Chapter Four
"Right, listen up because this is very important."
Twenty-four pairs of eyes were focused on Hippolyta, the powerfully built woman who was in charge of training the tributes in preparation for the Games. Over the next few days, they would be taught a variety of skills which, while they could not guarantee a tribute's survival, would give each of the assembled youngsters at least a slight chance once they got to the arena. Of course, for tributes like Kris and Lorna who were unlucky enough to be born in District 12, that chance was very slight indeed.
"Some of you . . ." Here, Hippolyta looked meaningfully at the six Careers, who were already eyeing the weapons that had been provided for training purposes. " . . . may think you've been trained enough already." It was no secret in the Capitol that tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 were often trained in the use of weapons before they arrived at the Training Centre; in fact, this particular piece of rule-breaking was actively encouraged, though not for the other nine districts. "However, there are other skills which will also help you to survive in the arena and these should not be neglected. Remember, even the most skilled fighters can die of starvation if they do not know how to find food."
"Throughout this gym, there are experts in various skills you will find useful during the Games. Some will teach you how to handle weapons, others how to trap game, light a fire, recognise which plants and fungi are safe to eat . . . and so on. You are free to visit the stations in any order you wish, but I recommend that you follow the advice of your mentors in deciding which stations to visit. And let me make one thing absolutely clear - any fighting between tributes must be saved for the arena. If you wish to practise with a partner, you should ask one of the assistants."
Hippolyta reeled off a list of all the training stations and the skills which could be learned there, then dismissed the tributes. Within minutes, the Careers were at the various weapons-training stations and Gaius was thrusting a sword into the belly of one of the dummies which had been set up for target practice less than five minutes after that.
"So, where shall we start?" asked Lukas.
Ruth looked round at the other tributes, now dispersed among the various stations. Jet and Gaius, the male tributes from Districts 1 and 2, were at the station where tributes were taught how to handle a sword; their female counterparts, Xanadu and Juno, were doing a spot of target practice over at the archery station. And Marina and Shaun from District 4 were showing off their spear-handling skills. However, the only other tributes who had even gone near any weapons were Pine and Forrest, who were at the axe-throwing station; as Ruth watched, Pine hefted an axe above her head and hurled it at a nearby target, hitting it dead centre. No doubt, coming from District 7, she and Forrest had been taught how to handle axes from an early age. Everyone else, however, either hung back uncertainly or had gravitated towards the survival skills stations.
"Which is the nearest station?" she asked in reply to Lukas's question. Ethan and Thalia had give them no specific instructions about training, but she thought that, since she and Lukas were going to be allies in the arena, they might as well start by both visiting the same station.
The nearest station turned out to be the fire-making station. The instructor, a young woman named Julia, had set up several small campfires for practice purposes and was already instructing Till, the girl tribute from District 11, when Lukas and Ruth joined the session. "Knowing how to light a fire can mean the difference between life and death in the arena," Julia was saying. "Fire can provide warmth and may be used to cook any game you may have caught. However, its benefits must be weighed against the risk of attracting attention from other tributes. So, if you light a fire while in the arena, make sure the smoke cannot be seen."
Julia then ran through the various methods which could be used to start a fire. Matches were available at the Cornucopia, the giant golden horn which was piled with weapons and supplies at the start of the Games, but it was useful to know other fire-lighting methods in case you either didn't manage to obtain a supply of matches or your matches ran out. Next, she had the three tributes practise lighting a fire using tinder and flint, which involved one of them holding a piece of flint and a piece of steel against some dried tinder and striking them together to produce a spark. The trick was getting the spark to land on the tinder; if you succeeded, the others had to blow on it to get the fire going. Ruth soon found that this was not as easy as it looked, but she persevered, knowing that it would be vital to know this stuff once she was in the arena. Of course, there were no guarantees that she would even survive the bloodbath.
Once Ruth, Lukas and Till had practised starting fires as a team, Julia had each of them practise on their own. Tributes had to learn to be completely self-sufficient in the arena, since the very nature of the Hunger Games meant they could never entirely rely on anyone except themselves. While alliances were common at the beginning of the Games, they were invariably short-lived and often ended with the deaths of one or more of the tributes involved. Alternatively, former allies might elect to go their separate ways, rather than risk finding themselves in the impossible position of deciding which of them should be the last tribute to die and which of them should claim victory.
When they had had enough of making fires, Lukas and Ruth headed for the edible plants station, while Till went to practise tying knots, along with Marc from District 8 and her own district partner, Harvey. They would save their first visit to a weapons-training station for the afternoon session.
A little before one o'clock, the tributes were allowed to break for lunch and filed into the communal dining room. It was, Ruth noted, similar to the cafeteria at her school, but with one startling difference; almost everyone was sitting on their own. Even those who were sharing a table tended to sit as far apart as possible and acted as though the other person did not exist. The only exceptions to this rule were the Careers, who had commandeered one of the tables - Gaius, taking advantage of the fact that no adults were looking, had unceremoniously turfed twelve-year-old Max out of his seat - and were gathered noisily around it. As Ruth walked past, she heard a little of the Careers' conversation.
"Of course, I had to volunteer when that kid got reaped," Xanadu was saying. "But I didn't do it for her - I did it for the Keller family name. After all, my father . . ." She broke off as she noticed Ruth standing nearby. "What are you looking at?"
As one, the Careers turned to look at Ruth, who found herself staring into the faces of the six toughest tributes in the Training Centre. Already, she sensed, they were looking forward to cornering her in the arena, just as their counterparts from twenty-one years ago had cornered Blossom. Career tributes, Ruth knew from years of watching the Hunger Games, tended to be arrogant bullies, especially the ones from District 2. They thought they were somehow better than the other tributes because their districts enjoyed certain privileges the other districts did not. Such as the head start their kids received when it came to training for the Games . . .
The tableau held for several seconds before Juno, a dark-haired eighteen-year-old who also happened to be the oldest of this year's tributes, broke the silence. "Don't they teach you manners where you come from?"
"Obviously not," said Jet, before Ruth could speak. He had the blond hair and green eyes typical of District 1 and might have been considered handsome had he not worn a constant arrogant sneer. "You know," he added, addressing his fellow Careers, "I don't think they should let trash like those two from 12 into these Games." He gestured contemptuously at a nearby table, where Kris sat struggling with his cutlery. "Look at him! Doesn't even know how to use a knife and fork!"
Of course, Jet had no more say in who was and who wasn't entered in the reaping than the rest of the tributes. Everyone in the districts who was between the ages of twelve and eighteen was entered, excluding those who had been victors in previous Hunger Games. That was how it had been for the past forty-four years.
Ruth joined Lukas at a table which was as far from the Careers' table as possible and sat down opposite him. They began eating in silence, not knowing what to talk about. Their families? Home? No, that would only remind them of the things they had been forced to leave behind. And, with their immediate future consisting of a fight to the death against more than twenty other youngsters, they couldn't discuss any long term plans either. Finally, more as an excuse to give herself something to say than anything else, Ruth mentioned what Xanadu had said about her father.
"What did she mean by that?" she asked. "And another thing - I'm sure I've heard the name Keller somewhere before. And I'm sure it had some connection to the Games. But what?"
Lukas shrugged. "I don't know," he said through a mouthful of sweetcorn. "Maybe you could ask Ethan. He's been involved with the Games almost since they started - perhaps he knows something."
"Perhaps," agreed Ruth. She thought back to when she and Lukas had watched the recap of the reapings, recalling how Xanadu had practically run forward to volunteer. And, it seemed, she had not done so out of concern for Sequin, the twelve-year-old whose name had originally been drawn, but for the sake of her family's name. Just who were the Kellers and what did they have to do with the Hunger Games? She could not recall any tributes with that surname appearing in previous Games, but maybe before she was born . . .
Ruth tried to put thoughts of Xanadu's family out of her mind as the tributes trooped back to the gym for the afternoon session. This time, she and Lukas agreed, they would focus on weapons training and, with that in mind, they headed for the sword-fighting station. As with their fire-making lesson this morning, they found themselves sharing the session with Till, a dark-skinned girl of medium height who wore her black hair in multiple braids and had a very open and friendly nature. Despite herself, despite knowing that there was a strong possibility that one of them might soon have to kill the other, Ruth found herself drawn to Till and, by the end of their first sword-fighting lesson, she and Lukas had picked up another ally.
Over the next couple of days, Till regularly joined Lukas and Ruth at various stations. Like Ruth, she was fifteen years old and had an older sister, whose name was Arabelle, back home. "I did have a brother," she explained while she and Ruth were practising spear-throwing on the third day. "Ferdy. But he disturbed a tracker jacker nest . . ."
She did not need to elaborate. Everyone in Panem knew what tracker jackers were - muttations, genetically engineered wasps with stings that were so toxic that being stung by more than a handful of the insects was almost invariably fatal; some victims were killed instantly. And the toxin also contained a powerful hallucinogen which had been known to drive those who managed to survive being stung mad. The Capitol had bred them during the rebellion to use as a weapon against the districts; afterwards, several nests had been left in various locations, including the orchards of District 11. Those working in the orchards carried herbs which could be used to heal anyone who got stung, but there was nothing anyone could do for someone who was set upon by a whole swarm of tracker jackers. And that was what had happened to Ferdy.
"I'm sorry," Ruth told Till. But some of her sorrow was directed at Till's parents, even though she had never met them. They had already lost their only son and now it looked as though they might lose one of their daughters as well, both to things created by the Capitol. "Have you decided what you're going to do for your private session?" she asked, trying to change the subject.
"Yes," replied Till. She did not say anything else, not that Ruth had expected her to. On the afternoon of the third training day, each tribute was given fifteen minutes alone with the Gamemakers to show off their skills. The Gamemakers would then award a mark out of twelve which could be used to give those betting on the Games an idea of a tribute's potential, though tributes who scored highly did not always go on to win. Thalia, for example, had only scored a four, whereas the boy who had been District 9's male tribute at her Games had fallen in the bloodbath, even though he had received a ten. But, regardless of a tribute's score, what they did to earn it was strictly confidential, known only to the Gamemakers and the tribute and his or her entourage.
The private sessions were the only occasion in the Games where the male tribute from each district preceded the female. Therefore, it was Jet (and not Xanadu) who was the first to be called out of lunch and told to report to the gym. After a quarter of an hour had passed, Xanadu was summoned for her session, followed by Gaius, then Juno, then Watt . . . Gradually, the dining room began to empty until only eight tributes remained, including Lukas and Ruth.
Ruth looked round at the remaining tributes, trying to gauge how they were feeling. Bessie and Todd were debating whether they should try for a high score and risk being seen as competition or aim lower in the hope that their scores would be so mediocre they wouldn't attract as much attention. Till looked quietly confident, while Harvey, a rather quiet boy with the same dark skin as his partner, sat looking down at his hands. Finally, Lorna was biting her nails and Kris was pacing the floor, the anxiety for both District 12 tributes made worse by the fact that they would have to wait until all the other tributes had been seen.
Lukas's name was called and, as he got up to leave, Ruth took hold of his hand. "Good luck," she whispered.
"You too." And, with that, Lukas headed for his private session, leaving Ruth to wait until her name was called. The next fifteen minutes felt like the longest of Ruth's life; it was as though the Capitol had done something to slow time down, make each second drag on longer than usual. But she reminded herself that even President Snow could not control time. He might have absolute power over every man, woman and child in Panem, but no-one had the ability to make time go faster or slower. No, time only appeared to be dragging because she had nothing to do except think about what lay ahead. She would have attempted to talk to Till, but she was forbidden to speak to a tribute from another district immediately before her private session.
Presently, however, she heard the words she had been waiting for:
"Ruth Waterhouse, report to the gym."
Ruth stepped through the doors of the gym to find the Gamemakers assembled there. Dressed in distinctive purple robes, they had been observing the training sessions from the beginning and it was these men and women she must try to impress. She had spent the last three days thinking about what she was going to do for her private session, which skill she was going to demonstrate. In the end, she had decided on sword-fighting, recalling how the instructor had told her she showed an aptitude for it. All right, maybe she wasn't quite in the same league as Jet or Gaius, but she had learned enough to be able to wield a sword in combat.
She moved towards the sword-fighting station and studied the rack which contained swords of every description. She immediately dismissed the huge, impressive greatswords which required two hands to wield, knowing she did not have the strength to lift them, never mind fight with them. Instead, she selected a smaller blade, one which could be wielded with one hand, and walked back to where the Gamemakers were assembled.
"Please show us what you can do," said the Head Gamemaker, a woman named Marcia Hunt, settling back to watch the demonstration. Just as she had done on seventeen previous occasions today . . .
Ruth started by demonstrating a few basic movements, ones she had learned in her first sword-fighting lesson. Standing with her feet apart, she raised the sword above her head, then swept it downwards in an arc, before pretending to stab an imaginary opponent. Next, she went to the edible plants station and fetched a large root, placing it on a nearby vaulting horse and sweeping her blade down to slice the root cleanly in two. Several Gamemakers nodded approval; no doubt a Career could do much better, but Ruth was doing well for someone who had only recently learned how to handle a sword. After that, Ruth turned her attention to the dummies, decapitating one and thrusting the point of her sword into the belly of another, just as she had seen Gaius do on the first day of training.
Ruth's mind was entirely focused on the demonstration; she gave no thought to the other twenty-three tributes in the Training Centre. Had she done so, she might have had a few qualms about the fact that the next time she did this might be for real, that she might soon be killing another human being. But the only thing on her mind right now was giving a good account of herself to the Gamemakers.
Presently, Marcia told her she could go and she returned the sword to the rack, before walking out of the gym without looking back.
The training scores were announced on television that evening in a programme which, along with everything else to do with the current year's Hunger Games, was mandatory viewing for the whole of Panem. This meant that every single television set in the country was turned on, even in District 12, where the electricity supply was notoriously unreliable, though not during mandatory broadcasts. In fact, the only time most people watched television was when a mandatory programme was being shown, which was not limited to the Hunger Games; important government announcements also fell into this category, as did major events, such as the funeral (at the end of the previous year) of Snow's predecessor, President Kemp. Mostly, however, Panem's single, Capitol-backed television station broadcast a constant stream of propaganda, including footage showing the ruins of District 13, and repeat showings of previous Hunger Games.
Ruth, Lukas and their entourage, including Lucretia and Poppaea, who had (along with the other stylists) arrived at the Training Centre that afternoon, were assembled in front of the screen. The anthem played and the Capitol seal appeared as the broadcast began. As no cameras were allowed inside the Training Centre while training was taking place, the photographs of the tributes which had been taken before they left their home districts were flashed up onscreen, along with a number to indicate each tribute's score.
As usual, the Careers all scored highly; Jet received a ten, while Xanadu, Gaius, Juno and Marina each scored a nine and Shaun achieved an eight. In theory, a tribute could get up to twelve points, but, in more than forty years, no-one had ever achieved a score higher than ten. Most of the others scored somewhere in the region of four to six points, though Freda from District 3 and Pine from District 7 each managed an eight. Then came the scores for District 9. Ruth watched as Lukas's picture was flashed up, along with a score of seven, followed moments later by her own picture and an eight.
"Well done," Ethan said gruffly. "Seven and eight - that's pretty good." Not that the training scores guaranteed the outcome of the Games; he remembered the four Thalia had received, the second lowest score that year, and how she had gone on to win, albeit at the cost of her left eye. Ever since then, she had worn a patch over the empty socket, having rejected an offer by a Capitol surgeon to construct an artificial replacement for her missing eye.
Ruth paid no attention to the remaining six scores, except to note that Till had received a nine, the only non-Career to score more than eight points. Finally, with Lorna's score of five, the broadcast ended and Septima, who was nearest the television, reached out to switch the set off. "And don't forget," she said, as Ruth and Lukas headed off to bed. "You'll be practising for your interviews all day tomorrow."
