Nothing Personal

Surprises - 5

"If I were you, I'd stay very still and not try to run away," Sebastian suggested.

Crete had already worked that one out, thank you very much. The faster he ran, the quicker poison would get around his body. Although he wasn't hit yet. So he could still get out of this alive.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised. It was strange, talking to a voice that was behind him, and even more so knowing that Sebastian could see him but he couldn't see Sebastian. The guy could be creeping up on him.

His legs begged him to let them run away.

So far it was going perfectly. He'd told Crete not to try and run away, which had made it sound like he was prepared for if he did, and therefore eliminated the chances that he would. Like psyching out an opponent across the board by pointing out a viable move to him. Or her; he'd faced women and beaten them too.

In the back of his mind, he wondered what Eddie would think of him now. He'd be proud, of course, although Eddie hated being proved wrong. And he had proved him wrong, because he'd taken out three of the Careers and was well on the way to winning. He'd lasted longer than Eddie himself would have, at any rate.

He felt a sudden and irrational stab of longing for home.

Crete wondered why Sebastian wasn't doing anything. He was just stood there - at least, he assumed that he was stood - not moving. He hadn't done this with the Amber incident, and presumably not with Tile either.

With Amber there was more than one person, more than one threat. Now there was just him, alone. The only target. There was no point begging; no room for mercy in the last five. No, he could still get out of this alive. Sebastian hadn't hit him yet and there had to be a reason for that.

Grace's locket was very heavy.

Even though he couldn't see his face, it was obvious that the boy was scared. He was absolutely frozen; Sebastian could see tendons sticking out at his joints. He was spotted with blood, and there was a stain on the ground.

"Who was it?" Sebastian asked, "Grace or Skyler?"

Crete's rigid front collapsed momentarily. "You'll see this evening," he retorted. It was good of him to try and sound brave - his parents must be proud - but it didn't quite work. His voice wobbled in the middle.

"I might not live that long," Sebastian pointed out. Of course, he knew he probably would. But Crete didn't. 

"Grace," he admitted. His shoulders sagged a little.

Sebastian was surprised. He didn't think the boy would stoop so low as to kill his own district partner, especially when Grace was no real threat. His hanging around with the Careers had clearly indicated ambition but he'd not come across as determined. Not determined enough to murder his partner, anyway.

He didn't like being surprised. It felt odd and unsettling, like someone was playing a trick on him.

Crete still hadn't been attacked. Perhaps it was his age; it suddenly hit him that he was the youngest remaining tribute. Maybe that was bothering Sebastian.

Very carefully, he tried to shuffle closer to his spear.

Nobody rebuked him.

He shuffled again.

Nobody told him to stand still, to stop where he was or hit him with a poison dart.

Just in case, he checked his arms and legs. Adrenaline is a powerful painkiller and he thought it might have dulled the feeling of injury, so he might have been hit without realising. He breathed out a huge sigh of relief when he found nothing.

So what was going on?

Very, very slowly, he looked behind him, half-expecting Sebastian to be right over his shoulder.

He wasn't.

He wasn't there at all.

It was like he'd never been there, almost as if he'd imagined it. But he couldn't have imagined it, could he? Unless he was passed out on the floor for some reason, and this was all a dream. He pinched himself and yelped in pain, only just remembering to stifle it. So not dreaming. Sebastian had, for some reason, decided to leave him and vanished totally silently into the green. He'd known he could move quietly from the experience with Amber, but like this it was just spooky. He hadn't even heard any footsteps.

He took his spear and prodded the undergrowth with it, in case Sebastian was hiding there.

Nothing.

He didn't know whether to be spooked or relieved. Either way, he'd make him regret it. He grinned. He'd been given a chance and he was going to take it.

Resisting the urge to whistle and ignoring that his legs were still trembling with fear and the effort of not shaking, he turned back to his shelter. In the sunlight it looked rickety, but he could almost ignore the blood, mostly because the stubborn plank of wood had fallen over the top of it. It was good enough without the plank; he didn't need it. He didn't need the whole shelter, come to think of it, and laughed to himself at his own folly.

He picked up the plank and hurled it out into the bushes in front of him, smiling.

It almost hit Sebastian.

The boy had fallen for it.

He was disappointed; he'd expected him to at least check the whole area rather than where he had been. District Five were intelligent, weren't they? Not intelligent enough to survive the bloodbath half of the time, but intelligent enough to at least look twice before assuming the enemy was out of reach. Well, obviously not as much as he'd thought. That was a good kind of surprise; the kind that made it easier for him.

And now the element of surprise was with him again.

This time, he wouldn't let it go.

He cleared his mind of thoughts of home, Eddie, Millie and Gaz, chess, until he was totally focused. Just him, Crete and the shot.

He took aim.

Fired.

Crete felt the dart whip past his shoulder and whirled around, scrambling for his spear.

Sebastian got him in the neck, right in the jugular, cursing inwardly. He should have got him on the first attempt but at the crucial millisecond his mind had thrown up an image of his parents, smiling proudly at him and it had been enough to throw him off.

But this time he hadn't missed.

Part of Crete's young mind reflected that it would have been impossible for him to have been hit anywhere more effective. The jugular would take the poison straight into his brain and shut it down before he even had time to crawl into his shelter.

The greater part of him was thinking that he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd lost. He could feel the blackness coming for him, prodding the far reaches of his mind. He'd never thought about dying; now it was inevitable.

And it terrified him.

The cannon went off.