Episode 2: Simulation Training
2:1 The Oval Arena
We are briefed about today's simulation. We can refuse to participate, but all the tributes are present for the briefing. Everyone else is told to leave the room. Cato has time to give me a quick thumbs up signal before he and the other mentors are escorted out of the room.
"Listen carefully," begins the Gamemaker. "Today the male and female tribute from each district will fight as a pair. Take good care of your partner … if they die in the arena you will be hauling their dead body around with you until a victor emerges. As I said earlier, once you are inside the simulation you will be in the body of the person you were when you last entered a Hunger Games arena. For some of you that will be a minor change … for others a major one. Although you won't really die in this simulation, I advise against reckless bravado … your skills and methods will be watched and be part of your final score."
There is no further guidance given to us and we are instructed to stand inside one of twenty four large transparent cylinders at the far end of the room. The cylinders are laid out in three rings around a raised central podium on which stands a strange looking chair. The rings contain six, eight and ten cylinders respectively. Each cylinder is about three metres high and a metre in diameter. I choose one of the six cylinders in the inner ring, while Haymitch goes for one in the outer ring. Once we are all inside our respective cylinder, the doors lock. Two men and two women then enter the room and walk to the central podium. I recognise the two women as Ariadne and Sarah. The men I don't recognise, although their bearing suggests military men.
Ariadne is looking fearful and is already wearing the heavy collar Cato saw yesterday. The men guide Ariadne to the chair and tinker with the back of her collar. Then everything around me changes. I'm no longer in the training room. I'm in a large stone corridor with the other tributes. The smell is awful and the floor seems to be stained with blood. That and the sound of people cheering above makes me think we are in an underground entrance passage to an old fashioned arena. An arena which pre-dates the modern arenas of the Hunger Games. If I'm right, then this one will be a circular or oval shaped compound in which contestants will slug it out with swords and other weapons until only one remains. Not very pretty. An arena which blatantly favours the strongest and most brutal.
I look at the other tributes and it takes several of them a while to adjust to their younger forms. Fortunately Cato and I had watched the recordings of each tribute's victory as part of our preparations for these Games. I can therefore recognise most of the tributes, although I'm not certain who is who among the rest. Haymitch looks a lot nicer in his younger form, although I suspect his attitude will be the modern day Haymitch's grumpy self.
Haymitch and I are tethered together by a two metre long chain attached to a steel cuff on our left wrists. I don't know if it is because I've been shackled so many times over the last year, but it takes me a few moments to realise it.
"Select your weapons from over there and prepare to enter the arena," calls a gruff voice I don't recognise. "You have one minute. As soon as you enter the arena be prepared to defend yourself. Last pair standing … or the surviving partner … wins."
Haymitch and I are fifth in line to choose a weapon. I've no idea which weapon to choose and I'm not proficient with any of them. Haymitch selects a spear. I settle for a light weight curved sword. As soon as we are armed another man comes over and straps a small wooden shield onto our left arms.
"Hey! I'm left handed," calls one of the tributes.
"You were," the man replies. The tribute unstraps his shield and discards it.
"When do we get our clothes," I ask, realising I'm practically naked.
"You're wearing them," replies the man.
All too soon the minute is up. Brutus and Enobaria from District Two are the first to enter the arena. They are quickly followed by the pair from District Ten, and then Gloss and Cashmere from District One. There's a delay before the next pair enter due to the chain tethering two pairs of contestants becoming tangled. The four of them are pushed into the arena still trying to untangle themselves. It's a fatal mistake for which three of them pay an instant and final penalty.
Haymitch and I enter the arena in ninth position. It's a bloodbath. Half of those who have already entered are down. Those who entered early have taken the best positions … but not without cost. I can only see two pairs with both partners uninjured. Unsurprisingly they are the pairs from District One and District Two.
We run into the oval shaped arena. Fortunately no one attacks us as we enter. Haymitch guides me to the left, along the wall. Behind us, Finnick and his partner Mags do the same along the right wall. The walls are four metres high and made of large blocks of stone. Above the wall is a huge audience cheering and baying for blood.
"Beetee and Wiress are in trouble over there," I say. "Come on."
"Wait, sweetheart," replies Haymitch pulling me back by the chain tethering us.
From an older Haymitch, being called 'sweetheart' is irritating but otherwise harmlessly quaint. From a younger Haymitch it simply sounds insolent and rude. But now isn't the time to make an issue of it.
"What is it, Haymitch?" I ask.
"Once we step into the centre we will have to look in all directions for an attack. You watch the right side and behind us and I'll watch left and front."
I nod in agreement and we work our way towards Wiress and the injured Beetee. Wiress is wafting a short sword at their assailant who easily parries her swings. However the assailant is handicapped by his partner, who is literally a dead weight on the end of his chain. He sees Haymitch and I approaching and changes his tactics.
To be honest I'm sick to the bottom of my stomach by the time we are down to the last eight. The crowd hasn't stopped yelling and screaming and it is really annoying me. Haymitch has suffered a bad wound and it takes all his energy not to drag against my movements. Our efforts to save Beetee and Wiress were in vain. The best we could manage was vengeance for their deaths. I'm exhausted. We must have been fighting non-stop for nearly half an hour. Brutus and Enobaria are the only pair with two uninjured people. Finnick and Mags are like us, with Mags in a bad way. Johanna from District Seven and Gloss are each fighting on alone after their respective partner has been killed. It looks like victory will go to District Two.
"Can you see the black cat?" I ask Haymitch.
"Huh? What black cat? I think you are hallucinating, sweetheart."
I'm not hallucinating. I'm just making sure the black cat which has just walked into the arena is only visible to me. What help the cat can provide remains to be seen.
"Can we end this now?" I silently send to the black cat. I'm feeling really tired and sick of the bloodshed.
Woosh! The arena disappears and I'm standing inside my cylinder. At first I think I've suffered a fatal blow from an unseen assailant. But the other eight tributes who are still in a cylinder … those still alive in the arena … are equally surprised. I look towards Ariadne. She looks tired, but for the first time since I arrived here, I see her give a sly smile. The two men beside her are frantically looking at their portable monitors, obviously trying to work out what has caused a malfunction with the simulation.
Perhaps all is not lost.
