Filed To Story: Sunrise on the Reaping Book PDF Free
Nesting in this apple tree
Picking time so fly away
Fly away
Fly away
Picking time so fly away
Fly away with me.
“How do you explain that, then?” Chicory asks us.
“We don’t,” says Maysilee. “She’s not ours. Ours is dead and she’s the replacement they sent us. Like as not, she’s from Eleven. Our mentors think so anyway.” She never seems to care if the Capitol’s listening.
Tile, the largest of the 11 tributes, speaks in a tight voice. “You didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”
“We didn’t know for sure until now,” says Wyatt. “We’ve just been trying to look out for her. Does it matter where they took her from, Eleven or Twelve? Aren’t we all on the same side?”
Lou Lou ignores us all as she tries to wriggle out of her safety straps.
“Do you know who she might be?” I ask.
Chicory shakes her head. “We’re a big district. And who knows how long she’s been with them.” She leans toward Lou Lou as much as her straps allow. “Little girl? What’s your real name? If one of us makes it back, we can tell your family.”
Lou Lou hesitates, attempts to speak, then grabs her ear and lets out a shriek. Wyatt catches her free hand and tries to soothe her.
“We think they put something in her ear to control her,” Maysilee tells them.
“That’s why you wanted us to be careful what we say,” says Chicory, putting it together. “They’re listening.” She sits back in her seat, her face sorrowful. “Maybe her people will recognize her.”
I don’t say so, but I’ve got a feeling her people are long dead, and if they’re alive, how tragic for them to see her only to lose her again. There’s no good ending to Lou Lou’s story.
We lift off, which would be amazing under other circumstances but here only adds to my queasiness. Everybody shuts up for a while, which gives me a chance to mentally prepare. I should be planning my strategy in the arena, but I just keep thinking about Lenore Dove, and how much I love her, and wondering if she’s home by now and how she’s doing. And Ma. And Sid. Burdock and Blair. Hattie. Before I know it, we’re descending.
When we arrive at the arena, we’re escorted directly from an interior landing pad to a hallway. I can’t look out, but it feels underground, and I’m certain I’m on Sub-A. I turn my head from side to side, trying to take in every detail of the place as we walk along a curved concrete floor. There are some sort of pipes to my right and doors spaced out to my left, which begin with four marked with the number 6 and go up from there. Four of the same number each time. 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8 . . . It’s a bit of a hike until we get to an 11 and they direct Chicory inside. We lose the rest of our 11 allies and then a Peacekeeper opens the first door marked 12.
I hold out my arms. Without a word, Wyatt and Maysilee join in a group embrace. Lou Lou wiggles into the center of the hug and we tighten our hold, feeling one another’s pulses and sweat and skin. Ten minutes from now, who will even still have a heartbeat?
After a minute, a Peacekeeper says, “Let’s go.”
We peel off into our rooms, me last of all. Before I go in, I catch sight of the next door down the hall, which has a 1 on it. A ring of tributes for the opening ceremony.
I’m alone in a circular room with a transparent tube in the center of it. My launchpad. A neatly folded set of clothes sits on a lone chair. Black, like Maysilee suspected.
The intercom crackles to life. A voice greets me: “Welcome to your launch room.” At home we call it the Stockyard. The place where animals wait to be slaughtered. The voice instructs, “The tributes are to change into their new outfits, courtesy of the Capitol.” Courtesy of the Capitol. My flour sack shorts. Ma. Sid.
I strip, tossing my training outfit in a pile on the floor. All the arena clothes – underwear, long-sleeved shirt, pants – feel like one of the old silk scarves Lenore Dove uses to accent her costumes. Thin and cool, the fabric runs through my hands like water. There’s a belt but no loops on the pants, only on the flowing shirt, so I fasten it around my waist. It’s made of stretchy material, and instead of a buckle, it’s secured with two metallic circles that interlock and then unfasten with a quick twist. When I finish dressing, my knees feel wobbly and I drop into the chair, listening to the pounding of my heart. The arena’s minutes away. I can’t remember what to do. I hear Wiress’s voice. . . .
First avoid the slaughter,
Get weapons, look for water.
Water. Right. I’m supposed to drown the brain. What?
More instructions. “Tributes, please enter your tubes.”
I rise shakily to my feet as the door handle turns and Effie Trinket flies into the room. “Wait, not yet! I have to check him!” She’s white as a sheet. “I only found out I was supposed to do this at breakfast,” she says in a hushed voice. “No one could find Magno.” She quickly goes over my outfit, adjusting the belt. “Did you see this?” She shows me my pants have a handkerchief in one of the pockets, which I leave in place.
“Thanks,” I manage.
“Tributes who are not in their tubes in thirty seconds will be disciplined,” says the voice.
“Come on!” Effie guides me to the tube and centers me on a glass plate. She arranges my token so it’s outside the shirt.
The trembling of her hands allows me to ask a favor. “Will you make sure my token gets home to my girl?”
Effie nods and lays a hand over it solemnly. “I will do my absolute best.” She steps back and the door begins to slide shut. “Remember, Haymitch, don’t step off your plate for sixty seconds!” As the door clicks shut, she pumps the air with a fist and adds, “And keep a positive attitude!”
I rise up, locking my eyes on hers until things go black, making me lose my bearings. My sweaty palms swipe the sides of the glass tube as I try to steady myself. Then the tube runs out and I’m teetering on my plate when a gust of air hits my face and the light blinds my eyes. As they adjust, my brows shoot up in disbelief as I get my first look at the arena.
The beauty takes my breath away.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.