The Last Hunger Games

Chapter 11 - Syringe

(A/N: This one's a longer one :)

When I wake up, the sky is black and dotted with stars and there are smoking remains all around me. Half conscious, I reach for my backpack, which got badly shredded on one side in the explosion, and eat the few remaining crackers inside. Then I make my muddled mind try to piece together what has just happened. I was following those tributes, I went into the woods, the warehouse exploded, and then my world turned black. 

But how long for? Hours? Days?

Who knows, as it's the middle of the night right now. There is a chill in the air that sends a shiver down my spine, and night owls hoot overhead. I seem camouflaged enough down here, coated in mud, so I will stay put for tonight and I guess I'll just have to keep my fingers crossed that I'm still alive in the morning.

Suddenly a thought hits me: the faces in the sky. I'm sure that if the faces of those I was following are up there, then I haven't been unconscious for more than, what, seven hours? I think it was around 3pm when I entered the woods. Or was it later? I don't know. My mind is one big jumble right now, due to dehydration, and my throat aches from breathing in so much smoke. 

I must find water. 

Should I go now? I have my belt of knives which would give me some sort of self-defence. Yes, maybe now would be a idea actually, as I'd be under the cover of darkness and much less vulnerable than in daylight. I slip my backpack on and try to stand up. I go to take a step, but my right leg collapses underneath me, sending me crashing to the ground in a sprawling heap. I hadn't given much thought to injuries before, as my mind was occupied with other things, but now they are at the forefront of my mind. 

Are they bad? Probably. I hit that tree with a lot of force. But fatal? Only if not treated quickly enough. I reach down and touch my leg, only to find my hand covered with blood within seconds. Oh no. I can't bleed to death on the second night. Johanna would be furious. I hope she thinks now is a good time for a sponsor parachute, as I'm not sure how I'm not sure how I'm supposed to cure this. I don't have any medical expertise, the only time was once in school a few years ago, when someone came in and taught us all first aid. I was only eight then and not very good at it, so I'm terrible now. The most I've ever had to do is put a plaster on a graze.

I heave myself over to the closest tree and cut the trouser leg off with one of my knives; just above the knee. The moonlight will be sufficient for now, however if it goes behind a cloud them I'm stumped. Hang on a minute, no I'm not. I still have those night vision glasses in my backpack! At least, I think I do.

I find them easily enough, right at the bottom, without a scratch in sight. Wow, these glasses must be indestructible. The flask is badly dented, nearly all the matches are snapped, and the end of the sleeping bag where my feet would go has been burnt right off. I put the night vision glasses on and begin to inspect my wound. My leg is soaked in blood, but I grab some moss and wipe it down so I can find out how large the actual wound is. Once I've wiped off all the blood, I can see the damage is bad: There is a huge gash going right down my calf, and I nearly throw up whatever's in my stomach at the sight of it. But I swallow the taste of bile and start to think of remedies I could use.

This moss is pretty absorbent, and may soak up the heavy blood flow for a while, but it would only be temporary. This is a jungle, so I can't use vines as makeshift bandages either. Stitches are not an option. I am still thinking hard when the anthem blares out, and I'm so deep in thought that I only notice it's playing towards the end of it. Then I look up, just in time to see the District 13 seal fade out and the faces begin. 

It begins with two faces I don't recognise, probably from a different high end school, and then come the faces of those I was following earlier: The tall boy with blond hair, the girl with the thickest hair I have ever seen, and the other boy with dark hair. I wait for more faces but none appear. The anthem finishes and cuts out. 

Five more dead tributes.

Five more dead children.

My brain starts to think about those Nightlock berries again, when all of a sudden there is a rustle in the trees overhead and a small silver parachute drops down a few metres away from me. Grandfather once told me that he invented the idea to send parachutes into the Arena, but I'm not so sure that's true. Most of the ideas come from the Gamemakers. Oh, I do hope it's medicine for my leg. Or food actually; food would be brilliant too. I unscrew it and read the note on a slip of paper that Johanna has sent with it: 'Take your time, brainless. - J" I've never liked that nickname, but then, who would? I look inside the parachute and I'm overjoyed to see a pot of medicine inside, and some dried fruit, too. I do what Johanna's note told me and suck on a slice of of dried apple whilst I take a look at the medicine. Inside the pot is not what I expected. It is not full of medicine; well, just not in the form I had hoped for.

Inside the parachute is a syringe, full of a bright blue liquid that will surely cure my large cut. I have always hated needles, right from when I was little.

  **Flashback** 

It was when I was six, and Grandfather was having a dinner party to celebrate the 69th Hunger Games, as he would every year. Ten of his top people were sat around the big dinner table, including my parents, and Avita's too. The rest of them I barely knew. It was late at night and I couldn't sleep, so I was wandering the corridors as I would sometimes, when I heard voices coming from the room where the dinner party had been. Being a curious child, I peeked through the crack in the door to see Grandfather and one of those other top people arguing. I was only little, and small for my age, so I didn't understand what they were arguing about; I thought it was something unimportant. Until Grandfather pulled out a syringe from the inside pocket of his suit and jabbed it into the man's arm. In the seconds that followed, the man fell to ground sprawling and choking for air, until he went still, never to move again. I stood there, utterly horrified at what I had just witnessed; and just before I ran off crying, I heard Grandfather's last words to the dead man: "Snow lands on top."

So you can see why, at the sight of this needle, I completely freak out. I start hyperventilating and my hands shake. I want to be furious at Johanna for sending me this, but I can't. She is not to blame. She couldn't have known that this form of medicine would trigger a panic attack. Or could she? Surely my maid wouldn't tell, but then with enough bribery or threat, I reckon you could get her to tell you absolutely anything you liked. I try and take big breaths in and out, in and out, in and out, to slow my breathing down. Gradually my hands stop shaking and I suck on another piece of dried fruit whilst I try and muster up the courage to inject myself with this medicine. When we were injected with out trackers on the Hovercraft ride here, I almost screamed when it was my go. Instead I bit my cheek until it bled.

As these thoughts whirl around my head, I realise something: This is my moment of truth. The moment where Panem will see whether I'm a complete wuss, or if I can do this. 

Because now that I think about it, I bet that my maid has told Johanna, Johanna has told Caesar, and Caesar has told the entire country. My hands visibly shaking, I grab the syringe and jam it into my leg. I feel the strange liquid running through my veins, until it reaches my cut and starts to sting. A lot. I squeeze my eyes tight shut and remind myself that screaming will not help my situation in any way. If I'm spotted or heard, I am a sitting duck. Any tribute, no matter how small, could hear my screams, locate me, and kill me in an instant. So I stuff the hem of my t-shirt in my mouth to muffle my cries of pain. Hopefully I'm not on screen anymore and there's some action going on elsewhere in the Arena, for I know Johanna would not be pleased with me acting like a crybaby. I have near to no water left in my body anyway, so no tears would turn up no matter how much I cry. 

A/N: This was a bit of a filler chapter, but I hope you still liked it. I wanted to incorporate the phrase: 'snow lands on top' at some point in the book, so what better way than a flashback? Anyway, another chapter coming up this week, and thank you for all the votes and feedback :)