Get away (Gemma)

I watch, petrified, as Jack slowly makes his way towards me. The branch continues to snap and crack, and each time my heart lurches, certain that he will be plunged back into the water and thrown over the edge of the waterfall. But he somehow manages to continue and makes it to safety, lying flat on the ground and breathing heavily.

After a few minutes he crawls towards me. I’m shaking, numb, coughing. I feel like I’ve been buried in a snow drift instead of being soaked through. I’m gradually curling up into a ball on the ground, my natural instincts taking over to try and hold in what little heat and energy I have left. "That was close,” he says through chattering teeth. Then he laughs. I can’t see what’s funny, I just lie there. I’m beyond thinking anymore; my body is just ticking over on auto-drive until I run out of power and stop forever. "We need a fire. Take off the wet clothes and warm up." He sounds like he’s talking underwater. I can’t seem to get a grip on my surroundings.

But as his words sink in I manage to pull myself back into the land of the living. Take my clothes off? Is he kidding? I glare at him, but I know that he’s right; I’ll freeze to death like this. He’s trying to find things to make a fire with, obviously hoping that we have matches or some form of flame. I force myself to sit upright, my legs set out straight ahead of me until I can feel them again. I tip my bag upside down, asking hoarsely, “Did you manage to rescue a bag?” As I wait for the reply I separate what we have left into piles of vital, useful and use now.

To my relief I have my coat in here, which means I can at least preserve some modesty in front of this boy. That means that somewhere in the tangle of fabric are two pairs of socks; I set one aside for Jack. Vital. There are four bottles of water and the uncooked meat from two nights ago, which should still be edible. Use now. The single large steak is wrapped in another coat, which I had completely forgotten about. Useful. We’re missing the knives, the cooked food, two bottles and dozens of other items, but I think we have the essentials. There’s also a short length of rope and some very wet matches. That’s it. Wait, not quite...

I gently peel a soggy piece of paper from the bottom of the rucksack. The map! It’s very delicate and won’t last much longer, so I quickly study it. I find a large river shown on it that crosses my usual path at about twenty miles away from District 7. That’s where the ledge is, I note. I follow the smudged line with my finger until an arrow appears, leading to the word ‘waterfall’. Immediately to the right is a district. Seven – it has to be! I know the scale off by heart, and it means that there’s only five miles left of forest to trek through, although I don’t know where about on the fence we will emerge.

“We’re close, Jack! Only a few miles now! So do you have a bag?” I feel myself reviving slightly, the hope burning again inside of me. Maybe we’ll make it, I allow myself to think, maybe he’ll walk again and maybe I won’t be arrested.

Maybe.

He didn’t manage to grab a bag and apologises. I feel awful; if it weren’t for him neither of us would have made it to the shore. "I had some essentials in my pockets though." A knife – handy – and some medicine and bandages. After showing him the map he says, "Good, we can make that Nee. We can, we're almost safe. Hang in there, okay? All we have to do is get warm, dry our clothes, eat some of that meat and we're on our way...." Hang in there? Why wouldn’t I?

I bet I look awful, which is why he’s staring at me, worry written across his face. My hands are pale and still numb, and my hair clings to my head. My thoughts are foggy and slow now that the initial excitement of being so close to home has passed. It will still be a long, hard slog before I reach the comfort of my own bed. But Jack is walking better, so if only I can pull myself together for the final stretch we should make it in good time.

"Take you clothes off. I've seen a naked girl before, I swear." I realise he’s serious. I shake my head. I don’t care if you’ve seen naked girls, I shout in my mind, giving myself a headache, but it’s gonna be a while before even my boyfriend see’s me naked! But I know his logic, and hesitantly pull the two coats over me and start to take off my wet garments like he has. Now he’s trying to start a fire. While I’m getting rid of my clothes I list the injuries between us.

One broken leg, one butchered and infected leg. Two deep gashes across the chest – which are bleeding again, great! A cut on the back of my head. General scrapes and bruises, my twisted ankle and hurt fist. Suddenly, without a word of warning, I stop shivering, confirming the suspicions I refused to acknowledge earlier. Hypothermia. Hungry, cold, wet. Done for. I put on the longer of the coats, the one that I had taken off the day before, so that I am covered to just above my knees.

By now Jack has coaxed a fire to start and I get as close as I can without stepping into the flames. I try to avoid looking at him, as he’s got as little on as I have. "We'll make it, Nee. okay? Come here. Sit as close as you can so we can keep each other warm." Reluctantly, I move over towards him, dragging the bloodied coat with me.

“Only if you put this on,” I order, closing my eyes firmly shut. But either way I stay beside him, trying to build some heat and energy. I pray for the weirdest things as my eyes stay closed. Please let me start to shiver. Please let me see another night. I feel the sun on my back start to heat me, but it wouldn’t be enough without his presence. I slowly begin to relax, but my weapon stays close at hand. Who knows what will be next?

I'm too weak to fight his objects, so I just lie there, saying nothing. Even in the worst of times I can sulk, I muse. It's always been a talent of mine. My mind drifts back home, to the smell of fresh bread, to the comfort of a wool blanket, to the golden sunrises. I sigh. Things could easily swing one way or another. I've lost blood, I'm freezing to death and neither of us are eating properly.

"How long do you think it will take us to get to your district?" I have no idea. If he can walk better then it will be a day. But at the same time if I'm still in this condition, we might never make it. If I die he can continue, but he doesn't know the way. It will only be a matter of time before he drops dead. I shrug and shake my head.

"We're about five miles away, which isn't far. We covered eight yesterday and it was really hot; but it's so much cooler now. Call it three hours of rest and preparation, then the rest of the day if we don't stop moving." I'm glaring at the clothes, hoping to burn them with my stare and dry them out faster. Come on, come on... I'm not comfortable with this situation at all. But he's right; it's survival. Even so, it's not an experience I want to repeat. "I'll tell you something though, Jack," I whisper, "I'm never coming back into the forest. Ever. If I do I'm a fool.

"I was attacked by two bloodthirsty Careers, then I nearly had you crippled - I should have surrendered sooner. We've been left in the wilderness with no training, hardly any weapons and no help from the outside world. It's a miracle that neither of us have died yet." I shiver at the thought. Shiver... I'm warming up! Now that I've started I can't stop, which is a good sign. I want to jump up and down, but I stay put, trying to conserve my precious heat. I allow myself to grin. Pulling back from the brink of death; that has to be an achievement, surely?

We wait for another hour and I start to regain feeling in my limbs and some colour is back in my cheeks. I quickly zip my coat back around my body before he can stop me, covering the zip with one arm. The message in my determined eyes must be clear: Don't even dare to try and stop me. It's a little wet on the outside, but inside the padding material is snug and warm. Dry. I throw the last of the food onto the fire, eager to feed my rumbling stomach. I smile at Jack. "I'm feeling a bit more alive, I guess." I'm still shivering, and I start coughing and sneezing. At last I stop and sigh, "Not quite healthy, though."

"Mom's going to pamper you with a warm bath and hot milk but we have to make those last few miles." I smile at the thought. Warmth. I've never taken it for granted; I pile layers and layers of clothing on from autumn to spring, even when I'm boiling over from working at the lumberyard. If anyone ever questions me about it I'll push them into a river and hold them in for twelve hours, see how they deal with it.

"I don't have any money on me, just 4 coins. What if the doctor doesn't want to treat a stranger with no money?" I know for a fact that our doctor is a stern old man; he won't even hand out a check-up for free. That's the moment when I picture a small stash of money that's stored in my room; under my bed and behind a pile of children's books. I keep everything precious there: money, my best pictures, presents from Rowan. Jack seems to read my mind, asking, "Is there anybody waiting for you? Other than your family?"

I nod, not looking at him. I feel empty as I sit by the fire, watching the meat slowly cook. "My boyfriend," I croak, "He'll be worried sick about me. We spend so much time together, at school, at work, at home. I haven't really had time to realise... how much I miss him." I groan and bury my face in my hands. It's as if someone has just stabbed me in the stomach; it litterally hurts to think of him. I'm suddenly shuddering not from the cold, but from a wave of emotion that's swept over me. The anger from the fight, the fear as I ran to and from my district to help this stranger, the hope that the raft provided us with. Then the fear once more, and finally the intense, smoldering lonliness.

I pull myself together. Self pity isn't going to get you anywhere, Nee. You've just got to pull through this last leg of the journey. It's the homerun now. "Sorry. Who have you got? Whoever they are, I bet they'll be grateful that I can pay for your fees. I can't offer you a place to stay - I simply couldn't put my family in that much danger. But I can give you the money for treatment."

"I knew that you have a boyfriend...because you were so bashful.” I give him one of my looks. “Not really. I figured a great girl like you would have guys chasing her left and right." I can’t help but laugh at that; I spent years being chased off by the boys. I would have gone insane from seclusion if it weren’t for my little sister to chat, sing and doodle with. "A couple of weeks ago I met a girl, Tallulah. She's probably worried sick by now." It seems to me like we’re both in the same boat. "I'm so thankful for everything you've already done for me and I'll find a way to pay you back."

I open my mouth to reply, but shut it. I don’t think that he’ll accept calling it quits. I don’t want you to pay me back, I think, just get home. Guilt creeps up on me again. He didn’t have to come to my aid in that fight, he could have just left me for dead. He owes me nothing; I might have helped him get this far and offered him money to save his life, but if I hadn’t been so reckless in the battle then he wouldn’t be so terribly injured. We help each other up. It’s a tough process, but eventually he can stand, but I notice what pain he’s in. My fault.

I grab the remaining bag, containing all of our belongings. "Lead the way." I hand him a piece of the venison to eat on the way; we’ll need the energy. And who knows? This meal could be our last. As we amble along I can’t help but think of Rowan. Now that he’s on my mind I can’t get him off. I go over the years we spent at each other’s throats, only continuing our individual illusions because we didn’t dare to question the other’s opinion. I do this every now and then at home, when I’m feeling particularly miserable. It’s a way of torturing myself, I guess. Though right now I don’t feel miserable; perhaps it’s a relatively good emotion compared to others that I’ve gone through these past few days.

"What's he like..." Jack asks carefully. I chuckle.

“What isn’t he like? He’s built a bit like me; tall, some muscle but generally underfed. No matter how long he leaves his hair untended it still looks good. He has the sweetest thoughts. He made me a necklace for Reaping Day, you know? Made of my favourite colours and images.” I form a list in my head. He’s caring, gentle, funny and handsome. When I see him my heart pounds and I feel like I’m flying. We only need each other. There are thousands more unspeakable but wonderful things swirling through my head that I can only answer with, “He makes me happy.

“And this Tallulah? Is she the friend you mentioned the other day, the one who has a horse?”

"Sounds like a really good guy. You gotta hang on to him." Oh, I will, I think, I definitely will. "Tallulah, hm. She is clumsy and hurts herself all the time... She'll love this." It’s hard to stifle my laugh and hide my dry humour, but he was joking anyway. He describes her to me, and I picture her face. I wouldn’t trade Rowan for anything in this world, but Tallulah is certainly a lucky girl. Or maybe Jack is lucky to have her. We grow quiet, probably because it hurts to think of them; or at least that’s my reason. We just plough on through the trees, half the speed of before but with twice the effort.

The problems really start when the ground begins to slope gradually uphill, taking its toll on Jack. I can tell he’s struggling, but we don’t have much time to get him to a doctor. I just carry on going, stitches crippling my lungs, my joints aching, and eventually I’m not even aware of the motion of my legs. I’m on autodrive, simply carrying on because it’s all I know. Every inch of me hurts, and I could happily curl up at the base of a tree again and just give in. I’ve never experienced this pain while walking; but then again I’ve never experienced hypothermia. It’s a wonder why I’m still in one piece, all things considered.

I am about to comment on how the going is easier, now that the ground has levelled out slightly, when Jack falls face first into the mud. I drop the backpack and bend over him, urging him to get up. He manages to roll over, but doesn’t look at me. He looks past me. His eyes widen in fear before he shouts, "Move, snake!"

My head snaps to the right and above me there is a humongous serpent, fangs ready to dig into me. In the split second that I take to observe it, I know that it can’t be natural; it’s gigantic. Colossal. No natural snake could ever reach that size, leaving only one explanation: a mutt. Its evil stare is should be enough to poison me. I let out a small yelp and sprint off, straight through the trees.

I skid to halt almost immediately. What am I doing? I look over my shoulder; it’s given up on me and is threading lazily to Jack, who’s still immobile on the ground. I turn on my heel and run back to him; but the pains in my legs and sides are too much due to the sudden bursts of speed, and my knees give in, leaving me a dozen metres away. It can’t end for him this way! It’s too painful! And we’re so close! The venom must be deadly; why else would they design such a beast? I see it lowering itself from the branch, getting closer and closer to the bag and Jack.

The bag! I start shouting, screaming, for him to get the knife out of the bag. I don’t stop for a moment, I’ll only be quiet when he does as I tell him. “Get! The! Knife!” My throat is hoarse and my voice is already fading, but I carry on hollering.