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the hunger games-饥饿游戏(英文版)-第29部分
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reactivate them。 Iˇve never seen anyone in the Games do that。 I bet it came as a shock even to the Gamemakers。
Well； hurray for the boy from District 3 for putting one over on them； but what am I supposed to do now？ Obviously； I canˇt go strolling into that mess without blowing myself sky…high。 As for sending in a burning arrow； thatˇs more laughable than ever。 The mines are set off by pressure。 It doesnˇt have to be a lot； either。 One year； a girl dropped her token； a small wooden ball； while she was at her plate； and they literally had to scrape bits of her off the ground。
My armˇs pretty good； I might be able to chuck some rocks in there and set off what？ Maybe one mine？ That could start a chain reaction。 Or could it？ Would the boy from District 3 have placed the mines in such a way that a single mine would not disturb the others？ Thereby protecting the supplies but ensuring the death of the invader。 Even if I only blew up one mine； Iˇd draw the Careers back down on me for sure。 And anyway； what am I thinking？ Thereˇs that ； clearly strung to deflect any such attack。 Besides； what Iˇd really need is to throw about thirty rocks in there at once； setting off a big chain reaction； demolishing the whole lot。
I glance back up at the woods。 The smoke from Rueˇs second fire is wafting toward the sky。 By now； the Careers have probably begun to suspect some sort of trick。 Time is running out。
There is a solution to this； I know there is； if I can only focus hard enough。 I stare at the pyramid； the bins； the crates； too heavy to topple over with an arrow。 Maybe one contains cooking oil； and the burning arrow idea is reviving when I realize I could end up losing all twelve of my arrows and not get a direct hit on an oil bin； since Iˇd just be guessing。 Iˇm genuinely thinking of trying to re…create Foxfaceˇs trip up to the pyramid in hopes of finding a new means of destruction when my eyes light on the burlap bag of apples。 I could sever the rope in one shot； didnˇt I do as much in the Training Center？ Itˇs a big bag； but it still might only be good for one explosion。 If only I could free the apples themselves 。 。 。
I know what to do。 I move into range and give myself three arrows to get the job done。 I place my feet carefully； block out the rest of the world as I take meticulous aim； The first arrow tears through the side of the bag near the top； leaving a split in the burlap。 The second widens it to a gaping hole。 I can see the first apple teetering when I let the third arrow go； catching the torn flap of burlap and ripping it from the bag。
For a moment； everything seems frozen in time。 Then the apples spill to the ground and Iˇm blown backward into the air。
17
The impact with the hard…packed earth of the plain knocks the wind out of me。 My backpack does little to soften the blow。 Fortunately my quiver has caught in the crook of my elbow； sparing both itself and my shoulder； and my bow is locked in my grasp。 The ground still shakes with explosions。 I canˇt hear them。 I canˇt hear anything at the moment。 But the apples must have set off enough mines； causing debris to activate the others。 I manage to shield my face with my arms as shattered bits of matter； some of it burning； rain down around me。 An acrid smoke fills the air； which is not the best remedy for someone trying to regain the ability to breathe。
After about a minute； the ground stops vibrating。 I roll on my side and allow myself a moment of satisfaction the sight of the smoldering wreckage that was recently the pyramid。 The Careers arenˇt likely to salvage anything out of that。
Iˇd better get out of here； I think。 Theyˇll be making a beeline for the place。 But once Iˇm on my feet； I realize escape may not be so simple。 Iˇm dizzy。 Not the slightly wobbly kind； but the kind that sends the trees swooping around you and causes the earth to move in waves under your feet。
I take a few steps and somehow wind up on my hands and knees。 I wait a few minutes to let it pass； but it doesnˇt。
Panic begins to set in。 I canˇt stay here。 Flight is essential。 But I can neither walk nor hear。 I place a hand to my left ear； the one that was turned toward the blast； and it es away bloody。 Have I gone deaf from the explosion？ The idea frightens me。 I rely as much on my ears as my eyes as a hunter； maybe more at times。 But I canˇt let my fear show。 Absolutely； positively； I am live on every screen in Panem。
No blood trails； I tell myself； and manage to pull my hood up over my head； tie the cord under my chin with uncooperative fingers。 That should help soak up the blood。 I canˇt walk； but can I crawl？ I move forward tentatively。 Yes； if I go very slowly； I can crawl。 Most of the woods will offer insufficient cover。 My only hope is to make it back to Rueˇs copse and conceal myself in greenery。 I canˇt get caught out here on my hands and knees in the open。 Not only will I face death； itˇs sure to be a long and painful one at Catoˇs hand。 The thought of Prim having to watch that keeps me doggedly inching my way toward the hideout。
Another blast knocks me flat on my face。 A stray mine； set off by some collapsing crate。 This happens twice more。 Iˇm reminded of those last few kernels that burst when Prim and I pop corn over the fire at home。
To say I make it in the nick of time is an understatement。 I have literally just dragged myself into the tangle of hushes at the base of the trees when thereˇs Cato； barreling onto the plain； soon followed by his panions。 His rage is so extreme it might be ical so people really do tear out their hair and beat the ground with their fists if I didnˇt know that it was aimed at me； at what I have done to him。 Add to that my proximity； my inability to run or defend myself； and in fact； the whole thing has me terrified。 Iˇm glad my hiding place makes it impossible for the cameras to get a close shot of me because Iˇm biting my nails like thereˇs no tomorrow。 Gnawing off the last bits of nail polish； trying to keep my teeth from chattering。
The boy from District 3 throws stones into the ruins and must have declared all the mines activated because the Careers are approaching the wreckage。
Cato has finished the first phase of his tantrum and takes out his anger on the smoking remains by kicking open various containers。 The other tributes are poking around in the mess； looking for anything to salvage； but thereˇs nothing。 The boy from District 3 has done his job too well。 This idea must occur to Cato； too； because he turns on the boy and appears to be shouting at him。 The boy from District 3 only has time to turn and run before Cato catches him in a headlock from behind。 I can see the muscles ripple in Catoˇs arms as he sharply jerks the boyˇs head to the side。
Itˇs that quick。 The death of the boy from District 3。
The other two Careers seem to be trying to calm Cato down。 I can tell he wants to return to the woods； but they keep pointing at the sky； which puzzles me until I realize； Of course。 They think whoever set off the explosions is dead。
They donˇt know about the arrows and the apples。 They assume the booby trap was faulty； but that the tribute who blew up the supplies was killed doing it。 If there was a cannon shot； it could have been easily lost in the subsequent explosions。 The shattered remains of the thief removed by hovercraft。 They retire to the far side of the lake to allow the Gamemakers to retrieve the body of the boy from District 3。 And they wait。
I suppose a cannon goes off。 A hovercraft appears and takes the dead boy。 The sun dips below the horizon。 Night falls。 Up in the sky； I see the seal and know the anthem must have begun。 A moment of darkness。 They show the boy from District 3。 They show the boy from District 10； who must have died this morning。 Then the seal reappears。 So； now they know。 The bomber survived。 In the sealˇs light； I can see Cato and the girl from District 2 put on their night…vision glasses。 The boy from District 1 ignites a tree branch for a torch； illuminating the grim determination on all their faces。 The Careers stride back into the woods to hunt。
The dizziness has subsided and while my left ear is still deafened； I can hear a ringing in my right； which seems a good sign。 Thereˇs no point in leaving my hiding place； though。 Iˇm about as safe as I can be； here at the crime scene。 They probably think the bomber has a two… or three…hour lead on them。 Still itˇs a long time before I risk moving。
The first thing I do is dig out my own glasses and put them on； which relaxes me a little； to have at least one of my hunterˇs senses working。 I drink some water and wash the blood from my ear。 Fearing the smell of meat will draw unwanted predators fresh blood is bad enough I make a good meal out of the greens and roots and berries Rue and I gathered today。
Where is my little ally？ Did she make it back to the rendezvous point？ Is she worried about me？ At least； the sky has shown weˇre both alive。
I run through the surviving tributes on my fingers。 The boy from 1； both from 2； Foxface； both from 11 and 12。 Just eight of us。 The betting must be getting really hot in the Capitol。 Theyˇll be doing special features on each of us now。 Probably interviewing our friends and families。 Itˇs been a long time since a tribute from District 12 made it into the top eight。 And now there are two of us。 Although from what Cato said； Peetaˇs on his way out。 Not that Cato is the final word on anything。 Didnˇt he just lose his entire stash of supplies？
Let the Seventy…fourth Hunger Games begin； Cato； I think。 Let them begin for real。
A cold breeze has sprung up。 I reach for my sleeping bag before I remember I left it with Rue。 I was supposed to pick up another one； but what with the mines and all； I forgot。 I begin to shiver。 Since roosting overnight in a tree isnˇt sensible anyway； I scoop out a hollow under the bushes and cover myself with leaves and pine needles。 Iˇm still freezing。 I lay my sheet of plastic over my upper body and position my backpack to block the wind。 Itˇs a little better。 I begin to have more sympathy for the girl from District 8 that lit the fire that first night。 But now itˇs me who needs to grit my teeth and tough it out until morning。 More leaves； more pine needles。 I pull my arms inside my jacket and tuck my knees up to my chest。 Somehow； I drift off to sleep。
When I open my eyes； the world looks slightly fractured； and it takes a minute to realize that the sun must be well up and the glasses fragmenting my vision。 As I sit up and remove them； I hear a laugh somewhere near the lake and freeze。 The laughˇs distorted； but the fact that it registered at all means I must be regaining my hearing。 Yes； my right ear can hear again； although itˇs still ringing。 As for my left ear； well； at least the bleeding has stopped。
I peer through the bushes； afraid the Careers have returned； trapping me here for an indefinite time。 No； itˇs Foxface； standing in the rubble of the pyramid and laughing。 Sheˇs smarter than the Careers； actually finding a few useful items in the ashes。 A metal pot。 A knife blade。 Iˇm perplexed by her amusement until I realize that with the Careersˇ stores eliminated； she might actually stand a chance。 Just like the rest of us。 It crosses my
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