I stood in my circle, listening to the countdown start from sixty. Nothing was keeping me in this ring except The Capitol's threat that my father would be punished if I left prematurely. I don't have proof, but I'm sure similar threats were given to the other competitors. I wonder what was being used against those with no one left though. I scan the faces around me and see the same apprehension that must be showing on my face. None of us has anything to gain from playing their game the way they want us to, so in the little time we had together, we all agreed not to fight. Still the distrust is plain to see on everyone's faces, we won't know if anyone is participating until after they cause some damage.
Standing directly to my left is Goby, if things do go south my first priority will be to get her out of here, supplies be damned. I want to talk to her, to reassure her, but we aren't supposed to talk until we leave our circles. Still I try my best to give her a smile. It feels weak and faltering on my face, but it does catch her attention and she smiles back much more convincingly. She deeply believes that we will be able to all work together through this, even if most of us will die. I wish I had her conviction.
To my right are the District 3 tributes. They are clearly pissed off, faces scowling, hate in their eyes. This hate grounds me, it makes me feel a bit better about this whole fucked up situation, because I know their hate is directed at the Capitol, and it's a hate that all of us can understand. I don't know their names, but I do know their faces. Their parents were about as highly ranked in the rebellion as you could get outside of the district 13 leadership. I wouldn't be surprised if the pair of them are the only surviving members of their family. They probably were slated for executions but got put in here instead.
Glancing through everyone else, I see that every district is represented except for the conspicuous absence of 13. The Capitol is nothing if not spiteful, however. They left a couple of empty circles in the spots between districts 12 and 1, just to remind us of how thoroughly they were destroyed. The reports that we've seen have declared District 13 to have a 100% mortality rate. Of course some survivors are probably still around, but it's not hard to believe that figure. In the face of overwhelming defeat, especially on such a genocidal level, the only reasonable response was to surrender. Those empty circles were put there just for us tributes, to remind us what happens when you don't play by the rules.
We have about thirty seconds left before we're let loose, and my attention shifts from the other competitors to the area around us. In the middle of our circle is an absurdly large pile of weapons as well as some food and what looks like camping equipment. If someone decides to bolt in, there's no chance that we can work through this peacefully. No supplies are close enough at hand for me to consider them worthwhile if someone does that, so I stop worrying about them. If our treaty goes sour, Goby and I will dart away from the circle. We can always get stuff later, it's not worth dying over.
Our little circle of tributes is situated in a bombed out city center. Clearly we're in one of the districts that had heavy fighting, the buildings are scorched and scarred by battle. Looking at the skyline doesn't tell me anything though, it's nowhere that I recognize. We could be anywhere, and surviving in an urban environment will be hard. I tell myself that it can't be too different from living on a boat, but I'm not very good at deluding myself. Goby and I will be screwed if we can't get some outside help here. Still, I put my efforts into finding an escape route, and see an alleyway that seems as good as I'll be able to do.
Ten seconds left and the adrenaline is killing me. I'm not panicked yet, but I begin to shake. I squeeze my eyes and my fists shut willing it to go away. It doesn't help much, but I know behaving erratically here and now could be extremely dangerous. I breathe in for five counts and out for five counts and open my eyes. I look up at everyone else and see no one has sprinted for the center. A good sign.
Holding my hands up in front of me I take a step forward, and see others are doing the same. No one is talking yet, but we all come forward until the circle is much smaller. There are sighs of relief, nervous smiles, and a visible relaxation showing all around the group. Hands are put down and whisperings begin. I reach out and squeeze Goby's hand, she whispers, "I told you so."
When it's apparent that no one is going to start a homicidal rampage, the siblings from District 3 step forward and raise their arms to the sky. Their presence demands to be felt, and a hush falls over the rest of us. I can't help but to think that with them leading us, things will turn out okay. I know it's a ridiculous and stupid thought, but hope swells in me anyway. The boy gestures at his sister, then begins sifting through the supplies, looking for something. The girl begins to give a speech, one that obviously was rehearsed previously, but didn't lose any of its power for it.
"We have already done the hardest thing for us to do. The Capitol set up these games to divide us and keep us from working together. But we stand united, just as we have in the past. As we stood with our parents in the rebellion. We have already made the statement that while they can force us to play in their games, we will not play by their rules and we will not be divided."
There was a clear power in her voice, her words here fiery and her passion contagious. Among us there were clear smiles and pride all around. We've done something good here. Unfortunately her speech isn't done, and while we are all behind her starting message, only a few would appreciate her next words.
"We are all going to die here, but it won't be on The Capitol's terms. We will die as rebels, as our parents and loved ones have died. Even under this surrender, we will never give up! My brother and I have decided that we have participated in this event for long enough, and now is the time to end it!"
Her brother had finished in his search and presently he reappeared at her side with a hunting knife from the store of weapons. He touched her hand gently to let her know that he was there. Then she turned to him and said, "I'm ready brother." He looked into her eyes for a moment and then gently kissed her forehead. Carefully, almost casually, he brought the knife to her neck and sliced deeply across it, a thick deep ribbon of red running down her front and pulsing with her heart.
We are all stunned, several tributes begin crying, and some make half-hearted motions to stop him, though we all know that it's too late. A small girl from district two goes to her knees and curls in on herself. A boy, about Goby's age, takes a few steps outside the circle and vomits until there is nothing left then continues to dry heave. The gurgling of blood, the retching of the boy, crying, and feet nervously scuffling on the ground serve as the background noise for the brother's continuation of his sister's speech.
"This is our last form of protest, any of you who truly value our cause must come forward in solidarity. If we all die now the impact will be greatest, and we will have the most chance of making this a one-time event for the Capital. We will be martyrs, and our people will eventually have victory!" He looks each of us in the eyes, imploring us to step forward to him, to death.
The emptiness after hearing this is heavy, the silence spreading and getting worse. No one wants to take action, and no one is willing to say anything. I wonder if he's just going to start walking around and killing us, while we just stand here, frozen into inaction. He waits patiently in the middle, continuing to turn and scan us, trying to make us feel guilt over our will to live. Finally another boy takes a half step forward. He isn't stepping forward as a martyr, but as another speaker. He isn't the largest from our group, but he is clearly one of the oldest, probably barely within the age limit that was set by the Capitol. He's tall and wiry, with short dirt colored hair and the eyes to match. He waits until he has the full attention of the boy in the center and then begins to address all of us. "I'm Ryan, from District 9, and I have something I'd like to say." He pauses, and when no protest is made, he continues, "I don't speak for everyone, but personally I would rather protest through continuing to cooperate and not kill each other." Now he hesitates, clearly there is more that he wants to say. Maybe he is just gathering his thoughts. Finally he continues, "Um, if we can just work together and survive for as long as possible, I think we will still help our cause, and it may even lead to less trouble for our families… Dying now just doesn't seem like the right choice." Again he trails off, clearly not used to giving speeches. We wait and watch him for a few moments to see if he has anything else to say. Feeling the eyes on him, he takes a careful and final step back into the line of the circle.
A flash of anger crosses the face of District 3's remaining tribute and he addresses us again, "If anyone left here agrees with my sister's and my cause, now is the time to step forward!" This time he glares at us, and to my surprise some people do step forward. A very young boy from District 8 is the first to approach, no one attempts to stop him. At this point the decision is his. District 3's tribute visibly relaxes seeing that he isn't alone in his conviction. He gives the boy a caring smile, and tells him that he made the right decision. Then he kills him in exactly the same way he executed his sister. A kiss and a slice, then his eyes scan for further volunteers.
A thin girl next to Ryan begins moving forward. He reaches out and grabs her, pleads with her. "Maise, you don't have to do this!" She shakes him off, and tears well up in his eyes. He doesn't make any further move to stop her. Restraining her would just lead to fighting, and the current peace was precarious. He has to let her go, or it will just lead to further needless deaths. He wants to reason with her, but no reasonable discussion will be possible until the boy from District 3 finishes his slaughter. I know what he's thinking, and feeling because it's what I would think and feel if Goby decided it was her turn to volunteer. It's painful to watch him as he's giving her up, and I begin to cry silently as well. Goby squeezes my hand and I don't feel as bad. At least she will stay with me.
The same reassurance, the same kiss, the same cut, the same result. He barely has time to finish the slice, when the next martyr comes forward. He's a short and pale kid from 12, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. So far the oldest looking volunteer. He meets his death quietly. His killer resumes looking at us, and time stretches. Minutes pass, feeling like hours. It's clear that no one else will step forward, and we're all on edge. He might do anything now, and we're all prepared to either run or fight. The tension is worse than the wait in the circles. Finally, mercifully, he addresses us.
"You're all making a mistake, but I won't force you. I hoped we would all go out united, but since that is clearly not going to happen, I'm going to give you some advice. What I've done is the only way we can really protest this thing. There is no making it out alive, and the only way we can control it is by choosing the time of our deaths. You may survive here for a time… but slowly you will all die and, when you do, it just plays into The Capitol's hands. All you do is show them that a united struggle is still futile in the face of their power. I hope that in time you'll realize this, and reconsider your current decisions."
When he finished his speech, he closed his eyes, brought the knife to his own throat and cut deeply.