Several hours later, the Games begin.
In the meantime, I occupied myself with tidying the rooms. Effie and Haymitch will continue to stay here during the duration of the Hunger Games, but will often be gone talking to potential sponsors.
But now, with nothing to do, I sit on my bed, my whole body tense as I stare at the screen on the wall. The capitol symbol lit up a few moments ago, followed by a short introduction. But there will not be a lot of talking on this broadcast. Everyone is eager for the Games to begin - whether with excitement or dread.
The sixty second countdown begins, the number of seconds showing in the corner of the screen. I feel my heart pounding, which is probably ridiculous - I'm not in any danger. But as the camera pans around to show the tributes on their pedestals, I see Gale's stony expression and Madge's shaking hands, and I fear for them.
The gong goes off, and the view on the television switches between cameras to show many different angles of the suddenly chaotic scene. Many tributes rush towards the Cornucopia in the middle of the starting area, where all of the supplies lay scattered around it, but others run immediately toward the woods. I remember overhearing Haymitch say something to the tributes about this at a meal once: It's not necessarily a good idea to go right into the bloodbath. If you want my honest advice, it's safer to run in the other direction.
I struggle to pick out Madge and Gale among the rushing images. The cameras focus on the Cornucopia, where the action is beginning - those that were the first to reach the weapons and supplies begin to use them or try to run away. A commentator is talking over the footage, but I'm barely listening until I see Gale's body run across the screen.
"It looks like Gale Hawthorne from District Twelve is making his way to the Cornucopia" the man on the screen comments. "He's decided, like many others, that the weapons and supplies are worth the risk."
The image switches to one of a large Career boy stabbing a long knife into the chest of a dark-haired girl who holds a backpack in one of her hands. A cannon sounds - the first death - and her body crumples to the ground, eyes still open in shock and fear. "Looks like we have our first death," the commentator says in a neutral voice. "I believe that's Viola Travis, District Nine. Alas, one tribute's journey ends, but it's a step closer to victory for whoever the winner will be."
The camera switches to the boy who stabbed her - he's the blond one from Two, the one I remember Gale complaining about. He doesn't even look at the body of the girl he just killed, but looks out at the scene around him, looking for someone else to attack. "And this Cato from District Two seems promising indeed. He's certainly shown his ability and willingness to take out his competitors."
The Hunger Games has always seemed barbaric and disturbing to me, but I can already tell that this particular Games is going to impact me more than usual. I find tears pushing at my eyes. That dead girl could have been Madge.
Finally, the camera switches back to a wider angle, and in the middle of the screen I can see Gale again. He's right up on the Cornucopia, and I wonder what would have possessed him to go in so far - he's strong, but he must know how easily he could die - when I see what's shining in his hands. It's a silver bow. Possibly his ticket to winning.
But he's not the only one who wants it. He's grappling over it with a blond girl who I recognize as one of the Career tributes. In the corner of the screen I see another body fall, and more cannons go off, but I am only watching Gale and the Career girl.
Eventually he's able to wrest it away from her and land a blow to her face with his elbow. It gives him enough time to grab the sheath of arrows, stand up, and run away from the Cornucopia. On his way, he bends to pick up a dark blue backpack, and I can see it before it happens: the small dark-haired Career girl from Two with a knife in her hand, bending her arm back to throw it -
Gale stands up to run just in time to avoid the knife piercing his skull, but it makes contact with his leg, and sticks. I watch as he stumbles - the commentator notices it too, and wonders aloud if the promising Twelve tribute will be taken out so early - but he quickly recovers and runs toward the treeline. The tribute girl sends another knife flying his way, but it sails past him, and then I watch as she turns to deal with another opponent.
On the wide shot of the starting area of the arena, all I can see now are the bodies. There are at least half a dozen of them that I can see scattered around the Cornucopia, covered in blood. Now that I can't see Gale or Madge, I bury my face in my hands. They're just kids, I think, the images of their broken bodies stuck in my mind. And so are the people who killed them.
By now, the big beginning clash has begun to die down. There are five or six Career tributes grouped around the Cornucopia, probably having formed an alliance with each other. I've seen it before in many Games - they work together to take out the competition, then turn on each other. There's no one else around the Cornucopia anymore, except for the bodies of the tributes they've killed.
The screen splits into four smaller ones, each showing a different area of the arena, focusing on different tributes. One stays focused on the Cornucopia, where the group of Careers stand around talking to each other, occasionally looking around them for potential enemies, of which there are none, or picking through the supplies that are left around them. Everyone else has fled the starting area to look for a safe place elsewhere in the arena.
The other three small screens flick between footage of various tributes, most of whom are alone and running. I'm about to take a break to get food from the kitchen, bored, when I see a familiar blond braid in one of the shots. She's jogging, with no supplies on her, but no apparent injuries, either. The screen switches to focus on a different, red-headed girl before I can get a very good look, but it's enough for me. It was her. Madge is alive. Gale is alive, but injured. They've both made it through the first, most dangerous few minutes.
With Haymitch and Effie still gone and no one to serve, I spend most of the day keeping tabs on the Hunger Games. There are mandatory summary shows in the evenings, but there is live footage being shown all day. Normally, back home, I would watch as little as possible, wanting to keep the violent images out of my mind, but now I keep my eyes glued to the screen, hoping for any image of Gale or Madge.
For the most part, I am disappointed - with so many tributes to focus on, the cameras constantly move between images and only stay on each tribute for a few minutes at a time. Most of the tributes spend a large part of the day running or walking, looking for a safe spot to take shelter.
Finally, I catch a glimpse of a limping Gale, the silver bow and arrows slung over his shoulder along with a backpack. He must have made it a long way by now, and the adrenaline has worn away to pain from his wound. As the camera zooms out a little, I realize with a shock that the knife is still in his leg. He stops walking and leans against a tree, leaning around his own body to try to get a better look at the wound on the back of his leg. Even as he does this, he keeps glancing around, watching and listening for any potential threats. I remember that he used to hunt animals in his home village; he must have been good at it.
He takes the backpack from his shoulder and digs through it. The commentator calls off the supplies he can identify: "It looks like Gale has gotten his hands on a decent pack. Hmm, let's see - that looks like food of some kind, and a water bottle, an extra jacket-" The commentator stops as Gale takes the bottle and the jacket out, apparently not concerned with looking through the rest of his supplies.
Usually the camera would have switched by now, but the fact that Gale is trying to deal with his wound is probably interesting to the Gamemakers or whoever else decides who gets screen time.
He opens the water bottle to check for water - and surprisingly, it's full. Often, the Gamemakers leave the tributes only with empty ones, but perhaps since he found the pack so close to the Cornucopia, there were better supplies in it. But when he raises it to his mouth to drink, he makes a face after the first swallow, then stops to look at it more closely. Clearly, it's not water.
Suddenly I'm worried - would the Gamemakers really have poisoned a tribute this early in the Games?
I don't know how the microphones pick up his quiet voice mumbling to himself, but I hear him say, "Alcohol. Why-?" He shakes his head and actually laughs, and I feel my own body relax. Gale is probably thinking what I am - Haymitch would get a kick out of this.
But then he looks down at his leg, then back at the water bottle, and something clicks in his head before I realize it. With his free hand, he unceremoniously pulls the knife out of his leg, stifling a cry of pain, and then pours a small amount of the alcohol over the wound, right through the rip it made in his pants. He throws his head back, eyes closed and teeth gritted, but manages not to make any loud noises that would alert nearby tributes.
He doesn't really have time to sit and care for the wound much more. He takes the knife that was in his leg, wipes the blood off the blade onto his pants, then uses it to cut a strip of fabric from the bottom of the extra jacket. He ties the fabric tightly around the wound on his leg, and, satisfied, shoves all of his supplies back into the backpack, except for the knife, which he sticks into his belt.
"Looks like he's made it for now," the commentator says before they switch the camera. "He was clever to recognize and use the alcohol, and to keep the rest of it instead of dumping it. Many tributes die of natural causes in the arena, including wound infection."
Just before they move on from Gale, I watch as he looks around and makes a four-toned whistling noise. It's risky, I think, but I suppose other tributes could think the noise came from a bird. I can't tell what he's trying to do, but apparently he hasn't found whatever he's looking for, because he starts walking again.
The screen changes to show a girl who had fallen from a tree she was trying to climb. She appears to have injured or possibly even broken her foot. It's clearly not Madge, but I still feel my stomach turn as the commentator says, lightly, "Poor thing, she won't make it far now. This just goes to show the importance of training for the tributes - those who didn't learn to climb in their home districts find it harder than they expected once in the arena."
I lean back against my bed, thinking about how long of a day it has felt like already, and it is not even over. Not that the tributes are guaranteed restful nights, either - the next couple of weeks until a Victor is crowned will be exhausting for them.