Voices of the Dead: A Hunger Games FanFiction ©

6. Bodey

Numb, that is how I felt the days following the bloodbath. So many lost lives, so many unnecessary deaths. Would there ever be a cease to such needless casualties? In these games, there would never really be a winner, only survivors.

I could feel the change in me, and see it equally on the faces of Macon and Smalls. The memories were like a disease, slowly eating away at our sanity. The cure? Who could know?

Macon, though brave and hopeful had indeed been affected. Though he tried to remain strong, there were many instances where I would see the color drain from his face as he remembered or saw something that brought him back to the first day of the games. The way his eyes got a certain far-away look told me that though his body was there, his mind was far.

Even Smalls, who’d managed to escape the worst of the bloodbath, had transformed. Once happy and sarcastic, he now was mostly quiet and constantly on edge if Macon left for too long to gather food. He constantly twitched when he was nervous, flitting from place to place, always uneasy. He acted the part we were all given; we were the hunted.

I couldn’t necessarily see my own changes, but I knew I wasn’t the same. It felt as if a dark cloud were constantly over my head, following me incessantly. I longed to go home, to wake up and see that this had all been some horrible dream. But every morning, as the a new day broke through the night, I awoke in the same hellish place I’d been.

Not only did we have to fear that the careers would find us, we were also running low on food. Macon had tried to make it last, even turning down some of his own meals, but it didn’t matter; the packs continued to grow lighter and 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 hours. “That one looks good. Once we’re inside though, I want you two at my side the whole time.”

Smalls and I both nodded and followed closely behind him. The house was shabby and looked ready to fall any minute. Carefully, we inspected every nook and cranny in the living room.

Peeking out a nearby window, I noted that the sky was getting darker. It’d be faster if we split up. Knowing Macon would refuse my idea, I decided to try and sneak away and then rush back. I poked Smalls and whispered. “I’m going to check upstairs ok. It’ll be faster this way.”

He frowned and shook his head. “That doesn’t sound safe, you should stay.”

“Trust me, if anything happens I’ll run right back.” I murmured quietly. Then, before he could say anything else, I crept away.

The stairs creaked a little, but for the most part I was soundless as I climbed the stairs. Looking into the first room, I huffed in frustration when I only found more rubble and dust bunnies. I was just about to go check the next room when I saw a sudden motion outside the window; like a series of darting shadows.

I jimmied the window open and saw a flock of black birds perched on some of the dead power-lines. With the sky turning much darker, I couldn’t see what kind of birds they were. I was about to shoot a rock and them with my slingshot when I hear a chilling sound.

A scream, but not just any scream; it was Beau. My heart hammered and then there wasn’t just one voice but three, four, five. Beau, Dune, Kaleb, Hall, my parents; they were all screaming bloody murder.

Before I knew what I was doing, the words tore free from my lips and I was sprinting down the stairs. “Beau! No, no, no!” I screamed, rushing past Macon and out into the street.

The screams were everywhere. I ran in hysterical circles, craning my neck to the skies. Was it real? I had to save them. Where were they? Were the sounds being played by a P.A. system?