Capitol Pawns

We’re given 60 seconds to adjust to and observe our new surroundings. The cornucopia is raised above us, sitting on a round hill in the grassy knoll we are in. I can’t see half of the tributes, who are hidden behind the hill, but I manage to find Colby’s eyes scanning the ring for me.

He’s four tributes away from me, unfortunately standing in between the girls from 2 and 4. He’s crouched over and his eyes turn to the cornucopia.

No. I think. He’s not going to run.

Twenty-five. Twenty-four.

I’m snapped back into reality by the sound of the countdown and scan the cornucopia. There’s a small bag about twenty yards in front of me. If I can beat out the boy from 10 on my left and the girl from 5 on my right, I should be okay, but it’s risky running straight into the thick of it.

Sixteen. Fifteen. Fourteen.

My heart pounds and my head throbs. This is all too much.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

I don’t have time to think.

Go with your gut instinct, Scout.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

I run, surprisingly towards the cornucopia, my eyes trained on the grey bag sitting only a few yards away. When I reach it, I grab it just in time to see the Careers reaching the cornucopia.

The blonde boy from 3 lays motionless on the ground only inches in front of his plate. His district partner stands over his body with a smug smile on her face.

I turn to run when I hear his cannon and I’m almost over another hill when I turn to see Colby crawling on the ground, screaming and bloody from the large gash on his temple. The large boy from 2 is following closely behind, taunting him as if he were stalking his prey.

A mace comes in contact with Colby’s skull as his cannon sounds.

“No!” I scream, drawing the attention of the girl from 2 who releases a throwing knife that comes hurtling my way. I manage to stop it from hitting any critical areas, but it sinks into the fleshy part of my leg as the most pain I’ve ever experienced jolts through my calf.

I can’t let this stop me. I have to keep moving, so I run. I let the adrenaline rush through my veins and it carries me over hill after hill, counting four more cannons go off until I reach the edge of a forest.

I want to get off the ground, but when I look down to my leg, I can tell the wound is too severe to climb at all. I’m losing a lot of blood and I know I’ll have to stop eventually. Still, I leave the knife in my leg, knowing full well I could cause more damage pulling it out than leaving it in. So I press on.

Thirst overwhelms me about half an hour into my hike. I think I’ve put enough distance between the Careers and myself, but they’re probably moving much faster than I am considering my current state.

The wound on my leg is still bleeding profusely, and the leg of my pants is crusted with dark red blood. The knife still sticks out of the wound, but has begun to works itself free slightly from my constant movement. After about twenty more minutes of walking, I can’t take the pain anymore and give myself five minutes to stop.

I slide the backpack off my shoulders carefully and open it to inspect the contents. Surprisingly, the small pack is quite full and I pull out a number of helpful things. There’s a thin sleeping bag made out of the same insulated fabric my pants are, a small camouflage tarp, six throwing knives, five strips of jerky, four crackers, an empty water bottle, iodine droplets, and a small tube of antibiotic ointment.

I’m not sure the tube is enough to suppress infection in my leg, but until now I haven’t really gotten a good look at it. I bend down and see the handle of the knife, but the blade is embedded deeply into my flesh, even with the loosening from the walking.

It’s bad and the adrenaline rush from the bloodbath has worn off. Couple that with the knowledge that Colby is dead and my one real ally is no longer with me and everything falls apart. I know the knife needs to come out, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Not here where I’m vulnerable to attack.

Besides, my five minute break is up and I need to keep moving.

I stuff everything neatly back into the bag and wipe the tears that are now freely falling down my cheeks. Everyone in the districts must be having a field day right now, betting on who’s going to make it through the night and who’s going to bite the dust. I bet you everyone is putting their money on my death right now. But I don’t even care.

My day consists of walking, nothing more than that. I don’t run into any other tributes leading me to believe the arena is much larger than I ever imagined. Either that or everyone is congregating together, but given our current predicament, I’m not going to put my money on that.

The only thing I know is that six are dead and Colby is one of them. Besides him and the boy from 3, I have no idea who the other four are, just that I’m lucky to not be one of them.

By nightfall my lips are cracked and dry and my tongue feels like sandpaper in my mouth. Dehydration has sunk in and it hasn’t even been that long. I try and gauge my distance from the cornucopia, but only know it can’t be less than ten miles. My hikes back in 7 during the past few years have given me a pretty good idea of distance given the vastness of Callum and my exploration just around our area.

I’m about to call it quits for the day until I realize I’m stranded on the ground in the middle of nowhere, completely vulnerable and alone.

Despite the searing pain in my left leg and my consciousness yelling all sorts of colorful discouragements at me, I get a good footing and start my ascent up a tall tree.

I’m not in my right element because I slip a few times, scraping both my palms and knees pretty bad. When I look to the ground to show progress, I’m only about fifteen feet up. Nowhere near safety.

It takes a good forty minutes to reach a height I determine to be okay to stop. Even so, I’m only about forty feet up, but I’m not comfortable. It’s not the same as being forty feet up a tree in 7. There I felt at home. Comfortable, safe, and carefree, but here it’s nothing like that.

A branch cracks on the ground and I hear hushed voices.

“Where are we, Vi? I’m tired.”

It’s the siblings from 10. The boy is dragging along behind his sister who walks cautiously forward. After scanning the area, she determines it’s safe to set up camp for the night.

By camp, I mean the boy lies on the ground while the girl stays up for lookout. It’s not safe and they’re not concealed one bit, but I can’t blame them. Violet is doing everything in her power to protect her younger brother who is the weak link. Without him, I’d bet she could get far, but she’s never going to leave him behind.

Cool rain droplets fall from the sky and I suddenly remember my pack. I pull out the sleeping bag and slip it around my body before wrapping my belt around both my legs and the branch for security. After I’m safely tied down, I pull the tarp out of my bag and lay it on top of me. It’s just large enough to completely cover my body and keep me dry.

I’m about to fall asleep when my leg jerks awkwardly and the protruding knife catches on the bark of the tree. I feel the tearing of more flesh and the warmness of blood seeping out of the new wound. It takes everything in me to suppress a scream. I quickly unzip the sleeping bag and slip my left leg out of its constraints, rolling up the leg as far as I can and dangle it off the branch completely.

Down on the ground I hear the hushed whispers of the siblings who huddle together to shield themselves from the ice cold rain droplets. I want nothing more than to have Colby huddled next to me for warmth and comfort, with his levelheadedness and ability to encourage me through anything. I want my teammate back.

The night sky suddenly lights up with the seal of Panem as the anthem plays. The faces of the dead are flashed across the sky every night to reveal the dead to the other tributes.

The boy from 3, Hunter’s youthful face flashes across the sky. Killed by his own district partner. I feel bad for him. I not only wouldn’t kill Colby, I don’t think I could. I would never be able to bring myself to end his life.

Then both the girl and boy from District 5, Rose and Grady, flash before my eyes. Colby’s image, then the boy from 8, Nash, and finally Freya’s district partner, Oakley.

The seal disappears and the night fills with silence. It’s eerie. There are no sounds of wildlife, no sound of the wind, everything is dead still.

I close my eyes and try and get some rest, but it’s hard. I’m not in the right mind to sleep, so I let my mind wander for a while.

I wonder what mama and dad are doing right now. Are they pacing back and forth with their eyes glued intently to the screen or are they trying to rest? What’s Callum doing? Mama never let us watch the Games into the night when we were younger, but I wonder if she would since I’m in them.

Regardless, I know Cadence and Bug are tucked into bed safely with only the faintest knowledge of what’s really happening right now.

Still, I can’t help but feel good knowing they’re at home, safely. While Violet and Reed are both here, fighting for their lives, Callum, Cadence, and Bug are all at home. Safe and out of harm’s way.

I let that thought stay in my mind as I drift into an uneasy sleep.

I can’t have been asleep for more than a few hours when I wake up to a confrontation on the ground. When I peek my head over the branch, I see the Career pack standing over Violet and Reed.

That’s it. They’re dead.

“Oh, this is your brother?” Two asks, holding Violet by her hair.

The others are crowding around Reed, who is cowering into the shadows.

I can’t watch anymore.

I snuggle back into the crook of the tree and close my eyes, trying to ignore the ruckus below, but I can’t.

I can’t ignore the yelping from Violet, the desperate pleas to spare her brother’s life. I can’t ignore the distinct sound of an axe, cutting into flesh. There’s whimpering from the boy, but then a cannon sounds and I know he’s dead.

Violet’s screaming. She’s thrashing about but they only laugh harder.

“Do you want to finish her off, Chaos? Or should I?” I hear 2 say.

I peek down again in time to see the boy from 4 shift from foot to foot uncomfortably.

“I think you got this.”

I hear a scream and Rogue laughs again. I wait for the boom of the cannon, but it doesn’t come.

“Let’s go.”

There’s hesitation.

“She’s not dead, Rogue.” Hera announces.

He stops and looks at Violet. “I know.” He wears a smirk before turning around and walking away. Reluctantly, the rest of the pack follows after him, but Violet lies on the earth, bleeding heavily from a slit in her throat. Somehow she’s survived this long, but when I look into her eyes, I can’t help but feel sorry for her.

She whimpers for a long time and it keeps me from going to sleep. I question whether or not I should end it now for her, knowing it will stop her suffering, but not knowing if my aim from here would be good enough to kill her, rather than just inflicting more pain.

I’m about to attempt it, but the cannon booms and her whimpers become a thing of the past.

Sleep is no longer an option, so I close my eyes and try my best to trick my mind into thinking I’m sleeping. There’s no use, because when the sun comes up my eyelids are heavy and I can’t hold my head up straight.

My leg wound has stopped bleeding again, and I look for anything to splint it in place. I figure today is the day it’s coming out so I try and rest a bit more so I can think thoroughly before that happens.

I close my eyes and when I open them again, the sun is sits high in the midday sky. I figure it’s around noon by the placement, but could be off because I never learned to actually tell time that way. I could just be making it up.

Either way, it’s time to move. My lips are so dry I question how long it’s been since I’ve had something to drink. I unbuckle my safety belt and loop it through my pants, fastening it up before I pack everything back up and start my descent.

I take it nice and slow, scouting out the area around me. I can see maybe four hundred yards every way and see that the coast is clear.

Once I hit the ground, I keep moving. My walk isn’t so much of a walk anymore, rather an unsteady limp. Every time I put any pressure on my left leg I wince in excruciating pain. This goes on for about an hour.

I sit for a break, and question my sanity when I see a body of water maybe a hundred yards away. It could just be a hallucination or it could be a legitimate water source.

With this new bit of curiosity, I hobble closer and determine, yes, this water is real and find the strength within me to tear the knife out of my leg.

This sparks a whole new bout of bleeding and I seriously question how I haven’t died of blood loss yet. I’m just determined to get to the pond to relieve the pain, hoping the cool water can do something. I make my way, slowly but surely to the pond and find myself crawling on my hands and knees as I near it.

Once on the banks, I submerge my calf and right forearm in the icy cold water. It relieves the pain for a moment before a searing pain begins creeping its way onto my leg and hands.

I pull everything out of the water quickly and see blisters forming on my pink and puffy skin. The gash on my calf is inflamed, blistering at the edges, and I can see the flesh under the skin swell and blister badly. My right wrist is red and burns.

It’s not water. It can’t be. Water wouldn’t do that to skin.

I have no strength left in my body, but I can’t be here. I slide on my butt away from the bank and army crawl to find somewhere safe to wait this out.

By the time I’ve reached a bush and take a look, the swelling has spread to my forearm and the blisters on my leg are bursting. The pain is unbearable and I bite down hard on my left arm to stop from making noise.

I think I pass out from pain and exhaustion because when I wake up, I’m lying in a bed of grass and Freya is standing over me.

“Hiya, Scout,” She says, waving like a fool. A smile is plastered to her face and she looks glad to see me.

I try to sit up, but I have no strength and she encourages me to stop trying.

“What happened?” I ask, trying to determine what exactly caused me to black out.

“It’s an acid pond,” She explains. “The girl from 12 tried drinking from it, but luckily didn’t even get it to her mouth before it burned her hands.”

“And you saw it happen?” I’m trying to make sense of everything. Why didn’t she try to kill me?

I mean, I know we agreed to an alliance during training, but I would be one less person to kill.

“I saw it from that tree up there.”

She points to the tallest tree in the forest.

“So you climb, too?”

Freya nods. “I climbed back home.”

“Me, too.”

She laughs. “I figure. You’re from 7 – the lumber district – you’d be weird if you didn’t.”

“So why didn’t you just kill me?” I ask, remembering my question from earlier.

“Because everyone I knew is dead. Oakley’s dead and Colby’s dead. Who else do we have?” She asks.

I didn’t think of it that way before. We’re both S.O.L. in the ally department and two is always better than one, right?

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Do you want to try and move? It’s getting late and the sun’s going to go down in a little bit.”

I agree and she helps me up. I can’t put any weight on my left leg anymore and it’s swollen beyond recognition. There’s no way I’m getting up a tree tonight. Not tomorrow, or maybe even the day after that.

That’s if I make it that long.

Freya finds a covered place for us to rest. In the daylight we might be seen from our spot, but in the pitch black we will easily go unnoticed.

The sun has begun to set and Freya’s stomach rumbles loudly. She hasn’t eaten, I can tell, but she’s embarrassed to say anything.

“I have jerky,” I say, pulling my pack off my back and handing her a piece.

She shakes her head. “No, it’s yours. I’m okay.”

I insist, putting it in her hand and closing her fingers around it.

My throat is scratchy and painful and every time I swallow it hurts so I pass when she asks if I want any.

“I have water,” She says as if she’s just remembered. “Do you want some?”

I can’t nod enough and when she hands me the bottle, I have to use every ounce of self-control I have not to chug the entire bottle.

“Thanks.”

She nods and inspects my leg.

“It’s so bad,” She whispers, prodding it with her pointer finger slightly. “It’s infected for sure.”

I whip out the handy dandy tube of antibiotic ointment and squeeze some onto my fingers before slathering it generously on the wound. It hurts so much that it’s almost numb, if that makes sense. Or maybe I’ve just become accustomed to the pain or maybe it means that the tissue in my leg is slowly dying.

Whatever the cause, I’m glad the pain is somewhat getting better.

We spread out my sleeping bag which is big enough to fit both of us and we cuddle together for warmth as night falls and the icy rain begins once again.

Thank god I have my tarp. We’d be screwed if I hadn’t run toward the cornucopia, probably be freezing our butts off right now, but I did.

I’m lucky I made it out alive yesterday, but I’m even luckier to have made it through day two. When the anthem plays and the seal shows up in the sky, no tributes are shown. Everyone has made it through day two.

Day three should be really interesting.