suzanna-kollinz-acliq-oyunlari-1-hisse-eng

This was no tribute’s campfire gone out of control, no accidental
occurrence. The flames that bear down on me have an
unnatural height, a uniformity that marks them as humanmade,
machine-made, Gamemaker-made. Things have been
too quiet today. No deaths, perhaps no fights at all. The audience
in the Capitol will be getting bored, claiming that these
Games are verging on dullness. This is the one thing the
Games must not do.
It’s not hard to follow the Gamemakers’ motivation. There
is the Career pack and then there are the rest of us, probably
spread far and thin across the arena. This fire is designed to
flush us out, to drive us together. It may not be the most original
device I’ve seen, but it’s very, very effective.
I hurdle over a burning log. Not high enough. The tail end of
my jacket catches on fire and I have to stop to rip it from my
body and stamp out the flames. But I don’t dare leave the
jacket, scorched and smoldering as it is, I take the risk of shoving
it in my sleeping bag, hoping the lack of air will quell what
I haven’t extinguished. This is all I have, what I carry on my
back, and it’s little enough to survive with.
In a matter of minutes, my throat and nose are burning. The
coughing begins soon after and my lungs begin to feel as if
they are actually being cooked. Discomfort turns to distress
until each breath sends a searing pain through my chest. I
manage to take cover under a stone outcropping just as the
vomiting begins, and I lose my meager supper and whatever
water has remained in my stomach. Crouching on my hands
and knees, I retch until there’s nothing left to come up.
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