Needing the Impossible (A Clato Fanfic)

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Cato's POV

 I slowly reach a trembling hand out to the dark girl in front of me. Her hair falls in thick waves around her face, billowing out from her as if blown by the wind. But I feel no movement. The air around me is still. Her dark eyes look into mine, staring at the depths of my soul. I stretch out my fingers, mere inches away from her porcelain face. Just as I make contact with her cool skin, Clove lets out a loud scream. Her mouth opens unnaturally wide, as though unhinged, as the horrifying noise escapes her lips. Her eyes are wild as she releases the sound that has relentlessly tormented me for what feels like an eternity.

Instinctively, I jerk back, away from the repulsive thing that Clove has become. But the harder I try to escape, the closer she draws to me. I dare to glance away, looking for an escape, and when I look back, Clove has disappeared. In her place is a much older girl. Not a girl, a woman. This woman's mouth is closed, yet the sound continues. This new intruder has the same chocolate hair as Clove, and I would have mistaken her for Clove, were it not for her eyes. Clove's eyes, so warm yet calculating – a constant contradiction – have been replaced by green, cat-like eyes. After a moment, I realize I'm looking at Clove's mother, the deceased Alida Engstrom. A woman who despised me for drawing her daughter deeper into the grasp of the Games.

The woman nods, her daughter's coy smile playing on her lips, as though she can read my thoughts. I watch in horror as she produces a knife from somewhere on her person. What did I do to deserve this torture? Before she delivers the blow, though, she speaks. “Promise me, Cato,” she says, her voice much too low to belong to any woman of this earth. “You know her better than anyone, better than I do.” Alida's eyes have been replaced with Clove's, but the rest of her face is melting away to reveal a man with a tired, worn face and messy hair. “So take this with a promise,” he urges. “Keep her safe. As safe as you possibly can.”

My eyes fly open, and I finally escape the vivid dream. It's not the first of its kind I've had to suffer through since the Tracker Jacker attack. Tracker Jacker. The name sends fresh jolts of pain shooting through my body and I feel myself slipping from the blinding, bright reality I have only just awoken to. But I can't fight it, and so I fall back into more venom-induced dreams.

I wake up again hours, or possibly days, later. There's no way of tracking time. I just switch between terrifying, disturbed dreams and blinding, warped reality. A blanket is draped over me and I'm vaguely aware of a sporadic popping sound coming from somewhere to my right. I slowly turn my head towards the sound and am blinded by a bright, yellow light. I blink violently, trying to force my eyes to adjust. Once my pupils shrink, I realize I'd been staring into a fire, and that night has fallen. Of what day, I don't know. Like I said, no way to track time.

“Hey, is he awake?” I hear a deep voice inquire from somewhere across the fire. I search the darkness, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. I know that voice.

“He'll probably fall asleep just as quickly as he came to,” a female voice answers, sounding board. Clove. Clove's voice. I turn towards the sound, trying to find her.

“No,” a second boy says, urgency filling his voice. “He can hear you.” That voice, I don't know.

I hear some scuffling and suddenly the light disappears. Clove is crouching down over me, blocking my view of the fire. I roll my head back onto the hard earth and look up at her.

“About time you woke up,” she says sardonically. But even as she says this, she begins to examine me, checking my stings and watching my eyes to make sure I don't flake out again – showing concern.

“How long was I out?” I ask, making my first attempt at sitting up. Nothing weird happens, so I begin searching the area around me for food.

“The Jackers attacked yesterday morning,” Clove says, leaning back into a squatting position to give me space, but continuing to watch me closely. I ignore her scrutinizing expression and continue my search for food.