Chapter Four

Astra and Dyson stepped off the elevator and entered the basement of the Training Centre, the whole of which was taken up by a vast gym. This was where they and their fellow tributes would spend the next three days learning the skills they would need to stand any chance of surviving the arena. Building a shelter. Making a fire. Identifying edible plants. And then there were the swords, spears, axes and other weapons, not to mention the life-size dummies that had been set up as targets. A grim reminder that the tributes were not just here to learn how to stay alive; they were here to be taught how to fight, to kill.

Of course, the tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 invariably arrived in the Capitol already knowing how to handle weapons, having been taught to do so from an early age. This year's Career tributes were no exception. Dyson could see Dazzle, Garnet, Bellona, Lupus, Salacia and Fathom eyeing the racks of weapons, though they refrained from picking any of them up. No doubt they, like himself and Astra, had been instructed not to touch anything until Atala, the head trainer, had briefed the tributes on the various stations and the skills they could learn there.

In the meantime, Dyson looked round at his fellow tributes. So far, apart from the Careers, Astra and himself, only one other pair was present. Synthia and Digit from District 3 were standing close together, though neither was looking at the other, which led him to suspect they had not formed an alliance. Or was their apparent indifference to each other part of some strategy they and their mentors had come up with? Either way, Synthia and Digit didn't look like much of a threat, though it never paid to underestimate your opponents when it came to the Hunger Games. District 3 tributes might be weak when it came to physical combat, but give them a few components and they were capable of devising some pretty lethal weapons. Indeed, all four of District 3's past victors had won by exploiting their knowledge of technology, though 3 had not produced a victor since a girl named Wiress had taken the crown twenty years earlier.

The room gradually filled up. Tallulah and Randall from District 10 emerged from the elevator shortly after Astra and Dyson, followed by Lara and Xylon from 7, Stoke and Cormac from 12, Valerie and Glean from 9 . . . By five minutes to ten, all twenty-four tributes were present, standing in a semi-circle, waiting for Atala to begin her briefing. In the meantime, the Careers chatted among themselves as though they were old friends, even though they would eventually be forced to turn on each other, to kill those who had once been their allies. For, in the Hunger Games, there could only ever be one winner.


At exactly ten o'clock, Atala stepped forward from where she had been standing with two other trainers and looked round at the tributes assembled before her. "I want you all to pay close attention," she told them. "Because what I'm about to say could well determine which one of you gets out of the arena alive."

And, with that, she launched into an explanation of the skills the tributes could learn at each of the stations, skills ranging from wielding a sword to tying a knot. "Do not ignore survival skills," she told them. "Knowing how to handle weapons won't help you to find food and shelter. Remember, tributes have died from starvation and exposure before now." At this point, Dyson recalled how the Games which had taken place two years earlier had seen the tributes thrown into a freezing tundra - without any means of making fire. Of the sixteen tributes who survived that year's bloodbath, twelve had frozen to death, huddled up in a vain attempt to keep warm. This lack of violent deaths had not gone down well in the Capitol, so the Gamemakers had unleashed several polar bear mutts to liven things up; by then, however, the remaining tributes were too weak to fight back as the genetically engineered bears literally ate them alive. Eventually, the bears had killed all the tributes except the District 7 boy, Otis, who had been declared the victor by default, though he had been badly mauled by the bear which attacked him and would need to walk on crutches for the rest of his life. Needless to say, the Head Gamemaker responsible for those Games had been replaced immediately afterwards and no-one had heard from him since.

"And one more thing." Atala's words drew Dyson back to his immediate surroundings. "There is to be no fighting between tributes until you get to the arena." A rule which had been introduced following an incident which occurred in the run up to the Eighteenth Hunger Games, the eighth to include a period of training for the tributes. District 4's male tribute, a sixteen-year-old called Nemo, had gone on a rampage with a knife, killing the boy from District 3, both tributes from 6, the girls from 8 and 9 and the boy from 11. This was the only time since the Tenth Games, the last to take place in the Capitol Arena, that any tributes had died before the Games officially began; the Capitol had seen to that by forbidding the tributes to fight each other outside the arena. And they had also seen to it that Nemo didn't win by detonating the landmines around his plate at the Cornucopia (another feature that had first been introduced at the Eleventh Games) halfway through the sixty-second countdown. Officially, though, the mines had exploded due to a technical malfunction. As for Nemo's victims, the Capitol had concocted a story about them being killed trying to escape from the Training Centre, meaning security around the tributes would be stepped up from then on.

Fifty years on from Nemo's killing spree, Axle, this year's male tribute from District 6, spoke up from where he stood with his district partner, Monica. "What if you want to practise with an opponent?"

"Then you ask one of the assistants," Atala replied. She then recited a list of the various stations and the skills which could be learned there, before telling the tributes they were dismissed. The first day of training for the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games had begun.


"So which station are you going to do first?" Dyson asked Astra as they watched their fellow tributes disperse. The Careers made a beeline for the weapons stations and were soon handling the deadliest weapons in the Training Centre with the ease that came from years of practise. Indeed, it wasn't long before Salacia threw a trident, a popular weapon among tributes from District 4, with such force that it penetrated clean through the dummy she had targetted. Both Astra and Dyson shuddered at the thought that, in a few days' time, she could be doing the same thing to a fellow human being, possibly even one of them.

"I think . . . camouflage," Astra said, after giving the matter some thought. "Piper said I should mostly focus on survival skills. But I might have a go with the knives as well. That way, if anyone jumps me in the arena, at least I'll be able to defend myself." Not that a thirteen-year-old girl from District 5 would stand much chance against the Careers whether she was armed or not, but she tried not to think about that. "What are you going to do?"

In his mind, Dyson went over the talk Rik had given him at breakfast, the gist of which had been that he should avoid drawing attention to himself, that he should appear mediocre, especially in front of the Careers. "It'd be one thing if you were one of the powerhouses," Rik had said, taking a drink from his hip flask. "But you're just an average kid, so act like it and you won't be seen as a threat. And, that way, hopefully you won't get yourself eliminated early." Sound advice, Dyson thought to himself. Having watched the Hunger Games all his life, he knew there were two kinds of tribute that the Careers tended to target first: weaklings like Tallulah and non-Careers who challenged their status as the elite tributes in the Games. Which meant he should appear non-threatening but not weak if he wanted to have any chance of making it through the next few weeks.

With that in mind, he decided that he too should make one of the survival skills stations his first port of call. So, five minutes later, he was at the trapping station, watching as the instructor, a man named Achilles, showed him how to set a snare. Useful for catching your dinner, Achilles explained, using a stick to trigger the snare he'd set up by way of demonstration, but also useful for catching tributes if you scaled things up for human quarry. Indeed, a girl named Bianca who had been District 5's female tribute in the Forty-first Games, had turned a length of wire she'd found in her pack into a very effective garrotte, taking out four opponents by looping the wire round their necks, then pulling it tight until she had strangled them to death. Eventually, however, she had herself been taken out when the boy from District 2 put an axe through her skull. All the same, it was a good example of how an item intended for catching animals could be turned into a weapon against your fellow tributes.

Once Dyson had watched Achilles set the snare, he was allowed to try setting it for himself. It took him a couple of goes, but his third attempt earned him an approving nod from Achilles, letting him know he'd learned how to set a decent snare. Not bad for a kid from one of the more urban districts. Now he should be able to trap game in the arena - if he was able to obtain something he could use to set a snare at the Cornucopia and if he managed to survive the bloodbath. But setting snares was only one of the skills he would need if he was to stand any chance in the Games; there was also identifying edible plants, making a fire, building a shelter, not to mention learning how to handle weapons. He wouldn't have time to get as proficient as the Careers, but even picking up a few basic combat skills would be better than nothing; as Astra had said, it would at least give him a chance to defend himself if any of the other tributes attacked him. The last thing he wanted was to go down without a fight.

But, if he was ever faced with a choice between killing a fellow tribute or letting that tribute kill him, what then? Using a weapon in self-defence was one thing, but he knew only too well that, if you were to have any chance of getting out of the arena alive, you had to be prepared to take at least one life. Aurora, Piper and Rik had all crossed that line, but could he do the same? Could he kill any of the kids in this gymnasium? And, if it came to it, could he kill Astra, a girl not much older than his own kid sister?


"Garnet Monroe, report to the gym."

The voice of one of the Gamemakers came through the loudspeakers set up in the cafeteria where the tributes were having their lunch, summoning District 1's male tribute for his private session. It was the third day of training and that meant each tribute would have to appear, alone, before the Gamemakers and demonstrate one of the skills taught at the Training Centre. They would then be given a score out of twelve which would be used as a guide for the wealthy Capitol citizens who acted as sponsors, an indication of how much potential each tribute had shown, though a high score did not necessarily mean a tribute was going to win, or even do well in, the Games. Especially if they came from any district other than 1, 2 or 4, in which case the Careers were likely to see them as competition and aim to take them out as quickly as possible.

Garnet got up from his seat and shook hands with each of his allies in turn - Dazzle, Lupus, Bellona, Fathom and Salacia - before walking out of the cafeteria with his head held high and his chest puffed out with the self-confidence typical of Career tributes. He did not pause once, not even to make threatening gestures to the non-Careers, though Dyson had seen him pretending to cut his own throat in front of several tributes, including himself and Astra, to let them know what he planned to do to them once they were in the arena.

"What do you think he's going to do?" Astra asked once Garnet had closed the door to the cafeteria behind him. Though she and Dyson trained separately, they ate lunch at the same table, albeit with their chairs placed as far apart as possible. They were only too aware that they were here to take part in a deadly competition, a competition in which all but one of the contestants were doomed to die. And that meant they couldn't afford to get too attached to their fellow tributes, including each other.

"Swords, probably. He and that girl from his district have practically lived at that station for the past couple of days." Not that Dyson had any way of knowing for sure; what each tribute did in their private session was strictly between them, the rest of their entourage and the Gamemakers. But he did know that, when the training scores were announced tonight, Garnet and the rest of the tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 were bound to score high. Career tributes always scored somewhere in the region of eight to ten, not to mention that there was always the possibility that one of them might even get an eleven or a twelve, something no tribute from any district had managed since the training scores were first introduced at the Twelfth Hunger Games.

After fifteen minutes, Dazzle was called for her private session, leaving only six more tributes before first Dyson, then Astra would be summoned to appear before the Gamemakers. In some ways, Dyson thought to himself, it was a good thing he and Astra came from District 5; it meant they wouldn't have to wait too long for their names to be called. At least they weren't from the higher numbered districts like 10 or 11, whose tributes would have to hang around in the cafeteria for several hours before their turn came. And then there was Stoke, who sat by herself at a table at the far end of the cafeteria; as the female tribute from District 12, she was scheduled to go last of all.

One by one, the tributes from Districts 2, 3 and 4 were summoned for their private sessions. Lupus, Bellona, Digit, Synthia, Fathom, Salacia . . . And, fifteen minutes after Salacia's name was called, the six words Dyson had been waiting for came over the speakers.

"Dyson Kinsella, report to the gym."

As soon as he heard his name, Dyson got up from his seat and turned to face Astra. "I'll see you upstairs," he told her, knowing that, once his private session was over, he would be forbidden to rejoin the tributes who were still waiting to be seen by the Gamemakers, including his district partner. Instead, they would meet up on the fifth floor, where they, along with the rest of the District 5 entourage (minus Aurora, who was at the Games Headquarters with the other victors not on mentoring duty) would later watch as the training scores were announced in a live television broadcast that would be mandatory viewing for the whole of Panem.

"Good luck," Astra said, reaching out and shaking his hand.

"Same to you," Dyson replied, before pulling away from her and walking out of the cafeteria. As he made his way to the gym, he recalled Rik's advice on the first day of training that he should avoid doing anything that might encourage the Careers to target him in the arena, including getting too high a score in his private session. Which meant he should aim low, but not so low as to deter potential sponsors from backing him. No sponsors would mean no gifts in the arena, no gifts which could mean the difference between him returning to District 5 in a wooden box and him returning as the district's fourth Hunger Games victor. A score of between four (the lowest score ever achieved by a tribute who had gone on to win) and seven (the high side of average) would be ideal.


Entering the gym, Dyson saw the purple-robed Gamemakers assembled at a table laden with food and drink, the Head Gamemaker, Cronus Longfellow, occupying the seat directly in the middle. They had been quietly observing the tributes from the first day of training, taking note of how each tribute was doing, who was spending the most time at each station . . . and so on. Not that all this note-taking mattered since a tribute's training score was determined by how well, or how badly, they performed in their private session. And it was that score which was used as an indicator of each tribute's potential.

Dyson headed for the spear-throwing station and selected five shafts, which he lugged into the middle of the room. He then lifted one of the spears above his shoulder, took aim at the nearest dummy and let fly, watching as the spear lodged itself in the dummy's abdomen, inflicting what would almost certainly be a fatal wound had his target been a human being. Several Gamemakers talked among themselves, noting that he was a decent shot, but had perhaps selected too easy a target. Good - that was part of his strategy to avoid getting too high a score. In reality, he was fairly competent with a spear and could hit a target from around twice the distance that separated him from the dummy, but he wanted his fellow tributes to think he was just another non-Career, not a potential threat.

He threw his second spear at a dummy slightly further away than the first one, this time checking his throw so that the spear landed short of its target. For his third throw, he targetted the first dummy again, but hurled the spear too hard and sent it flying over the dummy's head. His fourth and fifth spears were thrown at a dummy at the far end of the gym, a target he knew was out of his range; as soon as they had clattered to the floor, well short of the dummy, he retrieved his first three spears and lobbed them in the same direction. Needless to say, they too missed their target.

For a moment, Dyson wondered if he had gone overboard in his attempt to appear incompetent with a spear; surely at least some of the Gamemakers must suspect he wasn't even trying. But he didn't have long to think about it before Cronus nodded to signal that his time was up. "Thank you, Mr Kinsella. You may go now."

Without saying a word to the Gamemakers, Dyson retrieved the spears he had been using and returned them to their rack, before walking out of the gym. He did not look back.


Hours later, Astra and Dyson (along with Janus, Piper, Rik, Candida and Adonis) were seated in front of the television, watching as the Capitol seal appeared on the screen to mark the beginning of the broadcast which would announce the training scores for the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games. A scenario which was being replicated all over Panem, including on the floors occupied by the parties from the other eleven districts. Every single person in the country was watching, not that they had much choice; televisions in Panem were fitted with microchips which, in response to a signal transmitted from the Capitol, automatically switched them on when any mandatory programming was scheduled and prevented them from being switched off until the broadcast was over. So the entire population would soon know what score each tribute had received in his or her private session.

Seconds later, Claudius Templesmith, the man who had commentated on the Games for nearly thirty years, was onscreen, sitting against a backdrop which showed a large scoreboard with the names and district numbers of all twenty-four tributes. Those from Districts 1 to 6 were on the left hand side of the board, those from Districts 7 to 12 on the right. "Well, we have a fine crop of tributes this year!" Claudius declared, gesturing towards the board with a flourish. "And I'm sure you can't wait to hear how each of them has done. So, without further ado, here are the training scores. First up, Garnet Monroe, District 1 male, ten points!" A photograph of Garnet flashed up onscreen with the number 10 below it. A near-perfect score, not that anyone in Panem would expect anything else from a District 1 tribute.

"Dazzle Bernstein, District 1 female," said Claudius, "nine points!" Garnet's picture was replaced by Dazzle's, his 10 by her 9. Claudius then went on to announce that the District 2 tributes, Lupus and Bellona, had both scored a ten. For Digit, the first non-Career to have his score revealed, there was a four; his district partner, Synthia, received a six. Average scores typical of District 3, though a few of their tributes had pulled a seven or an eight. Fathom and Salacia from District 4 had earned a nine and a ten respectively, meaning all six Careers had attained the high scores tributes from their districts invariably received. Next came the tributes from 5, starting with . . .

"Dyson Kinsella, District 5 male, three points!"