A/N: Once again, thanks to KenJ for his help on this chapter.
Chapter Twelve
The next three days passed with no confrontations between the surviving tributes. The Careers spent hours trying to hunt down their competitors, but much to their frustration, Lois and Clark managed to evade them. Even when, on the second night after the fire, they found the cave that their rivals had been sleeping in, there was no sign of them. They didn’t know how they were able to do it, but the tributes from Districts 3 and 9 were always one step ahead of them.
It was Clark’s superhearing and X-ray vision that made the difference. He could use these abilities without fear of detection so long as he gave no indication that he and Lois were leaving because he’d heard or seen something he should not have been able to detect.
The angry, frustrated Careers had taken to quarreling amongst themselves. Lumen and Lysander had come to blows, but they weren’t yet ready to break the alliance — not as long as Lois and Clark were still alive.
For the pair of non-Career tributes, something far more insidious than the Careers was fast becoming a concern — starvation. Though a person could last several weeks without food under the right circumstances, conditions in the arena were becoming increasingly harsh, especially since the fire. There was little food available — most of the plants, except for those in the area controlled by the Careers, had burned, and much of the wildlife had been killed by the smoke and flames. What few plants were left were mostly inedible, and though fish were still abundant in the lake, they were nearly impossible to catch without fishing equipment, which Lois and Clark didn’t have.
Hunger wasn’t nearly as much of a problem for Clark as it was for Lois. He needed far less food than she did, as the sunlight provided much of the energy he needed, and what they’d been able to find in the arena before the fire had been sufficient for him.
For Lois, the lack of food was quickly becoming a problem. She had been slender to begin with, though not as thin as many tributes, since her family had always been able to afford sufficient food. In the arena, however, the amount of food she and Clark had been able to obtain hadn’t been quite enough, especially since it took so much effort to get it.
Even before the fire, Clark had made sure that Lois got more of the food than he did, especially after he recovered from the Kryptonite exposure; now he made sure that she got almost all of the little food they were able to find, eating just enough to not raise suspicion. He was hungry, but it would take a long time for him to starve.
To make matters worse, the Gamemakers seemed to be manipulating the temperature. Up until the day after the fire, the weather had been as expected for summer in the mountains. After that, however, it began to grow colder, much colder than could be accounted for by the advancing season. It was still August, and judging by what Lois and Clark could see through the force field, they weren’t at a particularly high elevation — indeed, there was every indication that it was still summer
outside the arena.
Inside the arena, though, it grew cold enough at night that there was ice on the edge of the lake, and even during the day the temperature did not get as high as it had been before. With most of the wood burned by the wildfire, it was hard to get enough for even a small fire in the cave to warm it at night.
The cold didn’t affect Clark, but it did bother Lois, so he gave his jacket to Lois to keep her warm while she slept at night. Then he sat in the mouth of the cave to keep watch, curled up as though to conserve body heat. They were in desperate need of sponsors to send them food and perhaps warm clothing, but they received nothing. Their high scores and their extended survival in the arena should have
guaranteed them sponsors, but none of the silver parachutes containing food and other sponsor gifts were forthcoming.
Clark could only speculate that they were being punished — perhaps for Lois’s angry rant when she had realized that only eight tributes were left, or perhaps for Clark’s actions at the tribute interviews. The Careers had received sponsor gifts — Clark had heard the chimes when the parachutes had dropped on the other side of the lake. For himself and Lois, who desperately needed supplies, there wasn’t anything.
Lois was losing weight rapidly, growing dangerously thin — the human body burned a lot of calories just to keep warm. The lack of food, the exertion, and the growing chill were all serving to push her to the edge of starvation. If she went much longer with only the very small amount of food they were able to find, she would grow dangerously weak — perhaps even die from hunger.
There was still plenty of food in the Cornucopia, though. Clark had used his X-ray vision to look inside it more than once. Food, blankets, first aid supplies, weapons … the Careers had far more than they would ever need. Clark was uneasy at the idea of walking into the Careers’ camp and raiding their supplies, but there was no food left where he and Lois were, and a quick raid while the Careers were occupied elsewhere was safer than trying to forage in the area controlled by them.
*****
Just before sunrise on the fourth day following the fire, Lois and Clark made their move. The Careers had left earlier, seeking to find and kill their remaining rivals while they were sleeping. Clark had heard their plans and awakened Lois, explaining that he had seen them leaving with the flashlight.
Though she was growing weak from hunger, Lois was still capable of assisting in the raid, especially with the promise of food if they were successful. Quietly, they made their way around the lake. When they drew near to the Cornucopia, just after sunrise, they crouched in the brush, waiting and listening to make sure that the Careers were, in fact, absent.
When Clark was sure no one was at the Cornucopia, he signaled to Lois and they hurried forward, slipping into the large metal horn and stocking up on food and other supplies. Clark grabbed a sack that had once held apples and filled it with canned and dried food. He found an extra knife and slipped it into his belt, then put a box of matches in his pocket. Lois took an empty crate, lined it with a blanket, and filled it with bags of dried beef, fruit, and crackers. She also discovered a small stash of fresh food that the Careers had foraged for — a plastic bag containing two fish and another containing a couple of handfuls of berries.
Just as they were about to leave, Clark heard something outside the Cornucopia. He froze, gesturing to Lois to stay still, and listened closer, hearing it again — the sound of someone whistling, followed by someone else responding in kind from another direction. The Careers were trying to surround them. The whistles were followed by the sound of people running, then laughter.
“I told you they’d show up!” one of the Careers shouted.
“Sure … it only took them two days. Not much of a trap,” another responded.
“Better than anything you came up with!”
Clark looked at Lois in alarm, realizing from her expression that she could now hear the voices, too. “The Careers!” he whispered. “They were expecting us!”
“If we get cornered in here, we’re dead!” Lois answered in kind. She peeked out of the Cornucopia. Realizing that stealth was no longer required, she shouted, “Come on! Run!”
Lois darted out of the Cornucopia, headed for the unburned forest that they had fled to on their first day in the arena. Clark followed her, trying to put himself between Lois and the Careers as he wondered why he hadn’t been aware that the Careers had been setting a trap for them.
The Careers, realizing that their prey had figured out that they’d walked into a trap, started running faster, closing in on Lois and Clark as they ran past the launch plates and headed uphill.
Mayson tried to head Lois off, throwing a spear at her, but Lois saw the movement and lifted the crate to protect herself. The spear bounced off it harmlessly and clattered to the ground.
Lysander went after Clark. He had his sword in his hand and put on a burst of speed that would have easily caught most tributes, but Clark ran just as fast as the Career boy, matching his speed and staying just out of his reach. With his superior eyesight, he saw an animal burrow, just a hole in the ground, almost hidden by the frosty grass, and ran over it, neatly avoiding stepping in it. As Clark had hoped, Lysander wasn’t so lucky. His foot caught in the hole and he pitched forward, landing flat on his face. His sword flew from his hand, landing in the grass a few feet away.
Clark ran up to Lois, urging her on. He could hear Lumen yelling at his fellow Careers, berating them for letting their quarry escape and shouting at his allies to give chase. Lysander yelled back at him, using the sort of language that would have the Capitol censors rushing to cover the words before they aired — violence was fine, but children couldn’t be subjected to profanity. Clark noted that Lumen yelled at his fellow Careers, but didn’t continue the pursuit alone. Could he be afraid?
There was a brief sound of clashing swords, followed by Mayson’s voice shouting at the two boys to stop fighting, or their adversaries would get away. Moments later, the Careers were running uphill, following the trail of footprints in the frost and the crushed grass.
Clark was having no trouble running, but Lois soon began to slow. After several days with almost no food, she had little stamina, and what energy she did have had been largely expended already.
He took the crate from her, trying to help her keep going, but she soon had to stop, and was panting from the exertion.
Clark stopped, too, trying to give the impression that he was winded himself. They had a bit of a head start on the Careers, thanks to the quarrel between Lumen and Lysander, but not much of one.
“Lois, we have to keep going. They’re still coming.”
“Just … just a minute,” Lois gasped, holding her side.
Clark turned his head in the direction of the Careers, realizing that they were almost upon them. For the moment, they were concealed from the Careers, although he could see them thanks to his X-ray vision. He looked around frantically, a plan forming in his mind.
“Lois, before they get to where they can see us, head downhill into the woods. Find a place to hide. I’ll keep going uphill, try to lead them away and then lose them. When it’s safe, I’ll circle back around and find you.”
Lois looked in the direction of the woods and nodded, reaching for the crate.
Clark shook his head. “You’ll move faster if you’re not carrying anything.”
“Each of us should carry some of the supplies. That way, if something … happens … the other won’t be left without food.”
Clark nodded, acknowledging the wisdom of her words. He let her take the crate, then spoke softly. “Be careful.”
“You, too.” Lois turned and hurried off at an angle downhill while Clark headed uphill a short distance, stopping where he was sure that the approaching Careers would see him.
As soon as they spotted him, there was a shout and, as expected, they came after him. Clark let them get close, then made a gesture that he was sure would be censored by the Capitol, enraging the Career tributes further. He turned and ran uphill, moving just fast enough that they couldn’t catch him.
Suddenly, Clark stopped dead in his tracks. Before him was a sharp drop. He looked over the edge and could see that the cliff was almost vertical. He turned around to retrace his path to get away from the cliff, only to see that he was facing Mayson and Lumen. Lumen was brandishing a sword, while Mayson had retrieved the spear she had thrown at Lois. It dawned on Clark that Lysander’s absence meant that he had gone after Lois. He knew that he had to get away from these two and get to Lois to protect her. It was time to put to use all of that practice he had had with the gauntlet. He had become quite adept at evading the weapons in the machine. They had been blunted so that the tributes wouldn’t be injured in advance of the Games, but the sword with which Lumen was armed was as sharp as a razor.
With a smile that reminded Clark strongly of the bared teeth of a wolf, Lumen came at him. Clark gave ground and avoided the slashing cut. In doing so, Clark almost went over the cliff. Knowing that he didn’t have much room to maneuver, Clark watched as Lumen raised the sword overhead and started an overhead blow. Clark used the sack of food he still held to intercept the blow, capturing the sword in the process. He twisted the bag and the sword responded by pressing against Lumen’s thumb, the weakest part of his grip, and dislodging it from his hand. As the sword clattered to the ground, Clark kicked it over the cliff, and then flung the bag of food so that it was impaled on the point of Mayson’s spear. The sudden weight tore the spear from her hand.
As Lumen started to reach for the knife at his belt, Clark charged forward and shoved him so that he stumbled back a few paces and fell to the ground. Mayson was, at this point, unarmed, so he was able to ignore her, grab the sack of food, and run off in pursuit of Lois and Lysander.
As he ran in the direction Lois had gone, Clark heard Mayson and Lumen arguing.
“Why didn’t you throw the spear?!”
“He moved too fast!”
“Like hell he did! You still have a crush on him, don’t you?!”
“No! I never did! I just thought he’d be a good part of the Career alliance!”
“Stupid girl!”
There was the sound of a slap, followed by some punches and then a howl of pain from Lumen.
I guess Becky was right, Clark thought, but then thought no more about it, because from less than a quarter of a mile away, he heard Lois scream.
*****
After they had split up, Lois had listened and thought that she had heard someone following her. She tried to redouble her pace, but that was difficult, between the thick vegetation and the crate in her arms. She could tell that her follower wasn’t Clark. She had heard him move through the brush and, compared to him, this person sounded like the proverbial bull in a china shop. That meant that one of the Careers was on her trail.
She broke out of the brush, into a small clearing. She could hear her pursuer close behind her. Moving quickly, she tossed the crate aside, knowing that she could always come back later and collect it if she needed to. Glancing over her shoulder to see just how close her pursuer was, she tripped over an exposed root. At this unexpected happening, she let out the scream that Clark heard.
Realizing that she was going down, Lois instinctively performed one of the techniques that she had practiced so much. She tucked and rolled, performing a forward somersault and coming back up on her feet. Knowing that she had lost ground, her hands went to the streamer sticks that were hanging by their rabbit hide loops from her belt. She grabbed them, pulled them free, and turned to confront her antagonist.
Just as she completed her turn, Lysander broke through the brush into the clearing. In his right hand, he was brandishing the sword he had been using to cut his way through the brush, and there was a knife in his left hand. Upon seeing her facing him in a fighting stance, he twirled the sword around. It was abundantly obvious that he had practiced with this weapon a lot. His grip on the knife showed experience with it also. He started to laugh, and then, in a taunting tone, asked, “What do you think you can do with a couple of sticks against my sword?”
Lois flung back, “Come and see.” With that, the sticks became a blur of motion. They seemed to be everywhere at once, forming an impenetrable wall between them. Lysander had never seen anything like this before, but he was confident in his arms and moved to the attack.
His attack was a simple one that he had used on other occasions with great success. He rapidly closed the distance and began an overhead cut directed at her head with the sword while, simultaneously, he started a sideways slicing cut at her midsection with the knife. If she defended against the sword cut, he would disembowel her. If she defended against the knife, he would cleave her skull to the shoulders.
Lois was watching as he started his move. She saw both threats and knew that her movements would require speed and precision. She stepped into his attack and brought both sticks around in a sweeping move that brought them in hard against his sword arm between the elbow and wrist. There was enough force behind the blow to deflect the stroke and bring two large, red welts to his arm. As soon as she felt the contact, her right arm was moving in the opposite direction. It spun the stick down and around, slapping his knife hand at the wrist and heel of the hand when it was bare inches from her side. Lysander emitted a double howl of pain at these strokes. She had spun her body to the left, the motion imparting more force to the blow, when striking his sword hand, and if the knife had penetrated her body, it would have sunk into her liver, a killing stroke, but one that would not be immediately fatal. It would have resulted in a more lingering, painful death. As it was, the knife flew out of his hand, spinning end over end and landing in the brush at the fringe of the clearing.
Lois jumped back to disengage from combat to see what he would do now. It was good that she did, because Lysander started shouting and slashing left and right in a wild frenzy. He was furious that his attack had been foiled, and the blows she given him had really hurt. He was on the ragged edge of his temper and continued to howl, this time in rage rather than pain. He had already been humiliated in front of all of Panem — including his father — once that morning, when the boy from District 9 had tricked him into tripping on the animal burrow, and had thought that the District 3 girl would be easier prey, especially without her protector. He was enraged that this had proven not to be the case. He should have been more cautious, especially after seeing what had happened to Platinum.
Lysander had trained for this. He came from a long line of victors, and he was going to be a victor, too — it was his destiny. This untrained girl was not going to get away from him. She had to die for what she had done.
In the face of his enraged onslaught, Lois was constantly backing and circling, attempting to stay out of range of that sword. It was longer than her sticks, so she couldn’t get in any effective blows unless she again stepped into harm’s way and closed the distance. It was time to give herself an advantage, so as she moved away from one of his particularly vicious swings, she brought the tips of her sticks up. She had the rabbit hide loops over her hands like wrist straps, so when she grabbed the tips of the sticks with the fingers of either hand and pulled, the sticks dropped through the loops, interlocking them. She swung her new weapon around sharply and brought the loose stick around in a sweeping arc, hitting Lysander on the left arm between the shoulder and elbow. As she snapped the far stick around, aiming at her target, Lois shouted, “Kai-yah!” At the last syllable, the stick connected, and again Lysander’s howl changed to one of pain.
The snapping motion that she had imparted to the sticks for the blow also served to prepare the next strike. She continued the motion around and again snapped the free stick around. This time the target was his right arm, just above the elbow.
Lysander howled in pain at the impact and almost dropped his sword. As he stood, transfixed, watching her move, the sticks whirled around and again moved at a target on his body. This time, he managed to bring up his sword. The blow was aimed at the left side of his head. He took the blow on his sword. The force of the impact almost tore the sword from his hand and he could feel the keen edge dig into the soft wood that the sticks were made of, actually slicing off the end, the force was so great. He knew that if she managed to hit him in the head, it would knock him out, and he had to avoid this at all costs.
Lois swung the joined sticks around the other way and hit him on the other arm, eliciting another howl of pain. She kept the sticks moving, swept them around, and hit him on the outside of his left leg, just above the knee. His knee almost buckled.
At each blow, Lysander became more angry and was now near madness. His screams of mingled anger, pain, and frustration were escalating also. He had never encountered a weapon or a fighting technique like this before. If she kept hitting him with this new weapon, it wouldn’t be long before she was able to hit him in the head and knock him unconscious. If he was unconscious or had a broken bone like Platinum had had after
her encounter with this girl, his chance at being victor would be at an end. He started swinging his sword even more recklessly.
There was a saying,
If you can’t be good, be lucky, and that axiom was active now. One of his swings brought his sword into contact with the rabbit hide thongs connecting the two sticks, severing one of them.
When this happened, the free end stick flew a few yards away and fell to the ground; Lois jumped back and then continued to back away from him. As she was approaching the fringe of the clearing, her foot caught on an exposed root, perhaps even the same one she had tripped over earlier, and she fell backwards. She attempted to counter the fall by using her arms to slap at the ground, but even so, the back of her head hit another root and she was knocked unconscious.
Seeing this, Lysander began to smile. He limped over to her, favoring his battered leg, and straddled her body. He raised the sword and, holding it point down in both hands, raised it over his head, preparing to thrust it through her heart.
Just then, Clark burst onto the scene and placed himself, also straddling Lois, in front of Lysander, blocking his thrust with his left arm and pushing him away by placing his right hand on his chest and shoving.
With a startled expression on his face and a scream of rage on his lips, Lysander stumbled backwards several paces. When his heel caught on a root, he fell backwards, heavily, landing with a thud. He let out a choked cry as his body gave a convulsive jerk. A second later, the sword fell from his nerveless fingers.
All of this went unobserved by Clark. As soon as he had shoved Lysander away, he was kneeling at Lois’s side, holding her in a half-reclining position and lightly slapping her cheek.
“Lois, are you okay? Lois, come on! Wake up!”
Suddenly, a cannon sounded. Clark redoubled his efforts to rouse her, at last thinking of using his superhearing to listen for her heartbeat.
It was there, strong and steady. She was unconscious, but alive. The cannon had been for another tribute.
A few seconds later, Lois roused and swatted at the hand that was slapping her cheek. When she realized that it was Clark, she asked, “What happened?”
Clark said, “Lysander was about to skewer you like we did that groosling.” He nodded his head toward Lysander. “I gave him a shove. He’s over there. We should probably leave before he wakes up.”
Lois looked at Lysander for a few seconds before she said, “I don’t think he’s breathing.”
Clark shook his head and said, “I didn’t hit him that hard,” as he helped her to stand.
Lois moved over and felt his neck for a pulse. She shook her head, looked at Clark and said, “Help me roll him over.”
Clark did as she asked. There was a knife sticking out of Lysander’s back.
Both Clark and Lois reached for the knives in their belts. Confirming that they both still had them, Lois said, “That must be the one I knocked out of his hand. It must have landed here, point up. When you shoved him, he must have fallen on it.”
All the color drained from Clark’s face. He stared at the knife, realizing what he’d done. He hadn’t wanted to kill anyone, had even begun to convince himself that he could get through the Games without killing another person. Now, in a moment of carelessness and anger, he had taken the life of another boy. Only moments before, Lysander had been alive — vicious and enraged, and determined to kill Lois — but unmistakably alive.
Now he was dead. All of his hopes, dreams, and aspirations had died with him — and Clark was responsible.
Gently, Clark pulled the knife from Lysander’s back. He rolled the dead tribute back over and carefully slipped the knife into his belt. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Lois watched Clark’s actions, then retrieved Lysander’s sword and laid it atop his body. Putting a hand on Clark’s arm, she said, “You can’t blame yourself. It was a one-in-a-million chance that he would fall on his own knife. You weren’t here when he dropped it. You couldn’t have known that it was there.”
Clark shook his head. “There had to have been another way. I should have done something different.”
“If you’re fixing blame, then you should know that I’m as much to blame as you are. I’m the one who made him drop his knife in the first place.” When Clark didn’t respond, she added, “He would have killed me if you hadn’t shoved him away.”
Tentatively, Lois put a comforting arm around him. To her surprise, he hugged her back, holding her so tightly that she squirmed to get away after a moment. “Clark, I can’t breathe.”
He immediately let go of her. “I’m sorry! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Lois assured him. “Clark, we need to get out of here. The others might be looking for us, and … the hovercraft won’t come for Lysander until we’re gone.”
“I know.” Clark looked at Lysander again, his shoulders slumped in resignation. He listened for a moment, but heard no indication that Lumen and Mayson were still pursuing them. Shaking his head, he told Lois, “I think we should head southwest, toward the river. There’s still some vegetation there, so we should be able to build a small fire and cook the fish you got from the Cornucopia. After that … I don’t know. I guess we’ll figure things out as they happen.”
Lois looked around, then nodded. In silence, they picked up their supplies and Lois’s streamer sticks and disappeared into the forest.
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