Standing on the Edge (That Goat Will Probably Eat You)

Morning Has Broken

With a small sigh, he slides the laptop back.

"Can I get a glass of water?" he asks. His Avox vanishes immediately. He doesn't get the chance to look properly but he knows it's not his regular Avox, a somewhat dumpy blonde from District Eight who, according to her name badge (a recent and not very widespread addition; people seem to want to know their names but only about one in every five Avox wears a badge) is called Salia. But he doubts that it's her real name. And anyway, this isn't her. This is an old guy, nearly bald, and his whole face looks as though it's about to collapse on itself. Still, that's not the issue right now.

"The fog will have to go," he muses, "Can't have the public being unhappy." This is a simple decision, and it makes sense. The fog was just a whim; it hasn't worked. No problems. There's still plenty of other things out there to cause the tributes problems. It doesn't matter. They need to deal with it now before they start losing more viewers, when they wake up and still can't see through the fog. He presses a button to send a call through to the Arena Dept. This is how it works; the Gamemakers decide what they want and the Arena Dept make sure it happens.

"Hello, Arena Department, how can I help you?" chirps an enthusiastic female voice.

"It's Andros Villes, Head Gamemaker," he says. The girl pauses a little, then carries on as if she's not flustered. Good girl. "Who would you like to speak to, Mr Villes?"

"Head of Weather, please."

Less than a second later, a surprisingly high-pitched male voice exclaims, "How can we help you, Mr Villes?"

"The fog. We want it gone," he insists, "As soon as possible."

"Yes, Mr Head Gamemaker sir, right away sir! Right then peoples, let's get this fog blasted away!"

The call shuts off.

It's just that simple.

The old man Avox is back with the water. He slams the glass down on the shining table so hard that some of the water spills over the sides. It makes such a sharp noise that Andros has to look up at him, and immediately wishes he hadn't.

The problem with Avox is that now they've been punished, they think they're invincible. And many of them will do any kind of petty rebellion, just for the hell of it. Like this little stunt with the water. They hate the people they work for; that's why they're working there. It's a dangerous paradox, and it's only a good job that the Avox can't communicate with each other. This Avox glares down at him with so much hate he practically shrivels under it. His eyes are the only part of him that has any substance and they're filled with anger and despair. While Andros glares up at him, the other Gamemakers watching tensely and the other Avox looking on with greedy eyes, the man slams a piece of paper down onto the table. He locks eyes with Andros one last time, then storms out of the room.

"Don't open it," advises the compassionate one, "Just throw it away and let's get on with the meeting. There's a lot to discuss. That arrangement between Garth and Faraday could be dangerous, we need to deal with that..."

On screen, they're talking about Ona. Nobody knows much about her, and they're showing a clip of her jumping a ravine as if it wasn't even there. People have high hopes for her, and she had sponsors lined up before the great brawl.

Andros can't help it; he's curious by nature. So he looks around, meeting the eyes of all the Gamemakers. They look nervous. The Avox are all leaning forward; are they involved? Very slowly, unable to help being dramatic, he unfolds the paper. The writing is scraggly and there's teardrops smudging it, but the words are obvious.

'You killed my daughter'.

"I could have sworn we had a few more bags of fruit."

I yawn and stretch. My muscles ache from sleeping sat up, on the solid ground. Day two in the arena, and I'm still alive. The remains of a fire smoulder in the middle of the Cornucopia. I assume the boys and Alice are outside. Emerald and Daisy are going over the supplies. My heart jumps.

 I've got my sword but I can't fight all these guys off. Garth has essentially got me killed. Maybe I can run away, though maybe not. The best I can hope is that they won't make it painful...

"Maybe not," Daisy grunts, and I calm down. I'm still nervous, my insides are still a wreck, but it's alright, I think. Emerald casts a glance at me but it doesn't look suspicious. "Oh, you've woken up," she drawls with a small smile.

"I think so," I respond, yawning. The air that rushes down my throat is tinged with smoke; it occurs to me that making a fire in a cramped space with only one small entrance is a stupid idea. I should pluck up the courage to mention it to Dayn. My legs are cramped, and I almost fall flat on my face as I haul myself to my feet. Emerald giggles and Daisy just looks at me. She creeps me out; I can never tell what she thinks. I've spent almost a whole day with her and she's never said more than five words in a row.

Somehow, at least some of the Careers will have to die.

I've known this, of course, but now I understand it. These people I've been wandering with - no matter how much I dislike them - will have to die. Cinder, Chuck, Daisy, Emerald, Dayn. And Alice. And...me, I guess. It's likely, anyway. And I signed myself up for this. I'm so stupid. Poor Tara. I'd give anything to go back and not put my hand up, even if it would mean watching Christian die, watching Callie see her little brother go to his death.

I stumble outside, and immediately feel the need to rub my eyes.

The fog has lifted.

This is no better; now I can fully see where we are, and it isn't good. We're in the middle of a kind of circle of rocky flat ground, probably an hour or so's walk across from where we are. There are patches of ice, rising up out of the rocky ground. From the flat ground it rises in jagged spikes, small at first, gradually growing up to sharp mountains that stretch so high into the sky I can't see the tops. Every surface seems to have some kind of ice or snow on it, and there's barely any trees, just thin stick-like things that remind me vaguely of the pylons back home. What I wouldn't give for a pylon now. To see such a familiar shape in such a warped setting makes everything more unsettling. Everything is grey or brown. I've never even imagined anywhere so depressing. Just looking at it gives me chills down my spine and makes the lump in my stomach so much worse. I could fall through the floor.

This is where I'll die.