(Jonas's POV)

After what seemed like two days, the maze slowly diminished, flattening out the arena again. I'm not sure how long the game makers had us trapped in their little surprise, but I do know it was effective. With only seven tributes left, the game makers are succeeding with their traps and mutts. It seems like a bit much, though.
What I'm most worried about right now is Shanna. She's been, I don't know, messed up ever since our encounter with the girl from Thirteen. It's been days, and she's sort them cowering in her own eclipse, shaking.

"I killed someone," she says again. "How could I live with myself? How does anyone live like this?" I can't say I understand. We've had it easy. Well, mostly. If I were to make it home, which I'm determined to not make happen, the Capitol would probably have to amputate my arm. No joke. That's how bad it is. And with our low supply of bandages, it's not going to get any better.

Boston isn't dead, I know that much. But that's not enough for me. I haven't seen him since the bloodbath, and we've been in here for maybe a week. The arena ends somewhere. It's not forever. Is it? Is it really so big that it's kept us apart? I'm not sure. I just want to know where he is, because despite the fact that I tell myself over and over that I won't team up with him, I just want him here to comfort me.

"Jonas we should keep walking, we're almost out of food," says Shanna. She's right. We're slowly losing supplies, and the longer we're in the games, the hungrier we get. Which is odd, because usually we'd be getting used to the lack of food. But we've been so fortunate in supplies and sponsors that we've forgotten what it's like to be hungry.

"Ok," I respond subtly. "Which way?" The maze scheme has sent us both into a frenzy. Even though it's gone, we've completely lost control.

"Away from the tributes," she laughs. "We can let them kill each other." That's how much grandma won her games. It works. But that's not my goal. My grandma's goal was to go home. Mine is to let Boston go home. So if anything, I want to go in the direction of the tributes. But I won't tell Shanna. She'll lose it again.

We're not walking for very long when we hear voices. It scares me at first, and I jump back. But the voice clicks in my ear and I instantly know we've gone the right way. "Come on, Shanna," I say, ushering her forward. She's reluctant, but unwillingly gives in. I'm relieved to see I'm right. Boston is sitting with another tribute. He's laughing. Not something I expected. I pull out a knife, ready to deflect anything against the other tribute, but Boston spots me first and he's overrun with relief.

"I thought I'd never find you," he says. The hug is nice. It's comforting. It's an embrace from home, a feeling I've missed more than any other. That's when he spots my arm. "What in the world?" He acts as if we're back at home and this is uncommon. Obviously, I want to say, we're in the Hunger Games and we ran into another tribute. I ignore it though.
Apparently I had dropped my knife when I hugged him, and as I pick it up, I notice Shanna is gone. My heart beat begins to pound in my ears, giving me an indescribable headache. I'm flooded with relief when I see her sitting with the other tribute. Boston and the girl had some sort of feast displayed in front of them, and Shanna didn't waste any time re filling herself.

Now it's my turn to be surprised. "Where did you get all this food?" I ask in shock.

"Sponsors," says Boston. "We were rained upon by parachutes after something happened in the maze." He doesn't go into anymore depth about it. I begin to salivate. I've heard of people starving to death in the games, I've seen it even. I never thought there was this much food. I don't hesitate to join Shanna, but only for a little bit. Plucking a roll from the tiny basket, I pull Boston to the side.

"The girl from Two," he says before I can comment.

"Why?" I ask.

"Just breath. She hasn't killed me yet. And she's not like the other careers. She's not a killer." I let out a sigh.
"What about you?" He says with an overpowering hint of snarkiness. "District Five? Why?"

"There's something about her," I say. "That I know I can trust. And she promised to help me find you. It was my fault we didn't find you sooner." He moans.

"I think we should leave," he says suddenly. "Tonight." I can tell he doesn't really want to, but it really is our best option.

"No!" I say, a little louder than I intended. "I'm not leaving." But we should. But I can't. Oh I don't know.

"Jonas," he's angry now. "There are only seven tributes left. We have to." I hate that he's right.

"Ok, fine," I spit. "Tonight. You'll take first watch and we'll slip away." He seems pleased. We head back over to Shanna and the other tribute. Tara, I remember. She's giving me this unsettling feeling, though, and I know we've made the right choice about leaving. It makes me want to leave sooner, but I know that we can't. I take advantage of the meal and fill myself until I can't eat anything else. Soon, the only food left between the four of us are two cheese buns, a cup of broth, and three chicken legs. Things that aren't easily split between four people. Good. Tara and Shanna can eat and divide the remaining food in the morning.

"So, Tara," I attempt to make conversation, pass the time, but it's not working. I can't continue. The words I thought I would be able to spew out are pasted to my dry tongue. Never mind. I don't want to talk to her. The sun begins to sink beneath the horizon and I begin to nod off. Slowly sinking into oblivion, into a deep, yet restless sleep.

I'm haunted by a macabre series of nightmares, all which include the the tribute from District Thirteen.
Instead of me she has pinned in the ground, it's Shanna, and I'm doing everything I can do to help her. It's not working, but as she pulls away from a bloody and scarred, dying Shanna, her being morphs into an unutterable monster that claws at my face until my skin has been peeled away and she's left nothing me as nothing but a raw, sanguinary pulp.

My forehead is sheen with sweat and I wipe my hands on my pants. Both Tara and Shanna are asleep, and I know it's time to leave. Boston's supposed to be on watch, but he's fast asleep sitting up. I shake him awake, a little harsh for that matter, but I push it aside. "If we're going to go, we have to go now." He nods groggily, and as we gather the supplies we brought with us, I begin to feel queasy. A disconcerting feeling consumes me and I step closer to Boston.

And that's when the clicking sound starts. It's quiet at first. But as we begin to walk away, the sound gets louder and louder. Soon, it's so loud that I can't hear myself think, and I cover my ears as the shrilling sound encompasses my skull. I feel like my head is going to shatter into a million pieces.

Tara and Shanna are awake now too, of course, and even in the dark I can now see the source of the clicking. Bugs. Swarms of them. Beetle like creatures. I remember seeing a description of them somewhere. School, maybe. Or training. But all I know is that they're meant to kill.

Barn beetles. That's what they are. Vicious, Capitol enhanced, venom induced beetles that can kill with one bite. Unless treated soon, the venom causes searing pain, hallucinations, internal bleeding... there's something else. They were originally programmed to keep things in order in the districts. They weren't meant to hurt humans, just the animals. But eventually, there were so many they were out of the Capitol's ability to control them.

"Run!" Shanna's shrill scream echoes in my ears. And I don't hesitate. The echo of fear and screaming pounds in my head. Swiping beetles away from my head, the tickling sensation tells me they're on me. All over me. And the bites hurt more than they were described. They itch and burn and I'm beginning to lose control over my body, the venom sending my limbs into unfathomable spasms.

"Jonas!" It's Shanna again, and as I risk opening my eyes, I see her struggling to keep up. She's smothered with the bugs and I can't even see her underneath the blanket of beetles. I grab her arm and pull her forward, but it's not working.

"Come. On." I'm pulling her now and entirely losing strength. I know this is it. I am going to die. We all are. Right here, right now. Shanna's hand slips from my grasp and that's when the cannon fires. I can't tell who's it is. If anything, it might be mine. But no. It's not. It's Shanna's. She not going to make it any further.

We break through an empty clearing and another cannon echoes throughout the vast desert. I'm relieved to see Boston is in front of me, so no one I need to worry about is gone. The bugs are gone now too. And so is Shanna. I finally am able to take in my situation and grasp my predicament. A swarm of deadly bugs just attacked us. They bites will probably kill me. Shanna is dead.

Shanna is dead. I know only one person is supposed to live, and that person will be Boston, but I didn't really process it until now. I told myself, repeatedly, that I wasn't going to make friends. I told myself I wasn't going to get attached to anyone in the arena. But I did. Shanna was my friend. And now she's gone. Grotesque, painful death. It's not fair. I refuse to accept that she's gone.

My arms are still twitching, and Tara and Boston are in the same condition. I doubt any of us will live through the night. This many bites are worse than deadly.

It's a response to my thoughts. The silver parachute whistles out into the open, and Tara is the first to reveal its contents. I can't tell what it is. In a metal canister, the liquid smells pungent and I think I'm going to pass out from the aroma- a smell that will kill any living creature within the arena. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating, but it smells awful.

The liquid is accompanied by a syringe with a long, pointed needle. No, that's not a needle. That's a law dart. It's huge. Or maybe it isn't. The venom is starting to mess with my ability to see and smell, hyperbolizing my senses.
"I've seen this before," says Tara. "It's the treatment for the bug bites. It'll fight the venom. It usually wins." Usually. Great.

I'm first to stick out my arm as Tara shakily sticks the needle in my arm. It's a momentarily piercing pain that shudders throughout my whole body, waking me up. It burns through my blood, but calms down the itching and the swelling. I think it's winning the fight against the venom. I can only hope.

"Oh," I say. "That feels better." The agreeing nods from both Tara and Boston tell me it's working. The medicine is soothing and soon I drift off into an unwanted, but greatly needed, sleep.
The sound of the Capitol anthem brings me to my feet. The bugs killed off two tributes, the girl from four and Shanna. The anthem makes me realize I'd slept a whole day away. I really hope that means the panacea is working. It's definitely been effective, though. The swelling has gone down, the itching stopped, and the pain is slowly dwindling.

Just a few more days, I tell myself. Just a few more days and I'll be dead and this will all be over.