Johanna Mason

There isn't a hell of a lot to do in this town, I've noticed. I've passed the time collecting clothes and weapons and food from the stores, stocked my apartment with alcohol that I barely ever touch and I have a great collection of blades that I keep sharp. But it's been nearly two months and all the days bleed into each other anymore.

I've actually taken up reading. Not that I didn't back in the Capitol, but what with the Quell and the rebellion, it's been awhile.

And that's what I'm doing in the park when the weird sirens start.

It's a weird, haunting sound that seems to come from everywhere, starting low and then slipping high before dying away again. Just a few times. Like it's heralding something.

Like a warning.

And then it starts getting darker.

"What the hell?"

Closing the book, I get to my feet and grab the axe from my back pocket. Slowly, the tree I've been sitting under seems to shrivel, the leaves not falling but curling inward on themselves or turning to ash, crumbling to the ground until there's nothing left but trunk and branches. The grass beneath my feet turns to dust, scorched, decayed earth.

I have no idea what the hell is going on, but my survival instinct kicks in fast and I'm running. My bike is only a few yards away, parked just off the path and I'm on it in seconds, shoving the key in the ignition and revving it to life.

Or trying.

It sputters beneath me, the headlight flickering.

"Fuck, seriously?" I ask outloud, giving it another hard crank. "Come on. Come on come on come on."

It wheezes and whines as I try amping the gas like Jason showed me. The light flickers again and it's trying, I can see that it's trying, but-

A sound from behind me makes me stop cold, an icy shiver running down my spine. I can hear what sounds like breathing. Muttering. Inhuman shrieks and whispers and the shuffling of feet. Tightening my grip on my axe, I turn just in time to see a sickening, thin arm reaching for me. It's holding a scalpel.