A Whole New Game: A Hunger Games Story

Chapter 5: Visions of Terror

Eleanor

    Thunk!

    I jolt upright and whip my head around. Lover Boy sleeps on, leaning against a nearby tree. Clove lays next to Marvel, one of his arms wrapped lazily around her shoulder, and Cato sits a ways away, his snores rattling the forest.  Glimmer rests, motionless in her place by our extinguished fire.

    Must have been dreaming.

    That's when I feel the first sting. Sharp. Searing, like a branding iron. Tracker Jackers.

    Then the unmistakable buzzing fills my ears, and golden daggers fills the air. The welts from the previous stings are suddenly joined by a thousand more.

    My allies are screaming and up in seconds. Clove, Marvel, and Lover Boy run off in the direction of the lake as they are attacked by the swarm. Glimmer begins to scream as the main cloud of creatures surrounds her, a second entangling me in a haze of gold. I fall to the ground, convulsing as every inch of my body becomes coated in mounds the size of walnuts. Pain radiates throughout my veins, and my head begins to throb as though it has it's own heartbeat. The world around me is already blurring. I forget how to move. There is only showering gold around me, and the hum of thousands of bodies. I try again to scream, but only a moan is able to escape my swollen throat.

"Please," I plead to no one, "make is stop."

Each of my slowing heartbeats pounds even louder in my chest. I can see another body lying near me, motionless; golden hair shrouding an enlarged, purple face. Glimmer. Dead.

I can feel the venom slowly killing me, melting my blood like iron core. Salty drops sting my eyes, and a fat tear rolls down the swelled shape of my cheek.

This is it. What a humiliating way to die, by a bunch of over-glorified bees.

Suddenly, I'm lifted, floating. Something is around me. Then everything is black; the sound of the cannon ringing in my ears.

Clove

How long have I been running? Could be 30 seconds. 10 minutes. It doesn't matter. The drone of the insects still vibrates in my eardrums. Their puncture wounds burn, fester. Through my enormously swollen eyelids I barely make out the Cornucopia. I must have been running longer than I thought if we are back here. Further ahead in the distance, a yellow glint. Water.

I reach the edge of the lake and will myself under the cool water for at least a full minute, hoping it will soothe some of the stabbing pain. I resurface, gasping for breath, and then repeat the process. After several attempts, the sensations die a bit. I see more clearly.

The water is gorgeously crystalline, early morning sun shimmering between treetops. The cornucopia is not far off. Mockingjays whistle a gentle four note tune. I am entirely alone, I believe.

I stare down to my hands. I had contracted the worst of the stings out of the three of us that ran, Marvel and Peeta only having a few minor stings on their arms and shoulders. Or at least they hadn't looked that bad when I flew past them. The majority of the damage is done to my arms. My hands have swelled so much that it now looks like I am wearing giant, purple baseball mitts. I look away, preparing to wash them off in the cool lake water, but the grass around me is smoking.

I back up cautiously towards the lake, only to find that the water is turning a dark thick red. The surface smelters and bubbles, thick sticky bubbles that splat and fester. And suddenly faces are emerging from under the surface. Faces of the tributes from the first day at the bloodbath. The ones that we killed. The boy from 9 outstretches his hand toward me, reaching, fighting to break the quicksand hold of the liquid.