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the hunger games-饥饿游戏(英文版)-第52章

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air; over a small barrel and lands poised on her tiptoes。 But she overshot slightly; and her momentum throws her forward。 I hear her give a sharp squeal as her hands hit the ground; but nothing happens。 In a moment; sheˇs regained her feet and continues until she has reached the bulk of the supplies。
So; Iˇm right about the booby trap; but itˇs clearly more plex than I had imagined。 I was right about the girl; too。 How wily is she to have discovered this path into the food and to be able to replicate it so neatly? She fills her pack; taking a few items from a variety of containers; crackers from a crate; a handful of apples from a burlap sack that hangs suspended from a rope off the side of a bin。 But only a handful from each; not enough to tip off that the food is missing。 Not enough to cause suspicion。 And then sheˇs doing her odd little dance back out of the circle and scampering into the woods again; safe and sound。
I realize Iˇm grinding my teeth in frustration。 Foxface has confirmed what Iˇd already guessed。 But what sort of trap have they laid that requires such dexterity? Has so many trigger points? Why did she squeal so as her hands made contact with the earth? Youˇd have thought 。 。 。 and slowly it begins to dawn on me 。 。 。 youˇd have thought the very ground was going to explode。
¨Itˇs mined;〃 I whisper。 That explains everything。 The Careersˇ willingness to leave their supplies; Foxfaceˇs reaction; the involvement of the boy from District 3; where they have the factories; where they make televisions and automobiles and explosives。 But where did he get them? In the supplies? Thatˇs not the sort of weapon the Gamemakers usually provide; given that they like to see the tributes draw blood personally。 I slip out of the bushes and cross to one of the round metal plates that lifted the tributes into the arena。 The ground around it has been dug up and patted back down。 The land mines were disabled after the sixty seconds we stood on the plates; but the boy from District 3 must have managed to reactivate them。 Iˇve never seen anyone in the Games do that。 I bet it came as a shock even to the Gamemakers。
Well; hurray for the boy from District 3 for putting one over on them; but what am I supposed to do now? Obviously; I canˇt go strolling into that mess without blowing myself sky…high。 As for sending in a burning arrow; thatˇs more laughable than ever。 The mines are set off by pressure。 It doesnˇt have to be a lot; either。 One year; a girl dropped her token; a small wooden ball; while she was at her plate; and they literally had to scrape bits of her off the ground。 
My armˇs pretty good; I might be able to chuck some rocks in there and set off what? Maybe one mine? That could start a chain reaction。 Or could it? Would the boy from District 3 have placed the mines in such a way that a single mine would not disturb the others? Thereby protecting the supplies but ensuring the death of the invader。 Even if I only blew up one mine; Iˇd draw the Careers back down on me for sure。 And anyway; what am I thinking? Thereˇs that ; clearly strung to deflect any such attack。 Besides; what Iˇd really need is to throw about thirty rocks in there at once; setting off a big chain reaction; demolishing the whole lot。
I glance back up at the woods。 The smoke from Rueˇs second fire is wafting toward the sky。 By now; the Careers have probably begun to suspect some sort of trick。 Time is running out。
There is a solution to this; I know there is; if I can only focus hard enough。 I stare at the pyramid; the bins; the crates; too heavy to topple over with an arrow。 Maybe one contains cooking oil; and the burning arrow idea is reviving when I realize I could end up losing all twelve of my arrows and not get a direct hit on an oil bin; since Iˇd just be guessing。 Iˇm genuinely thinking of trying to re…create Foxfaceˇs trip up to the pyramid in hopes of finding a new means of destruction when my eyes light on the burlap bag of apples。 I could sever the rope in one shot; didnˇt I do as much in the Training Center? Itˇs a big bag; but it still might only be good for one explosion。 If only I could free the apples themselves 。 。 。
I know what to do。 I move into range and give myself three arrows to get the job done。 I place my feet carefully; block out the rest of the world as I take meticulous aim; The first arrow tears through the side of the bag near the top; leaving a split in the burlap。 The second widens it to a gaping hole。 I can see the first apple teetering when I let the third arrow go; catching the torn flap of burlap and ripping it from the bag。
For a moment; everything seems frozen in time。 Then the apples spill to the ground and Iˇm blown backward into the air。

17
The impact with the hard…packed earth of the plain knocks the wind out of me。 My backpack does little to soften the blow。 Fortunately my quiver has caught in the crook of my elbow; sparing both itself and my shoulder; and my bow is locked in my grasp。 The ground still shakes with explosions。 I canˇt hear them。 I canˇt hear anything at the moment。 But the apples must have set off enough mines; causing debris to activate the others。 I manage to shield my face with my arms as shattered bits of matter; some of it burning; rain down around me。 An acrid smoke fills the air; which is not the best remedy for someone trying to regain the ability to breathe。
After about a minute; the ground stops vibrating。 I roll on my side and allow myself a moment of satisfaction the sight of the smoldering wreckage that was recently the pyramid。 The Careers arenˇt likely to salvage anything out of that。
Iˇd better get out of here; I think。 Theyˇll be making a beeline for the place。 But once Iˇm on my feet; I realize escape may not be so simple。 Iˇm dizzy。 Not the slightly wobbly kind; but the kind that sends the trees swooping around you and causes the earth to move in waves under your feet。
I take a few steps and somehow wind up on my hands and knees。 I wait a few minutes to let it pass; but it doesnˇt。
Panic begins to set in。 I canˇt stay here。 Flight is essential。 But I can neither walk nor hear。 I place a hand to my left ear; the one that was turne
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