Your Heart Outside Your Body

The Arena

The dawn broke, the light creeping in through the dingy curtains. Burt turned his head to look at it, his arms folded behind him. The Hunger Games began today.

He sat up slowly, aware of every creak and snap in his body. Normally these things didn't bother him. Normally he just laughed, or joked to Carole that he was getting old. But today he felt it, down to his bones.

Carole was asleep, curled on her side away from him, her arms wrapped around her pillow. She'd been crying last night, when she thought he was asleep. He wished he'd pulled her close and let her cry on his shoulder, but he hadn't been able to move. He'd just been able to lie there and listen until her sobs eased and her breathing evened out and she began to snore softly, her nose congested from her tears.

His wife had cried herself to sleep and he hadn't done a damn thing. And he couldn't bring himself to care, because his son had probably done the same thing.

He stumbled from their little room to the bathroom, then to the kitchen to make breakfast. He couldn't comfort Carole, but he could at least feed her. There were eggs in the refrigerator that someone had brought over last night. A luxury. Burt cracked them open and began to work.

The eggs were sizzling in the skillet when he heard Carole move from the bed. She stumbled out and they stared at each other in long silence, until Burt moved to take the eggs off the flames and Carole headed for the bathroom. By the time she emerged, he had breakfast on the table.

The sunlight was streaming into the room now, through the dingy glass and slanting across the scratched table. The table that had been given to them in order to hold a family.

Burt sat at one end, Carole sat at the other. Together, they ate their eggs in silence.

***

Finn had to pee.

Sue had made him drink water all morning. "I want you both going into that arena hydrated," she said. "Thirst will hit you quicker than hunger. When that gong sounds, remember the plan. Get a few things, work together, and then get the hell away from the Cornucopia."

"I know," Finn said, exasperated. "You've told me all morning."

"And I'm going to keep telling you, just to make sure it sticks in your thick head," Sue said. "Now drink."

So he drank. He'd been drinking all morning, and now, frozen here in this tube, standing on a metal plate and about to go up into the arena, the one thing Finn could think was that he had to pee.

He couldn't see anyone else. The Launch Rooms were small and shut off so he was alone. Even Raven had disappeared. They'd dressed him in a long-sleeved red tunic with a belt, a vest, tight fitting but comfortable pants and high, soft boots, brought him here, and the tracker had been implanted (which had hurt). Now it was minutes away.

There was a noise near his ear. His stomach lurched and he thought he was going to throw up, but then he had to concentrate on keeping his balance as the plate he was standing on rose through the tube and he burst into the sunlight above.

A voice. "Ladies and gentlemen! Let the Fiftieth Hunger Games begin!"

Finn blinked against the light, and his breath caught in his throat as he reminded himself not to move until he heard the gong. The forty-eight tributes stood in a circle around the Cornucopia. It was even bigger and shinier than it looked on television, and stuffed with backpacks, weapons, gear, pots, food, and bottles of water. The prizes were spread out on the ground as well, scattered all around the meadow.

The meadow. What amazed Finn most was where they were, in a meadow. He'd seen Games before. They never started in a place like this, with green grass and flowers and birds and blue skies above their heads. There was a snow-capped mountain in the distance, and forest all around, although it was a long ways away. They'd have to run.