Submerged

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

                Chaos surrounded me. The once luxurious Capital room was in flames. I glanced at the door just in time to catch a glimpse of rainbow- Mara.

                I jumped out of my bed and was immediately met with a cloud of smoke. I coughed and dropped to the floor. There was no way this fire had naturally occurred in the Tribute Training Center the night before the Hunger Games.

                Correction, I thought as I glanced up at a clock, the morning of the Hunger Games.

                It was 4:30. This was just what I needed to prepare for an arena of death.

                Prepare. That made me wonder. I did a quick survey of the room, and my question was answered. Cameras had been placed in each corner on the wall. I wasn’t preparing for an arena of death; I was already in that arena. Happy Hunger Games.

                I crawled out of my room and into the District 4 commons area. Dylan was already there. He looked like he had almost left, but was now returning into the smoke.

                “Where are you going?” I screamed to be heard.

                Dylan turned to me and coughed, “I left something! It’s important!”

                Whatever it was, it couldn’t be important enough to go back for. The smoky air was already becoming hard to breath, and I couldn’t imagine how bad it would be inside one of the small, closed off bedrooms that we had been given.

                “No,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. I struggled toward him, dodging the couch that was now engulfed in orange flames. When I finally reached the boy, I wrapped my sweaty fingers around his wrist, dragging him toward the door. Despite his protests, I managed to pull us toward the elevator.

                It wasn’t until I pressed the elevator call button that I realized it probably wouldn’t work. Even if the elevator came it definitely would not be safe. I waited for a few seconds, but I knew that I didn’t have any more time to waste.

                “Dylan, help me open it!” I shouted, prying at the door with my fingernails. When I finally got a grip on one of the doors, I pulled it open just wide enough for Dylan to grab the other door. Together, we pushed to doors open.

                I prayed that the doors would stay open. Luckily, my plea was answered. Holding onto the wall, I poked my head into the empty shaft. I was met with cool, fresh air. Clean oxygen had never felt so good.

                Unfortunately, the elevator was not there; it was down on the ground floor. My eyes squinted into the darkness, searching for a handhold to climb down. Despite the darkness, it was plain to see that the walls were smooth. The only way down would be to jump, but that would be suicide.

                I was panicking. I would tell you that Dylan was panicking too, but I honestly cannot remember. The flames and my problem were the whole world; there was nothing else.

                I’m not gonna jump, I thought to myself.

                Wisps of thoughts and possible solutions swam through my mind, but I couldn’t keep ahold of one idea long enough to formulate a plan.

                I’m not going to jump, I reminded myself.

                I glanced around. There was nothing to help me. There was nothing to do. We were both going to die.

                I looked down once more, and the elevator seemed even farther down than before. Of course, I could have been hallucinating. I definitely might have been hallucinating. By now, the smoke was choking me, and Dylan was on the floor, covering his face with his hands. If we died now, it would be my fault. But there was no way I was going to jump.

                “Get up! And be ready.” I shouted hoarsely, my voice cracking. Every breath burned.

                Dylan struggled to his feet. I grabbed his hand.

                I’m not gonna jump.

                I jumped.