Hunger Games (DNF)

Part 1, Chapter 15: technical difficulties

I swear this is the only time this will happen because I wouldn't usually do something like this except if it was for the plot.
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Sam POV.

I walked back and forth, looking at the monitors of all the tributes who were still alive. Currently only 10 were left, with one being killed this morning. It was quite common to lose the first dozen tributes in 2 or 3 days, the remaining tributes took a lot longer to die since they were more spread out.

One tribute in particular drew my attention and I found myself smiling slightly as I watched the scene unfold. One of the tributes from District 3 and one of the tributes from District 4 were cuddling each other while they slept. On another screen I could see a pair from District 9 and District 7 doing the same.

“Mr Sam... sir…” I turned around when one of the game makers called for my attention.
“What’s wrong Antfrost?” I asked, beginning to walk over to him.
“We got weather warnings from a ship off the coast of District 4 and a major storm is heading towards the arena…” he stated, looking me dead in the eyes.

“The games have been around for 80 years now, Ant, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure sir? Because this is the worst storm in a century apparently. It could mess up or even break the forcefield. Nobody should be hurt but the tributes could get out if the storm hits.” Antfrost explained, and I let out a loud sigh.

“You know how President Schlatt is Ant, if anything goes wrong he’ll have my head.” as I said that my hand subconsciously moved up to rub the skin of my neck.
“Surely the president would understand that we can’t control the weather outside the arena-”

“No he won’t…” I cut him off, “Schlatt is cruel Ant! Anything goes wrong and I will be the first one he’ll go after! Not the tributes. Not the districts. Not any traitor. Me!” I let out a sigh, calming myself down. “Warn President Schlatt for bad weather, then get some extra hovercrafts and peacekeepers to patrol the outside area, but make sure they all have rubber so they don’t get electrocuted.”

Ant nodded as he began making some calls.
I went over to the centre of the room to watch the holographic map of the arena, the 10 remaining tributes were fairly spread out but a bunch of them were in clusters. The 2 tributes from 1, and the only living tribute from 2 were walking together. One from 3 and 4 were together. The one from 7 and the one from 9 were together.

The other 4 tributes  were all on their own.
What was making me the most excited was the tribute from District 3 who is on his own at the moment and began making his way over to the boys from 3 and 4. I felt like this was going to be interesting

I looked over to another game maker, Foolish, and got his attention. “What would you like sir?” he asked.
“I want you to start designing some mutts to release into the arena tonight. There will be a storm so I need a way to keep the tributes and the audience… occupied.”

Foolish gave a nod. “I should have a design ready in 2 or 3 hours.”
I gave a nod, before turning around and letting out a shaky sigh. I hope that this storm isn’t as bad as Ant said it will be, or my head would be on the line.

Clay POV.

I heard the swishing of somebody moving through water, that is what woke me up. George was still curled up on my lap and my hand immediately moved so that I could grab a knife, clutching it as I moved George onto the ground beside me. Being as quiet as possible I stood up and moved towards the campfire that had been put out.

A boy was there, he’d just climbed onto the bank from the river and was crawling up the riverbank before glancing meekly up at me. “Who are you?” I asked, gripping my weapon and aiming at him.

I should kill him where he stands… well crawls… he will be dead in a couple days if I don’t kill him now. Plus, I can make it painless… it won’t hurt either of us… he looks innocent, but there have been dozens of tributes who looked that way and were lethal, he could be one of them.

What the fuck! I let out several quick gasps for air. I heard the games could drive people crazy, victors came out of the game insane, psychotic murderers, that is what was happening to me. I repeated my question, “who are you?”

“Darryl.” The boy replied. I knew him from the parade, from the interview, from the training centre, but couldn’t remember what district he was from.
“Why are you here… Darryl?”
“Food… I need food… can you help me…” the tribute begged.

I shook my head, “I can’t help you. Now go before I kill you.”
“Please… I know George… wake him up and he’ll tell you.” The tribute continued to beg as he stood up.
“I’m not going to wake him up. This is your last chance to leave.”

He was shaking now as he began stepping backwards, probably realising it was his best way to live. Before he reached the water he pointed at an apple that had been sitting there since I took it out of my bag 2 days ago now.
“Please… can I at least have that…”

After looking at the fruit and then back to him again I gritted my teeth and nodded. “Fine.”
He bent down to pick it up before I changed my mind. I'd probably get more sponsors to get food and care for me and my ally if I kill him now. Before I could think it through I moved towards him and stabbed him in the chest, before stumbling back as my brain caught up with me.

The boy looked shocked as he looked back up at me, his hand reached down to the wound on his chest where the knife now was and he let out a gasp, before falling forward. Lifeless. A cannon went off and my eyes widened when I saw the number of his district stitched onto the back of his shirt… 3.

It was muddy, so I could be mistaken, and so I pulled the knife from his chest and used it to cut the fabric. The mud had dried of course and so I moved over to the river and rinsed it and… fuck… district 3. I just killed George’s District partner. I threw the fabric down and it landed on the grass beside the river bank.

I knew a hovercraft would come for his body soon so I let out a gulp before bending down and lifting it up, moving over to the river and dumping the corpse into it. His green eyes, which had shined moments ago, were staring at me as I dumped it into the river, sending up a splash… I bet the audience is loving this…

The corpse disappeared into the distance as the rapids pulled his body playfully off and away from me. My body now rigid, bent down and I cleaned off the knife. After spending ages doing that, cleaning off layers of blood which weren’t even there, I turned around and threw it over to the pile of weapons and other stuff, making a clatter before I moved over to George, who was still asleep.

I sat down beside him and let out an exhausted breath, hoping I could clear my mind before he woke up, but unfortunately for me, a few moments after I sat down he stirred.
“Good morning George.” I greeted, when his big, round, brown eyes looked up to meet mine. He was so innocent… so blissfully ignorant to what just happened, and the way he smiled up at me as though I was not a murderer confirmed that.
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1366 words.

I am sorry that I had Clay hurt our little muffin. I shouldn't have and I apologize.

It was for the plot.