Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Treatment - Rhea

Rhea

Liam is gritting his teeth so tightly that he's snarling at the same time, his hair damp with sweat and blood. He's not crying out aloud, which is good, but he looks like he might soon and I can't help constantly glancing over my shoulder even though Kez and Jakob are keeping guard.

Kez clutches her plank closely, attempting a scowl that doesn't quite seem right on her otherwise petrified face. Guilt twinges through me. I shouldn't have brought her here. Though if it wasn't her, it was down to the Capitol and they would have chosen somebody who doesn't stand a chance. Jakob licks his lips in tiny flickering movements every few seconds, blinking almost constantly and jumping at every single noise.

I tell myself that they have to be on guard because if someone gets me or Liam, one of them will die anyway. This way, whatever happens, we'll get a warning.

That doesn't mean I'm happy about it. Kez shouted me down, like she always does, even though Jakob kept hissing for her to hush.

We're crouched in some kind of tiny valley just big enough for the four of us, shaded by trees that rustle disconcertingly. Even though I can't see it through the leaves, the space above and around me feels vast and terrifying. Liam is propped up under an earthy ledge, groaning with pain and withdrawal.

I turn my attention back to his arm. We've been moving for an hour, maybe more, enough time for the blood to dry, but it needs some sort of treating. Even if it is just bandages; the sight of blood won't do him any good, especially his own. For a second my head swims. There's a lot of blood, and the most blood I've seen so far is when Mikey cut his head. In the medical bay one of the matrons told me that head wounds bleed a lot, so I suppose I was expecting less than this. Does the matron remember telling me?

I bite my tongue until my vision rights itself and crouch on the damp floor next to Liam, brushing his hair from his face. His eyes follow my hand as if he's not sure that it's really there.

"Rhea?"

"Right here. Try not to look at your arm. Jakob, the bag..." The order is out of my mouth before I can really think about it. Jakob throws his little sack thing at me. I mutter a quick hope; please let there be some kind of cloth in it. We weren't that close in, so there shouldn't be anything of value, but enough cloth for a rudimentary bandage. Not for the first time, gratitude rushes through me for the weekly hours of basic first aid that everybody in Thirteen has to do.

I guess it's our way of training, like the Careers but not. Defensive not offensive. Preservation. Thirteen all over.

"I need a drink," Liam moans, with his eyes turned to the underside of the ledge. For once I can't disagree. Alcohol would do him good now, but it's too early for sponsors and it's probably illegal anyway.

For the first time as I fumble with the cord to open the bag, I realise that my hands are shaking. My heart is still pumping twice as fast as normal, my breathing catching in my throat. We made it out of the bloodbath. Liam and Kez and Jakob and I are all still alive. Liam is hurt but it's not fatal, though it could be troublesome. And there's only sixteen of us still alive. Who is dead? Which of those frightened, bewildered teenagers whom I shared a training room with are just shells now? I saw people fall but I don't know who; every fibre of my being was concentrated on getting Liam out of there and safe.

He'll have to die.

I look around, but that's not Kez or Jakob. It seems to echo from inside my own head. Kez is leaning against the ledge, her lively eyes watchful, and Jakob is pulling a plant to shreds, still blinking constantly. The wind whispers through the trees and bushes but it's not that either, which leaves one conclusion. I'm hearing things.