When Luck Runs Out

We Don't Like New Neighbors

                  

I woke up to a loud blast of thunder, the ground beneath me rumbling and shaking like an earthquake had struck. The lightning illuminated the mall eerily, and I saw John, slouched over on his chair. In a terrified moment I thought he was dead, but then I saw his chest rising and falling slowly, and he was only asleep. I knew he would break eventually, but I had at least thought he would fall asleep down with me, rather than in his chair. I guess it wasn't as exciting around here as he had hoped for. Greg and Jeanette were still asleep, snoring slightly with their sleeping bags pulled up to their necks. I didn't feel the slightest bit tired, but I knew that it had to be somewhere around one to two in the morning, everything was nearly pitch black and there was that calmness that you only feel when you're the only one awake. For the first time since we entered the games, I felt truly alone, even though I knew there were three perfectly alive people around me, they were asleep, temporarily out of the picture I suppose. I had to guess that everyone else in the arena was asleep or dead as well, and that I might be the only one actually up. So that meant the cameras were on me for the moment. That's alright though; it wasn't like I was doing anything interesting. But now that I was up I couldn't go back to sleep. I sat there in my makeshift little bed, staring up into the darkness and not feeling the slightest bit tired anymore. In the end I decided to take a little walk, clear my head a bit, so I crept to my feet and lingered a bit above John's sleeping form, staring at him. He looked so peaceful, so innocent, compared to me he was so untouched by the cruel blade of reality. Somehow John managed to keep a smile on his face, keep up hope, cheer me up just by his presence. I didn't deserve him, not in a lifetime, not in a thousand lifetimes could I do anything that would make me worthy of his love. John could do better than me, he could've followed his parent's wishes, married that Mary girl, been happy. Heck, without me he might not even be here right now. I sighed, ripping my guilty eyes away from John and wandering down the dark hallways, wandering over to the escalators and descending a floor, to the blown out window. I crunched over the shards of glass as I walked closer to it, the wind blowing rain harshly into my face, churning like an ocean outside our walls. The glass already seemed to be fine powder next to the window, like the wind had blown all of the heavy pieces away, or if someone had already stepped on it before I got here. I craned my neck to look out the window, to a nine floor drop to the foggy concrete road beneath me, looming in the dark as if calling to me. As I stood there in the glass I wondered what would happen if I had jumped right now. Gotten it all over with, left John alone so that he was guaranteed to fight only for himself, that he would protect himself, avenge my death, get out of the games. It would avoid the whole you die or I die conflict at the end I suppose, if I just take the shortcut down to the lobby. Two steps, and it would all be over. But I took a step back, and then another, and then another, until I was leaning against the railing, protecting me from such a fall. I wouldn't die because John needed me, I needed to protect him, to encourage him, to be there for him through the tough times, through the battles, through the misery, though the nightmare that existed both in our sleep and when we woke up. John was the reason I was here, I had to love him, I had to have him love me. So I walked to the escalators, climbed to our floor, and snuggled under my blanket.
"Sherlock?" John muttered, his head bobbing slightly on his shoulder.
"Yes?" I asked.
"Where did you go?" he whispered.
"Nowhere important." I assured. "Come here." I insisted, holding out my arms as an invitation. John clumsily got off of the chair and lay down next to me, rolling into my chest and burying his face into my neck. I held him to me, breathing in his scent (although it wasn't very good after a couple of days without a shower) and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"It'll all be alright." I muttered. But John was already asleep, which was good, because I felt guilty for lying to him.

When I woke up the second time it was actually light out, which came as a surprise. John was gone, and I heard muffed talking above me, so he wasn't the only one up. I rolled over on my back and looked up through the glass ceiling, seeing a clear blue sky and a couple of dots of wispy clouds, but that was about it.
"Storm gone?" I asked.
"Ah, he's up." Greg said happily.
"Storm gone?" I repeated, not really caring about Greg's sarcastic remarks fora moment.
"Yes." John assured. He and Jeanette were sharing the water jug, taking sips and then passing it between themselves.
"Should we set camp back up?" I asked.
"Let's wait for the ground to get a little less soupy. I'm sure the puddles out there could make another ocean." Greg guessed. I nodded, sitting up and rubbing my eyes a little bit.
"It's been days, unless everyone else is doing something extremely exciting, the citizens of the Capital are bound to be getting bored right now." Jeanette guessed, dabbing her finger in the jar of peanut butter and eating it like that. Ew.
"Are you suggesting things pick up? Because I'm perfectly happy here, all peaceful and happy and such." I shrugged.
"We know you are, but these games are more than peaceful, they're games, and right now, no one's playing." John shrugged.
"I'm sure our moment will come. Until then, who would like some freeze dry potatoes?" Greg asked, holding up a small white package. The morning crawled by, and the potatoes were the definition of nasty, so when we were finished with our make shift breakfast we headed back up to the roof, where Greg was, for once, right. The gravel was all submerged in a tiny ocean, covering nearly the whole of the rooftop, about an inch deep all around.
"Well this sucks." Greg decided, kicking his leg through the water and sending out a large splash.
"It'll be fine, let's try to keep it for water, do you have any containers left?" John asked.
"Kid, we don't need water, we need a place to sleep, a safe one, and this is too soupy to sleep in." Jeanette insisted. I waded over to the edge of the building, where there were no sorts of draining pipes or gutters or anything. I looked across the gap to our neighboring buildings, all which seemed equally submerged.
"I don't know, we could try to scoop it out?" I decided, feeling the water start to soak into my shoes.
"That'll take ages." Jeanette whined.
"Have somewhere to be?" John snapped, and Jeanette looked scandalized, but somewhat proud of him for having a sarcastic.
"Wait, what's that?" I asked, looking across the road and seeing one of the windows fogged up.
"What's what?" Greg asked, splashing over to where I was standing.
"Shhhh, there. See that window?" I asked, pointing to the window.
"Ya, it's some fog, so what?" Greg asked.
"It's not fog, I think it's smoke. Someone's in there, and they lit a fire tostay warm." I guessed.
"Who do you think it is?" Greg whispered.
"What's going on over there?" Jeanette called loudly.
"Shut up and come here, both of you." Greg growled, gesturing madly for the two of them to join us near the edge. John led the way, kicking his boots through the water and peering over the edge.
"What, smoke?" he asked.
"Smoke means fire, fire means people." Jeanette agreed, a smile breaking on her face.
"Time to go play the game I suppose." Greg sighed.
"You mean we're going to go there and kill them?" I asked, a little bit shocked.
"What are we supposed to do, wait for them to notice us here and kill us?" Jeanette insisted.
"Well, what if they don't? We could be peaceful neighbors, right?" I asked apprehensively.
"Sherlock you said it yourself, the people are bored, and the best way to saveour skins is to be the ones on the offensive." Greg insisted.
"I agree with Greg." John sighed.
"John!" I exclaimed.
"Shhhh, Sherlock come on. Get armed you guys, we'll go flush them out."Jeanette insisted, leading the way through the swampy roof to the door.
"You're actually okay with this?" I asked John as we picked out our weapons. Jeanette was busy practicing knocking and pulling back arrows, and Greg was doing warm up exercises with his sword. John was loading his belt up with knives of every shape and size, and I was still trying to decide which weapon I should go with. I was good with a bow, but Jeanette was the archer of our little search party, and she had half the arrows anyway. So I picked up a sword, feeling quite awkward, but practicing a few swings. I really hoped this poor soul would be gone or dead before I got a chance to swing.
"Alright guys, move out." Greg called, pointing his sword to the floor.
"Shouldn't we have an attack plan?" John asked, twirling a long dagger between his fingers.
"Hm. How about we go in the building, we kill them, and we take their stuff." Greg decided.
"That's a terrible plan." I insisted.
"Well, it's all we've got. If you have a better one, be my guest." Greg decided, starting to walk away.
"I do." I insisted. He stopped, and turned around as if I had personally offended him.
"You do what?" he asked.
"I have a better plan." I decided.
"Oh, then let's hear this better plan." He growled, sounding very intimidating, and with that sword in his hand, I was surprised I was being as daring as I was.
"There's bound to be two exits, so we send a party of two through each, then even if they can run we'd cut them off." I insisted. Greg looked a tad bit annoyed, but even he couldn't deny that plan.
"Fine, you and me, and John and Jeanette." He decided.
"Wait, I should go with John." I protested.
"You two will let your feelings take over you common sense, you'll have a clearer head if you go with one of us, and besides, you need one of us with you, to do the actual fighting." Greg insisted.
"Are you saying that I can't fight?" John asked, sounding very insulted.
"Nah, I'm saying he can't." Greg shrugged, nodding at me.
"He's not wrong." I agreed.
"Never am. Now let's go." He decided, descending the escalators to the ground floor. The three of us followed him down the escalators and into the street. The bright sunlight on contrast to the darkness of the mall blinded me for a good minute while my eyes burned.
"I've been blinded!" I exclaimed sarcastically, rubbing my eyes profusely to try to relieve the horrible pain.
"Sherlock shut up, they might hear." John insisted, punching me lightly in the arm.
"If I die in there, that's the last thing you'll ever say to me." I whispered. John just laughed, but I could see the nervous look in his eyes, processing that this very much could be the last time we see each other.
"Be safe in there, idiot." He insisted, giving me a tight hug.
"I love you." I said once again, and John just laughed that intoxicating laugh, that made me feel like everything was fine, even when it was far from fine.
"Alright then, Jeanette and John take the back, Sherlock and I will take the front." Greg decided in a harsh whisper, gesturing madly for them to creep around. I felt like some secret agent as Greg and I opened the doors ever so slightly, my hand gripping the handle of the sword like it was the only thing holding me to the Earth. It was some sort of office building, the reception desk and couches all destroyed, faint slivers of sunlight, the ones that managed to pierce through the dusty window, shed what little light we had. Greg didn't say anything, he just held up a hand, his sword held at his side, and jumped cat like on top of the reception desk, ready to stab down on anything that moved. Thankfully though, he was still, and he leapt off of the desk, giving me thumbs up to say that it was all clear.
"Up we go." He whispered, opening the metal door to lead to the fire stairs, leading the way up with footsteps unheard. I was a little bit less graceful, my clunking footsteps echoing off of the concrete as I followed. Greg held up a hand to stop me, and I was still, listening with all of my might to hear what he had. I heard the crackling of a fire, maybe a room away, and smelled the faint smell of a fire, burning something that must've been fabric or something, because there was black smoke wafting in through the door. Just then did I truly realize that we were being predators right now, there was an innocent person in there, burning through something in an effort to stay alive, someone that was trying to get home to their family, and we were going to kill them. Greg had his hand on the door handle, ready to throw it open and attack, counting down from three on his fingers.
"Wait!" I hissed, grabbing his hand.
"What?" he asked, looking very angry that I had disrupted him from his prey.
"Don't you think this is a bit, harsh?" I whispered.
"It's the games Sherlock, you need to tough up." Greg insisted in a voice solow that I could barely hear him.
"It's inhumane." I debated.
"It's the games." Greg repeated, and with that he threw open the door and stormed into the smoky room. There was a scream, and I charged in after him, holding my sword with a hand that now felt like Jell-O. There was a girl, I didn't even know what district she must've been from, nine maybe, or seven, but she was alone. As predicted she had dragged a couch into the middle of the room, and it was ablaze. There were little supplies scattered around the room, but she dove and rolled, clutching a dagger into her hand as she went, and popped up right next to Greg. I watched the scene unfold, the girl striking at Greg, him dodging and kneeing her in the side. The girl stumbled but recovered quickly, trying to chop at Greg's neck, but her attack was faltered when he blocked her arm with his blade. The girl screamed in agony, her skin and muscle in torn strips, clinging to the fractured remains of her arm. She fell back into the wall, dropping her knife and holding the one mobile arm above her head in surrender.
"Please, have mercy." She begged, tears streaming down her freckled face. Greg didn't look like he was going to show any mercy though, he raised his arm for the final blow, but I couldn't let that happen. I ran up to him, dropping my sword, and held his arm so that he couldn't strike down on the helpless girl.
"Greg, she's injured, she won't be any harm." I insisted.
"Sherlock get off!" Greg insisted, trying to shake my grip off of his arm.
"She's no threat, she can barely hold a knife now, there's no point ending her life!" I debated.
"As long as she's alive there is one more person that might take the crown. The weak must die, surely you understand?" Greg insisted. The girl was now sobbing, trying to cradle her limp, useless arm in her torn shirt, as a makeshift bandage.
"She'll bleed out overnight, just let her live that long." I pleaded.
"I'll put her out of her misery." Greg insisted.
"Please sir, please, I have a husband, children." The woman begged, looking horribly distraught.
"Greg, you have a heart in there somewhere, what would you want if you were inher position?" I asked.
"I have no one I love." He insisted, and with that he shook me off and stabbed the woman right through the heart.
"NO!" I screamed, but it was too late, her blood was already soaking through the blade, and her eyes were cold and dark. "No..." I muttered. For a littlewhile there was no sound but the crackling of the flaming couch, and Greg looked deep in the eyes of the woman he had just murdered in cold blood.