Голодные игры
Chapter 11
Ontheopeningday,theydon’tevenfirethecannonsuntiltheinitialfighting’soverbecauseit’stoohardtokeeptrackofthefatalities.Iallowmyselftopause,panting,asIcounttheshots.One.two.three.onandonuntiltheyreacheleven.Elevendeadinall.Thirteenlefttoplay.MyfingernailsscrapeatthedriedbloodtheboyfromDistrict9coughedintomyface.He’sgone,certainly.IwonderaboutPeeta.Hashelastedthroughtheday?I’llknowinafewhours.Whentheyprojectthedead’simagesintotheskyfortherestofustosee.
Allofasudden,I’moverwhelmedbythethoughtthatPeetamaybealreadylost,bledwhite,collected,andintheprocessofbeingtransportedbacktotheCapitoltobecleanedup,redressed,andshippedinasimplewoodenboxbacktoDistrict12.Nolongerhere.Headinghome.ItryhardtorememberifIsawhimoncetheactionstarted.ButthelastimageIcanconjureupisPeetashakinghisheadasthegongrangout.
Maybeit’sbetter,ifhe’sgonealready.Hehadnoconfidencehecouldwin.AndIwillnotendupwiththeunpleasanttaskofkillinghim.Maybeit’sbetterifhe’soutofthisforgood.
Islumpdownnexttomypack,exhausted.Ineedtogothroughitanywaybeforenightfalls.SeewhatIhavetoworkwith.AsIunhookthestraps,Icanfeelit’ssturdilymadealthougharatherunfortunatecolor.Thisorangewillpracticallyglowinthedark.Imakeamentalnotetocamouflageitfirstthingtomorrow.
Iflipopentheflap.WhatIwantmost,rightatthismoment,iswater.
