in the supplies?
that鈥檚 not the sort of weapon the gamemakers usually pro-
vide, given that they like to see the tributes draw blood per-
sonally. i slip out of the bushes and cross to one of the round
metal plates that lifted the tributes into the arena. the ground
around it has been dug up and patted back down. the land
mines were disabled after the sixty seconds we stood on the
plates, but the boy from district 3 must have managed to reac-
tivate them. i鈥檝e never seen anyone in the games do that. i bet
it came as a shock even to the gamemakers.
well, hurray for the boy from district 3 for putting one over
on them, but what am i supposed to do now? obviously, i can鈥檛
go strolling into that mess without blowing myself sky-high.
as for sending in a burning arrow, that鈥檚 more laughable than
ever. the mines are set off by pressure. it doesn鈥檛 have to be a
lot, either. one year, a girl dropped her token, a small wooden
ball, while she was at her plate, and they literally had to
scrape bits of her off the ground.
my arm鈥檚 pretty good, i might be able to chuck some rocks
in there and set off what? maybe one mine? that could start a
chain reaction. or could it? would the boy from district 3 have
placed the mines in such a way that a single mine would not
disturb the others? thereby protecting the supplies but ensur-
ing the death of the invader. even if i only blew up one mine,
i鈥檇 draw the careers back down on me for sure. and anyway,
what am i thinking? there鈥檚 that net, clearly strung to deflect
any such attack. besides, what i鈥檇 really need is to throw
217
about thirty rocks in there at once, setting off a big chain reac-
tion, demolishing the whole lot.
i glance back up at the woods. the smoke from rue鈥檚
second fire is wafting toward the sky. by now, the careers
have probably begun to suspect some sort of trick. time is
running out.
there is a solution to this, i know there is, if i can only focus
hard enough. i stare at the pyramid, the bins, the crates, too
heavy to topple over with an arrow. maybe one contains cook-
ing oil, and the burning arrow idea is reviving when i realize i
could end up losing all twelve of my arrows and not get a di-
rect hit on an oil bin, since i鈥檇 just be guessing. i鈥檓 genuinely
thinking of trying to re-create foxface鈥檚 trip up to the pyramid
in hopes of finding a new means of destruction when my eyes
light on the burlap bag of apples. i could sever the rope in one
shot, didn鈥檛 i do as much in the training center? it鈥檚 a big bag,
but it still might only be good for one explosion. if only i could
free the apples themselves . . .
i know what to do. i move into range and give myself three
arrows to get the job done. i place my feet carefully, block out
the rest of the world as i take meticulous aim, the first arrow
tears through the side of the bag near the top, leaving a split in
the burlap. the second widens it to a gaping hole. i can see the
first apple teetering when i let the third arrow go, catching the
torn flap of burlap and ripping it from the bag.
for a moment, everything seems frozen in time. then the
apples spill to the ground and i鈥檓 blown backward into the
air.
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the impact with the hard-packed earth of the plain knocks
the wind out of me. my backpack does little to soften the blow.
fortunately my quiver has caught in the crook of my elbow,
sparing both itself and my shoulder, and my bow is locked in
my grasp. the ground still shakes with explosions. i can鈥檛 hear
them. i can鈥檛 hear anything at the moment. but the apples
must have set off enough mines, causing debris to activate the
others. i manage to shield my face with my arms as shattered
bits of matter, some of it burning, rain down around me. an
acrid smoke fills the air, which is not the best remedy for
someone trying to regain the ability to breathe.
after about a minute, the ground stops vibrating. i roll on
my side and allow myself a moment of satisfaction the sight of
the smoldering wreckage that was recently the pyramid. the
careers aren鈥檛 likely to salvage anything out of that.
i鈥檇 better get out of here, i think. they鈥檒l be making a beeline
for the place. but once i鈥檓 on my feet, i realize escape may not
be so simple. i鈥檓 dizzy. not the slightly wobbly kind, but the
kind that sends the trees swooping around you and causes the
earth to move in waves under your feet.
i take a few steps and somehow wind up on my hands and
knees. i wait a few minutes to let it pass, but it doesn鈥檛.
219
panic begins to set in. i can鈥檛 stay here. flight is essential.
but i can neither walk nor hear. i place a hand to my left ear,
the one that was turned toward the blast, and it comes away
bloody. have i gone deaf from the explosion?
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