Flooding Panem: The Hunger Games

Chapter Eighteen Part One: Counting

I shove myself up and heave myself out of the sleeping bag, but I only succeed in tangling the sleeping bag around my legs. Next to me, Parox is sitting straight up, not moving.

"Parox? Parox! Let's go!" I hiss at him before I remember that I'm not supposed to be encouraging him.

"Shh!" Another scream bounces around us. I stare at Parox incredulously as he doesn't move.

"Look, I'm going, I-"

"It's not near us," he says, cutting me off.

"What?"

"That scream. Whoever's d- whoever's screaming isn't near us."

For the first time since I met him, I don't talk back. I sit and stare at nothing, listening hard for the next scream. But I'm too scared to make out where it's coming from, and just because I want to believe Parox I sit back, quickly slowing my breathing back to normal. I can feel Parox watching me, but I focus on listening. The screams get quieter and quieter until all that I can hear is the occasional echo. I lie down slowly and close my eyes. The cannon should sound soon.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I count to sixty. A hundred and twenty. I'm at two hundred before I finally climb out of my sleeping bag. The snow is thicker than it was five minutes ago- or maybe it's just that I'm looking now. I can't make out much beyond a five metres radius; everything just looks like massive grey blur. Limbo.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Parox asks. I look down to see him staring at me.

"They should have died by now," I say, more to myself than him. "Why hasn't the cannon gone yet?"

"It will Lilia- please, just relax."

I look out through the snow again before I lie down regretfully. I know I won't be able to sleep, but Parox will just keep talking until one of us falls asleep. So I lie still, trying to ignore the fact that I can barely feel my toes. I wriggle further down into the sleeping bag, hugging myself.

But after a while I hear it again. It's not a scream; more like a whimpering. I'm not sure I can hear it to be honest. But it's there.

I don't move, but my hands slowly creep up to cover my ears. Finally, I feel myself drifting off as the sounds seem to disappear.

"PLEASE!"

I heard that. That was no echo from the other side of the Arena, there's a girl nearby dying right now, and whoever's killing her is taking their own sweet time. I turn to Parox, begging him. But before I can even speak, he only shakes his head and rolls over, his hands rising to his ears. His entire body tenses up, and I can see that he's at least feeling guilty. Good.

The screams are sporadic at best, disappearing for minutes at a time before starting again. It takes me about ten minutes to realise that Laurel isn't the one killing the girl; Careers may put on a show, but they don't take this long. Eventually, I can't help it. The snow is falling even more thickly now, and I can barely see the stars or moon for the trees. I pull myself out of the bag and set off towards the voice, quietly. Parox lies on the ground, either asleep or unwilling to stop me. I move slowly, not wanting to attract attention from passing tributes or mutts. The cold is biting through me- within a minute I'm shaking to try to keep warm.

It takes me the best part of an hour to locate the girl; I can tell I'm getting close because I can hear whimpers coming from through the trees. I squeeze on the handle of my knife, my knuckles whitening in the dark night. As I get closer, I climb the trees rather than risk meeting an opponent on equal ground- call me a coward, I know it's true. I jostle my way among the trees carefully, slowly, moving nearer and nearer to the sounds. The cannon still hasn't gone off.