A/N: Thank you, KenJ, for writing the fight scene in this chapter.
Chapter Fourteen
Later that afternoon, when they started getting hungry again, Clark retrieved some of the dried beef packets Lois had grabbed in the raid on the Cornucopia. When he opened the first one, he was pleasantly surprised. This wasn’t simply dried beef or jerky. He called Lois over and showed it to her.
They each took a small portion and put it in their mouths. They were both surprised at the consistency and flavor. It was definitely meat of some sort, but it was mixed with a fatty substance and there was a sweet, berry-like flavor.
Lois said, “I think I know what this is! Have you ever heard of pemmican?”
Clark gave her a confused look. “What?”
She chuckled and continued, “I read about it in a book at school.”
Clark replied, “I guess that in District 9, we don’t get as much schooling as in District 3. Most of what we do learn is about farming.”
Lois gave him a surprised look. “I thought all the districts had the same kind of schools, though I guess it would make sense that you’d learn more about your district’s industry.” She looked back at the package of pemmican. “Anyhow, pemmican — this stuff — was an American Indian staple. It’s a high energy food that stores for long periods of time. Pieces of dried meat are pulverized and mixed with fat and sometimes berries.” Picking up a small portion, she held it out and said, “This piece could be the equivalent of a six-ounce filet, but better because of the fats and berries.” She popped it into her mouth and chewed slowly. After a couple of minutes, she asked, “How much of this do we have?”
Clark checked their supplies. “Several packages.”
Lois thought for a moment and then replied, “We don’t know how much longer we will be here, so we will need to conserve what we have, but I think that we should use this for a few meals anyway to rebuild our reserves. I don’t know about you, but I’m already starting to feel better just after that small portion.”
Clark nodded his agreement and took a second portion for himself, chewing thoughtfully. After he swallowed, he asked, “How do you think we should handle the ‘feast’?”
Lois thought for a moment before replying. “The Careers will be there, and they might patch up their quarrel just so that they can go up against us. We need to be careful.”
They spent the balance of the day resting — as much as they could with it as cold as it was — and planning. The fat gave them the high calorie count their bodies needed to fight the cold, but they still found themselves getting up and pacing to get the blood circulating.
*****
The temperature in the arena continued to drop and Lois was extremely uncomfortable, even wrapped up in the blanket. She looked at Clark in confusion, wondering how he managed to stay warm enough with just his torn, tattered jacket while she was so cold with a blanket to keep her warm.
“Do you want the blanket?” she asked. “You could wrap yourself up in it while I keep watch.”
Clark shook his head. Lois was suffering badly from the cold, but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He wouldn’t take away the one thing that was keeping her from developing hypothermia.
“No. That’s all right,” he told her. “I’m used to going without much in the way of warm clothing. We don’t have much in District 9. Remember how I took off my jacket and shirt that one day and didn’t burn? That’s because, on the farm, rather than ruining our shirts by working in them, we take them off so that we have them later. In the winter, we just make do.”
Lois still looked skeptical, but couldn’t think of any other reason for Clark’s apparent immunity to the cold. Later, though, when Clark was ostensibly keeping watch but actually dozing lightly, Lois got up, sat beside him, and draped the blanket around both of them.
“It’s too cold to sleep,” Lois explained when he started awake and looked at her inquiringly, “and you look like you’re freezing.”
Clark had been sitting hunched over in the entrance to the cave, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs, hoping that the position would give the impression that the cold bothered him in spite of his claims that he was used to it. In District 9, despite the fact that many people didn’t have enough clothing and thus grew used to being cold in the winter, they still grew uncomfortable when the temperature dropped much below freezing, and people sometimes got frostbite or even died from hypothermia. For Clark, showing no reaction to the cold might give away more information than he cared for people to know.
“I’m okay,” Clark told Lois, trying to wrap his half of the blanket around her.
Lois gave him an exasperated look. “No, you’re not,” she told him. “Besides, two bodies are warmer than one. We can keep each other warm.”
Clark blushed slightly, though he knew she was right. “Well … maybe we could sit back to back.”
Lois gave him an amused look. “Are you afraid of me, Kent?”
“Are you planning to kill me?”
Lois rolled her eyes. “No, and you know that’s not what I meant. Are you afraid of girls?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Then quit being such a lunkhead. We’re just trying to stay warm. We’re not doing anything else.”
“I know.”
Lois re-draped the blanket around both of them. Soon, her head drooped, resting on Clark’s shoulder, and her even breathing told him that she’d fallen asleep.
Clark put an arm around her and she snuggled closer. He gazed up at the projected star patterns, thinking about how right this felt. Then he shook his head. It didn’t matter whether this felt right or not. Only one person could survive the Hunger Games, and though over the past day Clark had used his telescopic and X-ray vision to search the arena for Kryptonite until his eyes burned and his head ached, not a single shard could be found. As such, there was very little chance of him dying, and though he would protect Lois for as long as he could, he knew what the probable outcome of the Games was.
*****
Just as the sun was coming up, Clark heard a hovercraft. A few seconds later, Lois heard it also. Clark pointed out over the lake and Lois saw what he was pointing at.
In the early morning rays of sunshine, a hovercraft was approaching. It was almost invisible because of the artificial fog that surrounded it. The impeller blades that were used to keep it up created small cyclones over the surface of the lake, drawing up water and turning it into a mist that swirled up and around the hovercraft, similar to the mist found at the bottom of a waterfall. The early morning sun was turned into rainbows around the craft for a brief time before the temperature turned it into snow. When the craft approached the shore, it was accompanied by a miniature blizzard as well as a mist. When the craft landed and the impellers spun down, the mist settled and immediately froze on the foliage as if an ice storm had just passed through, the ice glittering in the sunlight.
As soon as the hovercraft had passed them, Lois and Clark left the cave and started hiking toward the east end of the lake, looking around cautiously for any signs of danger. It didn’t take long for them to get there, so they crouched amongst the rocks, waiting for the craft to set down the sponsor gifts and leave.
The hovercraft had settled between them and the shoreline, staying far enough above the ground that no desperate tribute could get aboard. It obscured their view until a few minutes later, when it lifted off again and moved around the newly set up table and over the edge of the lake, stirring up more water droplets and creating another localized blizzard before it moved away and gained altitude.
Lois wanted to immediately run over and grab her bag, labeled with her district number, but Clark urged caution. The sound of the hovercraft was still in his ears and he couldn’t be sure that they were alone in the area.
Lois could see the size of her bag. Something that large just had to have warm clothes in it, and she was anxious to get them and put them on, so even though Clark was reluctant to act, Lois broke cover and headed for the table.
When she started to run, Clark had no choice other than to follow. He was a couple of paces behind her as they approached the table.
By the time they were halfway across the clearing to the table, the Careers, who had apparently patched up their differences long enough to take out the non-Career tributes, came at them at an angle.
Clark heard their footfalls and shouted to Lois. “Look out — Careers!”
Lois looked back and saw the others coming. She was still some distance from the table, but was entering the area of snow and ice laid down by the hovercraft. She literally skidded to a halt and almost fell because of the treacherous footing. Carefully, she turned, pulled the streamer sticks free, and took a defensive stance. She saw Clark move to intercept Lumen, which left Mayson for her to deal with. Both of the Careers were armed with swords, and in addition to this, Mayson had a spear, which she launched at Lois.
Seeing Mayson throw the spear made it easy for Lois to avoid it — a spear was more effective against an unwary opponent. A simple sidestep and the spear passed Lois and skidded along the ice, finally splashing into the lake.
Seeing Lois avoid the spear, Mayson shouted her frustration and, drawing her sword, resumed her charge.
Mayson should have paid closer attention, watching her step instead of simply being intent on her target. She hit the area of ice and snow, not expecting it to affect her footing, but it did — profoundly. As she approached Lois, she tried to stop and take a fighting stance, but her feet almost went out from under her.
Seeing Mayson’s difficulty, Lois took a chance and stepped in, sticks swinging. One of them hit Mayson in the ribs on her left side while the other hit her right arm between her elbow and wrist.
The two spots suddenly flared in pain. Mayson couldn’t believe that something like these simple sticks could deliver the agony that she was feeling. Her entire left side was aflame with pain and she almost lost her grip on the sword in her right hand. At her gasping intake of breath after that blow, the pain increased, making her think that she might have a broken rib as a result of that stroke. She brought her left arm in protectively.
After seeing what this girl did to Platinum, I should have been more careful, Mayson thought. She jumped back, almost losing her footing in doing so.
Lois reacted as she had been trained. Seeing Mayson struggling with her footing, trying to back off, Lois seized the advantage and quickly squatted like a Russian dancer. Her right leg straightened out and swept in an arc, knocking Mayson’s feet out from under her.
When Mayson hit the ground, it was on her left side, stoking the fires of the agony she was already in and ripping a cry of pain from her lips. She maintained enough presence of mind to bring up her sword in a defensive gesture as she lay on the frozen ground.
Lois, knowing that she now had the advantage but still not wanting to really harm the other girl, quickly regained her feet and headed for the bags, only to slip on the ice and fall. As she went down, she instinctively used the counterfall slap, which caused her to lose her hold on the streamer sticks. She scrambled back to her feet just as Mayson was approaching.
The treacherous footing worked to her advantage again, because Mayson was skidding and her sword was flailing about as she tried to use her arms for balance and regain her footing.
Seeing this, Lois decided to grapple with her, so she dove at her opponent. Actually, it wasn’t much of a dive because of the slippery surface, but it was sufficient to knock Mayson down and force her to drop her sword.
After a brief struggle, Lois was on top of Mayson and had her arms trapped with her calves with Mayson struggling to get free. Lois said, “Quit struggling! Remember what I did to Platinum?! I don’t want to have to do the same thing to you!”
“Platinum? What does she have to do with it?”
“I killed her, didn’t I? I don’t want to have to kill you, too.”
Mayson was startled and stopped struggling. “What do you mean, you killed her?
You didn’t kill her! She hobbled back to us after your encounter with a broken collarbone. Her right arm was useless!
Lumen killed her, even though she was his district partner. Lysander almost killed him for doing it — I think he liked Platinum. Lumen finally convinced Lysander that she was a liability with an arm she couldn’t use.”
A feeling of intense relief swept over Lois with this revelation.
I didn’t kill her!Lois was so distracted that Mayson was able, with a very violent shake, to knock her off. Both getting to their feet, they faced each other, both unarmed.
Mayson was really hurting from the blows she had received from Lois and her sticks. She also knew that she had bested Platinum when Platinum had a knife and Lois had been unarmed, because Platinum had told her of the encounter before Lumen had killed her. At this point, Mayson wanted to just cut her losses and was of a mind to just grab her bag and go, so she dodged around Lois to do just that.
*****
When Clark saw the two Career tributes break cover and come for them, he thought that he would have to disable one as quickly as he could and then get to Lois’s side and help her. He saw that he was the target of Lumen’s assault and allowed him to approach. In a perfect repeat of the previous encounter, Lumen swung his blade and Clark evaded the cut just as he had practiced it in the gauntlet machine. He circled around, hoping that Lumen would follow so he could lead him away from Lois. He easily avoided a number of slashes and realized that he was doing so as easily as if he were using superspeed, though he wasn’t. Lumen was actually limping slightly, his jacket and shirt were slashed, and Clark could see the scabbed over wound that Mayson had given him the day before. One of Lumen’s eyes was blackened and almost swollen shut. Either Mayson had hit him or, in his precipitous flight from her, he had run headlong into a tree or the limb of a tree. He looked like he had been in a battle and lost.
Clark kept avoiding Lumen’s slashes and then, when he felt that he had led him far enough away from Lois, he changed his tactics. After a vicious slash, before Lumen had a chance to recover, Clark closed the distance and, placing his hand on Lumen’s right shoulder, gave him a shove. Unfortunately, the direction he stumbled in took him to the fringe of the snow-covered area and, as he stumbled, he slid for a few yards. Clark could tell from his exclamation that he was more startled than hurt. Clark had known that this would be the case, because he had scanned the area with his X-ray vision beforehand to make sure that there were no hazards.
With Lumen down, Clark had an opportunity to check on Lois, and saw that she was easily holding her own against Mayson. That gave him the time he needed to properly deal with Lumen. He allowed Lumen to get to his feet and charge. Then he repeated the same maneuver. Clark smiled to himself. Lumen reminded him of many of the bullies he had known in District 9. They were really cowards, usually drawing their confidence from their gangs and not knowing when to give up. Lumen obviously felt that with his superior weapons and skills he should be able to master this untrained rustic, and he was growing increasingly angry that this wasn’t the case. Being manhandled like this was humiliating. Some way, he had to recover his lost prestige.
As Lumen was recovering his feet after the fourth time Clark had shoved him down, he saw Mayson break off the conflict with the District 3 girl and head for her bag of supplies. He was indignant that she hadn’t finished the job he had given her. Thinking about his pride, and deciding that he could recover at least some of what he had lost by killing the District 3 girl, he broke away from Clark and started running in her direction. He still limped somewhat, but he made as good a time as he could. He was gratified to see that she apparently was distracted, thinking about something, and wasn’t paying any attention to what was happening around her. She was just standing there, apparently unarmed, an easy target.
His grip on his weapon was a problem, for some reason. Looking down, he saw that the wound that Mayson had given him the previous day had opened in one of his falls and he had started bleeding again, the blood running down onto his hand and making the hilt of his sword slippery. Taking a firmer grip on the sword, he turned and started a limping run toward Lois.
Clark was taken by surprise by his move and it took him some seconds to take off after him. Since Lumen was actually between him and Lois, he had an advantage. “Lois! Watch out!” Clark shouted.
*****
Lois was watching Mayson as she retrieved her pack and started back. As Mayson was picking up her sword, Lois bent to pick up her streamer sticks, intending to avoid Mayson and head for the table and the packs.
Just as she was bending to retrieve her sticks, she heard Clark’s shout. She turned and assumed a defensive posture as she saw Lumen approaching with Clark close behind.
Before Lumen got close enough to take a swipe at her, they all heard a strange noise, which stopped all of them in their tracks. It sounded almost like a human cough sounding from many throats.
They all turned toward the source of the noise and saw what appeared to be a yellow-brown blanket moving toward them.
As it got closer, it resolved itself into a mass of individual creatures similar to rats.
The rats came on like a wave, and like a wave, tried to engulf the first person they encountered, which happened to be Clark.
On the farm, Clark had had to deal with pests like rats before, but never in this kind of quantity. The only weapon that he had available was his knife, so before they reached him, he pulled it from his belt and stood ready. When they came within range, his blade became a blur of motion, quickly going from bright, shiny metal to a blood-soaked crimson. Each stroke killed several of the creatures. The wave crested and broke around him. He continued slashing right and left, front and back. Only a couple made it through his guard, and when they tried to bite his legs, it was near his boot tops, so when their teeth broke, it appeared that they had bitten the leather of his boots. Slowly, a wall of dead bodies was forming around him at a distance of about a foot. The creatures still poured over the bodies of their comrades to get at him.
The next closest target was Lumen. He started swinging his sword, killing several with each stroke — but this was a poor application for a sword. When some of the creatures came to close quarters, his swings became more erratic and he actually cut his own legs. The rats were already in a frenzy as a result of the scent of blood from his bleeding arm, and scores attacked him simultaneously, biting at his legs where he had cut himself. As they sank their teeth into his flesh, he redoubled his efforts, swinging faster and faster, but he was weakening. The blood from his various wounds started flowing more and more rapidly with each bite.
As Lumen went down under the assault, some of the creatures broke away and headed for Mayson and Lois.
Mayson had just recovered her sword, but having seen what had been happening with Clark and Lumen, dropped it in favor of the knife in her belt. She took a defensive posture and used the pack like a buckler while she slashed right and left with her knife. Fortunately for her, the vast majority of the creatures were busy with Clark and Lumen. Still, Mayson did not get away unscathed. Lois could hear Mayson’s screams of anguish each time one of the rodents managed to sink its teeth into some part of her body.
Lois had her sticks in her hands and they were whirling around and down in sweeping blows, sending bodies flying through the air for several yards. The problem that she had was that her weapons were not as lethal those wielded by the others and many times one of the creatures she had hit would recover and rejoin the attack. She decided that she needed to use the knife that was in her belt. She dropped the stick in her right hand and grabbed the knife, but when she did that, it created an opening for the rats and two managed to sink their fangs into her legs before she was able to bring the knife into action. She immediately killed those two and the rest that were attacking. Fortunately, in her training in the use of the sticks, independent movement of both hands was stressed, so she kept the stick in her left hand moving while she committed execution with the knife in her right hand.
Mayson was finally able to overcome the ones that had attacked her, and she ran off in the direction of the Cornucopia.
After a short time, Lumen ceased to move and the cannon sounded.
When the cannon sounded, Clark looked anxiously in Lois’s direction and saw her still battling the creatures. He saw Mayson in the distance and the pile of rats where Lumen had been.
Clark finally dispatched the last of his attackers and, stepping over the inert bodies, headed over to Lois and helped her finish off her attackers.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
She shrugged it off. “A lot better than Lumen. Just a few minor bites — a couple on my legs and one on my hand. I don’t think Mayson fared as well. What about you?”
“Not a scratch. My knife was too fast for them.”
A sudden look of pain came over Lois’s features. She looked at the hand where she had been bitten. The blood was flowing more freely than one would have expected. “These bites are starting to hurt something fierce and they are bleeding a lot,” she told Clark.
Clark picked up a dead rat and examined its teeth. With a pained expression, he said, “The teeth … the teeth are hollow … like the fangs of a snake.” Pushing up the lips, he pointed at a swelling above the gum line. “Poison sacks … those rotten …”
Taking the rat from his hands and tossing it aside, Lois said, “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that now. Let’s grab our packs. Maybe there’s something in there that will take care of this.” A worried look crossed her face as she thought of something. “Remember how I told you about pemmican? Well, I’ve also read about other things — like a species of cobra that has venom that acts as an anticoagulant. That could be why these wounds are bleeding so freely.”
Clark was almost in panic mode as he said, “We need to dress your wounds to keep you from bleeding to death.”
Lois replied, more calmly than she felt, “Let’s check the packs.”
Moving quickly, Clark picked up the three remaining bags. Lois’s bag contained a wool poncho. He handed it to her and she put it on, hissing in pain as it brushed her bitten hand. Clark’s pack held artificial logs that would burn for a long time. The last bag, the one meant for Lumen, held antibiotic ointment and bandages.
“This should help!” Clark exclaimed, holding up the supplies.
Lois took the tube of ointment and dabbed a little bit on each wound, though she wondered how much good it would do with the injuries bleeding so much. With Clark’s help, she bandaged all the bites, putting pressure on them to try to stop the bleeding.
The bleeding slowed, but didn’t stop. They both watched with alarm as Lois’s blood soaked through the bandages in spite of their efforts to stop it. When it had soaked through a second layer of gauze bandages, Clark said, “We should get back to the cave. You can rest and stay warm there, and maybe that will help the bleeding.”
*****
Lois and Clark walked back to the cave slowly to help Lois keep the bleeding at a minimum, but by the time they were halfway there, Lois was stumbling dizzily from blood loss. When Clark realized that the blood had soaked into Lois’s boots and she was leaving bloody footprints on the frosty ground, he decided to ignore her objections and picked her up to carry her the rest of the way to the cave.
“Clark!” Lois protested as he picked her up. “I can walk.”
Clark looked back at the uneven trail of footprints where Lois had been staggering along beside him. “You’re losing too much blood, and the more you push yourself, the worse it will be.”
“Are you sure I’m not too heavy for you to carry? It’s still a ways to the cave.”
“You’re not too heavy, Lois. Trust me.”
“Under any other circumstances, I’d take that as a compliment.”
Clark gave her a quick smile, relieved that she could still joke. He was growing more and more worried, though. Lois was losing far too much blood, and though it had slowed when he’d picked her up, it hadn’t stopped, but continued to seep from the wounds slowly and insidiously.
When they reached the cave, Clark set Lois down on the blanket and rummaged in Lumen’s pack for more bandages. There weren’t many left.
“Lumen’s sponsors weren’t very generous,” Lois commented upon seeing what was left.
“I doubt they expected this,” Clark said grimly. “They knew he was injured, but the rats were a surprise. The Gamemakers must have rushed to perfect them.”
“Those rats … they were meant for you, Clark. They sounded so much like Becky when she coughed …”
“And their fur was the color of her hair.” Clark nodded. “The Gamemakers were getting back at me for trying to help her. Haver warned me about arena traps, but I never thought they’d use a dead tribute to try to punish a live one.”
“Psychological warfare,” Lois said quietly. “Some people in District 3 work on traps for the arenas. They aren’t just meant to kill or injure — they’re meant to terrorize tributes and keep them off balance. Nothing can be relied upon and nothing is safe, and even the dead can be used as a weapon.”
“And all as punishment for a war that ended long before we were even born.” Clark shook his head, unable to understand why they had to pay for a war that had ended long before their parents had been born, or even, in many cases, their grandparents.
Clark noticed that Lois was shivering in spite of the warm poncho. Unrolling one of the bandages, he said, “As soon as we have those bites bandaged again, I’ll build a fire and you can get warm.”
Lois carefully unwound the blood-soaked bandages from her legs and hand. The bites were still bleeding slowly and were more painful than ever. She tried to put pressure on the bite on her hand, but it hurt so much that she couldn’t bring herself to press hard enough.
“Clark, you’re going to have to help me here,” she told him. “It hurts too much for me to put enough pressure on these bites.”
Clark tore off some gauze and pressed it to the wound on Lois’s hand. She clenched her teeth, trying not to cry out in pain.
In spite of Clark’s best efforts, the wound continued bleed slowly. He finally added another thick square of gauze on top of the first and bandaged it as tightly as he could without cutting off Lois’s circulation.
When all three wounds were bandaged, Clark took one of the artificial logs from his pack. Following the instructions on the wrapper, he used one of the matches he had taken from the Cornucopia two days before to light the fire. When it was burning, he turned back to Lois.
The bandages were firmly in place, but blood was starting to seep through them anyway. Clark shook his head, knowing that Lois would need more bandages.
“Lois, I’m going to go back to the Cornucopia. You need more bandages, and that’s the only place that might have them. There were a lot of first aid supplies two days ago — there might still be some.”
Lois had been lying down, but at Clark’s words she pushed herself up. “If we go slowly, I should be able to walk.”
“No.” Clark shook his head, gently pushing her back down. “Stay here and rest. If you keep your weapons at hand, you should be safe enough. Only Mayson is left, and given how many times she was bitten, I’m guessing she’s as bad off as you are, if not worse.”
“What about the mountain lion? Predators are attracted to the smell of blood.”
“She probably won’t come near the fire, but if she does, you have your streamer sticks and your knife.” Clark squeezed Lois’s uninjured hand gently. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Watch out. Mayson was headed for the Cornucopia after she got away from the rats.”
“I know. I’ll be careful.”
“Clark …” Lois sat up again, slipping off the poncho. “Take this.”
“No. That’s yours. You need it more than I do.”
“I have the blanket and the fire. You have a long walk in the cold.”
“Lois …”
“Take it!” she snapped. “I don’t want you freezing to death out there!”
Reluctantly, Clark took the poncho. The cold didn’t bother him, but he had no way of telling Lois that, and even people used to the cold winters of District 9 valued a warm garment.
Clark slipped out of the cave and took off at a run around the lake, moving as fast as he could without using superspeed. When he reached the east end of the lake, he slowed, picking up the faint scent of the poison gas that had been used to kill any remaining rats when the hovercraft had come to pick up Lumen — if any of the rats had made it aboard the hovercraft, they would have been just as dangerous to the people on board as they had been to the tributes.
He gave the area a wide berth — if there was enough poison gas left to kill a tribute, it would look extremely suspicious if he was unaffected. He sped up again, racing through the grass and low brush that had escaped the fire.
As Clark passed the east end of the lake and turned back west, he came upon something that shocked him. The mountain lion had been denning with her cub in a small space beneath a pile of rocks. Some of the rats had broken off from the original pack and had found the den. The adult cat had killed most of them, but had been bitten repeatedly in the process. She lay dead in a frozen pool of blood outside the den, already stiffening in the cold. There was no sign of the cub, and Clark shuddered to think what might have happened to it.
Clark hesitated only a moment before moving on, hurrying in the direction of the Cornucopia. He stopped when he got close, looking around carefully for Mayson, and finally used his X-ray vision to check inside the horn.
Mayson was lying in the mouth of the Cornucopia, shivering violently. Her pack, which contained an atlatl and three spears appropriate for throwing with it, lay nearby, open and discarded. Her clothes were soaked with blood, and more blood had pooled around her.
As Clark approached the Cornucopia, Mayson heard him and opened her eyes, staring at him in fear and pain. He stopped, trying to decide what to do. He wanted to grab the necessary supplies and hurry back to Lois, but he had never been able to bring himself to ignore someone in need, and the girl before him was no exception.
Mayson was dying — Clark had no doubt about that. When he used his superhearing to listen for her heartbeat, he found that it was rapid but weak, and growing weaker as more blood seeped from the bites that covered her body.
Mayson tried to lift her knife as Clark came near, but she was too weak and both her hand and the weapon were too slippery with blood for her to get a good grip. The knife fell from her hand and Clark kicked it out of her reach, not wanting her to try to stab him and hurt herself further.
“Please … just make it quick,” she begged Clark, expecting him to kill her and hoping that he wouldn’t torture her first.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Clark assured her, looking inside the Cornucopia for anything that he might use to get her off the cold ground. Spotting the sleeping bag Mayson had been using, he brought it to the entrance of the Cornucopia and laid it out on the ground. As gently as he could, he lifted her and set her on it, though she screamed in pain when he touched some of the bites.
Mayson struggled to get off the sleeping bag. Clark restrained her. “It’s too cold to lie on the ground,” he told her.
“No,” she begged. “No … please don’t … just kill me and get it over with.”
Clark was confused for a moment before he realized what she was afraid of. Perhaps some male tributes would use the opportunity to commit rape, but he wasn’t one of them. He would never touch a woman without her consent.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reiterated. Seeing a canteen in the Cornucopia, he went and picked it up, relieved to find that it was half-full and insulated, so the water was still liquid. Bringing it back, he lifted Mayson to a sitting position, using one arm to keep her from falling back down.
Clark opened the canteen and put it to Mayson’s mouth. She took a few sips before turning her head away. “I didn’t want to just be a Peacekeeper,” she said quietly.
“What?” Clark frowned in confusion.
“I didn’t want to just be a Peacekeeper,” Mayson repeated. “That’s what District 2 produces … stone and Peacekeepers. I wanted more … I wanted to learn how … how the law works … I wanted to go to a university … in the Capitol … but I couldn’t … unless I was a victor. So … so I trained … and volunteered for the Games. I thought … if I won … I could get someone to sponsor me … so I could go the university … and study the law. I never wanted to … to hurt anyone.” Her voice was too weak for the microphones to pick up, but Clark heard her clearly.
“It’s all right,” he told her. “We’ve all got our reasons for being here.” He realized something as he spoke. All the times he’d heard the Careers laughing viciously as they hunted for other tributes, mocking those weaker than them, Mayson’s voice hadn’t been among them. She’d done what she’d had to do to earn the future she wanted — but it was all in vain. She was dying, and all of her hopes and dreams for the future would die with her. In a short time, the Capitolites would forget her — her death was nothing more than cheap entertainment to them — but her family and friends would be left to mourn. Whatever she might have become was lost because of the Capitol’s need to show the power it had over the districts.
Mayson wept silently as she gazed at Clark. She had been attracted to him from the first time she saw him, though she knew that nothing could ever come of it. He had seemed to her to be a kind, principled young man, one who had no business being involved in the Hunger Games — but like most tributes from the non-Career districts, he had no choice in the matter. He had taken care of his sick, weak district partner — and now he was taking care of her in her last moments.
“I …” she whispered. “I …” Her head fell back, her eyes wide and staring, as a cannon boomed.
“Mayson?” Clark listened for a heartbeat, but found none. Gently, he laid her back down on the sleeping bag and pushed her eyes closed. He knelt there for a moment, his head bowed and his right hand over his heart in the District 9 sign of respect.
*****
A short time later, Clark was running back in the direction of the cave, a pack of first aid supplies on his back. He ran past the mountain lion — yet another victim of the Hunger Games — without stopping, and soon rounded the lake and made his way to the cave.
Lois was lying atop the blanket when he came into the cave, her eyes wide and the knife in her hand. She dropped it when she saw him.
“I was afraid you were Mayson,” she told him.
“Mayson … Mayson’s dead,” Clark told her.
“I knew one of you had died, but I wasn’t sure who.”
Clark took off the poncho and draped it over Lois like a blanket. “Why aren’t you wrapped up? It’s freezing!”
“The blanket kept touching the bites. It hurt too much to stay wrapped up.”
Clark opened the pack and pulled out some fresh bandages. His heart pounded in alarm when he checked Lois’s bandages and found that they were soaked through with blood, as were her clothes and the blanket beneath her. “Lois …”
“I know. It’s bad. I tried using the blanket to put pressure on the wounds, but it didn’t help. They just kept bleeding.”
Clark carefully removed the old bandages, watching as more blood seeped from the bites. Lois was pale and shivering, and her heartbeat was growing as rapid and weak as Mayson’s had been. He shook his head. The bandages weren’t going to be enough. Something else had to be done.
Glancing at the low fire, Clark pulled another log from his sponsor pack and added it to the flames, blowing on them until it ignited.
“Lois, I’m going to try to cauterize the bites,” he told her, putting the blade of his knife in the fire. “It’s the only thing I can think of that might stop the bleeding.”
“Clark … we’re the only two left,” Lois reminded him. “The Gamemakers expect …”
“I don’t care what they expect,” Clark said harshly. “I’m not going to let you bleed to death.” He ducked out of the cave, returning a few minutes later with a broken willow stick from the tree beside the lake. “This is going to hurt … a lot. I want you to bite down on this.”
“Clark … I don’t want to kill you … but if you save my life, I’ll have to try, or … or the Capitol may harm our families.”
“Then we’ll fight, give them a good show, but I’m not going to let you die from some stupid rat bites!” He pressed the stick into her hand, then used his jacket as a potholder to retrieve the knife from the fire. “Bite down on it.”
Taking a deep breath, Lois did as he instructed. Clark pressed the hot metal to the first bite, holding her down and trying to shut out the painful sound of her screaming around the stick. By the time he got to the second bite, Lois had fainted from the pain, and Clark couldn’t help but be relieved that she wasn’t feeling anything.
As quickly as he could, Clark cauterized the remaining bite, then reached for the antibiotic ointment. As he started to dab it on the burns, he stared in disbelief.
The cauterized bites were cracking open, the blood flowing more freely than ever. All he had done was cause Lois more pain.
Lois awoke a few moments later, shaking and trying to not scream. The bites hurt worse than ever.
Clark was staring at her, a look of sorrow and guilt on his face. “It … it didn’t work,” he told her.
Lois looked at her hand, then pushed herself up weakly to confirm what he’d said about the bites on her legs. She fell back, clenching her teeth against the pain and shivering.
“It … looks like you’re going home, Farmboy,” she told him.
“No,” Clark told her. “I’ll think of something else — like tourniquets. We can try tourniquets. You’ll be fine.”
Lois shook her head sadly, knowing better. “No, I won’t … and I don’t think I have the strength to kill you now, even if I could bring myself to do it. I didn’t kill Platinum!” she blurted out. “Mayson told me … Lumen did it after she came back to their camp. She was a liability … to the Careers.”
“I’m glad,” Clark said. “Glad that you don’t have to feel guilty anymore.”
Lois turned her head, looking into the camera. “Mother, Daddy, Lucy … I love you all … so much. Mother and Daddy … take care of Lucy. I won’t … be there anymore to help.” She turned her head, looking Clark in the eyes. “Clark … you’ve been a good friend … the best friend I’ve ever had. No one else has ever … fought so hard or cared … so much … for me. And I …” She gestured for him to lean down to her.
Clark did as she requested, blinking back tears. He expected that she would whisper something to him, something that she didn’t want all of Panem to hear, but instead she pulled his face down to hers, kissing him gently for a moment before laying back. “Don’t feel guilty,” she whispered. “After all … the Games must have a winner.” She glanced at the knife in his hand, clearly expecting him to use it.
Clark stared at her as she closed her eyes, a single tear making its way down his face. He couldn’t bring himself to stab her or cut her throat — but he couldn’t watch her die slowly and painfully, either, while the Capitolites and even some of the people in the districts watched and made bets over whether he would kill her or how long she would last if he didn’t.
In that moment, he made up his mind. Lois wouldn’t die in agony like Mayson had, but the Capitol wouldn’t get to enjoy the moment, either. He pulled the poncho off of her shivering form, as though to make it easier to kill her, then tossed it with deliberate casualness over the camera, hiding them from view.
“I’m so sorry, Lois,” he whispered. He took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly, starting at her head and making his way down to her feet. Anyone who checked would think she had died of hypothermia.
The final cannon sounded.
Slowly, Clark pulled the poncho off the camera and laid it gently over Lois, covering her face. He stood there silently, his head bowed and his hand pressed over his heart.
The trumpets sounded and the voice of Claudius Templesmith echoed through the arena. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the winner of the 66th Hunger Games, Clark Kent of District 9!”
Clark stood there a moment longer, until he heard the sound of the hovercraft. Slowly, he stepped out of the cave, watching as the hovercraft dropped a ladder for him about fifty feet away. The force field was gone, and the temperature of the arena was already starting to rise.
Clark looked up at the sky, contemplating just leaping into the air and flying away, leaving everything behind. Then he looked at the ladder, realizing that it wouldn’t do any good to fly away. It wouldn’t bring anyone back or undo the things he’d done.
He started slowly in the direction of the ladder, and although Clark had flown thousands of miles around Panem and roamed the length and breadth of his home district, the fifty feet to the hovercraft was the longest walk of his life.
Comments
