Your tributes have passed the night, and now day is dawning. While you as a writer know that Coraline and company are closing in on the arena, your tribute does not—so how do they occupy themselves in the morning? The zombies (undead, walking corpses, and living dead are all better terms to use) are still stumbling around, and by morning they cover most of the arena.
If you tribute hasn’t had anything substantial to eat or drink in the past 36+ hours, he or she may be feeling faint and will certainly be weakened.
This task will take you until noon, when these things happen:
- There is a massive boom and electrical buzzing noise.
- The blurring fog disappears
- The massive projection screen and force field dome becomes visible: an expansive latticework of black fiberglass and glimmering blue-grey screens
About ten or fifteen minutes after this happens, the south wall/force field erupts in a gigantic explosion, sending rubble and fire a block northwards.
How does your tribute react to these developments? Remember, your tribute doesn’t know what’s happening outside the arena. Does he hide? Does she investigate? Is your tribute exploring those blocks when the wall explodes?
Your initial task will be due sometime next week, sooner rather than later.
The night passes slowly, and Linus does not close his eyes for a single second. The recent terrors are still clear in his mind, making him feel too sick to notice his hunger or thirst. It is not until the last hours before sunrise that he forces down the last granola bar, bit by bit, barely keeping it down. Constantly, the image of rotting corpses enters his mind—an empty eye socket staring at him whenever he blinks.
Nessa sleeps with little disturbance, the clammy air sticking to her limbs and adhering strands of hair to her face. A half-conscious shiver wakens her in the darkness, but she curls her arms tight around herself and returns to sleep.
Rose withdraws the papers from her belt and studies them in the dying light. The ink has blurred a little, but she can still make out the tiny letters in the centers of each page. She flips through them until she finds it: suspended animation: 4 hours.
Hours have passed before Corbin regains a measure of consciousness, and when he does his body is made of wood and his back is coals. He stirs, sending bursts of fire along lines on his back, and the pain lances awareness into his muddled mind.
Thom’s clattering and clinking and whisking and pouring in the kitchen provides a calming soundtrack to Coraline’s early morning.
Rose is famished. She wakes curled up on the bed feeling sick to her stomach with hunger. Sitting up, she holds her head as feelings of nausea threaten to send her back to the mattress. “Get a grip,” she growls, and stands.
His stomach wakes up before he does, and in the pitch darkness of the locker room Corbin doesn’t know if he had slept a wink or a night—doesn’t know anything, at first, except that he’s hungry.
It’s only a matter of time before the corpses fumbling at the handle of the glass door realize it needs to be pulled to open. A hooked hand, a stumble backwards, and Carlotta would be opening bank accounts for a hundred dead people.
Kyrie wakes in a sticky stupor and yawns as he stretches his limbs in the doorway. A waft of air tickles his neck and he gasps at the sudden reminder. He strides quickly inside to find his friends. Hearing nothing, he almost panics but clenches his fists and walks further in.