Filed To Story: Sunrise on the Reaping Book PDF Free
“No idea. Never had one.”
She holds one out to me. “Suck on it for a bit, get the salt out. There’s a pit inside.”
I place one on my tongue, assessing the smooth skin, the strange rich taste, tangy and metallic. “Not bad.” She deposits two more in my palm. I savor each one, rolling it around my mouth and slowly letting my teeth wear it down to the pit.
Time passes, clouds move in, and rain begins to fall. “The tarps!” I cry. We shakily find our feet and unfold our tarps. Reluctant to place them under the poisonous trees, we drive branches into the ground to form posts and stretch the tarps out, so there’s nothing between them and the sky. Almost immediately, we get results, and a slow trickle runs off them into the waiting water jugs below.
The rain intensifies and we stand, heads back, washing the blood from our faces and bodies. When we pass for clean, we hold our clothes in the downpour, laundering them as best we can. After about twenty minutes, the clouds turn off like somebody twisted the faucet.
We dress, letting the thin material dry on our bodies, and pass a water jug between us. “Well, if we weren’t before, we’re blood kin now,” says Maysilee.
“Sure enough, Sis. I think I swallowed enough of your blood to qualify.”
“Did you ever want a real sister?”
“I had two for a short time. Twins like you and Merrilee. They didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”
“No reason you should. It was before school and all.”
A sad look crosses her face. “I keep wondering, will Merrilee still be a twin, after I’m gone?”
“Always,” I say without hesitation, imagining Sid watching us. I hope he won’t think of himself as an only child.
“This is going to be hard on her,” says Maysilee.
After the Games comes the fallout from the Games. Spreading out like ripples in a pond when you toss in a rock. Concentric circles of damage, washing over the dead tributes’ families, their friends, their neighbors, to the ends of the district. Those in closest get hit the worst. White liquor and depression, broken families and violence and suicide. We never really recover, just move on the best we can.
Sid’s still so young, too tender for this world. “I worry about my brother, too.”
“He comes in the shop sometimes. Loves his taffy. Sid, right?”
I’m touched she knows his name, remembered this detail about him. “Yeah. Sid.”
The cannon sounds twice, startling us.
“I guess it’s too much to hope it’s Silka and Maritte,” I say.
“I don’t know what to hope for. That would leave only us Newcomers. And then what?” says Maysilee bleakly.
Then what, indeed. “Another meeting, like you said in the Capitol.”
“And if we agree to stay true?”
“More mutts,” I say. “Another volcano eruption.”
“Hunger.” She rubs her stomach. “So, can we go back now to the Cornucopia? Look for food?”
“It’s probably a six-mile hike. Should we try to recover a bit more?”
“What food do we have left again?”
I check the pack. “Sardines, olives, and two potatoes.”
“We better try for the Cornucopia,” she says.
Truth is, I’m so wiped out, I’d rather sit here and hope for food to drop from the sky, but I owe it to her to try her idea. Besides, the longer the Games go on, the pricier it becomes to send us anything, and our sponsor donations may be depleted. We pack everything up and head south.
We trudge along for a couple of miles before Maysilee stops and raises her head. “Listen.”
I strain my ears, but they’re still not so good as normal, with the blast and all. Things sound kind of muffled and partial, like I’ve got bits of cotton wool in my ears. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Shush!” she whispers urgently. “Over there.” She points off to our right, to the west.
I cock my head for better reception, and this time I do pick up something. “Is that a baby?” My brain starts spinning images of ravenous babies designed with superhuman strength crawling around the woods, crying for us to help them, but really looking to swarm us and pick our bones clean as a wishbone with their chubby little fingers.
“I thought so at first, but there’s an animal sound to it, too. Kind of squealing and mewling . . . like a goat or a kitten.”
My mind adds horns and fluffy tails to the mutt babies. “Let’s keep clear. Whatever it is doesn’t need our help.”
An agonized scream echoes through the trees. Definitely from a guy.
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.