The Incoming Storm: The Tale of the 325th Hunger Games

Chapter 8

 The head trainer takes us on a tour of the training center before we are released to learn. The place is cavernous and has so many stations. There are racks of weapons with mannequins and bullseyes, weight lifting stations, treadmills, rock climbing walls, simulated tree climbing areas, and even a pool for people to learn to swim on the off chance the arena we are placed in has a substantial amount of water. There are also a number of survival stations, knot tying, fire starting, one with dozens of natural dyes for camouflage, a place to learn about different shelters for different terrain, and on and on.

She gives us a brief lecture on the rules of the training center, essentially there is no fighting between tributes, and anyone who does will be sent back to their tower with no training and will receive an automatic 1 for the Training Score. She also points to the balcony overlooking the gymnasium where a group of men and women in purple robes sit watching. The gamemakers. Here to see what the tributes have to offer for their show. They give a wave and sit watching as we break up to go to our stations.

Bran and I go right to the fire starting as we decided at breakfast. The tributes from 8 apparently have the same idea and arrive. "Do you mind?" says Spoola, the girl.

"No," both Bran and I say.

The trainer there instructs us on two different fires, one is a small smoldering one that generates heat but no flames, which is good for concealing our location. The second is a large blazing fire that arcs a foot or two into the air, which can be used to ignite and trap tributes. Bran and I break off and partner with the District 8 tributes, the sooner I make a connection the better.

Unfortunately, that connection appears to have grown into me actually liking Spoola.

"District 9, eh?" she says.

"Yeah," I say.

"I saw your outfit at the parade, it looked nice." Honestly, her's looked way better.

"Thanks, yours was great," I say.

She laughs, "Embarrassing though! We were barely wearing anything!"

I laugh too, which alarms me. How could I laugh at a time like this? How can I laugh at all anymore?

"So," Spoola says, dropping her voice to a whisper, "What made you volunteer?"

I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes, I can't believe I have to explain this over and over. I give her a brief explanation so I don't spoil my skills and ask her the same.

She glances nervously at Ross, who is spinning a twig between his hands and generating a large amount of smoke. "Not long ago, there was an accident back home. It was pretty bad, and the districts still hurtin' a little."

"Oh?" I say, not wanting to push, but dying to know more.

"There was a factory, something went wrong and the whole place blew. Ross and I were supposed to work that day, but we were sick. Our families were there, so were a lot of others. Winning would help out home a lot," Spoola says, her eyes still fixed on Ross. Something deep in her eyes tells me there is something else to that story. Beyond losing family and friends, I don't ask more.

"I lost my family in an accident too," I whisper. "Tractor, there was a gas leak and it was a hot day. Next thing anyone knew the field was on fire and my parents were gone."

Spoola looks at me, "I'm sorry," she says genuinely.

We return to working on lighting the fires, and I am left to think. Spoola could be a good ally, but do I want to grow attached to her? Only one of us can live, of course, there are still 20 more tributes trying to kill us so the odds aren't exactly in our favor.