Beyond The Pale Chapter 13
Author's Note: I do not own The Hunger Games
Denis Rostron, 16. Male Tribute for District 7 in the Fourth Hunger Games, July 21st A:D:D: 4
Six days, I thought. That's how long I have been in here, and the amount of days Alicia had been dead for. District 7's chance of winning rests on me now. I'm isolated; the Districts 1 and 2 Tributes are allied, there's the pair from Nine and then there's the 10-11-12 Alliance. So in all, I'm on my own. I am basically doomed at this point.
Sitting on the bleachers, I looked around the Arena. Tattered posters was on the walls, announcing concerts and a Pre-Dark Days sport called Giridon. The Arena still has remnants from before the Dark Days. Yet now all it sees is blood splatters, of youths condemned to die. I wonder who sat here hundreds of years ago. I guess we'll never know what a Super Bowl was.
I jumped up when I heard a scream, of a Tribute being killed, before another scream and a sound of "Wheat" echoed around the Arena. It's torture, I thought, remembering how poor Alicia died, shot by an arrow. For what seemed to be hours the screams continued, until they fell silent, the District 9 pair having fallen into an eternal slumber. This isn't right.
"Hey Alicia?" I yelled as I watched the girl swing her axe into the trunk of a Douglas Fir. Long ago, District 7 used to be known as Oregon, and around the District, there were still traces of a Civilization that lived long ago. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hut, and entered it. Inside was traces of fabric, old uniform that resembled that of a firefighter's, and parachutes. As I looked around I saw a flight of stairs, and walking up I entered another room; this room had photos on the walls, black-and-white with different dates on them. As I looked at the photos I spotted, at the back, a colour portrait, of a red-haired man wearing a strange suit. Behind him was some sort of patch, with what appeared to be a shooting star heading towards the Moon. Walking outside, I spotted, fenced off, a tree; a metal sign in front of the tree piqued my curiosity. Approaching the sign, I read it. Apparently before the Dark Days the Civilization that built the hut also sent people into outer space, and this tree is in memory of that red-haired guy. "Denis!" I heard Alicia call, and turning away from the tree, I returned to where she was and picked up my axe.
Another set of screams snapped me out of my thoughts of District 7. Again, the sounds of two unfortunate Tributes were torture to hear, let alone experience. I sat on the bleachers, thinking of my next course of action. Standing up, I could see across the Arena; the Weapons Pile in the middle of the field, the area around the Pile stained with dried blood. Looking to my right I saw a group of three Tributes approach four bodies. "Barbara!" "Swift!" yelled two of the three. The District 10 girl and District 11 boy, I recalled. Hope I don't be next.
Getting up early, I made my way to the Weapons Pile after spotting an axe. What I need to win, I thought as I picked the weapon up. As I turned around I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder, and felt my hand loosen it's grip on the axe. As I fell on the soft grass, I heard a girl laugh. "Got one Oliver!" The girl crowed as my vision began to darken. I'm sorry District 7. I failed. This is too cruel. Closing my eyes, my thoughts turned to my District Partner. Alicia, I'll see you in a minute, I thought as the darkness consumed me.
I would imagine Denis would explore the woods in District 7. Yes, that's Sisikyou Forest in Oregon he is exploring, and he is exploring the former smokejumper base; he does not know what a smokejumper was, nor does he know why the person in the portrait is important.