Stronger :: Chapter One

And I find it kind of funny; I find it kind of sad.
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.

I was born knowing I was probably going to die before I hit 25. Apparently, I had my father to thank for that, though obviously he was long gone – leaving behind an incompetent young widow and two daughters, ages five and one.

The only thing we knew about the sickness was that it was impossible to predict. The test was given when you were born to see if you were a carrier, and from then on you were on your own. Sometimes it killed quickly, other times it would take years, and still there were the infected people who lived out long, healthy lives.

Sometimes two infected people had perfectly healthy children. And other times, the disease wouldn't show up for generations only to suddenly infect an entire family.

There were people who let it consume their entire life.

And then there was me – someone who tried to completely forget about it, except for once a year when-

"Decided what you're doing yet?"

Gale, my best and only friend, had lost his father to the sickness. He'd gotten up, gone to work in the mines like any other day, and suddenly dropped dead. He'd left behind three children under the age of ten and a wife heavy with child. At least none of them had been born infected.

"I've still got time." I nocked an arrow though there was no game in sight – anything to avoid this conversation.

Over 70 years ago, the districts had waged war on the Capitol. In the end, the districts had surrendered after the Capitol completely destroyed District 13. Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the story.

A Capitol scientist had been working on the ultimate weapon – a genetic mutation that crippled the enemy. No one knew what form it came in or how it spread, only that somehow without the approval of the Capitol's government, he'd managed to release it into the districts.

It was common knowledge that District 12 had many more infected, being closest to the remains of District 13, which had been hit the hardest. Districts 1 through 4 were hardly affected, being so close to the Capitol that the scientist didn't want to risk it somehow spreading.

Nearly 75 years later, there was still no cure.

But of course, there was more. The Capitol, being eternally compassionate, instituted the Hunger Games. Every year, two "tributes" from each district were forced to, wait – given the privilege of being taken away from their friends and family so that Capitol doctors could attempt to fix them. There was a slight chance you'd walk away cured, and a larger chance that your looming death would just be expedited.

However, all of the infected had the chance to withdraw their names in exchange for a few doses of whatever experimental drug the Capitol was pushing. That had been what I'd done since I was 12, the first year I'd been eligible for the "reaping." I wouldn't take the medicine, usually selling it off to someone who was too old to have their name entered.

"Want to know what I would do if I were you?" Gale finally asked.

"I don't think it matters, since you'll tell me anyway."

Gale went silent. I knew better than to think he was angry, and instead scanned the clearing to see what he'd spotted. A few seconds later, a small doe stumbled out of the brush. Gale looked at me out of the corner of his eye – his subtle way of telling me this was my kill.

I let my arrow fly, immediately knowing the shot had been too high. The deer looked at us with wide eyes, then took off.

"I'll get the next one, just-"

"If you're going to make it back in time to sign up, we're going to have to check the traps and head back now," Gale said. He looked at me for a few seconds before hopping down from the tree, giving me enough time to disagree.

It was only a formality. He knew I wouldn't.

We checked the traps in silence, finding only a few small rabbits. If we'd had more time, we would have tried gathering berries or herbs – anything worth trading for something of more substance.

Hunting in the woods was punishable by death. A giant electrical fence was supposed to keep people out, but since the Seam – our part of District 12 – was lucky to get power for a few hours a day, it was usually safe to touch.

And since people in our part of District 12 rarely had enough food, the Peacekeepers turned a blind eye to what we did. Some of them were even our best-paying customers.

Gale grabbed my hand just before we reached the fence. "Wait," he murmured. He picked up a small chestnut and threw it at the fence.

There was a loud zap, and the smell of smoke reached us before the charred remains of the chestnut hit the ground. I hadn't even heard the slight buzz of the electrical current; if Gale hadn't stopped me, I'd be dead.

"How long before the power goes out?" I asked.

"Couldn't say," Gale said, sitting at the base of a tree. Obviously, he didn't expect us to get back in any time soon.

I looked up at the sky. The deadline to sign up for medicine was at noon, and the sun was nearly directly above us. Why hadn't I signed up before I went out this morning?

"Katniss, your name will only be in there once. Think of the upper class infected. I bet Madge's parents have paid the Capitol enough to have her name entered at least 50 times," Gale said. Just as you could withdraw your name, you could enter it more times for an extremely exorbitant price. "You won't be picked."

I took a deep breath. Most people in District 12 opted for the medicine. Some people swore it made them feel better. More often than not, it had unpleasant side effects, ranging from mental degeneration to blindness, even death.

But to most people, the medicine was a better chance than the Capitol's doctors. District 12 hadn't had a survivor in nearly 25 years. His name was Haymitch Abernathy. He was the town drunk, and he'd be the mentor to the boy and girl picked in today's reaping.

I pitied whoever got stuck with him.

Having nothing better to do, I sat next to Gale. We didn't say anything, the silence broken only when Gale would occasionally throw another nut at the fence. A few hours had to have passed by before the hum of the current finally ceased.

Cautiously, Gale threw another nut at the fence. When nothing happened to it, he nodded. I took off for the fence, carelessly crawling under it. The wire poked at my back, but I didn't care. Until I knew I was too late to get medicine, I wasn't going to slow down.

A stage had already been set up in our town square for the reaping later today, but to the left, there was a small table. That was what I was interested in.

Every year, the names of all the infected from the ages of 12 to 18 were written on two large pieces of paper in neat, organized columns. When a person waived their right to become a tribute, their name was crossed off the list. At noon, all of the names left uncrossed were written on small slips of paper and put into two glass balls – one for males, the other for females.

Entries were cumulative, which meant if I hadn't pulled my name out each year, my name would be written five times. And like Gale had pointed out, the rich families paid to have their children's names entered more.

If it was too late to enter, I would only be one poor girl among hundreds of others. The odds were too slim for my name to be picked.

However, I would rather have no chance than a slim one.

"Excuse me," I said to the two women sitting at the table. They'd already begun writing names on small pieces of paper – a sign that I was too late. "Is it...can I…?" I was out of breath from my run here and unsure how to ask what I was nearly certain I knew the answer to.

"The drawing isn't until 5:00, sweetheart. You'll have to come back then," one of the old women said to me, smiling.

"You mean it's too late to sign up for the medicine?" I asked, looking at the pieces of paper behind them. All I could see were solid lines of black, an occasional spot of white sporadically appearing. My stomach dropped.

"It's nearly 3:00, darling," the other said, flashing a gap-toothed smile.

I could have reached over the table and slapped the smile right off her face, but something held me back. Instead, I turned around and slowly walked back to Gale, who was just entering the Seam, our meager game already sold off.

"I was too late," I told him, keeping my tone neutral.

"I knew you'd be. Good luck, Katniss," he said, brushing past me.

I wasn't sure what he meant by that.

That was when I realized he'd never told me what he would do.

Notes: First Hunger Games story! Yays! Obviously, I'm new here, lovelies. Reviews are love and inspiration. If I'm inspired, the next chapter should be a good deal longer.
So how about a random fact? In this story, the Games are still called the Hunger Games after the scientist who invented the disease – Xerxes Hunger.