death valley

The Hanging Tree Games: Revisited - Task Two

CHAEL!

—Leander slammed his fist onto the sturdy glass of the tube, but his glove softened the blow. It kept the output force from bruising the flesh. Lee hissed in pain and immediately pulled his hand back, shaking it out to disperse the pain.

Breathing heavily, Lee sighed shakily and threw his head back, running a few fingers through his soft, fluffy hair. A bead of sweat dripped down his neck. His right hand slipped off his head and gripped onto his arm, but even though the jacket hid his scars, Lee wasn't ashamed of them. After all, what was there to be embarrassed about the ugly truth? Who's to say that Lee can't demolish the last impression of the Blackburn brothers? Chael was a suave young man, the perfect heartthrob that captured the hearts of a few Capitol residents (it was the only thing he had ever accomplished). Lee can do the same—another innocent soul, another young boy wishing for peace; yet Lee was wiser than the absolutely foolish, demonic mistake that was Chael.

Leander stretched his muscles as he eventually rose to the surface, preparing himself. Lee's inability to react to gore, as well as his speed, would play a large role in the Bloodbath. He also braced himself for the Careers, and although he respected them throughout the past day, Lee had a feeling that they could care less about a cute boy with an edgy eyepatch.

What Lee wasn't prepared for was the tributes' positioning. When he arose, he didn't find it odd that he was stuck in an underground subway, or that Cornucopia was nonexistent. Instead, Lee could only notice the occupied space to the left and right of him. On the left, it was little Solace with her flaming red hair, brighter than Lee's rust-colored fluff of locks. To his right, Panem was there, standing among the line of tributes like a fragile stick. It felt awkward to be a young adult between two little girls, since Lee towered over them as if he were God hovering over the Israelites, but he didn't think too much of it.

Then Lee heard it—the ticking, the countdown, as well as the loud rumble of a train. It doesn't sound like the old steam-powered type, Lee mused, It must be a metro car like what they used in the East Coast decades ago. He was correct. There was no steam coming from the conductor's car, nor was there any whistle. It was a smooth stop, despite the worn tracks, and Lee was impressed with their durability. Three vehicles accompanied the conductor's car—companion cars. A switch flipped and turned on the lightbulb in his head. He knew what he had to do.

Leander's leg muscles bunched together and he coiled up like a spring, his gaze turning into tunnel vision as his attention from the tributes beside him slowly drifted away. Just thirty seconds more, he whispered to himself. At that moment, the train car doors opened, revealing everything inside them. Lee took the time to study each one carefully; one individual car held a specific classification of necessities for survival. For a count of ten, Lee and the other tributes stared into the cars, attempting at a mediocre look at what was inside.

There were twenty seconds left on the clock.

However, before Lee finalized his decision to go for the train car straight ahead of him, he wondered: What if I stayed in there?

Ten.

Would there be an exit route? Would he die in there? Lee didn't know and couldn't tell—but he was quite sure that he didn't exactly trust the look of those vehicles.

Five seconds.

Lee's heart was pounding now, his patience waning.

Three.

Slightly bent knees.

Two.

Leaning forward.