6 Just a Game

"No running!" From the city park bench, Mrs. Snow jumped to her feet.

Giving Coriolanus a jolt, the sharpness of his wife's voice cut through Coriolanus's ears as he sat on the other end of the bench.

Cynthia waved her arms in an attempt to grab her daughter's attention. "Livia, walk! The slide is going nowhere. I don't want you falling down and hurting yourself."

You don't want her having fun. Coriolanus thought. "She's fine."

Whipping her head around like a scorned chicken, Cynthia glared at her husband. "Do you want to take her to the emergency room if she gets hurt?"

"Yes. And I'll bandage her knee when she scrapes it. And I'll happily wipe her tears when she cries. Stop nagging her and let her enjoy her childhood."

Flopping down onto the park bench, Cynthia gasped when she spotted her daughter jumping with other children in an attempt to cause the elevated platform to rock. "Livia, stop that!"

Coriolanus chuckled at the commotion and watched at ease as his animated daughter slid down the slide after the other children. "Maybe you need one of your pills."

"I'm running low on stress pills. I need to save them for the evenings."

"Isn't the medicine supposed to last 12 hours?"

Unable to sit still on the park bench, Cynthia fidgeted as she kept her focus on her daughter. "They only work for about four hours for me. Must be genetic or something."

Or something. Coriolanus turned to face his wife. "How about going for a walk around the park? Get some exercise. I can watch Livia."

With her eyes remaining locked on her daughter, Cynthia shook her head. "I get plenty of exercise watching Livia. My heart is racing as we speak. Livia, slow down!"

"Let her play." Tormented by his wife's strenuous voice, Coriolanus clenched his jaw in an attempt to keep calm.

"Do you even care if she gets hurt?" Cynthia jumped to her feet and ran towards the play set to quash all the fun.

Resting his elbows on his knees, Coriolanus twisted his neck in an unsuccessful attempt to relieve the tension gripping his body. With his head hung low, he closed his eyes, knowing that something needed to change.

...

Setting his briefcase on the entry table, Coriolanus could see his wife out on the balcony, attending to her roses. His ears detected with ease the sound of his daughter playing with dolls in the master bedroom. Patting the two items in his pocket, he approached the balcony.

Cynthia caught eye of him as he stepped through the open sliding door. "Hi, hon. How was your day?"

"Good. How was yours?"

"Oh, I rinsed my roses." Cynthia reached for a water spray bottle.

"The flowers look really good this summer."

Mrs. Snow smiled. "I know. They'll look even better if we upgrade to a house."

Coriolanus licked his lips. "Soon. Um...is there anything for dinner?"

"Livia and I have already eaten."

"Any leftovers?"

"No. Sorry. I didn't know if you were working late." Cynthia moved about the flowers as she continued to moisten the pedals.

"Oh. Okay. I'll just make myself a sandwich." The young senator again patted the two items in his pocket.

Cynthia took a quick glance at her husband. "I can heat up a can of soup?"

"No. I'm fancying a sandwich. You're busy." Swallowing hard, Coriolanus reached into his pocket and produced two pill bottles. "Um...I went to the doctor today to ask for some help with work stress. I think he prescribed me the same medicines that you take."

Straightening, Mrs. Snow stared at the bottles in his hand. She set down her spray bottle and held out her hand. "May I see?"

"Sure." He passed her both prescription bottles for her inspection.

Her face became stern. "Look at that. Look at how many refills he gave you. I never get any refills. This isn't fair; I have to call my doctor for every darn refill."

"You can keep those if you want."

Cynthia's face lit up. "Really?"

"Sure. I kept some of the stress medicine at work. I don't need much. The sleeping pills don't interest me since my sleep is sufficient."

"Oh, thank you, darling." Cynthia stepped towards her husband and kissed him on the cheek.

Snow forced a smile. "Just let me know when you want me to fetch one of my refills."

"You're a lifesaver." Mrs. Snow inspected the bottles a second time. "I was about to call the hospital and demand a new doctor. Did you know that he wasn't going to give me a refill until the first of next month? He says that I should take less each week. He thinks I'm an addict."

"I know." You tell me every damn day, Coriolanus remembered. "I'll let you get back to your roses."

"Thank you again, darling." With a broad smile, Cynthia held the bottles up to the light, pleased beyond words.

Coriolanus next sought out his daughter and sat with her as she told him of the adventures that she and her dolls experienced that day. It pleased the young father to hear that some of those adventures mimicked those of a certain Alice.

No longer able to ignore the grumblings in his stomach, he promised to play with her after he ate and excused himself to the kitchen. Coriolanus made his sandwich and prepared a cup of tea, retiring to his chair by the television to consume his dinner.

With a hesitant hand, he reached for the television remote to check in with the pinnacle-sporting event of the summer. Within seconds of examining the video coverage, he sighed with relief when he discovered that his favorite player in the Hunger Games was still alive.

Sticking her head into the living room, Cynthia scanned the room for her daughter. "If Livia enters the room, turn off the television if someone is about to die. That includes the replays."

"I will." Coriolanus looked at his wife to reassure her.

With his daughter playing in the bedroom and his wife busy with her roses, Coriolanus sat back with his simple dinner and watched the various video highlights as the enthusiastic broadcasters described the most recent death in arena. To the senator's surprise, the last killing happened a mere hour ago.

The broadcast switched back to live television, displaying a pack of five teenagers making their return through a wooded area towards their base camp. The numerous cameras and microphones in the forest arena picked up every detail, and the information relayed back from the teenagers' conversation moved Coriolanus to the edge of his seat: the five teenagers were planning to kill his favorite player upon their return.

The television switched to the base camp where Coriolanus's favorite had remained behind to protect the pack's supplies. The live cameras displayed the young man preparing a larger than normal dinner, which left the TV commentators perplexed.

Surviving the initial bloodbath of the Hunger Games that killed seven tributes at the opening gong—including a female Career, this scraggy kid with glasses was given the chore of protecting the supplies collected on the first day so that the Careers could hunt down and kill the remaining tributes. Due to this tribute's ability to cook and higher knowledge, which the others occasionally sought during training, the young lad found himself destined to be one of the final half dozen kids out of the original 24, who would fight to the death until only one remained.

This year, to the viewers chagrin, there were three twelve-year-olds drafted into the games, and more common than not, they fell into the initial trap of trying to secure at least one item from the Cornucopia, the place from whence the games began.

The remaining kids, not in the Career pack, aged 14-18, dispersed into the surrounding woods, but they were all hunted down one at a time over the next two and a half weeks, until today when the last one was tracked down and killed.

Surprising many this year, very few pairings occurred among the surviving non-career tributes. Had they worked together, they could have opposed the Careers—or at least made things more difficult, but the Careers had an easy go of it as usual and were now heading back to kill the no longer needed boy from District 3.

Coriolanus felt attached to the boy when he first saw the lad picked during the yearly reaping: the event where one boy and one girl from the outer districts, between the ages of 12-18, were picked at random as sacrifices to fight to the death in the yearly Hunger Games. After the District 3 girl was chosen, the young senator thought he saw something different in the boy when the cameras first focused on him after the drawing of his name. The young senator perceived to see the male child sharpening his mind to survive the games, and from that moment on, Coriolanus would unknowingly whisper the name "Beetee" as he watched the hours of nightly coverage on the television.

As it turned out, Beetee's intelligence ranked among the highest in Hunger Game history. And being that the teenager's District was home to many engineers who designed and built the finer things for the Capitol, the girl from District 3 also ranked above average intelligence. Despite her acuity, the girl unfortunately took a fatal wound to the abdomen and was among the initial seven who died on the first day.

Unbeknownst to Coriolanus, Livia had entered the living room to play with her dolls on the couch. When Mrs. Snow noticed her daughter's presence before the television, she exited the balcony and escorted Livia back to their bedroom to spare the child any possible bloodshed. "Come, sweetie. You need to play in the bedroom. The Hunger Games isn't meant for Capitol children."

Cynthia returned soon after and sat on the couch. Glancing for only a moment at the television, she picked up her computer tablet from the coffee table. "Are we close to having a winner?"

Coriolanus forced himself to sit back in his chair. "No. About an hour ago, the Careers just killed the last one outside their pack. They are now heading back to their base camp to kill my guy."

"Don't feel bad, hon. That skinny kid didn't have much of a chance."

"He still has a chance." Snow frowned. "He's a thinker."

Looking up at the television, Cynthia watched Beetee move about the Cornucopia. "Brains don't have much of a chance against brawn. What is he doing?"

Smirking, Coriolanus hesitated to answer. "He's making dinner."

"For his killers? Is he going to poison them or something?"

Gnawing his lip, Snow tried to remember the events of the past couple weeks. "I don't think so. I never saw him collect anything poisonous."

"Well he better start stimulating his brain cells. He's running out of time." Cynthia returned to her tablet.

Please tell me that you have a plan. You must have heard the boom of the canon that announced the death of the last tribute. You know you're next, don't you? Staring at the television, Coriolanus leant forward when he noticed Beetee pulling on something attached to the large metal Cornucopia.

Upon a closer camera angle, the viewers could see Beetee removing a long twisted metal wire from the roof of the Cornucopia. The wire served as a hauling cable for when hovercraft airlifted the truck sized ornamental centerpiece of the Hunger Games to a new arena each year.

With the cable detached, the tribute ran the twisted wires through the tall grass towards the area where all the career tributes ate, near a large pot of soup heating over a campfire.

Taking a seat on an overturned crate, Beetee worked with trembling hands to thread the cable through a large net made from cotton rope. Sweat began running down his chin as the teenager shoved the attached net into a large bucket of water.

Next, Beetee proceeded to place one end of the wire down the opening of a hanging burlap sack suspended from a nearby tree.

Cynthia looked up from her computer tablet to see perspiration beading on her husband's forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Using his sleeve, Coriolanus wiped his brow dry.

"It's just a game. Are you that involved with the District 3 kid?"

"Yes. And it's more than a game. It's life. It's what keeps Panem thriving."

Turning her attention to the television, Cynthia took notice of the burlap sack that Beetee was gingerly inspecting. "I wonder if he's going to practice throwing that net again."

"Again?"

"Yes. He soaked one of the gladiatorial fighting nets in water earlier today and was practicing throwing it. I don't know why he just doesn't take off running now. He cannot capture more than one or two career tributes in that thing. The others will slit him open before he can kill anyone he has netted."

Coriolanus began rubbing his chin. "I don't think he's using the net as it's intended."

Beetee rushed over to the food supplies and began sifting through a box until he removed a bundled cloth. Unwrapping the cloth, the young man revealed a small loaf of bread that he had hidden days prior. Turning the bread over in his hands, he found it stale, rock hard. He held the stale loaf in the air in search of the television cameras that spied on him.

Setting her computer tablet aside, Mrs. Snow became as intrigued as her husband. "What do you think he's doing now?"

"I think he's asking for fresh bread from his sponsors."

"His sponsors haven't given him anything the whole games."

Snow shrugged. "Perhaps they were saving their money for emergencies."

"The others will be back soon. I'd say this is an emergency."

Just then, a small white parachute drifted down into the camera view, landing near the camp. When Beetee opened the gift from his sponsors, he smiled with relief. In his hands, he held five loaves of fresh bread.

"I bet that cost a fortune." Cynthia began to fidget as she stared at the television.

"He's setting up some sort of a trap, and I'm assuming he needed bate. His mentor must have figured out his plan."

Beetee set the loaves of bread on top of the overturned crate next to the soaking gladiatorial net. Using the bread's cloth wrappings and a small piece of plastic tarp, he covered the food to keep it warm and protected from insects.

Cynthia rose from the couch and headed for her bedroom. "I'm going to check on Livia and take one of my stress pills. Something tells me that I'm going to need it."

By the time Mrs. Snow returned from her bedroom, the five career tributes were approaching their base camp. Spotting the Careers, Beetee returned to his soup kettle to stir the contents with a shaky hand.

His own hands shaking, Coriolanus gripped his seat cushion to steady himself as he stared at the television. Whatever you have planned, it had better be big.

The five career tributes approached and formed a circle around Beetee, their narrow eyes focused on the District 3 tribute.

Beetee grabbed one of the various makeshift bowls and began filling it with soup. "I've prepared some soup from our better supplies. I assume that tomorrow starts a new phase of the games with our competitors eliminated."

With their hands on their weapons, the Careers kept their blades sheathed as they shifted their eyes to one another.

Their leader, sniffing the fragrant soup from where he stood, released his tense grip from his sword hilt and stepped forward for his bowl. "Sure. We should take this evening to celebrate."

One at a time, the remaining four career tributes relaxed and approached Beetee for a bowl of soup.

Beetee prepared his own bowl and took a seat at the campfire where he found everyone staring at him, not eating. Smiling, he realized that they were all waiting for him to taste the soup, to prove the meal safe to eat. He promptly began eating.

One by one, the others began consuming their dinner.

Clearing his throat, Beetee patted the sweat from his brow with his shirtsleeve. "Did the last one put up much of a fight?"

"No." One of the female Careers glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "He was decimated by hunger. I think he was succumbing to madness."

One of the Career boys chuckled. "We tracked him down by his singing. If we hadn't finished him off, I think the elements would have killed in a couple days.

The tributes continued eating in the uncomfortable silence. Sporadically, all the Careers looked to their leader, wondering what they were going to do with their friend from District 3—when they would kill him.

Using a makeshift wooden spoon, Beetee fished for a small piece of beef with his shaky hand. "So, what happens tomorrow?"

The leader looked up from his bowl. "The games are on hold until the morning when we all go our separate ways. We will each take what supplies we can carry from the Cornucopia, and when the sun sets, we final six will hunt and fight until only one remains."

Meeting the leader's stare, Beetee swallowed hard. "Okay."

Grabbing a pillow from the couch, Mrs. Snow placed it across her stomach and began rocking back and forth. "Aren't the mentors for the career tributes going to warn them that Beetee has set a trap?"

Without taking his eyes off the television, Coriolanus shook his head. "No. There is now way to pass warnings to the tributes; besides, I doubt the mentors from the other districts have figured it out."

Cynthia pointed at the television. "What did he put in the hanging burlap sack?"

"Tesla flowers. The ones he collected to surround their camp as an early warning system."

"The ones that give you an electric shock when stepped on?"

"Yes. The electricity stored in the head of the flower won't kill you, but the shock can knock you on your ass." Snow remembered watching Beetee collecting them the day before while the Careers were hunting for the last tribute. "He told them that the flowers were no longer necessary since there was only one enemy remaining. He told them that he'd clear away the traps so they wouldn't accidently step on them being that they were hard to see in wild prairie grass."

Gripping her pillow tighter, Cynthia gnawed her lip. "One of the girls stepped on one a couple days ago. The shock went right through her boot."

"The electricity jumped to her ankle. Remember how she had to treat the burn." Recalling how Beetee collected the flowers, Coriolanus smiled. "Did you see how he filled the burlap sack with Tesla flowers? He stacked them carefully so that they would not discharge. He told the others that he did not want to dispose of them in case they were needed later. No one gave it a second thought."

"So?"

"So, there is a lot of stored electricity in that burlap sack."

Cynthia stared at her husband for a moment. "Like a giant battery?"

"Um...no." Coriolanus gnawed his lip, trying to remember the basic science of electricity. When it became clear, he made a small gasp. "It's a giant capacitor."

"What's that?"

"It's like a battery, but instead of releasing its energy slow, it releases the electricity all at once...like lightning."