When Luck Runs Out

Tarzan Doesn't Get Enough Credit

    The rules were briefly rehearsed, just to prevent any potential fighting, and we were set free to do whatever we wanted. This time John and I tried the whole food and water thing. We made little stick traps, we demonstrated how to find and purify water, and took a quiz on all of the edible berries we might find in the woods. John was especially good at the berries, because he said he had a little book at home when he was little. I continued making traps and little spears out of rocks and sticks, but every time they were triggered they fell apart, the sticks snapping apart and the grass knots unraveling.
"I'm sorry to say, but that won't catch anything." said a voice above me. I looked up in sort of annoyance, about to say some sort of sassy comment, when I saw none other than Jim Moriarty standing above me. For once Sebastian wasn't his shadow, he was too busy over by the dummies, hacking and stabbing like it was Christmas. My blood ran cold, and I forced an innocent little smile.
"I guess I need to go over the instructions again then." I shrugged. Jim just smiled, one that made him look innocent and loveable, but I knew the truth.
"Oh it's simple you see, you're just messing up the knots." He insisted, kneeling down and picking up the shattered remains of my trap. I watched him assemble it, without even following the directions or anything.
"Here, this has to wrap around twice, and you should use a stronger knot for the one near the top. You don't want to lose your catch." He decided, springing the trap and watching happily as the top flung up. Whatever animal that walked by was definitely going to be speared.
"Perfect." I smiled. "Thank you."
"Not a problem Sherlock, after all, we're only enemies once we get in the games, and it's no fun with everyone starving to death." He shrugged.
"Well, um, I guess not." I muttered. Jim just laughed, standing up and patting my shoulder as if we were old friends.
"You'll get the hand of it Sherlock, some day you'll get the hang of it." he assured. I didn't really know what 'it' was, but I just smiled and nodded.
"I don't think I have very long." I shrugged.
"Oh come on, think positive thoughts!" Jim insisted.
"Doing my best." I shrugged. Jim just laughed again, nodding his farewell and walking over to Sebastian, just as a mighty blow sent a dummy's head flying across the room.
"My god, I thought he was going to kill you." John pointed out, steering me away in case Jim wanted to come back over. But he and Sebastian looked pretty busy, evidently seeing who could get more headshots in the knife throwing.
"It's fine, I'm fine." I assured.
"What was he even doing?" John asked.
"Showing me how to make my trap better." I shrugged.
"He was helping you?" John asked in shock.
"Yes well, he claims that it's no fun if everyone starves to death." I pointed out. John and I walked over to the camouflage section, where we tried our best to morph ourselves into rocks and trees and things, using only clay and grass and stuff. I must say, I was the biggest failure you ever could be, we both were honestly. Finally, on our fifth attempt to turn into a rock, the instructor politely recommended that we move to another station since John's gray clay was flaking off as he laughed at our hopelessness. Finally though, it was time for lunch, so we cleaned up and walked over the cafeteria. When we sat down with our meals, Jeanette and Greg appeared right next to us, seeming very happy about something.
"So, how was the first part of day two?" Jeanette asked as she dipped her grilled cheese into tomato soup (ew?).
"It was fine." I mumbled, poking at my own soup but not really intending on eating it. I only sunk the noodles and watched them bobble to the surface.
"We've been thinking more about the arena, and if it's new, then maybe they'll do an outer space thing, you know? Like turn off the gravity at random moments." Greg pointed out. He was very much enjoying a large stack of chicken fingers and fries, drowning them in ketchup.
"That sounds like fun." John admitted with a smile. I glared at him, and his cheeks went a little bit pink.
"I think it would definitely be fun, you could float around and grab people's food and all that, and a thrown sword would only keep going..." Jeanette predicted.
"Wow, you totally just spelled out paradise!" I exclaimed sarcastically.
"Sherlock, eat your soup." John snapped.
"I'm not hungry." I insisted.
"Yes you are, eat it." John demanded, acting like my mother once more. That seemed to be a reoccurring theme around here. I sulkily ate my soup, and Greg just laughed, as if someone had told a marvelous joke.
"So, any ideas for what you're going to do during evaluations?" Jeanette asked.
"It's supposed to be a secret." John pointed out.
"Yes well, it's not like I'm going to tell anyone." She shrugged.
"You are someone." I pointed out.
"Aren't we allies?" Greg asked, looking quite confused. I rolled my eyes, but didn't tell him yes or no. Of course we wanted help, but not exactly from him.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." John decided.
"Fair enough." Greg agreed, going back to his fries. When lunch was over John and I went back over to the training section. This was a lot more difficult than the survival portion, because instead of weapons we tried to focus more on the bodily strength part. There was a big rope, which I got maybe a quarter of the way up before I came crashing down. John was able to make it to the top, but he was extremely apprehensive about getting down, and ended up getting rope burn through his effort of holding on as he slid down. Then we went to the climbing wall, where we were strapped into harnesses just in case. I relied very much on my harness, but was able to claw my way to the top of the little plastic rocks sticking out. John was able to hold on and climb, but with his newly acquired rope burn he took a while, so I waited at the top so we could swing down together. In the end we just fought with the wooden swords again, and this time I was actually able to knock the blade out of his hand. I was extremely proud of that, but afterwards he stabbed me right in the stomach, so hard the wind was knocked out of me. On that note, we were dismissed from training, where Molly and Mrs. Hudson were waiting.
"How was it?" Molly asked, leading the way to the train with a forced smile on her face. I could tell it was getting harder and harder for all of us to smile, not with only two more days left until the arena.
"It was fine." John shrugged. Once on the train, we described in full detail what happened, with Jim, with the training, and Greg's ally offer.
"You don't actually think we should be an ally with him, right?" I asked.
"He may seem quirky, but he's actually a really good fighter. I think you two will need all the help you can get." Mrs. Hudson shrugged.
"Oh, thanks for the confidence booster." I laughed.
"You know what I mean. You two managed to win through a group of untrained teenagers, but against a whole bunch of lethal adults, well, the odds really aren't in our favor." Molly pointed out.
"We'll get out. One of us has to get out." I insisted.
"Remember, everyone else is thinking like that too." Mrs. Hudson pointed out. We got off at our station, where there were actually a little bit of very determined paparazzi, who took our picture and asked for autographs and all of that. I just ignored them, but Molly took a selfie or two, just to please the crowd. She was always much too nice for this world. When we got up to our floor I just sat on the couch, tapping my feet and waiting for someone to start a conversation. John was showering, Molly was off doing who knows what, and Mrs. Hudson was reading some sort of fashion magazine, obviously it was made up entirely of knitted sweaters and stuff that she liked. So I just sat there, trying to focus on something other than the games looming ahead of me. It was a nice day out, the sun was shining, the sky was cloudless... what would the weather be like in the arena? Well, it depended on the climate it had, if it was polar then it would snow all day, tropical it would rain, desert it would be parched, you just couldn't tell. No, no thinking about the games. I tried to slap my mental self-back into shape, and I turned on the TV. As soon as I saw some pictures of the parade I shut that off as well, of course the only thing they'd be able to talk about is the upcoming games. So I sat and stared at the floor, tapping my feet together occasionally and watching the little fibers in the carpet move around as my foot slid ever so slightly to the right. Entertaining, I know.  

John finally returned from his shower, wearing his pajamas or course, with his blonde hair hanging down with the weight of the shower water. 

"About time." I insisted.
"Sorry your majesty." John groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Do your hands still hurt?" I asked. John held up his hands, his palms and fingers bright red.
"Oh yes." He agreed.
"There should be some sort of medication for that in the health wing." Mrs. Hudson pointed out, peering over the magazine.
"It's not too bad, it'll heal." John shrugged.
"But you need it to heal now, with training and evaluations and the games, we can't have injuries yet." she insisted. John rolled his eyes, but looked at me for help.
"come with me?" he asked hopefully.
"Nah, I think it would be funny to watch you get lost." I decided.
"Go with John!" Molly called from somewhere, obviously listening to the conversation only to jump in and bully me.
"I know, I know, it was a joke. Chill out Molly!" I yelled, getting to my feet. "I was bored anyway."
"Good, well this will be a fun thing to entertain yourself with. Taking me to the doctor." John decided.
"Back to that cage?" I asked.
"That was only for mentally unstable patients." Mrs. Hudson assured. I just glared at her, and she seemed to see the error in her words. "...Not that you're mentally unstable, I was just, you know..."
"I think I'm actually quite unstable, yes." I agreed with a laugh. Mrs. Hudson breathed a sigh of relief.
"Just behave yourselves, and don't get even more injured on the way down." She insisted.
"I don't know, we might need an escort, we can't find our way around..." John pointed out.
"I'm on break." She insisted.
"You don't have a break." I defended.
"I do now. You three are a full time job, it's like being a mom." She pointed out.
"Well sorry." I groaned, rolling my eyes.
"Come on Sherlock, now's not the time for fights." John insisted, pulling me along to the elevator. I groaned, but leaned against the glass wall and pouted a little bit.
"What's wrong with the princess today?" John laughed.
"Oh, nothing, I'm just..." my sentence was interrupted when the elevator stopped and the door opened, letting in some girl who looked to me like one of the younger Victors. She stood in the front, but I saw her looking at us using the shiny metal reflections on the number buttons. I tried to ignore that the best I could. When finally the elevator stopped at the lobby we all got out. She went to the main entrance, walking outside, while we forced deeper into the tribute center, down one more floor to the hospital ward. It was a lot more pleasant from when I was in there, it wasn't a white glass prison, it looked like a regular hospital. There were cots and dividers and medical carts full with all sorts of equipment, and little pill bottles locked behind glass cases.
"Ah, back for more I see." The doctor laughed, his teeth so white they matched perfectly to the walls.
"I uh, got rope burn in training today; Mrs. Hudson said you might have something to help?" John asked, showing the man his hands.
"Ah, yes, that darned rope, I remember that." he decided.
"You were a victor?" I asked in surprise.
"Well of course, a lot of people around here are, because we can relate better to the tributes. District Eight, winner of the 61st Hunger Games." He said proudly. John and I looked at each other with surprise, but the doctor didn't think it was that much of an issue, because he started rummaging around in a cabinet, which had all sorts of cream and all that stuff.
"Sometimes I wish it never happened, but then again, I wouldn't have this job, would I? Some good things come out of the games." He pointed out.
"Did you go in the reaping this year?" John asked.
"Oh, yes, but there are plenty of Victors to take my place." He shrugged.
"Lucky. We've only got three." John muttered.
"Well, hopefully you'll have two when this is all over. I'd hate to see anything happen to you all, you seem so close." he decided, pulling out a small jar.
"They're the family I never wanted." I agreed, making John elbow me in the side.
"Here we are, hold out your hands if you will." He decided, putting on rubber gloves and dipping his fingers in the cream. He rubbed it on John's hands and then, after waiting a minute or two, he gave John the permission to go wash his hands. When he came back his hands were as good as new, without any rope burn, calluses, or even wrinkles. It was the miracle cream I'm sure Mrs. Hudson would love to get her hands on.
"Perfect!" John exclaimed, holding up his hands with delight.
"Never doubt Capital technology." The doctor said happily.
"Well, thank you." I decided, turning kind of slowly in case he had anything else to say.
"Yes, thank you so much." John agreed. Obviously he didn't have anything else to say, because he let us walk back to the elevator and ascend back up to our floor.