Голодные игры/The Hunger Games (Сюзанна Коллинз). Страница 175 из 236

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I

do

n't

need

to

be

told

twice

.

I

flip

over

and

my

feet

dip

into

the

hard-packed

earth

as

I

run

away

from

Thresh

and

Clove

and

the

sound

of

Cato

's

voice

.

Only

when

I

reach

the

woods

do

I

turn

back

for

an

instant

.

Thresh

and

both

large

backpacks

are

vanishing

over

the

edge

of

the

plain

into

the

area

I

've

never

seen

.

Cato

kneels

beside

Clove

,

spear

in

hand

,

begging

her

to

stay

with

him

.

In

a

moment

,

he

will

realize

it

's

futile

,

she

ca

n't

be

saved

I

crash

into

the

trees

,

repeatedly

swiping

away

the

blood

that

's

pouring

into

my

eye

,

fleeing

like

the

wild

,

wounded

creature

I

am

.

After

a

few

minutes

,

I

hear

the

cannon

and

I

know

that

Clove

has

died

,

that

Cato

will

be

on

one

of

our

trails

.

Either

Thresh

's

or

mine

.

I

'm

seized

with

terror

,

weak

from

my

head

wound

,

shaking

.

I

load

an

arrow

,

but

Cato

can

throw

that

spear

almost

as

far

as

I

can

shoot

.

Only

one

thing

calms

me

down

.

Thresh

has

Cato

's

backpack

containing

the

thing

he

needs

desperately

.

If

I

had

to

bet

,

Cato

headed

out

after

Thresh

,

not

me

.

Still

I

do

n't

slow

down

when

I

reach

the

water

.

I

plunge

right

in

,

boots

still

on

,

and

flounder

downstream

.

I

pull

off

Rue

's

socks

that

I

've

been

using

for

gloves

and

press

them

into

my

forehead

,

trying

to

staunch

the

flow

of

blood

,

but

they

're

soaked

in

minutes

.

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Somehow

I

make

it

back

to

the

cave

.

I

squeeze

through

the

rocks

.

In

the

dappled

light

,

I

pull

the

little

orange

backpack

from

my

arm

,

cut

open

the

clasp

,

and

dump

the

contents

on

the

ground

.

One

slim

box

containing

one

hypodermic

needle

.

Without

hesitating

,

I

jam

the

needle

into

Peeta

's

arm

and

slowly

press

down

on

the

plunger

.

My

hands

go

to

my

head

and

then

drop

to

my

lap

,

slick

with

blood

.

The

last

thing

I

remember

is

an

exquisitely

beautiful

green-and-silver

moth

landing

on

the

curve

of

my

wrist

.

The

sound

of

rain

drumming

on

the

roof

of

our

house

gently

pulls

me

toward

consciousness

.

I

fight

to

return

to

sleep

though

,

wrapped

in

a

warm

cocoon

of

blankets

,

safe

at

home

.

I

'm

vaguely

aware

that

my

head

aches

.

Possibly

I

have

the

flu

and

this

is

why

I

'm

allowed

to

stay

in

bed

,

even

though

I

can

tell

I

've

been

asleep

a

long

time

.

My

mother

's

hand

strokes

my

cheek

and

I

do

n't

push

it

away

as

I

would

in

wakefulness

,

never

wanting

her

to

know

how

much

I

crave

that

gentle

touch

.

How

much

I

miss

her

even

though

I

still

do

n't

trust

her

.

Then

there

's

a

voice

,

the

wrong

voice

,

not

my

mother

's

,

and

I

'm

scared

.

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"

Katniss

,

"

it

says

.

"

Katniss

,

can

you

hear

me

?

"

My

eyes

open

and

the

sense

of

security

vanishes

.

I

'm

not

home

,

not

with

my

mother

.

I

'm

in

a

dim

,

chilly

cave

,

my

bare

feet

freezing

despite

the

cover

,

the

air

tainted

with

the

unmistakable

smell

of

blood

.

The

haggard

,

pale

face

of

a

boy

slides

into

view

,

and

after

an

initial

jolt

of

alarm

,

I

feel

better

.

"

Peeta

.

"

"

Hey

,

"

he

says

.

"

Good

to

see

your

eyes

again

.

"

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