Tarran Tyminski
Age 16
District 2 Male
"Why did you do that?"
Gray gripped Tarran's shoulders tightly with shaking hands. His eyes were wide, desperate for an answer Tarran wasn't sure Gray would like, but an answer he was owed.
Tarran hadn't planned on volunteering for the Games, not for a couple more years. He wanted to get as much practice in as possible before he took that leap. However, when Gray's name was called, Tarran didn't see any other option. If Gray went as he was… Tarran didn't want to consider that scenario.
"You aren't ready yet," Tarran said, reaching up to squeeze his best friend's hand. "Perhaps in a couple years, you will be, but if you went in now... I couldn't let that happen."
"Well, what about you? Are you ready?"
"He's going to have to be." Tarran and Gray glanced over to where Lira leaned against the wall. "I'm not worried, Gray. Tarran's always been the best of us."
"Thanks," Tarran replied with a grin. "Explain that to my brother when he gets on my case."
Gray sighed, defeat in his eyes but acceptance on his face. "Well, now what?"
"Now, I win the Hunger Games. If I can show the Capitol that District 2 is loyal, we can make some real changes here. In the meantime, you two stay the course. Keep working. When I get back, I'll see about getting more people on board. The more people we train, the more kids we save."
Kids like him, who could only stand helpless and watch as his brother went to the Games in his stead and return a shell of his former self.
When Tyrion left, Tarran vowed he would never allow himself to be helpless again. He didn't want anyone else to feel that way either.
"What the hell, Tarran?"
Tarran looked away from the train window and blinked at his older brother.
"Why, hello to you too."
Tyrion's frown deepened. His eyebrows furrowed. "You think this is a game?"
"Well, it is the Hunger Games."
"Tarran! I literally went through hell to keep you from having to go through this!" Tyrion's voice was harsh and pained, and it took all of Tarran's willpower not to flinch. "How can you make it all for nothing?"
Tarran's face hardened and he looked his older brother in the eye. "I didn't, Tyrion. I'm paying it forward. Gray wasn't ready for this."
"And you are?"
"I'm going to have to be."
The brand new "tribute hotel" was supposed to be an upgrade from the zoo, and while it was, Tarran felt so exposed with windows for walls and zero privacy. The meals delivered through an elevator system were hearty and the beds were comfortable, but the people of the Capitol were able to view him at all hours.
Communication with Tyrion happened twice a day, when the mentors were allowed visitation to work on strategy. "You're going to need some allies," Tyrion said. "Have you spoken with your district partner?"
"Yeah, when they let us interact. She's thinking about it."
"Good. Do you have a plan?"
Tarran nodded. "Grab a spear and get to poking."
"Seriously?"
"What?"
"Broomsticks are not spears, Tarran. And before you try to deny it, I know you've been training with Lira and Gray. I'm not as oblivious as I was five years ago."
Tarran glared at his brother. "You won the Games with a crowbar."
Tyrion was silent and for a moment, Tarran worried he had gone too far. Tyrion sighed deeply. "Point."
"Don't worry, big bro," Tarran reassured. "I have a plan. I'll win, you'll see."
Tyrion closed his eyes tightly.
"That's what worries me."
Tarran's plan went out the window the moment he was led towards a hovercraft instead of the arena.
When he tried to ask what the hell was going on, he was met with a shove into a cage. He looked around for Helya, but he couldn't catch a glimpse of her before the cages were covered in tarps and Tarran was unable to see a thing. He had a horrible feeling that the hovercraft wasn't going to the Capitol arena.
He spent however many hours in that cramped cage, constantly adjusting his position to keep his legs from aching, trying to think of a new strategy. The basics were there. It was as he told Tyrion: find Helya, grab a spear and start poking, but what would he do after?
Tarran's thoughts were broken by the sound of alarms, and he could hear the Peacekeepers begin shouting at each other. He heard the sound of hatches opening, and for a long, terrible moment, he thought, "Oh Gems, they're going to drop us!"
That silly thought was half purged, half confirmed when he heard the loud sound of chains clanking against one another and felt the cage begin to lower.
Despite the tarp, Tarran got a face full of hot and humid air and he instantly began to sweat. These rough and scratchy uniforms that the Capitol now insisted on having the tributes wear was already threatening to fry him right there in the cage.
The cages hit the ground roughly, causing some of the tributes to grunt. Then, the tarps were removed, and tributes began hissing in pain as bright sunlight entered their eyes. Tarran shielded his own eyes and tried to blink away the spots. He could hear cicadas and birdsong. In the distance, he could hear the sound of ocean waves brushing against the shore, all things he had heard of and seen on television but had yet to ever see. One glance around him confirmed that he was on some kind of tropical island. It was almost tranquil…almost.
"Tributes!" One of the Peacekeepers shouted. "Listen up! This year, our esteemed Head Gamemaker has decided to try something new! After we depart, the countdown will commence. The Games will begin when the cages open and they will end when we confirm that only one of you is left alive. Do not attempt to leave the island. Doing so will result in your immediate termination. We will be monitoring the progress of the Games from above and keeping you informed as needed. Good luck!"
The Peacekeepers began to depart using the chain ladders that brought the cages down to rise back up into the hovercraft.
Tarran looked ahead towards the pile of weapons and realized that there were no backpacks or any other supplies.
All those camping trips he took with his friends to learn survival skills were about to pay off.
Tarran maneuvered himself into a position that would make it easier for him to run the moment the cages opened. He searched the weapons pile and couldn't help but smile with relief when he saw the spear.
The cages opened and Tarran broke into a run.
Tarran stood in the middle of the weapons pile, completely out of breath. His hands and arms were covered in blood, as was the spear he was holding. Helya stood next to him, shaking and equally bloodstained, but alive. Both of them jumped when a gunshot echoed through the air. Tarran looked up in time to see the hovercraft's guns fired again and again, until it had fired eleven times. Tarran looked around at the bodies scattered across the clearing. Eleven total.
"One shot for every dead tribute," Helya said.
"Yeah," Tarran replied. "That sounds about right. You want to help me drag them out of here? Last thing we need is for our camp to start stinking."
"Our camp?"
"Look around, Helya. If the tributes wanted these supplies, they would have taken them."
Helya smiled. "Fair enough. How many did you kill?"
"I lost count. You?"
"Same. Did you see anyone else kill someone?"
"The girl from One and the boy from Seven."
Tarran's face hardened. Two tributes with kills aside from them. Two threats to remove from the equation.
"We can take turns guarding the camp at night while the tributes are sleeping. Whoever isn't guarding can track those two down. The sooner these Games are over, the better."
Helya looked unsure about this. Tarran gave her a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, Helya. I've been thinking about my strategy for years. Yeah, the arena changed, but we can adapt."
"Okay, just…don't die."
Tarran's smile widened as he walked towards the body of the girl from Eight. "Never."
Tarran set out at sunset after throwing together a quick supper for himself and Helya. It was around this time that the anthem began to blare from the hovercraft. Tarran noted that that floating trash heap must have had some insanely powerful speakers. After the anthem, Lucky Flickerman himself began to speak. "Attention all tributes! The Capitol hopes you are enjoying yourselves so far! Unless you have sustained a head injury recently, you might have noticed the gunshots that sounded earlier this afternoon. These guns will continue to fire as the Games progress. One gunshot equals one fallen tribute, as some of you have already figured out. In addition, to make your experience more enjoyable and easier, this year, the fallen tributes of the day will be announced each night at seven o'clock Capitol time."
Lucky began to list the names of the fallen tributes one by one. The boy from Three, the girl from Four, both from Five, the boy from Six, the girl from Seven, the girl from Eight, the girl from Nine, the boy from Eleven, and both tributes from Twelve were gone. Eleven tributes were dead, and thirteen remained.
More would die in the night. Tarran had no other choice but to make sure of it.
Within less than an hour of him leaving the camp, he saw a fire blossom in the dark. Tarran sighed and gripped his spear. Stupid people were dangerous. It was better for this stupid person to be out of the way before any damage could be done.
However, someone must have beat Tarran to it because a girl's scream echoed in the trees and a few minutes later, a gunshot sounded.
Tarran was immediately on alert and he made his way to where the fire was and found the girl from One picking through what used to be the girl from Ten's body, taking what supplies she could. "Give me a minute, will you?" she said harshly.
Tarran gripped his spear tighter. "Why should I?"
The girl looked up and Tarran immediately took a defensive position. "You're teaming up with your district partner right? Well, I'm trying to find mine. Help me out and you'll have two more people in your corner."
"You killed the girl from Seven in the bloodbath."
"I did. Turns out, being the track and field champion comes with perks."
Tarran loosened his grip. "Okay. We'll find your district partner, but if either of you try anything…" He let the threat go unspoken. The girl rolled her eyes.
"I'm not stupid, Two. I saw you skewer three people back there."
"Fair enough. I'm Tarran, by the way."
"Silk."
There were two more gunshots before the sun rose again. None of them were by Silk or Tarran's hands. Tarran silently pleaded to anyone who was listening that neither of those gunshots were for Helya or Silk's district partner.
His prayers were somewhat answered. When he and Silk made it back to camp, Helya was wide awake and putting breakfast together. "Morning you," she said cheerfully. "Who's the girl?"
"Morning," Tarran replied. "This is Silk. She's with us now. We're looking for her district partner…what was his name again?"
"Diamond," Silk replied curtly.
"Diamond. Yeah."
The three ate breakfast quickly. Helya volunteered to take watch so Silk and Tarran could get some sleep before the search for Diamond resumed…if he was still alive. Before they could get comfortable, a massive drone descended from the sky. Tarran grinned when he saw it was carrying a tent kit. "Thanks, brother," he whispered.
Of course, it was just as likely that Ruby or Magnus sent that kit, but he liked to think otherwise. Hopefully the Capitol would too.
Helya and Tarran found Diamond the next day, just as the boy from Ten was letting him slip to the ground, a knife in his chest.
They were too late.
Tarran's eyes went wide, and his blood went cold as the gunshot rang out.
"No…"
The boy looked up upon hearing this. "What?" he snarled. "You killed my District Partner! Fair is fair."
A dark look crossed Tarran's face. "Fair is fair," he said grimly. Then, he lunged, Helya right behind him.
When the red haze cleared, the boy from Ten was unrecognizable. He was bloodied and full of holes from Tarran's spear. He twitched and moaned and tried to cling to life and his one remaining eye seared accusingly and fearfully into Tarran's soul.
He felt sick.
A pitiful look crossed Helya's face and she plunged her spear into the boy's neck.
The gun fired, and Helya pulled Tarran away.
The weight of four lives settled heavily on his shoulders, much like the bereaved Silk's head as she cried into his shoulder after he had broken the news.
The trio spent the next day at camp, despondent. Two more tributes died, and they realized they had to move.
They took what supplies they could and set fire to the rest. Tarran felt a strange sense of finality as he watched his temporary home burn to the ground.
That finality, at least, took his mind off of everything he had just done.
One more day passed, and the trio got two more kills. Unfortunately, that last one, the boy from Seven, took Helya with him, slicing her throat open with his axe before Silk stabbed him.
Tarran would hate himself for it later, but at the time, it was the only thing he could think of. Silk was a good fighter, and she would give her all in this final fight. Tarran wasn't confident he could defeat her, and if died…
He couldn't afford to die. Not with Tyrion, Lira, and Gray waiting for him.
Not with the fate of Two's children resting on his shoulders.
As Silk kneeled down to close Helya's eyelids, Tarran struck first. He plunged his spear into the base of her neck and choked back a sob as she instantly went limp.
She had no chance to realize Tarran had betrayed her.
No time to feel that hurt.
Tarran dropped to his knees. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm so sorry."
The final gunshot rang out and Lucky Flickerman's voice echoed out across the jungle. "That's it! The last one! Tarran Tyminski of District 2 has won the Twelfth Annual Hunger Games!"
The realization hit Tarran like a tidal wave. He had won, yet it felt nothing like Tarran thought it would.
It felt so … hollow.
Tarran felt another surge of guilt when he realized that now, he understood what his brother meant by throwing it away. Tyrion didn't mean his life.
And somehow, it was so much worse.
As the hovercraft came to collect him, Tarran forced himself to rise like a proper victor.
He looked up to the sky and took a deep breath, letting the guilt and heartbreak become something more resolute.
If this was what it was like for him, what was it like for Tyrion, who had no training whatsoever yet threw himself into danger anyway?
What was it like for Magnus, who didn't ask to be in the ring to begin with?
No, Tarran could not let any kids go through this kind of pain unprepared.
He would protect as many as he could, and those he couldn't protect, he'd prepare them.
It was the least he could do.
For Helya and Silk.
Tarran was so much fun to write. He is very regretful, but he also turns that into something productive. He is a good example of what the early Careers looked like, though he doesn't consider himself the first. He was more of a test run for when Lira volunteered three years later.
I also got to introduce a new arena! The island will be used for a while, though changes will be made over the years until its abandoned in favor of new arenas every year, around the Quell. It will be called Survivor Island in the Capitol, and Death Island in the Districts.