And here's what you've all been waiting for (maybe)! Enjoy your last moments with your favourites!


Sleep does not come easily on the final night in the Training Centre.

Pauline practically pushes them into their rooms straight after the interviews, extolling the virtues of a good night's rest for improving one's fighting skills (she's willing to bet Pauline has never been in a fight that involves anything more than slapping a girl who was making out with her boyfriend) but she doesn't feel tired at all. She doesn't drink anything, because even she's not stupid enough to enter the arena with a hangover, but that only makes it all the more impossible to settle. She rolls over again and again, every time she manages to drift off she wakes up moments later with a start.

Eventually, she thinks she's got a couple of hours sleep, but when she wakes up the room is still dark. She checks the clock, still another hour until she needs to be up. She climbs out of bed anyway, pacing the room, trying to work out what to do with her last free moments. She orders ridiculous food at the minibar, but finds she feels sick after eating a bite. She tries to read, but she can't focus on one book and all the junk on the bookshelf is Capitol garbage. She wants to write, but it may be a little late to start her memoir and anyway, all she can think to write about is treason.

In the end, she just looks out the window and watches the sun rise on a skyline that is so different from the one at home. In 8 it is all chimneys and smoke. Here, the buildings are funky shaped and weirdly coloured, their roofs glistening; silver, gold, bronze, one even bright purple. She imagines what it must be like to live in one of these buildings, to be waking up full of excitement to watch an event you have waited for all year, an event where you know you won't die…

It is almost a relief when she hears Pauline's knock at the door.

The arena is a hovercraft ride away. This, as Pauline joyously informs Brad and Veronica, is an amazing privilege, "They hardly ever allow hovercrafts over the Capitol anymore, it's some sort of security issue. The normal folk only have bullet trains to get around, but lucky us! We get a journey!"

Lucky us, and lucky our corpses when we get collected from the arena!

A woman in a Capitol uniform injects a tracker in their arms, searches them and then guides them onboard. From the moment Veronica takes a step inside, it's clear the machine is built for luxury. It's a spacious device with multiple rooms, some with see-through floors (presumably so you can watch the landscape go by beneath your feet), but they are led to a smaller room with velvet sofas and ebony hardwood floors.

There is breakfast on the table but, like before, she can only pick at it. Across the room Brad is doing much the same. She wonders vaguely if she should enjoy her first time flying, but really all she can think about is how the next time she flies she won't be alive to appreciate it.

They land with barely a bump, there's a hiss and the doors slide open. They take an elevator to a place below the arena. There are two doors in front of them, each have signs with gold writing, Brad Richards: District 8, Veronica Sawyer: District 8.

"Well this is goodbye then," tinkles Pauline, giving Veronica a small hug and Brad a rather bigger, longer one, "may the odds be ever in your favour!" and then with a final kiss on the cheek to Brad (which may be the reason he's looking so queasy), she's gone.

Veronica and Brad look at each other awkwardly.

"Uh, good luck I suppose," he says, "we want a District 8 victory."

Slightly stunned, she shakes his outstretched hand, because who knows, there still might be cameras watching, but doesn't reply.

Her stylist is waiting for her through the door. He helps her put on her arena clothes, sporty undergarments, sturdy pants and a breathable, long-sleeved shirt - all a greeny, grey camouflage colour. She ties her hair up, stuffs Cecelia's handkerchief into her pocket and tries to take in what her stylist is saying about the clothes, but fails miserably.

There is a long tone, and then a voice comes from a speaker by the door, "The arena is ready. Tributes, please get into your pods."

For a wild moment Veronica wants to say no, to just refuse to move or better, run, but there's nowhere else for her to go, not anymore. So instead she lets her legs guide her to the pod in the corner of the room and closes her eyes as she feels it lifting her up, savouring her last few moments before she enters a place she'll likely never leave.

The lift stops and there's a booming in her ears, "Ladies and Gentlemen, let the 89th Hunger Games begin!"

xxx

She feels the breeze against her face before she opens her eyes. It smells weird; fresh, unlike the car fumes of the Capitol or the general smog of home. She can hear birdsong in the distance, and a rustling sound that is perhaps the movement of a larger animal (whether it is predator or prey doesn't bear thinking about).

It takes a second or two to adjust to the light. The weather is sunny but not unpleasantly warm. Around them on every side is thick woodland and opposite her, in the distance, she can see craggy mountains. She can't see any water, but there's bound to be some nearby and maybe, maybe, she can find some further away in the forest.

The Cornucopia stands glistening in the middle of the arena, its mouth filled to the brim with scary-looking weapons, mouth-watering food and an actual real tent. Closer to her are more measly looking weapons, packets of chips and small backpacks.

She scans the tributes around her, Heather Duke is next to her, looking as savage as ever, and Kurt Kelly is only a tribute away on the other side.

Fuck.

The other Careers are far enough away that they pose less risk, but she searches for the other threat. JD is five or six tributes away, grinning right at her.

She feels herself hyperventilating. This is too much, all of this, she's going to die, painfully, right now. In a matter of moments she'll be nothing but a two second clip in the victor's video, a footnote in the history books.

As her eyes continue to sweep the tributes she finds Betty a couple of tributes away from JD and her heart lurches, suddenly she knows the time for decision is now. Here it is, her other option, a chance to give up the illusion that she might survive and do something that stops her from being just forgotten.

Betty's eyes penetrate her and Veronica hears her silent question as if it was shouted in her ear.

Well, it's not like I have anything left to lose.

She looks Betty straight in the eye and agrees. The girl smiles back, a fearless determination in her gaze. Veronica knows that Betty is sure what they are doing is right for the world. Betty's eyes flicker to Rodney, Peter and Dennis and she nods.

Veronica takes one more look at the world. Then her eyes meet JD. He's still looking straight at her, his expression some odd mix of patronising and disappointed. And suddenly every comment about this not meaning anything, about her parents being punished, about how she could win… hits her like a tidal wave

She freezes.

Her best friend takes a step forward.

Veronica does not. Instead, she is statue still, unable to tell whether she can't or won't move.

Their eyes meet and she sees Betty take it in, there's confusion in her gaze, maybe even hate, but it's hard to tell because a moment later there's a loud bang and suddenly all that is left of Betty Finn is a charred bloody mass. She blinks, trying to take this impossible fact in.

There are another two ear-splitting bangs and Dennis and Rodney are no longer in existence.

She looks around, desperate to distract herself and her eyes meet Peter's. He is frozen like a rabbit in the lamplight. She wonders if she is wearing the same expression of terror. Like her, he doesn't move.

The atmosphere around the arena immediately changes. There's horror painted on a lot of the tributes' faces, most of the Careers are looking at the bloody remains, that used to be real people, with a mixture of shock and anger, Heather Duke looks faintly sick. Veronica's eyes move over to JD, he is carefully scanning the landscape, apparently unfazed, he's using the distraction to his advantage. However, she doesn't have time to ponder this thought further as the cannon goes off and, predictably, JD is first off the mark, backpack, a large knife and several packets of chips in his hand and gone from the Cornucopia while the rest of them are still staring, stunned.

It only takes a moment for her to regain her wits, she leaves her platform at almost the same time as the Careers and several seconds before Heather Duke.

Veronica Sawyer was never the slowest runner in her class, but she was far from the fastest either, there is no way she can get anywhere near the centre of the Cornucopia. Still, the confusion from the suicides has provided enough of a distraction to allow her to at least have a try at getting something. She races forward and grabs what's nearest to her, a small grey backpack, which she slings over her shoulder and then dashes into the undergrowth of the woodlands, eager to get away.

Though she is not quick enough to avoid seeing Kurt and Ram plunge a knife through the tiny boy from 7, nor David and Brad moving towards an equally small girl...

xxx

She runs. She runs and runs until all sense of time and feeling is lost. She forces herself ever further into the undergrowth, the uneven ground covered with branches and leaves, so different from the smooth concrete and dirt roads at home. She runs until suddenly the woodland goes deadly silent and she pauses intuitively. A boom of a cannon, and then another and then another, eight in total. A cannon shot for each of the dead. Eight people whom she sat beside just yesterday, who she will never see again, eight families watching who are now in mourning.

Or maybe some are being carried in for "questioning" if what JD said is true.

And, more importantly for her, it means the bloodbath is over and the Careers are looking further afield for their next victims.

She runs for what might be another hour, then finally gives in to her parched throat and aching legs and leans against a tree. She pulls open her bag, eyes getting used to the dark as she rummages. Her hand grasps something cool and round.

Water! Yes! The bottle is small but mercifully full. She opens it and drinks a couple of gulps (though her body is crying out for more), before continuing rummaging, there's food - mostly jerky, dried fruit and nuts - but enough for at least tonight, and some matches, which will be invaluable but she will have to be careful about using, with the Careers on the prowl.

It's a nice haul, but her heart sinks when she realises what is missing. There's no weapon in the bag. She looks up, screws her eyes shut, breathes through her teeth, before slinging the bag back on her back and continuing further into the forest.

She's in the Hunger Games and has no weapon. The odds have never been in her favour, but at the moment she's a dead girl walking.

She walks and walks, pausing only once in the early afternoon, when she finds a stream. She drinks what's left of her bottle and then refills it, grateful for the reprieve, but she decides she is still too close to the Cornucopia to stop. When the sun is low in the sky and she can walk no more she pushes herself to continue on for another 10 minutes, then finds a thick bush that she can climb into. It's not a particularly good shelter, either from the rain or an eagle eyed Career, but it'll do.

She settles in, trying to find a position where branches don't poke into her back, stuffs some surrounding rocks in her pocket so she can at least throw something at any tribute that comes at her with a foot-long blade, and eats small bites of the food in her bag until her stomach isn't aching with hunger.

Not long after, she hears the unmistakable notes of the Panem Anthem. She adjusts herself so she gets a clear view of the sky, where the pictures of those that died today are being projected.

She forces herself to look at the images. All eight of them. The photos taken in the Training Centre are so different from what they must look like now, some are even smiling. There's the girl from 6, the young boy she saw being stabbed from 7, the even smaller girl from 10 that she saw David and Brad descend upon, and both from 11. Then, of course, there's Rodney, Dennis and Betty.

Betty, oh poor, innocent, good, Betty. What did she think, in her last moments, when her friends betrayed her? When she realised, despite her planning, her death could be for nothing? The hurt look on her face is etched on Veronica's mind like her friend is standing in front of her.

Don't cry, she tells herself, don't cry. You don't need them knowing exactly how weak you are.

Instead, she looks down at her hands, her nails are still painted the sparkly midnight blue from the night before. They are no longer quite perfect curves and the paint on a few are chipped around the edges, but still their presence disturbs her, a relic of a time that simply couldn't have been less than a day ago. She drives them into the palm of her hand, until she sees blood.

xxx

The night is cold, so cold, and she has nothing but her thin clothes to cover her. She curls up in a little ball, buries herself in leaves, places her bag on top of her as the world's most pathetic makeshift blanket and hopes her shivers don't use up too much energy.

She can hear noises as she tries to get some (any) rest; there are animals nearby certainly, maybe even the shouts of other tributes. She doesn't sleep well. She keeps waking up every hour or so. It's hard to drift off when you keep wondering if you'll wake up to a blade against your throat.

I can't do this alone. She realises with a resounding certainty that she rarely has for anything, If I don't manage to ally with someone, I won't last the next few days.

Though, now she has left the only people who liked her to die, how she will find one is a mystery.


The Capitol Presents the Surviving Tributes: Day 1

District 1

Heather McNamara

Ram Sweeny

District 2

Heather Chandler

David Remington

District 3

Betty Finn

Peter Dawson

District 4

Heather Duke

Kurt Kelly

District 5

Shannon Lucas

Rodney Bulb

District 6

Cathy Stone

Al Springer

District 7

Tracy Hophead

Bobby Young

District 8

Veronica Sawyer

Brad Richards

District 9

Courtney Chadwick

Keith Harrington

District 10

Shelly Little

Dennis Grundy

District 11

Phyllis McCarthy

Dwight Archer

District 12

Martha Dunstock

Jason Dean