Chapter Eleven
Sixty seconds left, my heart is pounding…Forty seconds, my head starts to throb…Twenty seconds, I think I'm going to puke…Ten seconds, I can't breathe.
Katniss can go straight to the Cornucopia, and try to get food, supplies and weapons. She can run right, where there is a huge lake. Or she can turn left, to the woods. I instantly know that I want her in the woods. Katniss is at home in the woods.
Katniss can run. Fast. She's one of the fastest girl sprinters in her grade, and if she makes a break for it right away, I don't think any of the other tributes will want to follow her. But Katniss needs a bow. There's surely a bow in the Cornucopia, but I don't want Katniss to die trying to get it. I hate thinking about this, I should just let go of my thoughts and watch. But I can't. I need to put my instinct and logic together to see what I would do, even though nothing I say or do can mean anything inside the games.
I wonder what Katniss's mentor told her to do. Haymitch is her mentor, so whatever he says may or may not be good. Why does Katniss have to end up with the drunk as her mentor? Is everything out of her favor?
Then, the gong rings, signaling the start of the games. Signaling the start of my torture. Katniss pauses for maybe a second before rushing out of her circle. Shoot! She just lost the few valuable moments in which she could have beat a tribute to the Cornucopia. My heart is pounding so hard I think it may rupture my chest. Or leap out of my throat along with the sloshing contents of my stomach.
It's hard to see with the camera focused on all of the tributes, but Katniss reaches the Cornucopia's outside and scoops up a loaf of bread wrapped in plastic. Good. She has some food. Then, she runs over to an orange backpack.
Run, run, run! My mind screams. But still, I want Katniss to get her hands on as many supplies as possible.
The camera cuts to a few other tributes, battling for a long spear. Then, it cuts back to Katniss, who has reached the orange pack, along with a boy from District 9. The both try to grab the bag first. This could be it. It could be over within ten seconds. I want to throw up, but I force myself to hold my breakfast down.
A knife comes whizzing out of nowhere and pierces the District 9 boy in the back. He coughs blood on Katniss's face and slips to the ground. How unpleasant that must be. Katniss has never been squeamish about blood, but when it's from a human being and on your face…disgusting.
I hear Posy gasp but I don't turn around.
"Mommy! Mommy, did that hurt?" she asks, horrified. Posy shouldn't be watching this. It's too violent and bloody for her. She doesn't understand the cruelty of the Capitol just yet. I don't want her to grow up ignorant, but I don't want her to die because of the mistake of being caught defying the Capitol.
"Yes, now go to your room and play, you don't need to watch this." my mother says.
Posy doesn't understand what's happening. Right now, I wish I don't either.
The camera cuts to the girl from District 2 who is running with knives in her hand. She must've been the one who hit the boy from District 9, and undoubtedly killed him. It only takes a few nauseating seconds to realize that she's running at Katniss.
My insides leap and I hold my breath. I need Katniss to run, and quickly. As I hoped, she turns to the woods, sprinting. Now, it's only a matter of whether the girl from District 2 can hit her or not. Katniss slides the backpack behind her head, protecting herself. Smart. Katniss has always had good instincts. But sometimes, instincts aren't enough.
A knife flies at Katniss and I watch, mortified, as it sticks into the pack that covers Katniss's head.
"No!" I cry, jerking forward out of my seat.
The backpack sinks down onto Katniss's shoulders, knife still in it. I let out a sigh of relief as Katniss disappears into the woods. The girl from District 2 won't chase Katniss, and she at least has a knife now.
The camera cuts back to various tributes, fighting for objects.
I breathe rapidly, trying to slow down. Eventually, as they show more footage of the bloodbath, my breathing shallows. I still can't relax, Katniss could die any minute.
About a dozen tributes still fight at the Cornucopia, including tributes from District 1, 2, 4, 3, 8 and Peeta Mellark. Peeta Mellark? He looks like he's fighting with the Career tributes, is that possible? Usually, District 12 tributes don't ever join a group with the Careers.
The girl from District 3 dives for a pack, but the boy from District 2 stabs her in the back with a sword. She's dead before she can see her killer. I shudder. That must be really horrible. Trying to cling on to something for survival, but then all of the sudden…it's all gone and you never know just why.
I realize that the little girl from District 11 must have run off, considering she's not fighting or lying dead on the ground. I'm somehow happy for that. If Katniss and Peeta don't win, I want her to.
"Dang it." I breathe, scolding myself for getting attached to any of these people. I'm going to watch them die, and I don't want to have to make it any harder than it already is.
The big boy from District 11, Thresh if I am correct, grabs for something in the Cornucopia. The male District 4 tribute comes up with a spear, poised to kill. Thresh grabs a club and the District 4 boy is taken by surprise, smashed in the head and knocked to the ground. Thresh runs away with a good amount of supplies while the boy from District 4 lies on the ground, crumpled and motionless. The blow looked like it could've obliterated the boy's skull. It probably did.
Thresh gets away, unscathed. That worries me because he's a huge threat. Any tribute living lowers the chances of Katniss coming home. I don't want to watch Thresh swing a club and shatter Katniss's skull. I don't want anything bad to happen, but this is the Hunger Games, bad things happen.
The boy from District 8 seizes a dagger and lunges at Peeta Mellark, who doesn't have much time to react. Peeta is scratched on the arm. He cries out in pain and I wince. If anyone is to live but Katniss, it needs to be Peeta so food will come to the district.
Then, the boy from District 1, who is now wielding the spear of the clearly deceased District 4 boy tribute, pierces the boy from District 8 right below the chest.
The boy slides to the ground, but not without cutting Peeta in the leg.
My stomach churns. Whether my best friend is in it or not, I hate watching the Hunger Games. Most of all, I hate hearing the sounds of the tributes before they die, and watching their faces in their last moments. I've experienced that with animals a lot. It's much different with humans. Katniss may shoot an animal, but it may not die right away. So that's when I come in with my knife to the dying animal, and quicken the process. I don't have much remorse for killing animals, but I don't enjoy watching them suffer one bit. I don't know if I could do that to a person. A real kid with real words and emotions. I wouldn't be able to bear listening to them plead for their life seconds before it's all over. But I would be able to do it if it was a life or death situation, I would do it for my family.
Vick heads to the bathroom and I hear him throwing up. He shouldn't be watching this. Neither should Rory. Nobody should be watching this, really. I'm scared to death that next year, my brother's name will be called in the reaping. Next year, I may be watching with the same anxiety, praying that my brother comes home, and not in a cheap wooden box. I've seen two of those boxes come to some house in the district every year of my life so far. I desperately hope that it doesn't remain a pattern.
So badly, I want it to be next year already. So I know if Katniss is alive or not. But next year will mean no tesserae, unless Rory signs up, which I will never let him do. Next year, I'll be in the mines.
The camera cuts away from the bloodbath to Thresh, who is running furiously into tall grass until he disappears. Then, the camera cuts to Katniss. My heart leaps and goes back to pounding at top speed. Katniss is running, and nobody seems to be around her. She's going to need water soon, but I can't worry about that yet. Right now, the concern is to get away from danger. Run.
Then, the camera shows the girl from District 5, with red hair and a long face. She is running in another wooded area, but it doesn't look similar to where Katniss fled. Then, the girl from District 5 closes in on another girl that I don't recognize. There's a scream and the unfamiliar girl falls to the ground, dead with a knife protruding from her chest.
I make a mental note that District 5 is a definite threat. I do not want Katniss to meet the same gruesome fate. I do not want Katniss to meet any gruesome fate. But when I weigh out the odds…
The camera cuts back to the Cornucopia, where a few more tributes lay dead on the ground. The Careers continue fighting, unfazed by the mangled bodies that are sprawled at their feet. I can't imagine what that would be like, fighting for your life, killing all these kids in the process. I might be able to do it, but not without living in guilt forever.
The first day of the Hunger Games is usually the day with the most kills. I feel cruel right now, wishing for more people to die, but I can't blame myself. Katniss has to live.
It troubles me though, that Peeta is hanging with the Careers. I don't know just why, but something inside of me doesn't seem right. Maybe it's a trap, and the Careers will dispose of him whenever they feel like it. That seems likely. But maybe not, maybe he actually has some hidden value to them. Whatever it is, I don't like it at all.
I sit and watch the games for the next few hours, propping myself against the couch, except for when Katniss is on. She seems to be running far and hard, I just hope that she doesn't dehydrate, but the more distance she can put between herself and other tributes, the better.
"Gale, do you want lunch?" my mother asks me. She glances nervously down at my pale, shaking hands.
"No." I reply steadily.
"Are you sure, you need to eat something." my mother tells me.
"I'm not hungry." I say, as a girl on the screen hits another person with an arrow.
My mother looks at me and raises her eyebrow.
"Mom, if I eat, I'll throw up anyway, like Vick did. Let him refill his stomach." I say.
With that, my mother walks away and leaves the matter alone.
I usually don't have an appetite whenever I watch the Hunger Games, but now when there's so much pressure, the thought of eating doesn't even cross my mind. The only thought that does is Katniss. Katniss surviving. Katniss must live. Plus, I feel guilty eating when Katniss barely has food, not like I'd be able to eat much anyway.
My heart is thudding rapidly and my hands are trembling. My insides don't feel too good either. But I sit here, staring at the television. Virtually nothing will be able to rip me away, including lunch, whether it's eating it or losing it.
Fighting continues, but luckily no action or harm comes Katniss's way. If only it could stay like this forever. If only Katniss could just run and run and everybody else would kill each other and she'd just win. That's what I want to happen, but I know it won't. I don't think a tribute has ever won without killing at least one other tribute. Something knots up in my stomach as I picture Katniss killing another kid. I know she'll be able to do it, but the image haunts me. She would never kill unless person unless she had to, and now, she has to. Katniss being a killer of not just wild game makes me shudder. This is going to change her forever. But no matter if she goes crazy and takes out every other kid in the games, she'll always be my Catnip.
My hope of Katniss just running away from it all makes me think of how we could have fled into the woods. Maybe we could have brought our families with us, and maybe we could have made it. But it wouldn't fix anything really. The Capitol would still own Panem, people would still starve, children would still die in the Hunger Games. We can't run. Running isn't the answer. Like Katniss, we must fight.
My trembling hands close into fists and my jaw tightens. The Capitol can't take everything away from me. My father's death is their fault. He wouldn't have worked in the mines if our district hadn't been so poor. My starving family is the fault of the Capitol. Katniss being in this arena of death is their fault also. The Capitol must go.
By late afternoon, all the fighting at the Cornucopia is over, but my own rage still fights a battle inside my head. The Career tributes, including Peeta Mellark, retreat to the lake, chasing away whoever resides there.
Eleven canon shots ring out into the air. Each canon fire represents a dead tribute. Usually, they fire canons right at the moment of a tribute's death, but on the first day, they fire after the action so they don't lose track.
Eleven shots. That's nearly half of the tributes. Dead on the first day. It sends chills up my back, but I'm at least relieved that Katniss isn't one of the canon shots. Or Peeta Mellark for that matter.
The camera cuts to Katniss and my muscles tense up. Exhausted after traveling many miles, Katniss slumps down by a tree. My heartbeat quickens, threatening to leap out of my throat. I sit motionless, frozen in an icy state of anxiety.
Katniss pulls out the contents of her unfortunately bright bag. She will be spotted easily with those colors. I hope the bag contains food, water and some weaponry. Maybe paint to disguise the hopelessly vibrant container itself.
Inside the pack is a thick black sleeping bag, some crackers, a pack of dried beef strips, a bottle of what appears to be iodine, a box of matches, a coil of wire, sunglasses, and a half-gallon plastic water bottle. Empty. It's not bad to start, but I wish there was water in the bottle. That would really help. She must have lost her loaf of bread somewhere.
The camera cuts to Thresh, alone, hidden in tall, dense grass. It looks like he, too, has some valuables.
I try to remember all that I've seen today, hoping for signs of water. My heart sinks as I remember the lake. The lake that's guarded by the Careers. If that's the only water there is in the arena, there's no hope that Katniss can get to the lake before she dehydrates, and even if she did make it, the Careers would kill her before she could even take a sip.
Haymitch! He's Katniss's mentor. If Katniss gets a sponsor, which she surely has plenty with her training score, he can send her water. Water is not expensive, especially on the first day of the games. Prices increase as the days go by, but I doubt water will ever be unaffordable. But then again, will Haymitch have the sense if he's drunk?
Katniss takes her knife and cuts away at the bark on a pine tree around her, eating as she walks along. It's a good way to conserve the food she has. I really hope I've taught Katniss enough in her snares.
The day drags on and they don't show Katniss too much. As much as I want to see her, it means that not much action is going on around her, which is good. I think again of how running won't solve anything.
"Gale, you need to eat." my mother tells me.
"No, I'm fine, really." I say.
"You need to eat." my mother repeats with an urgency in her voice that I've heard a countless number of times.
I turn away from the television screen for once. My mother's face is stern, but worried.
"Fine, hand me a piece of bread." I say just to make my mother happy.
She hands me a hunk of bread that's much bigger than I intended. My mother waits until I've swallowed my first bite before she leaves me. It makes me feel angry and oddly juvenile. I don't need to be supervised to make sure I clean my plate like a little kid. But nobody in the Seam has problems with cleaning their plate since they'll pretty much all poor and/or starving
I watch as Katniss sets up two-twitch up snares. I have taught her well. She must've seen some game along the way, or she wouldn't have risked setting a trap. Animals mean that there must be some water nearby. The hope is invigorating to me, I can't even begin to explain.
Eventually, after giving other tributes their camera time, they show Katniss again, who is nestled in a willow tree. She remains almost inconspicuous, which is good. The camera closes in on her and I can see that with her belt, she has actually strapped herself into the tree. This can be good or bad. It prevents her from falling out of the tree, but it also prevents her from making a quick getaway. I can't decide which is more important.
The television screen switches to the recap for the day, where it will reveal all of the dead tributes. The seal of the Capitol appears on the screen and the anthem starts to play. I fill with contempt and rage. I hate the Capitol. No, I don't hate the Capitol, I loathe it.
The first dead person to appear on the screen is the girl from District 3. In the recaps, we get to watch their death all over again. It's like the highlights for the Capitol to some horrible sport or something. The dead tributes will go in order from the lowest numbered district to the highest.
The television shows the girl from District 3 diving for supplies. I watch the boy from District 2 pierce her with the sword again. Seeing it one time before was too many times for my liking.
Then, the boy from District 4 appears on the screen, being clubbed by a defensive Thresh. I have some sort of respect for Thresh, considering he didn't gang up with the Careers. If they let Peeta in, they certainly would let Thresh in.
Then they show the deaths of both tributes from 6, 7, the boy from 8, and both from 9. The girl from District 10 is also dead. It must be really disheartening to watch both tributes from your district die on the first day, eliminating all hope of extra food and celebrating. Forcing you to wait a whole year for just the small chance again that you will win. Even then, it's still not likely.
The Capitol seal returns and the anthem ends. I turn the television off. They won't be showing the Hunger Games until tomorrow morning. Until then, I can try to rest, along with the families and friends of the rest of the tributes. My best friend may die tonight while I know I will be fruitlessly trying to sleep, but for now, she has made it through the first day.