The Very First Hunger Games

Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Day two in the Arena

The sound of feet trampling through crispy leaves and brittle twigs awakens me from my deep sleep. It's hard to think clearly with the fogginess still clouding my mind but I know I must hide before someone finds me. I'm in no condition to fight. My legs ache from running so much yesterday, I feel dizzy from thirst and the persistent hunger that continues to gnaw my stomach.

I quickly hide behind the tree I slept under, trying not to make too much noise. I slowly turn my head and peek out from behind the tree. I don't recognize the anxious-looking boy, with the sad brown eyes, but it would be hard it would be hard to miss his little friend. I would recognize those cold eyes anywhere. April.

I can't fathom what April could gain from an alliance with this weedy little boy. I'm surprised she hasn't killed him already just for the fun of it.

"You'd better not be lying about this well" April says ferociously.

As if April wasn't menacing enough with her grim face and her shark grin when she towers over you, she has a blood stained machete on her belt.

The young boy (who I think is from District 3) turns his head to the side and I notice that he has a scar down the right side of his cheek. I think I can piece together what has happened here. April must have found the boy wandering about alone (or she killed whomever he was with) and she was going to kill him too but not before inflicting the most excruciating pain upon him, no doubt.

I can imagine this scenario in my head so clearly it's frightening. April's weapon poised, face alight with delight, the boy's face completely horror-stricken, begging for mercy. Then before she could inflict too much damage, the boy made a deal with April. The promise of a supply of water in return for his life.

Maybe there is no well. Maybe the boy said there was to spare his life. Even if there is a well, April will surely kill him when they find this supposed well. If there isn't a well then April will figure it out soon anyway. This will result in even more torment for the boy.

The latter is a bigger probability but the possibility of water is better than no water at all. And I'll be dead tomorrow if I don't find water soon. So I'll take the risk, and follow them.

I move slowly through overgrown shrubs, silently thanking the Gamemakers for the amount of concealment the arena provides.

I'm quite far behind April and the boy from district 3, and I'm making as little noise as possible. I'm sure they don't know I'm following them. But April senses something. Every now and then she twists her head round as if suspicious.

I see it before they do. A strange silver object floating in the sky. The way it wavers in the wind as it gently floats to the ground makes one word come to mind. Parachute.

April spots it too. She narrows her eyes as the parachute finally tumbles to the ground.

"What it is?" She hisses.

"Some kind of parachute" the boy answers.

"Is it explosive?" she asks.

The boy does not answer. Instead he moves cautiously toward the parachute as if he believes it might spontaneously combust.

"Is it explosive!?" April raises her voice starting to get agitated.

"I'm not sure, I think-" The boy is cut off by a familiar boom in the distance.

"IT'S A BOMB, IT'S A BOMB" April screams as she races away with the boy in tow.

I assume April suspects that there are more parachutes in the distance and that they are explosive. I don't think that it was bomb we just heard. I remember the bomb raids during the dark days. Even in the underground shelters, we could still hear the deafening explosions. No amount of screaming could drown it out.

No, I don't think the parachute is volatile. But surely the boy from district 3 would've known that. District 3 specializes in technology. I warily move towards the parachute, half crouching, half crawling.

The parachute is smooth against my fingers. I think it is made of silk. Yet another luxury I've never been able to afford. I slowly unravel the soft sheet of silk and find two plastic cylinder tubes connected by a thinner tube. One is empty and one is filled with green wax. The empty tube has a solar panel on the lid.

I have no idea what they're for, but throwing them away seems like such a waste. So I pocket them, along with the parachute, until I find a use for them.

I retreat further in the direction that April and the boy went. I have to keep resting and I'm probably miles behind them. I'll never catch them at this rate. They're gone. Disappeared into thin wisps of air along with my chances of finding water. But it's not like I could've raced after them without detection.

The juice from the berries does no ebb my thirst. Instead it makes me crave water more. It doesn't help that I'm constantly envisioning my family sitting at home watching me go through all this pain. I try to push all the bad thoughts from my head but they keep flooding through my mind like a tidal wave.

I know that wallowing in self pity will get me no where but it's hard not to look so pitiful when it feels like the weight of the world is crushing me.

Focus on what's important. I tell myself.

Was there water at the Cornucopia? I can't remember. Even though it was only yesterday, the memory seems foggy and distant. I don't even know where I am. I'm sure I'm no where near the Cornucopia.

I gaze up at the sky as if by sheer force of will it might start pouring of rain. By this point it's my only hope.

Eating more of the berries that I've picked does not lessen the sharp pains of hunger. I soon find some red berries that are almost too sweet to eat. The berries are blood red; they look poisonous, but they're not. They are actually edible and quite sweet. That's what Luca told me.

I can feel the sharp pain well up in my chest and I'm afraid I might burst into tears again. I've never felt so alone in my whole entire life.

I'm not alone for long. The girl from District 11 strolls past and nearly misses me. Her short hair is tied up in two buns and she seems to have discarded her jacket. Unlike me, her olive skin apparently prevents the sun from burning her. I see her before she sees me. She initially looks startled, a mirror of my reflection. Neither of us moves a muscle. Not until I realize that the object she is clutching in her hand is a water bottle. I make a dive for it before I have the chance to think twice. I don't spot the arrow slung over her shoulder until it's too late.