Chapter 7
I lay awake all night waiting for morning to come. I don't know if you've ever tried to do things in the dark, but it's incredibly difficult. Bela has joined me and stares at the floor. I pull my top on. My breakfast has gone cold and stale. I have no appetite. I know I should eat as much as I can; I might not eat for a while. I stand and stare out the window again. The sectors are deadly quiet. They usually are at this time. They're in mourning; which is a bit rude considering we're not actually dead yet.
Bela attaches the earrings to my jacket and carefully lays it on the bed.
"It's time to go." Says Bela, her voice is a hoarse whisper.
I nod. No use trying to deny the truth. I walk out the room; Bela follows carrying my jacket. Before we enter the lift, Bela grabs my wrist and says:
"Don't hesitate. Whatever you do, don't hesitate."
I nod but her eyes are deep with worry. It makes me more nervous to think about it. She means when I go to kill someone. Hesitation kills. We climb into the lift and it goes down a long way. It opens onto a large dingy hall with a similarly large, shiny silver train in the centre. Other Tributes are getting on, not daring to look at each other. The train looks odd inside the hall. There's stingy light coming through the grimy light bulbs and it highlights the dirt strewn across the walls and floor. No sign of Cash. Bela and I walk to the train and climb aboard. We walk to the seats with 12 on them. I pass Shelby but she just stares at the clean floor. I sit by the window and Bela squeezes in next to me. After everyone had climbed on, the train pulls away fast and silently. Lights in the tunnel zoom past like flashing from a camera. Soon a lady comes past and asks me for my arm. I stretch it out and she grabs my wrist, viciously, impatiently. She presses a device to my arm and it shoots something into it. She yanks it away leaving a small circular hole. I trace the small, glowing lump as we speed underground.
When we arrive in the dark and damp station, there are doors marked with numbers. There are four on each. I walk with Bela to the 9, 10, 11, 12 room and walk inside. The bright light blinds me as we walk in. Its clinical smelling in here too. Inside there are four, what look like, curvy coffins. This is sick. We're not even dead yet they're measuring us for our death. To be honest, I didn't even know they even cared that much.
"You have to answer your questions now." Whispers Bela.
So, I climb in and Bela closes the lid. In the darkness I hear nothing. Now I know what being a dead body is like. Pretty boring actually. I'm not scared of death. I mean, of course I don't want to die but if I do go, then I go. Suddenly, the casket flashes into life. The white light burns eyes. I realise this thing is deeper than I thought. The top is a good distance away from my face; I don't feel squished. In front of me a small screen flickers into life. On it, the symbol of the Isle.
"Hello, Vivron Matthews. Happy Hunger Games. Let's start by asking you a few questions." Says a computerized voice. "Have you any messages for family and friends."
"Err… I don't think so. Everything I wanted to say was in my letter."
"Thank you." She says. I'm confused for a few moments, then I realise that must be an automatic response. "Everyone loves the fantastic array of weapons they have there. What will be your weapon of choice?"
I have no idea. "Erm, probably a spear or mace or something." To be honest, talking about which weapon I'm going to kill with is a little unnerving.
"Thank you. Please could you describe to the viewers at home. What it's like in here."
Does she mean in the box? Or in the Games? I go for the last option. "I don't think anyone can truly understand what it feels like here. Unless, they, themselves, were in my position."
"Thank you. Please, have a nice day and may the odds be ever, in your favour."
The door to my 'coffin' opens and I'm upright. I didn't feel it move. How did I get there? Bela and the other Stylists sit in a row. They all look relaxed. Well everyone except Bela who looks slightly on edge. I climb out. My hair is in two small buns by the side of my head. She stands to great me. I walk towards her. The bolted door to our left unlocks with a loud click and swings, mechanically, open. Inside it's dark. We walk through the door with the other Tributes and inside there's 119 glass tubes with our numbers above. It's a large, round room with chairs, for the Stylists, around the edge. It's lit by dull small, yellow lights attached to the walls.
"60 seconds." Says the same female computerised voice.
Bela and I walk to my tube. She helps me with my jacket. I look around a see the sea of sacred faces. I catch Shelby's eye. She stares at me and breaks as she climbs into her tube.
Suddenly I hear a tapping noise above all the clamour. I turn trying to find the source. Then I see it. Well, her. She's there, tapping on her tube. Devyn. A sly smile is plastered across her face. Then, with her finger she traces a line across her throat, menacingly.
"40 seconds." Says the voice.
I break eye contact with Devyn and hug Bela tightly.
"30 seconds."
All the remaining Tributes, silently, climb into their tubes. Bela takes her seat.
"20 seconds."
The door to my tube swiftly closes. My tube goes silent and I can only hear my raged breath. Then the mechanisms whir. The metal plate under my feet rises and I take one last look at the golden haired Stylist. She puts her hand over her heart and pats it. My tube goes pitch black and then the air above my head lights up and I smell the smell of sweet berries which reminds me of the cherry pie I had for dinner. It's probably the only dinner I'll have for a long time. Or maybe forever.
My eyes take a while to focus.
"10 seconds."
My eyes finally focus in the bright sun. I look up and see huge Capitol buildings overgrown with vines and other assorted vegetation. I look forward but I see nothing. There's a dense Forrest but no Cornucopia. No horn shape in the distance. I hear a cough behind me and turn to see a large, metal layered cake. It's not a real cake but it's scattered with Tributes. I turn to look at Sector 13; he looks at me. He knows the truth too. It's round the other side.
Then I see his eyes flitter to the ground. Before I can stop him or say something, I watch his feet leave the podium and my eyesight is blinded by an orange glow.