CHAPTER FIFTEEN;
the mechanics

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( warning: brief description of gore/injury )

     There was never any telling what her first kill would feel like. Vesper had a feeling it would happen sooner or later, and somehow, she had naïvely assumed she would be prepared for it.

Nothing could have prepared her for this. The irreversible, numbing realisation that she has obtained something she can never erase.

A kill count.

Edison didn't even stand a chance. The skinny-limbed boy had swiped aimlessly at her, and it hadn't taken much to strike her machete into him. Vesper tries to tell herself, desperately finding some way to shift her guilt, that maybe she would not feel so bad if he had been able to put up a fight.

Still, it haunts her. She feels the force of her blade hitting tender muscle and brittle bone, the shock that it send shivering through her bloodstream. She sees the cold emptiness of Edison's eyes staring up at the sky, where not long after his cannon fired a hovercraft descended. From afar, Vesper and Icarus had stood and watched his limp body being lifted into the air, before being flown away out of the arena — then shipped back to District Five in a wooden coffin, where his family would be reuniting with their son. Just not in the way that they had hoped...

And she did that.

You didn't have a choice, Vesper tries to tell herself, wading through the swamp water.

But did she? Something about how quickly she resorted to the kill disturbs her. Perhaps the Games have embedded itself within her sooner than she realised. It still has Icarus shaken too, as he sourly trails behind her with his head hung low.

     The silence is beginning to put her on edge. She wishes he would just say something. Feigning leadership, Vesper looks over her shoulder at him. "You okay?" she asks.

     "My feet hurt..." Icarus whimpers, sluggishly moving through the water. "How much further?"

     For a moment, relief washes over her, hearing him childishly complaining about something instead of dwelling on that morning. But it is a good question: How far can they go? Vesper stares out at the vast expanse of water they have been scaling, which is only getting wider and deeper. It seems infinite too. Each step is more laborious with water resistance and muddy swamp beds hindering them, fatiguing them quicker than before.

     "Alright," she sighs, fixing her eyes on the nearest patch of elevated land. "Over here. Let's take a break."

     Once stepping foot on the land, they almost stumble with the new freeness they can walk with. Although with boots like lead, they trudge awkwardly until they set their belongings down. Vesper manages to pry her boot off, a cascade of swamp water sloshing out onto the ground — including a couple of insects — and then takes off her wet socks to wring them. The last thing they need is trench foot, gangrene or everything following that. Icarus watches intently and mimics her, as if he thinks she has some sort of expertise.

They get a small fire started, and Vesper stretches her socks out carefully above the fire. "Maybe we can dry them," she explains to Icarus, "or at least make them a little soggier this way."

     Icarus grabs his socks and holds them dangerously close to the flame.

     "Jesus, not that close," she quickly nudges his hand further away. "You don't want your only pair of socks going up in flames."

     With a heavy sigh, the boy continues holding them over the fire, wriggling his toes as he zones out.

Vesper stares grudgingly up at the sky, or at least what little she can see of it through the trees. What is Irma doing right now? Is she working to get them more gifts, and if so, what? She feels like there is so much they could ask of her, but so little their mentor can deliver. More water, first off, after Edison chugged down their precious flask. Some mosquito balm would be nice, to soothe the incessant itch all over her skin. And clean socks — if they have to walk through any more thick water, Vesper fears the state their feet will be in...

Icarus must be pondering the same things, because he stares hopelessly out at the swamp water. "Do you think a boat's too big for Irma to send down here? Because that would be handy, if we could just sail across the swamp. Really handy." He emphasises the last sentence, as if trying to sent a mental hint to Irma in the Capitol.

"And expensive," she shrugs. "Besides, Irma would probably just tell us to 'Use what we know'."

"Right," he scoffs quietly, but with an edge of concern.

His discontent is understandable. When Vesper stares out at the deepening swamp water, it does feel like they will never cross it, or it will lead nowhere. A boat of some sort would chip away at the time it takes to walk through it. Instead, she is left to mill over Irma's prime advice, apart from faith: use what you know.

Use what you know...

Use what you know...

Use what you know...

Vesper perks up. An epiphany has clicked into her mind, like the missing cog in clockwork. But she is hesitant to let the cogs start turning just yet, to let hope get the better of her.

     It is triggered by a memory — she sees herself and her friends, Axel, Kirk, all of them. It is a hot summer's day, and they are mucking about with large sticks under the bridge where the river flows. They decide it would be a good idea to strap them together and see if it floated, and with some trial and error, it still sank under their weight.

     But that was on a fun, summer's day when she was thirteen. This is now, in the arena, and their best option at the moment.

"Icarus... do you still have that rope?"

With a bored manner, Icarus unlatches the ring of rope from his bag and displays it to her. Her heart begins to pitter-patter with the excitement of things coming together, her idea gaining momentum. Vesper doesn't spare a moment in getting back into her socks and boots, shrugging her backpack onto her shoulders again.

"Follow me," she says ambiguously, treading along the bank's edge and avoiding the water.

"Wait, what? Where are we going? Vesper, I'm tired!"

"Just trust me, okay? And keep your voice down."

Re-tracing their steps through the swamp, Vesper leads Icarus back into the shallower depths of the arena. Foliage and certain trees appear familiar to her, and for a moment she feels grateful she came back here. That is until they reach where they slept last night — the thick stalks of bamboo surrounding them. Where Edison died.

     Don't think about that right now, she tells herself.

     "Why... are we back here?" Icarus asks, panting for breath.

     "Because I think I finally know how we can use that rope." Vesper reaches out for a stalk of the stuff, almost trying it on for size. "This is bamboo. It's hollow, do you see? That means it's super buoyant."

     "So...?" A few seconds after saying this, his mouth falls open in realisation, and he mumbles a soft 'oh'. "You think we could make a raft out of it?"

     "I'm positive we could."

     "But..." Icarus glances around un-surely. "Are you sure we can do it? I mean, do we have the stuff for it? What if someone comes and tries to attack us?"

     "Then at least you'll already be armed." Vesper lets go of the bamboo, taking out her machete to demonstrate. There is still a vague tint of blood along the edge. "Look, if Irma said we should 'use what we know', then this is it. We're mechanics, Icarus. That is what we know. We make things, sometimes out of nothing, and we can see how to make something work. Maybe we can't hunt, or... kill. But we can do this."

     With a few hours of sunlight still ahead, they get straight to work. Vesper saws at the tall stalks of bamboo with her machete, whilst Icarus forages for a long stick to fashion into a paddle. She sets small fires at the roots, allowing her the strength to slice through. Each sawed stick of bamboo is aligned on the ground next to one another — all a good bit taller than each of them — and then she gets to work on the smaller bamboo sticks, to be fastened across the raft as extra stability. She can almost hear Kirk, teasing her in the way he always has: "Got enough there? Or do you need another forest?" It would be something like that, anyway.

The wildlife around them seems to stop and watch their project. A frog sits curiously and observes the raft being made, before hopping along. It is a welcome spectator; the mosquitos nipping at them, however, are not welcome at all. Nevertheless, the hours working on their raft is the calmest Vesper has felt so far in the arena — in fact, even the calmest she's felt all week. She knows this. She understands this. This is not foreign to her, unlike everything else.

By the time they are finishing up, fastening lengths of rope to bring the raft together, the dappled sunlight is starting to turn golden against the trees as it sets. Wiping her brow with the back of her hand, Vesper stands back with Icarus and admires their handiwork.

"Looks pretty good to me..." Icarus hums, his hands on his hips, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

"It might look good," Vesper murmurs, internally crossing her fingers, "but we need to see if it floats first."

The moment of truth. They each grab one side of the raft, and slowly side-step into the swamp water — the sensations of the water rising ascends above her shins, then her knees, until they stop when its at her waist (and a little higher for Icarus). On its own, the raft seems to float stably. So far, so good.

She nods to Icarus, who holds the paddle, signalling him to get on first. The boy clambers on from his side, swinging one leg over and then the other. He freezes at first as the raft wobbles buoyantly, adjusting to his weight. When it settles he waves her on. Vesper does the same, climbing on carefully until her full body weight is on the raft. At first she is knelt, but then she stands to her full height.

They wait...

It floats.

Icarus gives out a shocked little gasp, beaming through his slack jaw as he looks over at Vesper. She, herself, is in giddy disbelief. She didn't think this was going to work, but it did. It actually worked. Doing everything to hide their excitement, they reach out for each other's hand and squeeze it tightly with childish grins.

Vesper crouches down for the paddle, and stood at the front of the raft — without it capsizing — pushes them through the water with one clean stroke. Another stroke of the paddle, another length which would have taken twice as long to walk.

     She cannot believe this is working.

     Now we're in the game, Vesper thinks to herself, the warmth of pride spreading through her chest.

     They sail through the deeper waters of the swamp until dusk, where they would prefer to be on land to sleep. Icarus had sat contently for most of the ride at the back, happy to rest his feet and take in his surroundings. At one point, Vesper had turned to see him running his fingers through the water that they passed.

     "I wouldn't let yourself enjoy this place too much, if I were you," she'd joked.

     However, despite their victorious project, the moment they find a bank to rest on, the euphoria wears off. Fatigue returns, only worsened by the hard labour of making the raft, and Vesper's arms have a dull ache from the repetitive rowing. The reminder that they are hungrier and thirstier returns with a vengeance. They have just about enough energy to go hunting for frogs, but only one comes back in their bounty tonight.

     Vesper anchors their raft by tying it up to the nearest tree — she won't make that mistake of leaving things out again. As they eat their split frog and get ready to sleep, the familiar Capitol fanfare blasts from above. Through the trees, only one face is emblazoned on the sky, and Vesper knows exactly who it will be. Still, when Edison's face appears, she still finds herself wanting to look away. She doesn't need any more reminders about him, or how his death will always be tied to her forever.

     Then as quickly as it appeared, his face vanishes, seemingly forever.

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     Vesper can feel herself growing weaker with each stroke of the paddle. Any remaining novelty following the raft they made yesterday, is completely barren this morning. She awoke parched and groggy, feeling the worst malnourishment so far in the arena. It has taken a larger toll on Icarus — he had been used to being better fed than Vesper, and also prioritised as the baby of his family. Behind her, she hears him occasionally whimper and shift the way he's sitting, rocking the whole raft.

At least she knows he's still awake, and therefore alive.

     She thinks the Gamemakers must be fiddling with the climate somehow. She doesn't think she is imagining the worsened humidity, the unbreathable, stickier air. It seems like the kind of twisted thing they would to do play games with them. Of course, that's what they do. They could easily send a rainstorm, but that would be too generous. Instead they leave them drowsy with humidity and thirsty, surrounded only by water thick with algae and disease. It's killing them slowly.

     Where's Irma when you need her? Vesper thinks in frustration. If it was so easy to get them that water in the beginning, then why can't she send some down now?

     The sooner the better. Before they set off this morning, they both took it in turns for a toilet break. Vesper noticed it felt tense when she urinated, and the colour appeared far darker than she would like. That would be just their luck — after everything, to die quietly of infection... which it hopefully isn't. Although dehydration isn't any more forgiving of a death, either.

     Vesper hears Icarus groan behind her. For the past half hour he's been fanning himself with a leaf, but instead it just flops lazily from side to side. Even the leaf has had enough.

     Time for quick thinking.

     She looks ahead, pushing them forwards with her paddle. "I spy, with my little eye," she murmurs mischievously, "something beginning with... F."

     Icarus is silent for a few moments, confused as to why she's choosing this moment for a game. But if they can't get a miracle just yet, then they need a distraction.

     "Flower?"

     "Nope. Do you see any flowers around here?"

     "I guess not. Um... oh, frog?"

     "Good," Vesper nods in approval. That was an easy one. "Now, your turn."

     "Alright..." To her pleasure, Icarus sits up and seems to be more engaged now. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... A."

     After about three tries, Vesper gets algae, and they go back and forth a couple more times until it is her turn again. And this time, she isn't going to be so easy on him. "I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with... C." Vesper is spectating a cypress tree on their side, and waits for his guesses.

     Icarus doesn't respond. Instead, he stares out beyond her at something, frozen on his spot. His hands clutch his bow.

     "Icarus? Something beginning with C, come on."

     He shakes his head slowly, and points out into the distance. Vesper follows where he's looking, and she too tenses where she is stood.

     They aren't alone.

     There is a figure wading through the water, at a snail's pace but managing to hold his sword above, so it won't disappear into the murky depths. She squints to closer identify the person — it only takes a few seconds, before the familiar mannerisms of Levin occur to her. He's instantly recognisable, except for appearing tireder from afar.

     She has to stop herself from sailing over to him instantly. Should she approach him or not? The last time they met, it looked like he nearly considered killing her. But then again, so did she, and neither of them did it.

     Soon it doesn't matter, because Levin has already turned around and spotted them. His eyebrows shoot up and he stops where he is, sweeping a mass of greasy hair from his eyes. "It's okay," Vesper whispers to Icarus, before paddling towards the District Four boy.

     They slow the raft right by where he is stood, water up to his waist. Levin is panting, out of breath from the laborious water-wading, and his sweat-lathered skin appears pale or slightly sickly green — unless it is the swamp reflecting its colours onto him. His eyes scan them for any sign of a threat, lulling tiredly around them, before giving up. Maybe he thinks he would easily be killed by them, in this position.

     "Where are your friends?" Vesper asks, squatting down to meet his level.

     "Merona died," says Levin.

     "Not her. The Careers."

     "You know I don't trust them, and neither do they, so good riddance."

     Vesper considers this for a moment; her fingertips still linger by the machete handle, just in case. The silence that stretches between the three of them asks the same question: Is there an alliance in the making? She turns to Icarus for an answer, or even some kind of protest, and he nods slowly. His hand still hovers by his weapon. As for Vesper, she already knows her answer — at least, she hopes it is the right decision. If it isn't, she knows what she has to do...

     She extends her hand out to him. "If the raft doesn't sink, you're in."

     Levin quietly accepts this, and takes her hand. It takes a little more effort to leave him onboard, since the three of them are just as fatigued as each other. Even with him aboard it still floats comfortably, much to her relief. So it settles it.

     "We've got an extra paddle, for when we have more weight on the raft," says Vesper, chucking Levin the long paddle Icarus had crafted. "Get moving."

     He immediately goes along with it, adapting quickly to their raft lifestyle, but not before he greets Icarus. "I don't believe we've properly met," he says, with his usual warmth but wavering in enthusiasm. "I'm Levin, District Four."

     "Icarus, District Six." They even manage a handshake.

     Well, that was quick, Vesper thinks.

     "Where did you get this raft from?" Levin asks, looking impressed at their vessel. "That's one hefty sponsor gift."

     "We made it," she deadpans.

     He blinks in disbelief at her. "Seriously?"

     "Sure thing," Icarus chips in. "People from Six are usually pretty resourceful. We can tinker around with any old thing to make use of it."

     Vesper agrees with him, but feels now is not the time or place to be getting chummy just yet. "So..." she asks their new ally, "What have you been up to since we last left off?"

     Levin begins telling the whole story. He kept his alliance with Merona, as promised, and they took off in an opposite direction from Vesper and Icarus during the Bloodbath. As for Talon, he was nowhere to be found, so they assumed he had either gone rogue or teamed up with the Careers — the latter seemed unlikely. In the early hours of the second day, Merona had mysteriously woken up having trouble breathing. Levin had been keeping watch and noticed her wheezing growing more strained. By midday, it was unbearable for her. She had begged, pleaded with him to end it for her. So he did. With his first kill under his belt, Levin had been alone since...

     Until now.

     Vesper feels a tinge of guilt at his story. He killed out of mercy for his ally, ending their pain. And what did she do? She swung her machete impulsively at a boy who couldn't defend himself.

Stop dwelling on it, her conscience snaps at her. You had to defend yourself.

"And as for me, I'm still in one piece... just about." Levin reaches his hand under his shirt and scratches his skin, wincing as he does. "What about you guys? How have you been holding up?"

"It's been pretty quiet, kind of like you," Vesper answers. "Just having trouble with mosquitoes, wet socks and water. You know the drill, I'm sure."

"Water?"

The light tone with which he says the word makes them perk up, like wilting flowers that were just hydrated.

"Well, you're in luck. But I'll have to take front-seat on the raft."

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A/N;

*sees the last time i updated was 22nd august*
me: 😳😳😳 not again

so... i forgot to update this. again. it was a mix of being swamped (haha ironic) by homework, and also feeling super inspired to write my stranger things fic paranormal (feel free to go read it *cough* you know, if you want 👀). but now i'm trying to give my fics equal attention again, so i can write more of iron.

now chapter 15 is done, i can officially say we are halfway through the book!!! how crazy is that? only 15 more chapters to go... thank you so much for sticking with me along this ride, iron is honestly one of (if not THE) proudest work of mine, i'm chuffed to bits every time i re-read parts. and now levin is teaming up with our favourite duo, so YAY!

also, happy new year! here's hoping 2022 will be a better one.

if you have the time, please leave a comment for feedback, as this really helps with motivation and knowing how people feel about my writing 😊 thank you for reading and i hope you have a lovely day/evening!

[ published: 2nd january, 2022 ]

— Imogen