier years, stealing food mostly. Hob was outmatched here. The answer was take the piggyback ride now, and recoup the blow to his pride later.
Besides, Hob thought as he slung his crossbow and climbed on, clasping his hands below Peeta's throat, Caesar might applaud how much I got Peeta to trust me.
That one hurt to think about. Hob already regretted getting to know Peeta as much as he had, getting to find out just how honest and plain decent he was. He had no business being in this Arena. And that was going to cost him sooner or later.
It's how the Arena is, Hob reminded himself as he held on, bouncing around while Peeta ran with the rest of the Pack. I didn't write the rules. I just want to win. I have to win.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
The second mine exploded just as they neared the clearing.
Hob let go, jumped back, brought his crossbow out and up all in a few seconds.
Cato started to say something, but even at this distance the screaming was too loud. The boy from Ten was rolling from side to side, thrashing helplessly, screaming in pain. One of his legs had been blown off at the knee.
Launching himself into the best sprint he could, Hob ended up reaching the dying boy at the head of the Career Pack. Clove, Glimmer, Marvel, and Cato all immediately started laughing and pointing, joking around about who should "do it."
The rich green of the grass was simply gone anywhere near below the boy from Ten's waist. He was bleeding too much to survive for much longer. Hob realized maybe that was it; maybe that was why the Careers were doing nothing.
Maybe they wanted to watch him die. As slowly as they could let it happen.
It wasn't even a conscious thought.
Not even a decision.
Raising the crossbow slowly, in what felt so much like a dream, Hob stepped forward, kicked the boy hard in the chest so he lay flat, then took a step back and shot him in the heart.
The cannon sounded a couple of seconds later.
"That's two for little Crossbow," Clove rasped, impressed and mocking at the same time.
"That was good," Peeta agreed, coming up beside Hob and locking eyes with him. Hob hated himself for how his stomach was roiling. Hated himself more for the clear respect Peeta was looking at him with.
There are no friends in the Arena, you know, Hob wanted to say. Only interests.
"Well, who else is dead?" Marvel asked. "Hey! Hey! I see her! It's that dumb girl from Five! Look, she's over there!"
Hob turned, followed the Pack as they went back toward the Cornucopia to stand over the girl from District Five. Clever and solitary during their 14 days of training, Hob noticed she looked gaunt and, even in death, badly exhausted.
She must have tried to get to the food, land mines or not, he realized. He nodded to himself, seeing a mound she had clearly jumped on before the crater that had resulted from the explosion. One of Hob's carefully-crafted fakes had encouraged Five to think it was a bluff. Partly, or maybe all a bluff.
Either way, it was another Tribute gone. Another life that "The Gentleman" had claimed. Hob suddenly doubled over and vomited helplessly. He didn't like being unable to kill without a thought, knowing what audiences wanted, but he also didn't like the way the Careers were looking at him now.
"What's wrong with you?" Glimmer demanded. "Your count's at three. What, having second thoughts?"
"The little ones never win," Clove said.
"Someone won just now," Cato spoke up. "Look. Look at my food there. You see anything? I do."
Several containers had been flung open by somebody in a great hurry. Maybe more than one somebody. Dodging through the mines, having either plotted out a course or being too hungry and desperate to care, the intruder or intruders must have fled not long before the Pack returned.
Maybe there really had been some kind of desperate alliance formed among the non-Careers still alive out there. Maybe they had made a pact to try and get some things they needed. Starvation was, after all, the main reason Tributes had died over the history of the Games.
"We've been robbed!" Marvel exclaimed as they reached the storage containers, saw the sack of potatoes ripped open, the packages of bread and apples emptied out or missing. Numerous water bottles were gone, too, and more were scattered around, dropped as someone made a frantic run for the trees.
"That's right, you figured it out," Cato said, like he wasn't talking to the brightest bulb in the universe. Suddenly he turned, shoved at Peeta. "Hey, lover-boy! Where's the girl? Where's your girlfriend? Huh?"
"Hey, listen-"
"No, you listen!" Cato shouted, shoving Peeta again. "It's been days! Days we've been out here hunting your stupid girlfriend! What's the holdup? You haven't led us to her. We haven't even seen her at all. What's the holdup, then? What's the holdup?"
"Look, she's really good at hunting," Peeta said with forced calm. "That also means she can hide. She knows we've got this alliance going. She's gonna keep her distance from us-"
"And now she's- it's her and Thresh! Look! You see that? They robbed us! You can't find your stupid girlfriend, but she can help herself to our food!"
"Hey-" Hob began, walking closer, but Cato turned and shoved him, and Hob was stunned all over again at how strong the heavily-muscled boy from Two was. One second Hob was on both feet, the next he was flat on his back.
"Your stupid mines didn't do their job," Cato declared. He drew his sword. "Baker's Boy. You wanna redeem yourself? Hold down the little kid. At least you don't have arms made of twigs. You're useful a little longer."
Hob's crossbow was slung on his back, pinned underneath him. The boot planted on his chest might as well have weighed a thousand pounds. Hob struggled all the same, but he went nowhere.
"I kept you idiots alive," Hob hissed.
"And now you get to die," Cato answered agreeably. "Eighth place for the little kid. Maybe they'll talk about you once or twice before they forget you ever existed."
Hob paused, summoned up the best aim he could, and spat. Cato shouted in anger and surprise. The boot didn't move, but Hob wanted to cheer as he realized he'd nearly hit Cato in the eye.
That was all the fun he got to have. Cato stomped hard, and all the air barfed out of Hob in a rush. He reflexively tried to curl up, but couldn't do it. Pinned flat again, he watched as Peeta shrugged, standing over him.
"He's so little."
"Yeah? Who the hell asked you, Twelve? Hold him down! I want to enjoy this."
"No, but, I mean- like, let me break his neck. He's so little it won't even take much."
"What? Listen, little twerp's my kill. I kill him in my own way, and no one interferes."
"Let me do it." The hate in Peeta's voice made everyone stop and look at him. Cato even lowered his sword somewhat.
"What's he talking about?" Clove asked.
"It's not like he's been any help," Peeta explained. "His mines didn't even work. He's been following me around for days now, just eating food and acting like we're friends. I've been waiting to snap his little neck forever, so let me do it already."
Cato was silent for a few moments. His stormy expression had given way to uncertainty; he clearly hadn't expected Peeta to react like this.
Before anyone could say anything, though, before any decision could be made, Thresh, the towering, powerful boy from District Eleven, who had stayed hidden behind stacks of storage containers in the Cornucopia despite his size, stood up, swung a longsword, and cut off Glimmer's head.
Standing with her back to the containers, she'd never stood a chance. Hob's only thought was that she'd died quickly, a better fate than Careers usually left to their victims.
Hob barely heard the cannon amid all the shouts and screams. Taken completely by surprise, the Careers faltered. Cato spun instantly, closed in and attacked, but Clove had tripped and fallen backwards. Marvel held his javelin, but didn't seem to know what to do; gleaming steel swords clanged as the two strongest boys in the Arena fought.
"Thanks," Hob gasped as Peeta reached down, hauling him to his feet.
"That's twice I've saved your life," Peeta told him with a wry smile.
"I know." Hob stood. "We'd better go."
"Yeah." Peeta started forward, but Hob, sensing what he was after, not having time to talk him out of it, sprinted in past Cato and Thresh, scrambled back with Glimmer's bow and the quiver of arrows. Just inches away, Districts Two and Eleven fought to the death.
"Which one of you did it?" Thresh roared. Marvel tried to close in, but Thresh just seized his throat and flung him aside like he weighed less than nothing. "Who did it? Rue! Say her name! You're all afraid to even say her name!"
Clearing the two Tributes and their swords, Hob spotted Clove, locked eyes with her.
She wasn't going to miss.
Just as Clove was about to throw, Hob dropped the bow and arrows, hit the ground, rolled. A knife hit the grass right where he'd been. Hob rose to one knee, drawing his crossbow, and fired. The shot missed, but not by much, and Clove was forced to dive for the ground.
"Come on! Let's go!" Peeta yelled, running up and grabbing for the quiver and bow.
Hob and Peeta ran for it, their last obstacles out of the way. Unable to restock, but left at least with what had remained from what they'd taken originally, the two boys fled at the best speed their bodies could muster.
Certain death lay behind them. Whether Thresh won and killed all the Careers, or Cato, Marvel and Clove won and resumed control of the Cornucopia made no difference to Hob at this point. Either way, the game had shifted.
The six-strong Career Pack had fallen apart at last.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Propelled by fear and adrenaline like he'd rarely known in his short life, Hob ran until his legs were lead and his lungs burned like they were on fire. Unable to even stop long enough to let Peeta carry him, Hob had run, determined to get far away from the taller, stronger Careers who had been ready to kill him just minutes ago.
Nothing. My life was really worth nothing to them, Hob thought, a moment of stunned realization. Even after all I did to make their team stronger, better, they still thought I was some little kid.
A cannon thundered in the sky as Hob tripped and hit the ground hard.
"Oh, thank- thank you!" Peeta exclaimed. Hob had never heard him sound so glad, so relieved.
"I'll-fall over more next time, I guess," Hob panted as he fought to get back up, doing his best to be sarcastic, and to sound and look annoyed, which he was.
"Peeta," a girl's stunned voice said. Out of a stone cave emerging from the hillside, a dark-haired girl was cautiously approaching. She held a short-sword in one hand, but Peeta wordlessly held out the bow, the quiver.
"Katniss," Peeta answered. "Take this. Please. Take this."
"What about him?" Katniss asked, glancing suspiciously at Hob.
"He's on our side. He's not dangerous."
"Anyone still alive around here is dangerous," Katniss answered, shouldering the quiver over her rain jacket. She drew an arrow. Hob jerked his crossbow up, but Peeta quickly got between them.
"Katniss, don't! Don't! He's helped me, he's helped us! Trust me, all right?"
"Peeta-"
"Trust me."
Katniss looked like she wanted to argue, but just then, "The Horn of Plenty" blared from the skies above them. It was noon, the sun blazing down through the plentiful hardwood trees, and yet the anthem was playing like it did every night.
"Tributes- attention. Attention, Tributes," a man's voice began. After a moment, recognized the voice. Seneca Crane, the Head Game-Maker this year. New, young for an office like that, but clever and determined.
Peeta, Katniss, and Hob together stood in silence outside the cave entrance on the hillside. Something new was coming. Had to be. Game-Makers rarely spoke directly to the combatants once the fight in the Arena began.
"This year, there is a new, limited-time-only offer," Seneca Crane went on. "You've all seen the power of alliances, the strength of partnerships. This year- and only this year- a team of three can together achieve victory. Your District of origin makes no difference. Due to today's exciting battle, the Game-Makers hereby recognize two alliances."
"Marvel, District One. Cato, District Two. Clove, District Two, against Hob from District Three, and Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, from the mountains of District Twelve."
"Please understand that to turn on each other now would- deny your nation the exciting conclusion of a team victory in the Games. To win now- is to triumph completely."
"Good luck- and may the odds be ever in your favor."
Despite days of mediocre rest (at most) and the blood and terror he'd been through today, Hob barked out a laugh. "That showoff."
"Probably hoping to make a big first impression," Peeta decided. "It's his first year heading the Games."
"Peeta," Katniss asked, pointing. "Can we really trust him? Are you serious about that?"
"Yeah," Peeta answered with a firm nod.
"He pulled me out of the water a few days ago," Hob said. "I never saw that much water before. He pulled me out." Hob shrugged. "Now, we can go home. All three of us."
"How young are you?" Katniss asked.
"Fourteen," Hob answered.
"Rue was twelve."
"I know." Hob shook his head. Unable to say anything else, fighting hard to keep himself together, Hob just shook his head again, repeated himself. "I know."
"Katniss," Peeta spoke up, "I don't know if you got out of there with any food, but Hob and me don't have much left. We're gonna need more if we're gonna take Cato."
"We need sponsors."
"No one's gonna be able to resist the Gentleman from Three, and the Baker's Boy from Twelve," Peeta said with a grin, slinging an arm around Hob's shoulders. "And look. The Star-Crossed Lovers from District Twelve meet again at last. Almost like it was meant to be."
"We should get inside," Katniss said finally, backing toward the cave again. "It's pretty big in there. Cold and damp, but it's gonna be like that out here soon."
Hob looked up, and sure enough, despite the broad daylight just moments before, dark stormclouds were gathering overhead now. The first raindrops fell as the two boys moved toward the cave, and it grew and became a downpour an hour after they got inside.
Determined to look fearless, bold, confident of his chances despite staring death in the eyes today, Hob stayed at the cave entrance to urinate out into the rain. He was just zipping up when the first of the parachutes arrived, that little tinkling chime coming with them.
Gifts to Tributes were expensive. Hob didn't want to even think about how much any of these had run someone, or several someones, as a small parade sailed in over the next few minutes. Fresh, clean bottled water, canteens, two first-aid kits, plenty of food, light, sturdy vests offering protection from the back and front, and finally, a box of new bolts, a small card with a lake printed on it tucked inside.
Hob couldn't quite fight down a smile.
"This is it," Peeta announced cheerfully, coming up alongside Hob. "This is it right here. All we need. All we need to win."
"I wonder if Haymitch finally helped us," Katniss wondered when the two boys returned.
"I think he did," Peeta agreed. "And our Gentleman here, has his own friend."
"What?"
"That lake. On that card in the new bolts Hob got."
"Some rich sponsor," Hob shrugged casually. "Someone I appreciate." He cleared his throat suddenly, spoke in a more eloquent, tailored voice. "I can't thank them enough, anyone and everyone that just helped us. If we win in this Arena, it'll be because of them."
"Sponsors can change everything," Peeta agreed, putting on his own gentlemanly performance, just like in his own interview. "They make it all possible."
Katniss looked somewhat confused at the show they were putting on, even a little annoyed, and only managed a few awkward comments of her own. Hob found himself thankful he and Peeta were able to speak well, present themselves well. She was easy on the eyes, but Katniss Everdeen had to have been a nightmare to try and sell to sponsors, even if her prep team had done their jobs right.
A small hole in the cave roof let some of the rainwater running downhill leak in, but it also had allowed smoke from a fire to escape.
Right now, as lightning flashed and thunder roared, Hob had little fear of anyone spotting any smoke rising above this shelter.
Somehow, with two allies, one new and one old, all three of them resting in the glow of this fire, Hob felt safe. If the three-can-win rule held, victory was not far away. Not far away at all.
"This is the best I've felt in days," Peeta sighed finally, stretched out on his back. The startlingly-large sack of food and water Katniss had stolen was set a few feet behind him, and along the cave walls sat the various gifts from sponsors.
"It's good getting to finally eat," Katniss added. "And rest. Maybe they're serious about this alliance thing. Maybe."
"I think they want to see it happen," Peeta replied. "It'll be a good show. It encourages us to work together, so all of us can go home." Peeta paused meaningfully, unable to keep back a smile. "All of us."
"They wouldn't have changed it if they didn't want it this way," Hob said, with a confidence he didn't feel. Yes, he felt warm and safe- warmer and safer than he'd ever been back in Three, as a matter of fact- but somehow he didn't feel the same way when he talked about the allied-victory rule Seneca Crane had just made up.
A lifetime of living in the streets of Three had taught Hob to trust no one, not much, not for long.
Hob hoped that this time the trust was worth giving, that this second alliance would hold up and they'd all live through to the end. He slept well in the cave that night as the rain fell outside.
But he slept with that crossbow close at hand.
A/N: 1 January 1, 2025.
Just over 5 months after completing & uploading Chapter 4, I have finally completed & uploaded Chapter 5. This chapter was being 'worked on' in my head for weeks or even months, however, before I wrote anything down; just imagining possible scenarios and outcomes. Thus actually writing the chapter proved straightforward and easy, because I already had much of the content in mind.
The idea of Thresh hiding in the Cornucopia to try and get revenge for Rue struck me as deeply in-character for him. An ambush would fit perfectly for his aim to win the Games, too, since Thresh is one of the most skilled and powerful Tributes, and it took Cato, Marvel and Clove all working together to defeat him.
Hob and Peeta could have tried to intervene and assist Thresh, but it is unlikely that would have led to any lasting alliance; rather, Thresh would have simply offered some thanks, and refrained from killing them right away, much as he spares Katniss in canon, but otherwise remains her enemy in the Games.
The alternate plot-twist that Seneca Crane imposes on the 74th Games felt plausible, given how he just made up the two-can-win rule in canon and then revoked it, in both cases probably just seeking to create a more exciting, dramatic conclusion for the audience.
Remaining Tributes: Marvel (District 1), Cato (District 2), Clove (District 2), Hob (District 3), Peeta Mellark (District 12), Katniss Everdeen (District 12).
All feedback is welcome and appreciated.