Chapter 75: Cannons

Six cannons had gone off already. Two for the Swamp arena, one each for the Sea, Tropics, Desert and Arctic landscapes. The Tributes were not off to a great start. Of course, no one had expected Johanna's tributes to fare well after she failed to instruct them on their terrain. Paylor had taken pity on them in the end and provided reading materials for them prior to weapons training week. They needed to glean whatever information they could from these and obviously it wasn't enough. In her rush to reach a flat bottomed boat tied to a tree near her marker, Tribute 8 had stepped into quicksand. There had been no warning. It just looked like sand with water streaming over the top of it. Her death had been slow and terrifying as she struggled to free herself from its deathly grip. She called out for help, but there was no one to hear her. The more Tribute 8 struggled, the quicker the sand engulfed her until, finally, her head disappeared beneath the surface. The swamp had claimed its first victim. The second tribute, Tribute 14, had been unfortunate enough to have encountered a snake as he waded into the waters to reach his boat. The last thing he saw was the contrast of its white mouth against the muddy waters of the swamp before an attempt to tackle the snake sealed his fate. He managed to make it as far as the boat, where he struggled to get on board, and then finally lay dying as the poison penetrated his system. It was a slower death than Tribute 8 had suffered and the people in the Districts watched both with fascination. Capitol children were dying the same way their own children had. Unceremoniously and in vain.

Annie's tributes had been prepared well, or as well as they could have been. She had taught them the basics of swimming and diving, instructed them on how to catch fish and warned them about what creatures to avoid. It hadn't been enough for one tribute. Each of them had been delivered to a separate island, created especially for the Games, and each had to find the escape route to the second arena. The difficulty for these tributes was that their escape route was underwater and most of them had not spent a significant amount of time in the water. They had spent time on the edges maybe… at the beach, on boats… but never in a serious effort to survive its dangers. The tribute who did not survive, Tribute 15, had located her backpack, but had not understood how to effectively use the device she had been given for underwater survival. In her desperate attempt to find the escape route, she hadn't realized there just wasn't sufficient air for a lengthy underwater exploration and a safe return to the surface. The audience had watched her body spasm before it slowly sank to the bottom of the sea and her struggle with this life was ended.

Haymitch's first tribute had lost his footing. It was as simple as that. Tribute 2 had climbed a tree to grab a coconut and slipped on his way back down. It wasn't even a tall tree, just tall enough that, when combined with an awkward fall, it brought the tribute to his untimely end. Haymitch hadn't wanted to watch the suffering of his tributes, but he was invested now, as he had been once before, and needed to see what the outcome would be. It was voyeuristic and addictive, the biggest problem being he couldn't generate any sponsorship to help these tributes. They were completely on their own and that, in itself, was reason enough to remain with them, even if only in spirit.

Enobaria hadn't calculated for the breakdown of one of her tributes. Tribute 24 did not even make an attempt to survive. Remaining on his marker as the countdown ended, he simply viewed the barren terrain before him and sat down, leaving his backpack in place. After baking in the hot desert sun for several hours, he became dehydrated and finally disoriented. Shouting to the cameras, to his family, to anyone who would listen, he begged them to come and rescue him, telling people he didn't want to die and finally whimpered in the end that he just wanted to go home. It was a pitiful death, made all the worse when desert foxes surrounded him in a large pack, before finally attacking and putting an end to his suffering. It was disturbing viewing and District people found no pleasure in watching his demise. Even if their own children had suffered, they took no pleasure in watching the suffering of others. They knew it only too well.

Hypothermia brought about the inevitable demise of Beetee's first tribute. Unable to move quickly enough, or with enough sense of purpose, Tribute 22 had faltered when attempting to find shelter and was eventually unable to maintain her body temperature. She sat shivering in the cold and made a vain attempt at keeping the blood flowing to her extremities by flexing her fingers and wriggling her toes, but it wasn't enough. In the end, her death was as silent as the snow lying all around her.

The Games were proving to be as deadly without weapons as they were with them, and Mother Nature seemed to be exacting her own price for Snow's arrogance. No one had come forward on behalf of the Tributes and the Mentors were becoming angry. How could these people allow their own children to die and not even raise a hand to help them? What sort of parents were they? What sort of people? The kind, obviously, who had lived all their life with privilege and never expected any hardship to enter their world. Hardship was for other people, people in the Districts. The Capitol crowd thought only of themselves and what was in their best interests. Even their own children were not to be considered when it came to preserving what they once had. This was another indication that the plan to force Snow out of hiding may yet backfire. People in the Districts would never behave this way, with so little regard for human life. They were constantly struggling to survive and life was precious to them in a way that it was not to the people in the Capitol. Soon the question would need to be asked...how was it all going to end? And who was going to end it?

The Tributes in the various arenas are suddenly alerted by a vision in the sky. Capitol music plays loudly and they are invited to view the fallen Tributes. Six in total. This time they show their first names, along with their faces, and Ebony crawls out of the crevasse where she is hidden to watch the nightly tally with the rest of Panem. Tribute 2, Zander; Tribute 15, Beatrix; Tribute 14, Claudius; Tribute 8, Victoria; Tribute 22, Electra; Tribute 24, Lucius. One of the dead is her fellow tribute, Electra, and Ebony is glad that there is one less person she has to concern herself with going into the battle to exit the Arena. It is every man for himself and she can't afford to think about the suffering of the other tributes. Their deaths just give her a better chance of surviving and she is now focused on the morning when she will begin to make her way up the mountain in search of the elusive exit to the second arena.

Lorcan is resting at the base of a tree when the vision of the fallen tributes appears in the sky. After taking in those that have been lost, and realizing none of them are from his training group, Lorcan ponders the heavens, and the odds that are still in their favour. Since grabbing his backpack, he had ventured stealthily through the woods looking for any sign of water, wildlife or the possibility of an exit. He had been fortunate enough to find a small running stream, but had to drink from it with his hands as there had been no container amongst his supplies. A length of string had enabled him to set a trap with some branches that had snared him a small ground bird searching for berries. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep the hunger pangs away. He knew not to keep a fire burning after dark so, after putting it out, he wrapped himself in the blanket contained in the backpack. His supplies had also included a torch, but he was reluctant to use as it would give his hiding place away. Lorcan has decided to use it only in emergencies. He has no idea where the other Tributes are, but thought he heard the Mockingjay tune earlier, the one Katniss had created and which had become a symbol of the Revolution. Maybe it was Verity testing her skills. Maybe there were alliances already forming. Lorcan wasn't sure, but the tune had reminded him of his Mentors. Thinking about Peeta's last words of advice, Lorcan drifts off to sleep feeling strangely calm and peaceful.