Kai From Four

Into the Arena

I was in darkness. The glass encasing was clear, but the surrounding tunnel was dark.

The expressions of Seven, the stylists, and Artemis, and our last goodbyes were jolted out of my head as the sudden mechanical whirr of the circular platform brought me back to real time. I'd soon be rising out of the dark tunnel to bright, streaming light and see the faces of twenty-three other tributes that, if the odds were in my favor, would have their lives cut short by brutal nature or by themselves.

The very thought was agonizing, and I let myself slip back to the memory of my reaping. Back then, I'd taken it all with a blasé attitude, fairly confident in my abilities.

But part of this wasn't my abilities. My humanity was also at risk. Did I have it in me to murder? Would I become a killer?

An occasional thin strip of Capitol-blue lights passed by, heading down while I went up. I watched the light it cast on my body, passing over my camouflage jacket, my jeans, and my black combat boots. I rotated my right shoulder, the one that had been hit by the javelin during training. It had fully recovered since then, and I'd been working to expand my range and make my throws even more accurate. Just hitting the center ring wouldn't do. Only the very, very center of the middle would suffice, because one inch off could be the difference between a harmless graze and a mortal wound in the arena.

Artemis had been pounding away at punching bags and sparring with sharp close-combat weapons just as much as I had practiced my long-distance skills. I'd sparred with her a few times with hologram swords, and each time, she had eventually bested me. Sometimes, by that point, we'd both be panting and sweaty, but she always managed to get the final upper hand. But then again, she could never hit close to the number of targets I decimated, especially with different obstacles, like being in the water at the time of the shot, or hitting targets in the water, or hitting moving targets.

It had been easy to shoot them. They were so far away, and clearly not alive. But would I be able to look a real tribute in the eye and shoot him or her?

I lowered my gaze to my bracelets. Another strip of lights zipped past, momentarily illuminating them in a flash of pale blue. A flash of my uncle's eyes, a flash of the pools and seas of District Four in the bleak, early morning. I clenched my fists. If I died today, if I died in these Games, I'd never be able to go back. I'd never be able to learn who my parents were, how they died in a shipwreck when District Four's boats were unsinkable, and why I was left with my aunt and uncle in advance.

I needed to make it back.

Artemis and I had practiced fighting together while using both of our strengths against hologram tributes. We'd defeated them all in record time. We could do this...couldn't we?

I took a breath and squared my shoulders. We can.

The final strip of blue lights passed over me, and I felt the platform rise above the tunnel into an open space. I had expected bright light, but was met with mostly darkness. Of the few tributes that I could see, most of their faces were in shadow, but they were outlined in an orange glow from the torchlight surrounding us.

The Cornucopia held a majestic yet ancient air about it, like the buildings of Rome or Greece. Rocks were stacked on each other, coiling around the unmistakable center of the Cornucopia, which displayed most of the supplies and weapons. A few packages were scattered away from the mouth, and a midnight blue backpack caught my eye.

"Fifty," a monotonous voice boomed, echoing through the arena. The matching holographic number glowed golden above the Cornucopia's tip. "Forty-nine. Forty-eight. Forty-seven."

If I run as fast as I can, I can grab the backpack and escape the bloodbath before it begins.

"Forty-two. Forty-one."