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

Chapter 26

 "You were in love?" I say. Unanswered questions, strange interactions, the Reaping, things become crystal clear in my mind.

"We decided to fake being sick, we didn't get much time and we wanted to see if this would work out," Ross said. "Then, we heard the explosion, both of us ran to the factory to see what happened, so did everyone else.

"We should have been there, but we broke the rules. I lost everyone in that explosion. Everyone but Spoola. But she could barely live with herself. I tried to convince her that it wasn't our fault, there was nothing we would have been able to do, we'd be dead like everyone else, but she couldn't understand it. I think she secretly wanted to die.

"A couple of weeks later, they announced the Quell. She told me that she was going to volunteer. I didn't think she was serious, she was so deep in despair at the time I couldn't imagine her being serious. The next thing I know we're at the Reaping and I hear her volunteer. I don't know why she did, I think she wanted to help our district, but I also think she wanted to die. I don't think she could live with herself anymore.

"But I love her- I mean loved her, you see. I came here to help her, to try and save her, I wanted her to win. I don't care about my life, I have no one left back home but her. She had her aunt and uncle. Now that she's gone... I don't know what to do."

We sit in silence for a few moments, "Well you could win for her," I say. He looks at me, his tears have cut long lines of clean skin on his face. He lets go of my hand and wipes his face. "I think that's why Bran liked you," I say, not knowing what else to do.

"I told him in training," Ross says, barely above a whisper, "I told him what really happened, I told him my plan to keep Spoola alive." I think back to training, to Bran saying that Ross had told him something that made him want to have him as an ally.

"She was a good person," I say, Spoola, the empathic, kind girl who had so much life is now dead, on her way home in a wooden casket dressed in white for her aunt and uncle to bury. After they've buried her whole family. They'll get one week of mourning after the games end and then it's back to work. The cycle continues for 6 months the victor will arrive in their district to flaunt their winnings and make a speech. Wounds will be reopened and the aunt and uncle will be dragged out to give interviews and remarks about Spoola. Rage burns inside of me, hatred. How could a government do this to their people, how could this have lasted so long? How could the people just go along, why had the rebellions before failed. It takes everything in my power to not curse out every member of the Capitol by name, curse them for the loss of my parents, for the explosion in that factory, for the death of Spoola, for the death of every tribute who has set foot in the arenas across the country, but I keep it inside me. I will use this rage, I will use this rage to win. Win so that one day, so that one day I can be the one to see the Capitol fall.

We sit in silence watching the river until the sun is high in the sky. The Capitol is probably reeling right now, reporters must be swarming District 8 to find every last juicy detail of the love affair between two teens. Two teens found themselves in the Hunger Games, one fighting from guilt and the other fighting for love.

The rest of the day is far less eventful. I help Ross apply the last of the antibiotic ointment to his arm and then we wrap it in the gauze and bandage rolls. The entire time I touch that blistered, cracked skin I am fighting the urge to throw up. The only thing I can imagine is the explosion that tore my parents apart, and how I did the very same thing to the careers. Who have I become?

Once Ross's arm is covered, we spend the day picking over our food and rehydrating from the river. As the night rolls around we open the can of chicken and feast on the bird. We take turns picking away parts and tossing the bones in the river so they float downstream and don't attract any predators.

I volunteer to take the first watch, Ross is injured both physically and emotionally. Despite telling him earlier to win, I don't think the odds are very much in his favor right now. When Ross is sound asleep, I decide to get up and walk for a few minutes. Just up and down the stream twenty feet, still in sight of Ross.

In the darkness of the arena, I use the full moon to guide me. I sit on a large flat rock on the riverside and lie down thinking about everything. I think of Spoola, my friend, Ross's lover, guilty soul, dead teenager. I think of Farro, my brother, future father. I think of my parents, my loved ones, dead in the cemetery behind the small funeral home in town. I think of Ross, my ally, grievously injured, broken beyond repair.

What am I going to do? Just a day ago I would have done almost anything to be back with an ally, but now that he's here what am I supposed to do? Luckily he is walking and seems to be mostly alright, but his arm... his spirit. In this state he almost seems more of a liability.

I can't kill him. I don't think I could anyway, but the Capitol would surely hate me. He just dropped a load of drama on the games, right now he is probably pulling ahead in polls. Honestly, he may be the crowd favorite. Killing him for no reason paints a big red target right on my back. I'll stay with him until either he or I die, or of course, it's the finale and we have to fight. Deep down, I know this may not be the best decision for survival, but I'm also not doing this just for me. Right now I'm doing this for Spoola too.

A noise in the woods sends me back to Ross and the hideout, but nothing emerges. When I'm finally too tired to keep my eyes open, I wake Ross and go to bed. I dream of Spoola lit ablaze in the factory, stabbing Ross through the heart.