按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
————未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!
。 Then I know。 Itˇs a wasp nest。
Fear shoots through me; but I have enough sense to keep still。 After all; I donˇt know what kind of wasp lives there。 It could be the ordinary leave…us…alone…and…weˇll…leave…youalone type。 But these are the Hunger Games; and ordinary isnˇt the norm。 More likely they will be one of the Capitolˇs muttations; tracker jackers。 Like the jabberjays; these killer wasps were spawned in a lab and strategically placed; like land mines; around the districts during the war。 Larger than regular wasps; they have a distinctive solid gold body and a sting that raises a lump the size of a plum on contact。 Most people canˇt tolerate more than a few stings。 Some die at once。 If you live; the hallucinations brought on by the venom have actually driven people to madness。 And thereˇs another thing; these wasps will hunt down anyone who disturbs their nest and at184 tempt to kill them。 Thatˇs where the tracker part of the name es from。
After the war; the Capitol destroyed all the nests surrounding their city; but the ones near the districts were left untouched。 Another reminder of our weakness; I suppose; just like the Hunger Games。 Another reason to keep inside the fence of District 12。 When Gale and I e across a tracker jacker nest; we immediately head in the opposite direction。
So is that what hangs above me? I look back to Rue for help; but sheˇs melted into her tree。
Given my circumstances; I guess it doesnˇt matter what type of wasp nest it is。 Iˇm wounded and trapped。 Darkness has given me a brief reprieve; but by the time the sun rises; the Careers will have formulated a plan to kill me。 Thereˇs no way they could do otherwise after Iˇve made them look so stupid。 That nest may be the sole option I have left。 If I can drop it down on them; I may be able to escape。 But Iˇll risk my life in the process。
Of course; Iˇll never be able to get in close enough to the actual nest to cut it free。 Iˇll have to saw off the branch at the trunk and send the whole thing down。 The serrated portion of my knife should be able to manage that。 But can my hands? And will the vibration from the sawing raise the swarm? And what if the Careers figure out what Iˇm doing and move their camp? That would defeat the whole purpose。
I realize that the best chance Iˇll have to do the sawing without drawing notice will be during the anthem。 That could begin any time。 I drag myself out of my bag; make sure my knife is secured in my belt; and begin to make my way up the tree。 This in itself is dangerous since the branches are being precariously thin even for me; but I persevere。 When I reach the limb that supports the nest; the humming bees more distinctive。 But itˇs still oddly subdued if these are tracker jackers。 Itˇs the smoke; I think。 Itˇs sedated them。 This was the one defense the rebels found to battle the wasps。
The seal of the Capitol shines above me and the anthem blares out。 Itˇs now or never; I think; and begin to saw。 Blisters burst on my right hand as I awkwardly drag the knife back and forth。 Once Iˇve got a groove; the work requires less effort but is almost more than I can handle。 I grit my teeth and saw away occasionally glancing at the sky to register that there were no deaths today。 Thatˇs all right。 The audience will be sated seeing me injured and treed and the pack below me。 But the anthemˇs running out and Iˇm only three quarters of the way through the wood when the music ends; the sky goes dark; and Iˇm forced to stop。
Now what? I could probably finish off the job by sense of feel but that may not be the smartest plan。 If the wasps are too groggy; if the nest catches on its way down; if I try to escape; this could all be a deadly waste of time。 Better; I think; to sneak up here at dawn and send the nest into my enemies。
In the faint light of the Careersˇ torches; I inch back down to my fork to find the best surprise Iˇve ever had。 Sitting on my sleeping bag is a small plastic pot attached to a silver parachute。 My first gift from a sponsor! Haymitch must have had it sent in during the anthem。 The pot easily fits in the palm of my hand。 What can it be? Not food surely。 I unscrew the lid and I know by the scent that itˇs medicine。 Cautiously; I probe the surface of the ointment。 The throbbing in my fingertip vanishes。
¨Oh; Haymitch;〃 I whisper。 ¨Thank you。〃 He has not abandoned me。 Not left me to fend entirely for myself。 The cost of this medicine must be astronomical。 Probably not one but many sponsors have contributed to buy this one tiny pot。 To me; it is priceless。
I dip two fingers in the jar and gently spread the balm over my calf。 The effect is almost magical; erasing the pain on contact; leaving a pleasant cooling sensation behind。 This is no herbal concoction that my mother grinds up out of woodland plants; itˇs high…tech medicine brewed up in the Capitolˇs labs。 When my calf is treated; I rub a thin layer into my hands。 After wrapping the pot in the parachute; I nestle it safely away in my pack。 Now that the pain has eased; itˇs all I can do to reposition myself in my bag before I plunge into sleep。
A bird perched just a few feet from me alerts me that a new day is dawning。 In the gray morning light; I examine my hands。 The medicine has transformed all the angry red patches to a soft baby…skin pink。 My leg still feels inflamed; but that burn was far deeper。 I apply another coat of medicine and quietly pack up my gear。 Whatever happens; Iˇm going to have to move and move fast。 I also make myself eat a cracker and a strip of beef and drink a few cups of water。
Almost nothing stayed in my stomach yesterday; and Iˇm already starting to feel the effects of hunger。
Below me; I can see the Career pack and Peeta asleep on the ground。 By her position; leaning up against the trunk of the tree; Iˇd guess Glimmer was supposed to be on guard; but fatigue overcame her。
My eyes squint as they try to perate the tree next to me; but I canˇt make out Rue。 Since she tipped me off; it only seems fair to warn her。 Besides; if Iˇm going to die today; itˇs Rue I want to win。 Even if it means a little extra food for my family; the idea of Peeta being crowned victor is unbearable。
I call Rueˇs name in a hushed whisper and the eyes appear; wide and alert; at once。 She points up to the nest again。 I hold up my knife and make a sawing motion。 She nods and disappears。 Thereˇs a rustling in a nearby tree。 Then the same noise again a bit farther off。 I realize sheˇs leaping from tree to tree。 Itˇs all I can do not to laugh out loud。 Is this what she showed the Gamemakers? I imagine her flying around the training equipment never touching the floor。 She should have gotten at least a ten。
Rosy streaks are breaking through in the east。 I canˇt afford to wait any longer。 pared to the agony of last nightˇs climb; this one is a cinch。 At the tree limb that holds the nest; I position the knife in the groove and Iˇm about to draw the teeth across the wood when I see something moving。 There; on the nest。 The bright gold gleam of a tracker jacker lazily making its way across the papery gray surface。 No question; itˇs acting a little subdued; but the wasp is up and moving and that means the