Filed To Story: Sunrise on the Reaping Book PDF Free
One hundred thirty-six, one hundred thirty-seven –
“Haymitch!” I hear Ampert cry out. “Catch!”
He releases the torch, which scatters the bat formation for a second, and I somehow manage to grab it. With my free hand, I begin to scale the ladder, waving the fire above my head. But these are no butterflies, simple to ignite and destroy; they are sinewy mammals that can turn on a dime. They evade my torch and begin to claw me, taking painful swipes at my shoulders and back, causing blood to flow. Climb I must, though, because the clock’s ticking and if I’m not aboveground, I’ll be drowned for sure.
I’m not going to make it. I’ve lost count, but I’m thinking at any moment that tank will blow and there will be nowhere for that water to go but into this hallway. I take a final swing at the bats, solidly connecting with the one with its claws sunk into my thigh, and hurl the torch at their evil faces. My fingers fumble for my belt, unhook the interlocking rings, wrap the belt around a ladder rail, and secure the clasp. I throw my arms around the ladder, brace my legs, and hang on for dear life, filling my lungs with deep breaths. About five seconds and three bat scratches later, deafened by squeaks and hisses, I think I’ve made a mistake. I’ve bungled setting the explosive, or the cap was a dud, or a Gamemaker has arrived in time to yank the fuse from the putty –
An earsplitting blast almost knocks me off the ladder and I’m totally submerged in water. Icy-cold blackness engulfs me, rips one arm free. Without the belt, I’d be a goner, but somehow, I regain my grip and cling to the bars with every limb, eyes closed tight against the flood. After what seems like forever, the current eases enough for me to pop open my belt and continue my ascent. By this point, the burning in my lungs has pushed all other fears into the background. Legs floating free, I drag myself up the ladder. I’m about to black out when my face breaks through the surface. Between great gasps of air, I choke and gag up the bucket of water that managed to force its way in, despite my best efforts.
The good news is that the bats have disappeared, hopefully drowned in the initial wave. Also, the water lacks the metallic taste of the stream. I’m thinking they didn’t bother to poison that colossal tankful, but targeted the streams individually, so my mutt wounds have been washed clean safely. Glass half-full.
When I get my breathing and shivers in check, I call for Ampert. Above me, in the dim light of the fake moon, I can see the spear still propping open the berm, but no sign of him. Something isn’t right. He wouldn’t leave me to fend for myself. When the wave came, did the bats have time to escape through the berm and attack him? It seems unlikely that even they could fly that swiftly, as the water came almost simultaneously with the boom. Then what has happened to him? Careers? Gamemaker attacks?
I scale the ladder as fast as my frozen muscles will allow. As I reach the surface of the arena, I survey the woods, softly glowing in the mix of moon and firelight. Our campsite remains as we left it, with my pack and the rumpled hammock on the ground. No sign of Ampert, but no sign of a struggle either. What has led him to abandon his post?
I wrench the spear from the berm. The lips try to close, but damage has occurred, and they end in a sort of floral leer. I call softly, “Ampert? Ampert?” No response.
My hearing’s funny from either the water or the blast, but a sound reaches my ears, only just distinguishable from the usual nighttime hum of the forest. Animal, but distinct from the bats. Not chirping but chattering, coming from multiple mouths. I grab the hammock, wrapping it around my left forearm, thinking a net might come in handy, and creep toward the chatter. The sound intensifies, making my skin crawl, but I push forward until I break into a small circular clearing.
The trees buzz with life. I make out the hundreds of squirrel-like creatures, swarming around in their gorgeous golden coats, their eyes shining as if lit from within. Cute in a way, but too hyper, bouncing from branch to branch, gnashing their long rectangular front teeth in agitation. Mutts. They only pause to emit piercing rodent screams at a mound of their comrades in the center of the clearing. The boldest are fighting viciously, throwing themselves onto the heap, kicking one another away with powerful hindquarters. One flies through the air and lands at my feet. Before it springs back up, I spy a bloody scrap of electric-blue fabric snagged on its incisors, and everything becomes clear. Carnivorous mutts. Tearing Ampert apart.
I promised Beetee I would not let him suffer. Flinging my hammock to its full length, I holler and lunge for the pile. The hammock snares the furry bodies, and I jerk it toward me, succeeding in unseating a layer or two of mutts. Then I flip around my spear to use as a club and swing it across the mound again and again, sweeping the squirrels away. I prepare myself for their attack, for the inevitable tearing of my flesh, but nothing happens. The moment one’s knocked free of the mound, it dives back in. These are programmed for Ampert, and Ampert alone. His look, his smell, his taste.
I am losing, I am losing the fight, I am losing him. I know this, but there’s nothing to do but keep swinging. I never even get a glimpse of Ampert, just writhing furry bodies fighting for a piece of him. Finally, as if someone blew a whistle, audible only to them, hundreds of heads pop up and turn in unison toward an unseen master. A mad dash ensues, and in seconds the squirrels have vanished into the foliage.
Panting, I watch them fade away. Then I turn back to what I am meant to witness. A small white skeleton, stripped clean to the bone. No flesh or clothing remains, only an ax at its right side, my knife at its left. My lips move, but no sound comes out. “Buddy?” I stumble forward, spotting his tracker, wedged just below his elbow. There is no one to comfort, to ease out of this world. Ampert’s been swallowed up by the Capitol, and his coffin will hold only these pearly white bones.
A cannon fires.
Somewhere, Beetee’s heart breaks into fragments so small it can never be repaired. Mine pounds like a drum as a wave of rage surges into it. My head drops back and I emit a howl that bounces off the fake sky and echoes around the arena. I want to kill them all, Snow, the Gamemakers, every person in the Capitol who has been party to this atrocity. But they are safely out of reach, so I drop my spear, grab the ax, and begin to chop away at the arena, determined to take it apart, piece by piece – the trees, the berry bushes, the birds’ nests – as inhuman sounds roar out of me.
I am hacking a berm of bluebells to bits when the earth begins to shake so violently that I’m thrown from my feet onto a bank of moss. My fingers dig into the stuff, and I hold my position as branches and debris rain down on me. When the earth settles, I scream at the sky, “Ha! You missed!” I spring to my feet and start careening through the trees like a wild man. “I’m still here! I’m still here!”
When I stagger onto our campsite, I catch sight of the berm and realize that something much bigger than targeting me is happening. The mouth opens and closes spasmodically, sending bursts of blossoms into the air. In the trees behind it, a herd of adorable baby deer runs around in a frenzy, rearing up to show spiked hooves slashing viciously at the air. An apple tree has transformed into a fountain of blue sparks, and clouds of steam rise from a nearby stream. Everything’s taken on an eerie, dreamlike quality. Either the arena’s malfunctioning or I’ve been licking toads.
Half afraid to hope, I slowly raise my eyes upward to see the night sky, which cuts in and out like bad television reception. A burst of static dazzles, then suddenly, I’m looking straight up at the real sky. A gush of fresh air fills my lungs, and moonlight illuminates the chaos. It worked! We have done it! Me and Ampert and Beetee and District 9 and a slew of people I’ve never heard of – we have drowned the brain! We have broken the arena!
This is my poster. Right here. I give a wild victory cry and spin around shouting, “Did you all want a party? I’ll give you a party!”
Lightning flashes, a clap of thunder booms. I dance around the berm, bellowing the first thing that comes to mind for all of Panem to hear. A song too dangerous to sing –
They hang the man and flog the woman
Who steals the goose from off the common,
Yet let the greater villain loose
That steals the common from the goose.
I extend my arms to the stars, Sid’s stars, all of our stars.
The law locks up the man or woman
Who steals the goose from off the common.
And geese will still a common lack
Till they go and steal it back.
I jump up and down hollering, “We got it back! We’re getting it back!”
Finally, I drop to my knees, arch my back, stretch out my arms, and embrace the sky. Only it goes pitch-black, as suddenly as if someone threw a switch. A low humming emanates from the forest floor. What’s causing that? I get a bad feeling. To my horror, I see the arena sky flicker back into focus.
“No . . . no!” I cry out. The berm’s still going at it, and sparks still spray from the apple tree, but the woods as a whole seems to have quieted. Maybe that’s okay, maybe that’s just part of it shutting down. To be sure, I dig in my pack, sling the binoculars around my neck, and fly to my sleeping tree, scurrying up the trunk like a squirrel mutt. When I reach my lookout position, I sway in the branches, peering through the lenses for an answer. Have I truly broken the arena? Are the Games finished?
Far in the distance, beyond the meadow, the mountain erupts in a fountain of lethal gold, and I have my answer. For me, the party is over.
Part 3
Chapter19
I have failed. The arena has been damaged, but not incapacitated. The Games continue.
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.