Night One: Trust’s Chances

Troy Reyes, Age 15, District Four Male Tribute

I pulled my tribute jacket tighter around myself as us Careers headed deeper into the north section of the arena. I was freezing in the snow; I never knew this kind of cold in Four, and I probably couldn’t have even imagined it just a little while ago. As the sun set and the anthem approached, the temperature obviously plummeted, far, far below what it had been in our south section.

I imagined that if my friends were there, we would have been offering each other jackets, blankets if we had them, huddling for warmth. But I wasn’t with friends. I was with people who had no interest in being my friend at all, people who were currently hunting down children to kill, who were fending only for themselves and would never think to offer someone else a jacket.

Great Panem, how had this happened to me?

I knew, watching the Games, that the Career dynamic was complicated. I had thought that it was complicated beyond being explainable. And I still hadn’t known that it was this complicated.

Here I was, trusting these people with my life, but knowing any of them could whip around and put a knife in my back any second.

“—Where the hell is everyone?” Saber muttered, as we kept hiking through the mountains.

“How many people did you think went north?” Delora shot back.

(See? I didn’t understand those two’s love-hate deal. And with my real odds, I never would.)

“Both from Seven. Girls from Eight, Twelve, and Three,” Saber said, rather monotonously. He’d kept good track. And apparently didn’t mind that his own district partner was on the list of people we might be killing soon.

“No big threats,” scoffed Delora.

“There aren’t any big threats,” Saber snapped.

(You know, Delora fought awful hard to get someone into the alliance that she only liked to argue with.)

“—Well,” Evander cut in, “Belle—the girl from Twelve—got a nine in training. Which is good.” Everyone looked at him. He tried to fix it with: “… For Twelve,” as if he hadn’t gotten a four. I knew that he did it on purpose. He wanted all the sponsors to look at his sister instead.

Look, I respected that. I felt sorry for him, for how Aurelia, his own sister, just wanted him dead. But the more I was in the Games, the more I wanted to win, and for that to happen, both of them would have to die.

All of my allies would have to die. Jullius already had. And… I knew that it was what he wanted. Which was something that I would never—well, that I hoped I would never—understand, but I still felt like… I’d known him. We hadn’t been friends, but he seemed like a nice kid, and now he was dead. We’d watched his body melt, and no one would talk about it. The tensions had increased as we learned that even we, the Careers, weren’t immune to everything.

I realized that I had zoned out of the conversation when Sage said: “How should we kill the first one we find?” with way too much enthusiasm. I felt sick. I didn’t want to kill anyone. I prayed that we didn’t find a single person.

I pulled my jacket tighter again, against the cold and against the chill I suddenly got from my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I tried out loud.

“Don’t get too fancy,” said Saber. “Don’t want them to get away.”

“I can do better than that,” Aurelia started. “I could—”

“We’ll see what you can actually do when we get there,” interrupted Delora.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aurelia demanded, and my grip tightened on my trident despite the cold of the metal. A fight like this could have easily split the alliance, even that early on.

“What did you do in the bloodbath?” asked Delora. “Took out the Fives? I could’ve done it blindfolded.”

The next thing I knew, Aurelia’s knife was flying past Delora’s head—Delora jabbed out her spear—Aurelia jumped out of the way—Evander had an arrow pointed for Delora—Saber had a knife pointed at him—Sage held her sword at the ready—Aurelia had another knife. I held up my trident, fully planning on running, heart racing.

“Stop with the fucking fighting,” snapped Saber. “We’re trying to hunt everyone else.”

“And she’s trying to hunt me!” Delora shouted, waving her spear at Aurelia.

“Well, then, don’t go around provoking people.” After a second, when everyone slowly started to lower their weapons, Saber said, “Let’s just go.”

I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to turn my back on the people who had just almost started a fight where I could die. So I kept my eyes open for my own allies just as much as I did for other tributes.

I was never going to survive under this stress. Nor in this cold.

Shaking from the temperature, and the aftermath of the almost-fight, I tried to make a plan. I wasn’t much of a planner, but this seemed like a time when I would need one. What would I do if the alliance split? Where would I head? Would I hide, would I run, would I hunt? What supplies would I have with me—and what did I need?

… Could I even make it without allies? Even ones like these?

I would just have to. There wasn’t any other option.

I wondered about the tributes we were hunting. What were their plans? Were the other alliances fighting? It was hard to keep an even head and make plans just for myself. Stop thinking about the theoretical, radical ideas. I had to be realistic. I wasn’t really influencing the alliance.

On the other side, I also had to stop thinking about my allies. I had to think only about myself. Think only about my own survival. Forget the others. And that was what I was struggling with compared to them—I wasn’t selfish. Not enough to win. But I’d have to get there pretty quick.

Yeah. Really, really quick.

. . . . .

Henrik Armfeldt, Age 16, District Nine Male Tribute

So, sitting up on top of Ikky and I’s sleeping bag, watching the “ceiling” of our glass cave inside the sand dunes, waiting for the anthem, I was thinking two things.

One: It was really effing creepy that we could see the sand trapping us in.

And, two: This is a very small cave to share with my twin’s imaginary girlfriend.

Ikky gave no sign of acknowledging either one.

It was also dark, which just made things seem… tense. The only light was coming from a little electric lantern that’d been in the backpack I grabbed. Thank Panem for that; we would’ve had to find another place to hide if there wasn’t any light.

But nighttime had brought no relief from the heat. I had expected it to get cooler, but evidently we weren’t going to get that sort of break. And it was still dry. So dry. I wanted much more water than I was going to allow myself.

The only sound other than our voices on occasion was the wind going through the glass wind tunnels, which was eerie. And the wind also made the tunnels hard to navigate, when I’d tried to go outside to go to the bathroom. It just knocked me over and made me tumble through, ramming me into everything, until I was outside.

Then I had to go around the sand dunes and find my way back in, and get my timing just right to get back into the cave—

There was a loud noise from overhead, and I realized that it was the anthem before I reacted with a weapon. I looked over at Ikky as the Capitol seal appeared above us, with the words under it:

THE FALLEN

Now we would find out who was gone. Out of the game. Out of this hell. Done. I would never see their faces again.

Ikky held on to my hand. Both of our hands were splattered with blood, mine more so because of… well, because of the heart of the girl from District Six.

The first picture appeared. It was the boy from One. I was… surprised. I didn’t want to say that I was pleasantly surprised that someone had died, I wasn’t that horrible of a human being, but… he was a Career. Was he the one who had the breakdown?

Under the picture quickly appeared: JULLIUS CASTALLEN AGE SEVENTEEN DISTRICT ONE

“What?” I asked out loud. Ikky shrugged. They were adding things now? The Gamemakers were screwing with us even more?

Okay. I took in a breath. It didn’t matter, they were just telling me the names of the people who were dead because I was alive—

AIRAH TREVOR AGE TWELVE DISTRICT FIVE

And there’s the twelve year old. I wasn’t surprised this time, that she hadn’t made it. But she was twelve, man. Like, that was messed up. She was a little kid.

TAMBERLAIN “TAM” EKTRA AGE FOURTEEN DISTRICT FIVE

Another young one, and another Five. And they even included the nickname. The anthem didn’t move too fast to read things, but the deaths seemed to be piling up faster and faster. I realized that the next one would be the girl from Six, the one whose heart I had held….

ZATTIANA DAIN AGE THIRTEEN DISTRICT SIX

There she was. Blood pouring out everywhere, deflating, dying— I’d watched the life go out of her eyes, and now I was seeing her for the last time and for the first time since. I tried to think that she would’ve died anyway, that the District Six girl wouldn’t win two years in a row, that she was doomed. But….

KENTON RIENMAN AGE SIXTEEN DISTRICT EIGHT

The victor’s brother. I hadn’t expected him to go far, but I was a little surprised he’d gone down in the bloodbath. I wondered who killed him, how it ended. Was it quick? Did he see what killed him?

FELINA ARMANOUS AGE SEVENTEEN DISTRICT TEN

We were on District Ten already. The anthem was probably almost over. How many more kids had died today? I’d counted… well, to be honest, I lost track of the cannons, the deaths came so fast then, too, and I was running for my life. I had to keep better track. I tried to engrave the deaths in my mind, as much as I wanted to forget them.

QUINN KIRKAN AGE THIRTEEN DISTRICT ELEVEN She was the one who was… off. I wasn’t surprised she hadn’t made it, either, but it was still sad.

GUNNER KRIGG AGE THIRTEEN DISTRICT TWELVE

He would be the last one. I tried to exhale. Another little one, from another district I could expect to lose one or both in the bloodbath. I waited for the seal to reappear, but instead one more screen came up. It read:

THEY WERE THE LUCKY ONES.

The music went silent as we read it. Then, the seal. Then, nothing.

They were the lucky ones?

The ones who died early. The ones who didn’t have to wait for death, the ones who didn’t have to experience the rest of the horrors of the arena.

“Well,” I got out.

“Well,” Ikky echoed after a few seconds.

I, for one, felt rattled, and I was trying to see if she did, too. It was hard to tell. She just squeezed my hand, then leant on my shoulder.

We had gotten through Day One. I wondered if every second that I was alive would come as a relief like that. And how much longer did I have, before I’d have to leave Ikky on her own so she could win?

I wondered how it would happen. I felt in suspense, but I also really didn’t want to know.

Right now, we were getting down to the hard necessities: water, food, sleep. We didn’t know how long we had before something else happened. Before we ran into other tributes or before those dingoes appeared from the sand and came after us again.

We didn’t really know anything.

. . . . .

Jessalyn Daniels, Age 17, District Seven Female Tribute

The world outside of our alliance’s cave had turned into a white wall of blowing snow. I was sure that it was dark behind it by now, since the anthem had ended. Evangaline and Belle had stopped trying to look out a long time ago, focusing instead on the campfire we had in the middle of our triangle, roasting pieces of meat from a can in our supply pile over it for dinner.

“No wonder the backpacks were so heavy. All these cans,” I said. “Which is good, but.”

“Yet we didn’t land a can opener,” said Evangaline, since the cans had come with no way to open them, so we’d used force and some rocks. The sticks and kindling came from the last trip outside that I made, before the blizzard got worse. We’d probably have to find more in the area soon, when one of us would be on watch. The fire had to be worth the risk. To be honest, I was scared of the night to come. The Careers would be on the prowl, and there was no telling what the arena would do. I could hope for the best, but. Well. The best- case scenario was also kind of bleak.

With us not focused on eating in a few minutes, I decided to talk to try and stop thinking. “It’s so quiet,” I said. “It wouldn’t be if….” If Quinn was still here.

I didn’t pretend to have known her well. That was a hard thing to do. But she would’ve chased away the silence, at least.

Seeing her while the anthem played a while ago had just stirred up my emotions from the bloodbath.

“I know,” said Evangaline.

Belle was still quiet. Quinn had been her ally at first, not ours, but I sensed that she was just being quiet, not too emotional.

“I just—“ I started babbling, “she was so little, why—” why did they choose her? “—why did she have to…? It wasn’t fair. It isn’t fair, it isn’t—” My voice broke, and then I was sobbing, and I couldn’t even tell if it was over Quinn or over the whole situation; then Belle was hugging me, unexpectedly, and I let her.

I cried for several minutes. For Quinn, for everyone else, for us. Belle patted my back a little awkwardly. But I didn’t care. I needed the hug right about then.

My tears were starting to slow, freezing a little on my face, when Evangaline said, “At least we got the boy from One.”

I shook my head. This wasn’t about Jullius. He hadn’t really killed Quinn; the Capitol had. And I was sure that the Capitol did wonderful things for some people, but what look what they did to us.

And… Jullius seemed to have been looking to die. He wasn’t killing for the Capitol. He wasn’t killing Quinn; he was killing himself.

The worst part was, Quinn wouldn’t have understood any of it.

Belle let go of me. It occurred to me that I wasn’t a pretty crier, so I tried to look down.

We were all quiet, just sitting by the fire.

“Well,” Belle said, “there’s nothing we can do now.”

I didn’t like that thought. There was always something. We couldn’t bring back the dead, maybe, but… there had to still be some kind of hope. “We can remember,” I said.

“Remembering is dangerous, Jess,” Evangaline said, huddling closer to the fire.

Well, a lot of things were dangerous. Being in the arena was dangerous. Though I hated to sound snarky. Right now, we were probably in danger of freezing to death. But we had the fire, we were inside the cave, we each had a sleeping bag and some extra clothes. We’d fought for those supplies, trekked to find the cave, worked on the fire. We deserved those good things.

In the moment, we were quiet again. I thought about my allies. I really didn’t want to see any of them die, but I’d have to to get home.

I’m sorry I want to live, I thought at them.

I felt like… we’d become friends. Even with Alder, not an official ally. And friends didn’t let friends die. But… what about my family outside of the arena?

I tried to block out my negative thoughts. “Well,” I said, trying to lighten the mood even though I was accidentally the one who’d made it go down hill, “At least we’re doing well now.”

Evangaline asked, “Well?”, sarcastically, not viciously, while Belle nodded slowly.

“… Better than we were,” I corrected, trying to stay positive. But then I realized that wasn’t exactly true, so I added, “this morning,” referring to the bloodbath specifically. My allies caught on to that.

Evangaline shrugged.

Belle stepped in, “Tomorrow’s a fresh start.”

“It is,” I agreed. I was eager to cover more arena ground.

“But… we’ll still be fighting to the death,” Evangaline whispered, the one seeming upset now. She didn’t show it as much as I did, but it was there. Her voice was sad, laced with surprised tears, and scared.

“It’ll be okay,” I tried.

Belle nodded again.

“Maybe,” said Evangaline, still quietly.

The fire hissed as some snow blew into it.

“We should be going to bed,” Belle said, changing the subject. I agreed with that. I wanted to sleep; I would offer to take watch, but just so my allies could sleep, not out of paranoia. “I’ll take first watch,” Belle continued, before I got the chance.

Evangaline and I agreed and slid into our sleeping bags.

“Good night,” I said.

“’Night,” mumbled Evangaline.

“Sleep well,” said Belle.

So I tried my best to fall asleep. To put fear aside, to hope for the best, and just sleep after what had been a long, long day. It was much warmer in the sleeping bag, although it was uncomfortable to sleep in my clothes, as much as I needed their warmth, too. The ground was hard beneath me, but I tried to put that thought aside, as well, and just rest.

. . . . .

Ryan Lawrence, Age 18, District Ten Male Tribute It was getting later into the night, and the dark east section woods were looking creepier.

Plus it was still. Freaking. Raining.

You really didn’t appreciate being dry and warm until you’d been soaked and cold all day.

Fall and I’d made camp under a willow-y tree, despite the trees attacking us earlier—this one wasn’t moving. For now. We’d tried to find some shelter from the rain, hanging the tarp I had over a branch above us, then poking holes in the side with scissors, tying the twine through them, and tying the twine to branches below the tarp, on either side of us, to keep it up like a tent. It… kind of worked. It covered our heads and a little more, at least.

Other than that, we shared the blanket, although the bottom part of it was useless in the rain. Fall, in sleep, hogged it, while I was on watch. I figured that he was scared. He hadn’t done a great job of hiding it while awake, especially when we discovered there weren’t any good hiding spots.

I’d just have to keep my eyes open.

Normally I was cocky and would say that we could take on the Careers, but I didn’t want to take chances and staying out of the way would be preferable. I didn’t want to be the cynic of the alliance and say they might be headed our way, but Fall was the optimist, if a scared optimist.

And besides, I’d already screwed up one fight today.

I was so pissed off when I saw that Felina had died at someone else’s hands. Normally I wasn’t much of a killer, but she irked me and I had the chance, and I missed it. Freaking missed it.

I didn’t know how to express my anger during the anthem to Fall, who’d seemed sad over everyone, and said, “… At least that’s not us up there,” strangely quietly.

“Yeah,” was what I’d gotten out.

Like, look: Fall was little—the littlest in the arena—too young to understand things like vengeance and rebellion and death. He was going to die, and maybe I was going to die, and maybe it would all be worth it if someone understood any of it.

(I tried not to forget my original purpose. I was still in this for Namitha.)

And maybe I was wrong. Maybe Fall, not understanding, would slit my throat, and the fourteen-year-old would murder me. And then he would probably be murdered himself, anyway.

When I was that little, I of course assumed that I would be one of the people who got to live a normal, long life, and die peacefully of old age in my sleep. And be happy because I’d lead a full life. But now I was learning about the possibility that I could not be one of those people. I no longer had a normal life, and it could easily be cut short—my death would likely be bloody and painful and terrifying, murdered while I was wide awake.

Back then, before the Games, I had this feeling of invincibility. I thought, What would they do, send me into the arena? But now, actually being in the Games, I realized that anytime I did something stupid they could send a pack of mutts after me and make my death even worse.

For now, I was just cold and wet and miserable.

So of course, when Fall woke and asked, “Ryan?” I snapped: “What?”

Fall paused. “Have you seen anything?”

I tried to lighten the mood. “Yeah, the Careers are right over there and I decided not to tell you.”

“What?” Fall sat right up.

“Dude, I was kidding,” I said. Okay. So maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

“Oh.” He settled back down, and tried to give me some more of the blanket.

I thought of Namitha and her allies and wondered if they had any off-screen—for that matter, were we on-screen now?—moments like this.

It was hard to find levity in the Hunger Games.

“Go back to sleep,” I told him.

Fall nodded, and then got still and quiet. I didn’t think he was actually sleeping, but he was trying. I didn’t have much of a plan for the next day, but it would probably be long, so he needed sleep. Which would probably be hard to get, because lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in addition to the cold rain. Plus, you know, the part where people were hunting us.

I shined Fall’s flashlight around the woods and still saw nothing. But it was pretty much pitch black except for the quick lightning and my directed, small stream of light.

I wasn’t scared of the dark. I wasn’t a little kid or anything. But in the rain, at night, with people out for us—well.

It wasn’t like it was sunshine and rainbows or anything.

It hadn’t stopped freaking raining long enough to see either of those things, even during the day.

So instead of the details of the woods, I seemed to be seeing things from earlier in the day. I saw the burning of the boy from One, (heard his screams, felt the heat of the fire, smelt his burning flesh); I saw the body of the girl from Six, her heart floating on top of her, oozing blood.

I was never going to sleep.

It was likely that I would never have a peaceful night of sleep again, and the short term- ness of the rest of my life was… horrifying? Depressing? Terrible? It was hard to say.

I looked over at Fall and wondered what he was thinking about. Was he scared of death, convincing himself he could win? How did he feel about my potential death?

I had a hard time understanding the other tributes. We were all very different people thrown into the same sucky situation, forced to kill each other.

We weren’t even really “people” so much as kids. Still definitely kids.

And twenty-three of us would never grow up.