Part 3: Escape

Phil’s PoV

When I wake up, I’m sweaty and I honestly feel sick. I lay there for a moment, thinking about yesterday--how had we been outside, happy and excited to go to The House, only yesterday morning…?! It seems like a lifetime ago… I sigh.

Suddenly I realize Dan isn’t laying next to me. He’s slow at waking up: I got that yesterday. Dread courses through me, and I sit bolt upright, tangling the makeshift blanket. What happened…?!

“Dan?” my voice rises. “Dan?!”

All of a sudden the door opens. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” a familiar voice says lightly, and Dan walks in, holding a knife and looking peaky but unhurt. He kneels down next to me, and I hug him tightly. He hugs me back, and then he pulls me away from him, looking concerned.

“Are you okay?” he asks, frowning, and I nod.

“I thought…” I trail off. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter: you’re all right. Do you have anything for us to eat?”

He bites his lip. “Phil, I know when you’re avoiding something.”

I raise an eyebrow in a weak attempt to joke. “Oh really?”

He gives a smile. “Yeah. What did you think?”

“Nothing.” I look down. “It’s stupid.”

“But you’re upset.” I feel a gentle finger lifting my chin, and I meet soft brown eyes. “I don’t want to see you upset. And I’m sorry for leaving you--I thought you’d sleep more.”

My mouth feels dry. “Where’d you go?”

He shrugs. “To find windows. I found two, but both of them are too small for us to fit out of. I guess we’ll have to continue with our original plan.”

“And did you run into anything out there?” I ask. I have to know if the maniacal voice I heard in the middle of the night is there. I feel dizzy when I think about it. It just doesn’t seem real… But then again, none of this does, really.

He smiles. “Thinking of your mystery footsteps?”

I frown. “I heard them, Dan, I really--”

He holds up a hand. “Okay, okay. And no, I didn’t. No mutts, no tributes, and no dead bodies.” he stands and kisses my forehead, before reaching for our bag. “Hungry? I am. All this scary shit really gives you an appetite...”

“I guess.” I say, leaning back. Now that both of us are safe, I feel sleepy again. I feel him sit down next to me, and then I feel something in my hand. I open an eye: a few crackers, a piece of dried meat. I’m not really hungry, but I sigh and eat it slowly anyway.

Dan’s looking at me closely, frowning still. “You sure you’re okay, chipmunk?”

“Yeah.” I say, but it sounds unconvincing even to me. I add, “Sorry. I just really freaked myself out yesterday, I guess.”

He wraps an arm around me, and I lay my head on his shoulder. It’s harder to swallow like that, and that’s my excuse not to keep eating. “Understandable.” he says softly.

After a moment, I make up my mind to tell him. “Dan, I woke in the middle of the night..”

“You don’t look like you slept enough, now that you mention it.”

“That’s not what I mean.” I say quickly--though that was true too. I didn’t get much sleep for the rest of the night. “I woke up, and I heard something.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks tenderly, and he rubs my back.

“Seriously?” I have to smile. “After everything that happened? You were exhausted. I let you sleep.”

“Oh.” he says simply. Then of course he starts to say, “The foot--”

“Not the footsteps,” I say in exasperation, and I feel him chuckle. I move my head to look at him seriously. “Hear me out, okay?” He nods. “I-okay, it sounds crazy. But last night I heard a voice.”

“A voice?” he raises his eyebrows. “A human voice? Like a tribute?”

I shudder. “I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t a human voice, I can tell you that.”

“What do you think it was?”

I make a face. “I have a feeling you still don’t believe me, Dan.”

He gives me a look. “I’m hearing you out. Keep going. What do you think it was? Just a trick? A mutt?”

I don’t feel good about it being a mutt, but I answer honestly. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“Well, what did it say? Something scary? A threat? Something to make you miss home?”

“It said…” I pause and swallow. “It said these exact words, okay?” he nods. “It said: ‘please let us in. don’t lock us away’.”

Dan’s silent. I lay my head back on his shoulder, and he resumes rubbing my back. Finally he says in a hollow dry voice, “Whatever you heard wants to get us, chipmunk.”

I can only nod. It’s what I was afraid of.

x-X-x

You’d think after all this, after what I told Dan about the voice, we’d have rethought our plan to go up to the attic. We’d have stayed in our safe room and...I don’t know, just stayed there. Maybe we’d cuddle and tell stories; maybe even we’d finally...you know. Become truly in love. I would’ve liked that…

Whoa. Sorry, no idea where that came from. And we didn’t do that--any of it. We’re still on Dan’s genius plan. I mean I love Dan so much, but...I’m not so sure about this. I’m still not feeling my best.

I’m thinking of all this as I’m packing up our stuff in our bag. Huh--our supplies is starting to run low. We’ll have to do something about that soon…

“Ready?” a hand lands on my shoulder, and--dammit, I jump. Of course, it’s just Dan. “Sorry,” he says, smiling and not really sounding that sorry.

“It’s fine.” I say with a sigh. I zipper up the bag, and Dan easily swings it onto his shoulders. Then he offers me a hand up. I take it, and I don’t let go. He squeezes my fingers comfortingly.

“Don’t worry, chipmunk. We’ll be fine. Do you have your knife?”

“Yeah.” I tap my belt, where it’s hanging.

“Okay.” he gives me a grin, and my heart flutters. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I mutter unenthusiastically. He nudges me.

“That’s the...spirit.” he jokes, and then he unlocks the door. “Okay.” he says again. “C’mon.”

It’s earlier in the day, and I guess Dan did find some windows, because all in all, it’s brighter than yesterday at least. But I’m still scared. I’m squeezing the death out of Dan’s fingers--they’re not turning purple, but rather a maroon color--and I’d feel bad any other time. We walk for a bit, me gripping Dan’s hand and my knife, until Dan interrupts the silence.

“How’re you doing, Phil?”

“You really want me to answer that?!” I squeak, and to my surprise, he chuckles.

“No, I guess I don’t.” he pauses seriously. “You hear anything?”

“N-no. No, I don’t think so. Do you?”

“Nope.” he says. “But I didn’t hear anything last time either really.”

“Mm.” I say, no knowing what else to do.

We’re silent again as we walk, and slowly, my hand relaxes his fingers and they start to turn back to a normal color. In response, he rubs his thumb over my knuckles.

“Can I tell you something, chipmunk?” Dan muses next to me, his thumb still rubbing. “Something my mum told me before...before she died.”

“Of course.”

“She said that when you’re afraid, it-it helps to sing.” he laughs quietly. “It sounds ridiculous, I know. And I don’t think she ever expected me to use her advice in the Games.” he pauses, and I don’t press him. “If...I mean, if she was alive today...I’m afraid it’d hurt her. Me being in the Games, y’know?” I nod. “So it’s-it’s almost better.”

His hand goes slack, so I squeeze it gently. I understand more than he can know.

“Sorry.” he says, and he laughs weakly again. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about this.”

“I don’t mind,” I whisper, and it’s true. Nevertheless, he falls silent.

I don’t want to make him uncomfortable--god, that’s the last thing I want--but I’m starting to fear the silence again. So I ask, “What songs do you know?”

He stares straight ahead. “Dunno. I’ll think on it. Whatta ‘bout you?”

I think about it for a moment. And then, for his sake as well as mine, I start humming the instrumental part to ‘fast car’ (Tracy Chapman), very softly. He doesn’t interrupt, and it helps. I feel more at ease.

But then guess what makes me stop, and makes my stomach drop? The faint, echoing sound of footsteps. We’re at a staircase--all we need is one more floor and one more staircase to get to the attic!

I grip Dan’s arm. My breathing is coming way too shallow and fast--I feel lightheaded--hell, I feel like I’m going to pass out--!

Dan grabs my shoulders and forces me to look at him. “Hey--hey baby, look at me. Look at me, okay?” With difficulty, I do. “You’re fine. You’re fine. Tell me, do you hear it?”

I nod feverishly. “Yeah--oh god, it’s coming, Dan, it’s--”

“Calm down. Deep breaths. In, and out. Okay? In and out.” I wheeze a couple times. “Okay. Now we have our knives, and we have each other. We’re going to be fine. But you have to calm down now. Okay, chipmunk? Okay? For me. Please.”

I force myself to breathe. He takes both my hands in one of his own, and then his eyes widen. “Phil, your hands are freezing!”

“Too late--to worry about--that now.” I manage. He nods, his face set.

“You’re right. Okay. So whatever it is, it’s coming for us. No use denying it.” I nod. I feel so sick, I just want to take Dan and...and literally be anywhere but here. “You’re going to go up the stairs first.”

Dread rises in me. “Oh no, Dan, no--you’re coming too--”

“I am, don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you. I got us from the back, you take the front. You think you’re up for that?”  I nod once more. I’ll do whatever I can--whatever I have to do--to protect us. To protect Dan.

I said before I don’t fear death. This is still true. But terror--unknown terror is too much.

“Okay. It’s gonna be okay. Tomorrow we’ll be outta here, and we don’t have to ever come back again.” he says soothingly. “We’re gonna be fine. Ready?”

“Dan--”

“When I count to three, run. Don’t look back: I’ll be right behind you.”

“But--”

“One.”

The thing--whatever it is--is coming--it’s turning the corner--it’s gonna kill us--

“Two…”

I brace myself to run, my heart beating in my ears, my very bones aching…

“Three!”

I start to climb up what’s left of the stairs. Dan’s behind me, I tell myself. He’s fine. I’m fine. I get to the top of the stairs, and look back down, even though Dan told me not to. In the dim light, I see a figure struggle up the splintered rubble--gritting my teeth, I raise my knife--until I recognize the shaggy dark hair, and those deep, brown eyes…

Instead, I reach out a hand and haul Dan to his feet. He’s grimacing, clutching his shoulder.

My eyes widen. “Oh my god, you’re hurt!”

He waves me off. “I’m fine. We have to keep moving. I stabbed the thing that was following us, but there’ll be more. Are you okay now, love?”

I nod and lower my head. “Dan, I’m so sorry for freaking out…”

He squeezes my shoulder with the hand that isn’t clutching his own shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re both fine, right?”

“Well yeah, but…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I meet his eyes. “What was following us, anyway? You stabbed it, you must’ve seen what it was…”

His lips whiten, but he shakes his head. “When we’re safe and outta here, I’ll tell you everything. That good?”

I resign and nod. And then we start walking. We don’t speak until we come to the last staircase. I pause and listen for anything: nothing. Good.

We stare in silence at the remnants of the staircase. We can still climb it, but not without difficulty.

“Phil?”

“Mm?”

“I...you’re gonna have to help me.”

I look at him in surprise--and then I understand. He’s still clutching his shoulder, and blood’s bled through, soaking his hand. My stomach twists with nausea--something that I only now realize I’ve been keeping down all morning. His face is contorted in pain.

“Okay. How do you want me too…?”

“Uh… Doesn’t matter. Just be gentle.”

I nod. “You’re bigger than me, though, so you’re gonna have to work with me.”

“Yeah, I get it.” he grunts. “Just...try and keep me upright, okay?”

I nod, and with me close to him, ready to grab him if he slips, we start up the stairs. He stumbles once, then twice--and the second time he lets go of his shoulder to steady himself, and then he cries out--but I prop him up again. It’s hard because he’s taller and heavier than me, but somehow, it works.

We’ve made it. We’re in the attic.

“Dan, you’ve lost a lot of blood.” I murmur. “But we’re gonna get out of here, and then I’ll bandage you up. Hold on…”

I go to the window and, taking off my boot, I swing it against the glass until it shatters. Satisfied, I turn back to Dan.

“Chipmunk…” he mumbles weakly. “ ‘s don’t feel so good…”

“C’mon.” I reach for him, and as gently as I can, I pull him to the shattered window. He cries out and stumbles. But he’s there, at least. Propping him up, I look out the window and down the at the ground. Our only hope is to climb the nearest tree. But Dan’s hurt so badly…

“Dan. Listen to me, okay?” I say finally.

“Okay…”

“You’re going to have to climb. It’ll hurt like hell, but it’s the only way. I’m so sorry…”

He sighs. “ ‘s okay. Y’ want me t’ go firs’?”

“I...yeah. Okay.” I say. I don’t like how he’s slurring his words… If only I knew more about blood loss…

With difficulty, I watch as he climbs clumsily onto the tree. He doesn’t cry out--in fact, now he’ll grunt, bite his lip, before he’ll make any noise. It’s horribly painful to watch--I don’t want to imagine how badly he’s feeling--and finally, he lands in a heap on the ground.

Much easier and quicker, I climb down and land lightly next to him. He’s desperate. Ignoring his moans, I grab his arm and drag him to a small grove of trees, which’ll hide our position vaguely well. And then I pull his shirt off.

Maybe I imagined doing this before. But never with my hands shaking like a madman, or with him drenched in blood. I bite my lip and take a spool of thread and a needle out of our first aid kit in our bag.

“This’ll hurt a bit. You’re being so brave, baby.” I murmur, but now he’s barely conscious. I vow to kiss him a bunch as soon as I’m done. He’d do the same for me, I’m positive.

I take a closer look at the wound in his shoulder, and then frown.

“That looks like…” my eyes widen. “...bite marks.”

But I don’t--I can’t--dwell on that now. I grit my teeth, and slowly, painstakingly, I sew up his shoulder. It’s not too neat, but he’s not bleeding anymore. When I’m done, I wrap another bandage on the stitches. Then I kiss his forehead,  and lean back with his head on my lap. And, stroking his sweaty hair, I wait for him to wake up.

**TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4. REVIEWS AND/OR COMMENTS ARE LOVE...SO LIKE, PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT… THANKS.**