When Luck Runs Out

Violent Hide and Seek

I decided to start searching inside the buildings, maybe climb up a flight of stairs and get an aerial view. I picked the largest building I could, some office building that stretched up to the clouds. The door had been a sliding glass door, but it was jammed open, the glass cracked as if something had forced its way in. But I knew nothing had, it was the gamemakers, they probably took a baseball bat to all of this rubbish. I decided that if I was going to encounter another tribute I needed a weapon, and even though glass wouldn't do much against a sharpened steel blade, it was better than nothing. I found a reasonable sized rock on the side of the road and stepped back, looking around to make sure I wasn't going to attract any attention and threw it into the glass. There was a large shatter and the glass poured down in sheets, cracking against the sidewalk. I looked around nervously, sure that it was loud enough to be heard possibly a block away, and scrambled to find the largest shard I could. I tore some fabric from my shirt and wrapped it around the glass, so that I didn't cut my hand when I held it, and started my way into the building. The lobby was dark but, as far as I could tell, deserted. There was a reception desk and a once cozy waiting room, with torn up couches and an over turned coffee table. There was a large chandelier on the ground in front of the desk, its many golden handles bent and broken. It wasn't hard to find the stairs, and I made my way up, taking them two at a time for as long as I could, until finally my legs burned so badly and I had to take a rest. It made me wonder just how many floors this building had. But the longer I waited here the more worried I got, John might be looking for me right now, running around this very building calling my name, and I was in the staircase, hopelessly out of earshot, catching my breath. I had to keep going, I had to. I ran up the steps once more, taking only three more rests since my legs literally felt as if someone had set fire to them, when I finally reached the top. I slammed open the door and was once again blinded by sunlight, but that was beyond my concern now. I wondered my way over to the edge of the building, looking down into the deserted street to make sure John or any other tribute wasn't there. Looking around, there seemed to be no end to this city, the tops of the large buildings stretching as far as my eye could see. John had to be out there somewhere, I had to have hope that he was wondering the streets looking for me as well, and not choking on his own blood on the cement floor of some worn down apartment building. No, that was impossible, he couldn't be dead, he was stronger than that. I sighed, setting my makeshift weapon down and sitting on the ledge of the building, trying to collect my thoughts. All of this was suddenly rushing back to me, the fact that this was the games once more, I was a tribute, I would never see Mrs. Hudson or Molly ever again... I might not even find John, he could be at the opposite end of the arena, and that could be miles... I rubbed my eyes vigorously, refusing myself to cry, I simply couldn't cry, not now, not yet. I was sure plenty of tears would be shed later on in the games, but right now I had to concentrate on the games, on finding John, on making this right. I got back to my feet, jumping around to make myself ready for more cruel physical activity, and made my way back down the stairs. When I finally reached the lobby once more I poked around the chandelier, hoping that I could use one of the thin metal poles as a shaft or something, make a spear maybe. But as I crunched along through the glass I tried to pry off a beam, and found that it was a lot more than I was capable of. I considered trying to pry it off when I realized I was wasting my time, John was out there, and it was my job to go find him. I decided the least I could do was search in the back, where there might be a break room or something. I jumped over the reception desk, where there was a swinging wooden door. I kicked it open to find that it was unlocked in the first place, and I had just wasted my time trying to be all macho. But I'm sure there were much more interesting things going on right now; the cameras were almost definitely not focused on me. In the back I found what looked to be a small kitchen, with counters and a large empty plastic jug of water. I picked it up and shook it, but not even the smallest drop of water was seen. I groaned, but threw it back into the corner, searching through the cabinets. There were a couple of boxes, mostly chewed through by rats, a half full bag of sunflower seeds, which I crammed in my pocket, a half a granola bar, and energy drink powder. That wouldn't be much use to me, so I just took the granola bar, stuffing it in my pocket and searching for a possible pair of scissors or something. Unfortunately the only thing I could find was a stapler, and it was deprived of staples and useless to me. So I kept moving, happy that I had found a little bit of food without mortally risking my life. The granola bar would go to John, of course, and I'd satisfy myself with a couple of sunflower seeds. So I moved on, speed walking through the deserted streets and searching for even the smallest sign of life. But as the day went on, the sun got lower, and my hope was plummeting. Finally, at sunset, I found the closest thing to evidence I could, a small drop of blood on the sidewalk. It was alone, there was no trail leading me to or away from someone, but when I poked at it with my finger I saw that it was still little bit fresh, not completely dried to sidewalk. When I looked around I saw another drop, a little bit far away, leading into some sort of building. Was it an injured person, fleeing a battle? Probably not too badly injured, a small cut, nosebleed at worst, but could it be John's blood? There was a one in 23 three chance that it might be, but considering the odds in this hell hole, anything could be possible. The sun was starting to set, and even though I knew it was a bad idea to go nosing around other people at night, if it was John that would end my search and ease my fears. If I let it alone I knew I'd never forgive myself. So I made sure my makeshift blade was set for action and crept inside the small doorway, where there was another drop of blood on the grey concrete floor. I looked around, not wanting to draw too much attention to myself, but if was John, and he was ready to jump out from a corner and attack me, he should really know that I'm not an attacker.
"Hello?" I whispered, so quietly that I had trouble hearing myself. No one answered, but I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe there had been a duel in here, and that blood was the loser running? Or the winner... Or it had just been someone looking for food and had accidently cut themselves or something? I was starting to feel stupid when I saw a humanoid shape on the ground, concealed in shadow next to the wall.
"Hello?" I asked nervously. "Are you alright?" Something tells me whoever it was, they weren't alright. Nothing moved or talked, and I decided to take a closer look. Gripping my glass tightly, I moved closer to the shape, which was undoubtedly a human, stretched out along the floor. But was it John? I poked it with my boot, jumping back even though nothing happened. There was something sticky on the ground around it, undoubtedly blood, and I took a deep breath, grabbing one side of the body and flipping it over. I jumped back in horror as I saw the tribute, I recognized her as the girl from seven, her throat cut open in a wicked smile, blood still dripping slowly from the large gash, her eyes open in horror. One tribute down... I searched her pockets, holding my breath from the horrible stench of rotting flesh, shooing off the rodents that had come to get their fair share of the kill. The only thing I found on her was a silver bracelet, carved with a little nine, and read with love, from Charles. She was probably married; this was her token, given to her by someone from her district. And she had been struck down, like a pig in a slaughter house, only to be eaten by rats. I sighed, pulling her out from the corner and heaving the body onto a shaky wooden table. I crossed her arms over her chest, like they did with corpses in funeral homes, and covered her with a white moth eaten table cloth I had managed to unearth from the drawer. It wasn't a proper burial, but it was something. I knew that the capital would be back to get her, but how fast could they get here without their hovercrafts? I sighed, deciding that if this was a spot of a kill, it wasn't safe to make camp. It was twilight now, the darkness slowly overtaking the light and impairing my vision. Didn't go a block when I decided it wasn't safe for me to be out here, the career hunting packs would be along soon, and even though they might not have been able to build up their ranks so quickly, even two of them would easily over power me, especially if either of them were from District Three. I ducked into a smaller building, an apartment complex by the looks of it, climbing a good ten stories and blocking the door with a table before deciding to spend the night there. I smashed the window so that I could hear any signs of life from down below, but knew that it was hopeless. John wasn't with me, it had been a day and I was alone. What type of gamemaker separates the tributes? But of course they knew that we were all friends, it was only logical to separate us or the viewers wouldn't get a good show in the beginning. I was in a destroyed apartment, and it just made me think how much work they had to have put into this arena. Ever little inch of the place looked as if a nuclear bomb went off, from the charred brick buildings to the scratched wooden countertops in this little apartment. There was a kitchen, but the fridge obviously wasn't working because when I opened it the most horrible of stenches emerged, a mix of sour milk and rotten meat. I quickly shut it, deciding that I would only eat some if I was absolutely desperate, but right now there didn't seem to be an emergency so horrid that I'd willingly eat moldy beef. I tried the sink, but it only spit out a couple of weak, dirt filled drops and that was all. I searched the cabinets, but it was just like the office building, empty except for a few morsels of food. Obviously the gamemakers wanted us to fight; they didn't want all of the tributes starving to death if they were leaving even a bite of food around. But of course, we were Victors already, and it would be a lot more entertaining to watch a couple of skilled fighters duke it out rather than a skilled fighter die of malnutrition. That didn't solve the water problem though, after a day of running and climbing a bottle of cold water was extremely tempting right now. But it could wait, I think someone could go three days without water, and it had only been one. I sat on the edge of the lumpy mattress, sure it was cockroach infested but not caring too much. I had failed my one and only task, to protect John. I couldn't even find him, he could be tied up by Jim right now and I was sitting on a mattress, biding my time until I felt it was safe to come out. I sighed, pulling the mattress off of the bed and throwing it onto the ground, making sure there were no unwanted visitors. I also waved the blanket around, because the last thing I needed is a mouse in my blanket. After stomping repeatedly on the pillow, I deemed it somewhat sanitary and lay down, shedding my jacket but keeping my torn shirt on. I was on live TV; the last thing I needed was to have shirtless pictures of me circulating. It was quite chilly now that night had come, so I pulled the cover overtop of myself and tried to get a decent night of sleep, but I knew I couldn't. My eyes simply shut, not without the presence of John next to me. Mrs. Watson was undoubtedly watching this, wondering if I was going to uphold her promise, thinking to herself that she was right all along, that I didn't care about John at all, that I was going to let him die on his own. I shuddered to think about him, tied by his limbs like those other tributes, Jim's knife playing across his chest, Moran laughing as John screamed... For the first time I felt a tear fall from my eye, heard it thump onto the dusty pillow case, and from that moment I knew I couldn't hold the rest back. The tears kept falling and falling, I started to cry harder and harder, so much it felt like I might drown myself. I cried for for Molly, who was probably sitting in a ball on the couch, debating whether to go get something stronger than tea to help calm herself down, I cried for Mrs. Hudson, who had to watch the sons she never had slowly die on TV, and most of all for John, who might be dead for all I know. I wanted to find him more than anything in the world, I needed to find him, I was letting him down, I had promised him... I lay in that moldy mattress until who knows when, until finally I was able to close my eyes.