Voices of the Dead: A Hunger Games FanFiction ©

6. Smalls

I lived in constant fear after the bloodbath. Even though I knew Macon was always trying to watch out for Bodey and me, I could never completely shake the feeling of pursuit. I was a mouse in a room full of hungry vultures.

The slightest noise, the faintest sign of movement, and my heart was hammering. I flinched even at the slightest breeze. I knew I wasn’t alone in my fears either; Macon looked drained, and his eyes were constantly shifting back and forth, Bodey looked gloomy, as if he were mourning. I knew I should be grateful I hadn’t had to see what they’d seen in the bloodbath, but still I kept growing more skitterish each day; I was sure we were being followed.

I existed not only in the constant fear of pursuit, but also afraid that we’d eventually run out of food and have to trek back to the cornucopia to see if there was anything left.  I didn’t want to go back; I didn’t want to see the remnants of the massacre that had taken place there. Macon had tried to make our supplies last, but no matter his efforts, the packs continued get lighter.

“Guys, were running out of supplies. I think we should pick a building and see if they’ve left anything we can use.” Macon finally said after we’d been hiking for what seemed like hours. “That one looks good. Once we’re inside though, I want you two at my side the whole time.”

Bodey and I both nodded and followed closely behind him. The rickety house was old and weathered, like a figurative corpse of a once well-made house. Cautiously, we inspected every nook and cranny in the living room, coming away empty handed.

I was just putting back a ratty cushion back on a sofa when I felt Bodey poke me. “I’m going to check upstairs ok. It’ll be faster this way,” he whispered.

 “That doesn’t sound safe, you should stay,” I said worriedly shaking my head.

“Trust me, if anything happens I’ll run right back.” he insisted quietly. Then, before I could say anything, maybe try and talk some reason into him, he darted quietly up the stairs.

Macon must’ve been preoccupied because he didn’t notice Bodey’s momentary absence. As we checked the kitchen, I began to wonder if Bodey hadn’t had the right idea. “Macon, this is taking forever, we should split up to cover more ground,” I said after we’d finished checking some of the cupboards.

He shook his head without turning back around.  “No, it’s not safe you know that,” he said as he opened another cupboard, “you and Bodey, just stay behind me.”

I didn’t know what to say, and when I saw him stiffen and turn, I knew he’d finally noticed Bodey was gone. “Umm..” I trailed off.

Macon’s eyes went wide and he searched the room. “Where’s Bodey?” he demanded.

“Yeah, about that. He thought it’d be best if he went ahead and checked upstairs while we were down here. You know, to go faster,” I shrugged, attempting to appear unworried, “I said to wait, but he insisted he’d be fine.”

Macon growled in frustration and seemed ready to give Bodey an earful  when a piercing chorus of screams echoed throughout the house. They were sharp and agony dripped off their echoes.

“Bodey!” Macon yelled as he ran for the stairs.

But before he could actually climb up, Bodey came tearing down the hallway, nearly falling down the stairs. “Beau! No, no, no!” he screamed, completely ignoring us as he ran outside into the street.

The screams were everywhere and I watched, feeling completely useless, as he ran in hysterical circles, shouting at the skies.

I looked up and then I saw them; Jabberjays. They flew in frenzied circles above Bodey, mocking him with their screams.