Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Announcement - Rhea

Rhea

The dream floats around the edges of my mind, slipping away whenever I get close to it. Purple, definitely purple. And faces, though I don't think they were faces from home.

I don't place much stock on dreams. Nobody back in Thirteen does, nobody but the old woman from Four with the crooked teeth. You'd find her wandering around early in the morning because whatever locks they used on her door, she always managed to get out. First person she saw she'd pin, smiling and asking in a creaking voice what your dream was about. If you told her she'd be there all day, tagging along with you, telling you that dreams were the vessels of the past and the future.

"Maybe in Four," Kes had laughed once, "They have time for that!"

I always told her that I couldn't remember. To this she always smiled knowingly and nodded a few times, and then explained that you had to try and remember because dreams were important. She said she could tell you what your dreams meant. She'd always known she'd come to Thirteen because when she was younger she'd had a dream where she'd been walking down the shore and she'd found a glowing shell, and the shell had stuck in her mind ever since.

"Are you sure that's not self-fulfilling prophecy?" Ray had snapped, and tugged me away to AdTech. But I felt bad for her, so I promised that next time I could remember a dream, I'd come and see her. It couldn't do harm, and it'd make her happy, and it didn't mean anything anyway.

Funny how I only remember the dream-woman now. Already home feels far away. What's it like to live underground? To not be surrounded by trees or feel the rain or the breeze? And, more and more insistently, what will it take to get back?

I lever myself into a sitting position, taking in air with a yawn. My limbs feel all cramped up from curving around Liam to fit into the nook. He's still asleep, though peacefully this time. His face is smooth and unwrinkled, and if it wasn't for the shaggy mop of hair, he'd pass for good-looking. He doesn't seem to be in pain. On his other side, Jakob is curled up in a tiny little ball, face buried in his collar. He was supposed to be keeping guard but I don't blame him for falling asleep. The poor guy is under too much. It makes my pressure look pathetic.

The rain has stopped. The air has a sweet, fresh feel to it, somehow, and tiny wisps of cloud scudd across the pale blue sky. The trees sag slightly. I'd guess that it's mid-morning, but I'm not sure.

The last vestiges of my dream escape and my stomach roars, my vision swimming for a moment. I gasp and clap my hands to my head. It's strange; I can be fine for hours and then suddenly it'll hit me, waves of nausea and hunger, and there's no use trying to think about anything else because that's all that there is. And it feels like in those moments all the strength drains out of me.

We need to find food. Which means we have to move.

If I could climb, I could get to the top of the cliff and look down on the arena and see if there were any likely places. It's steep but there's plenty of hand and foot holds. I climbed a bit during training when I wasn't trying to keep an eye on Liam, but I never got far. Just looking at the towering cliff is enough to make my head spin even more. I crouch next to Liam, burying my head in his good arm, because if I'm going to faint, I don't want to injure myself.

Kes is dead. Like the hunger, this hits in waves too.

Dimly, I register that there's something synthetic playing in the background, a rhythm that is both familiar and that sends prickles down my spine. But it's not midnight, no faces now. I missed the ones last night. I missed two more dead people. Whoever they were, I hope it was quick and painless. And if it was Aspen-?

A voice blocks across this thought. A voice, an announcement. I have to grit my teeth and listen, though the face in the sky wobbles a few times before coming into focus.