A SMALL KINDNESS
"Miss Everdeen? Katniss? You have to go back to your room."
The voice stops me dead in my tracks. In all the years that I've walked these dark, empty corridors, silence has been my only companion. My good eye narrows and I hurry as fast as my scarred legs can carry me.
Another voice. A girl's voice this time. Scared. Pleading. "I...I had a nightmare. Please. Just five more minutes."
"You need to sleep, Katniss. We can give you something to help you sleep. Come on, now."
"No!" A shouted scream. "Leave me alone! Don't touch me! No!" I round a corner just in time to see several people carrying flashlights firmly leading a small, struggling, screaming figure away. My own flashlight dangles, unused, from my good hand.
Everdeen. Her name is Everdeen. A name from my past. From a lifetime ago.
I know who she is, of course. Everybody in Thirteen knows who she is. Katniss Everdeen, the Victor from District Twelve. The face of the Revolution.
The Mockingjay.
I snort quietly and start my slow, measured shuffle, walking my rounds. The same way that I have for over twenty years.
The rest of the night is quiet.
I'm walking my rounds again two nights later, near that same spot, when I hear it. A girl's voice. Quiet, but not quite a whisper. I move silently so I doubt if she can hear me. I draw in nearer. I want to hear what she is saying.
I stand stock still, listening. At first incoherent, I realize quickly that she's saying the same thing over and over again. "My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm seventeen years old. My home is District Twelve. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. The Capitol hates me. Peeta was taken prisoner. He is thought to be dead, Most likely he is dead. It is probably best if he is dead."
I listen for a minute or two. For the first time in over twenty years, I feel pity for another human being. Poor girl.
"Katniss?" The voice makes me jump. I peer ahead with my good eye and see flashlights approaching again. "Miss Everdeen? Come on now. You can't keep doing this! You need sleep!"
The girl is silent now, but then I hear a sharp intake of breath. She's about to call out.
"Shhh!" I quickly shush her, then turn towards the approaching flashlights, flicking on my own light as I do so. Not that I need it. But I want them to see it.
"Katniss?" The voice from up ahead calls out again. I shuffle slowly toward the approaching flashlights.
"Ain't no one down here," I grumble, my voice rusty from lack of use.
"Who - oh, it's you," a voice flashlight beam plays over my face and then is quickly averted. I don't blame them. I wouldn't want to look at me either.
"Expectin' someone else?" I ask sarcastically.
"One of our patients is out of bed and wandering around," the voice - one of the nurses from the hospital, I realize - explains impatiently. "She was down here a couple of nights before. Are you sure she isn't down here?"
"Been down here all night. Ain't seen no one but you."
"I see." The nurse sounds skeptical. "Well, if you see her, please bring her back to the hospital. She can't be wandering around like this."
"Hospital. Got it." I reply.
"Well...goodnight." The nurse and orderlies turn to leave.
"'Night," I mutter as I turn away. I begin walking my rounds again. I don't look back. I walk slowly, deliberately - the same way that I've been doing for over twenty years. I approach the crawlspace entrance - the same place I heard the voice coming from - and I slow, but don't stop.
I'm even with the entrance when I hear the voice again, barely above a whisper. "Thank you." This time, I do stop.
"You got five minutes, girl," I say gruffly. "If yer still here in six minutes, I'll take ya back t' the hospital my own self."
Silence. Then, barely audible, "Okay." I shuffle on slowly. My legs hurt as they always do but there's nothing I can do about it. I count three hundred steps in my head, then turn and walk back. I stop at the crawlspace entrance and listen, hearing only my own raspy breathing. I stoop painfully and flick on my flashlight, playing the beam around the cramped access tunnel.
It's empty.
I finish walking my rounds that night in silence.
"Are you sure you haven't seen anyone?" The nurse asks me for the tenth time. "Young girl, dark hair, hospital gown?"
"Ain't seen no one 'cept you," I lie. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. I really hadn't seen her. But I could sure hear her.
"Well, if you do..."
"I know what to do, Nurse," I snap.
"Maybe she's hiding in one of the utility closets down near stores," an orderly says.
"We'll check there," the nurse says, turning away from me. "Goodnight," she belatedly calls over her shoulder.
"'Night," I mutter. I turn and shuffle back up the corridor. I see the crawlspace entrance come into view a couple of minutes later. I don't slow down or stop, until -
"Hey," the girl calls out softly. I stop.
"What?" I reply.
"Can I ask you something?" The girl says.
"You wanna know why." It's a statement, not a question.
"Yeah."
I turn and limp toward the crawlspace entrance. I don't bend down. "Figured you needed time to yourself. Plus, you're the first from home I've seen here in a long time."
"You're from Twelve?" She asks incredulously.
"Yeah. A lifetime ago. Five minutes, girl." I say gruffly.
"Okay," she replies softly. Then, "Thank you. It's kind of you to let me have...my time."
"Ain't nuthin'" I reply. "Just a small kindness to a fellow Seamer. Five minutes."
I turn and shuffle away. I don't wait for her reply.
I don't see anyone from the hospital the next night. I guess they've given up looking for the girl - in my area, anyway.
The pain in my legs is bad tonight. I pause near the crawlspace entrance as a spasm of pain makes me gasp. I clench my good hand around the flashlight and close my eyes, willing the spasm to stop.
"You okay?" I jump a little. I didn't even realize that she's down here.
"Yeah," I gasp. "Be okay...in a minute." I hear a shuffling sound behind me as I lean up against the corridor wall.
"Come and sit for a minute," the girl says, her voice right next to me. I jump again, not realizing that she'd crawled out. I feel her hands grasp my bad arm gently and pull me away from the wall, then push me back until my back was pressed against the wall. Her hands on my shoulders press down firmly.
"No," I grunt. "Can't...sit. Won't be able t' get back up if I do."
"I'll help you up," the girl says firmly. "Now sit!" I can't resist any more. I slide down the wall clumsily until I'm sitting, my damaged legs splayed out in front of me. The relief is immediate.
I can't help but sigh. "Better?" The girl asks. I can only nod.
"I'm Katniss," the girl says. In the dim light, all I can make out is a small girl with dark hair in a white hospital smock.
"I know," I reply. "I'm Walker. From Twelve." I add unnecessarily.
"Don't know any Walkers from Twelve," Katniss says suspiciously.
"Walker's my name now," I explain. "Got it when I got here. 'Cause I walked here from Twelve."
"What was your name before?" Katniss asks.
"It don't matter," I reply. "That me died almost twenty-three years ago. I'm Walker now."
"Why did you come here?" Katniss asks.
"Mine accident," I reply softly. "Got burned bad - legs worst of all. Shattered my left arm. Ruined my left eye. My crew took me to the company doc, but he said t'wern't nuthin' he could do. I had two noobs on my crew. One of 'em was seeing one o' the girls what worked in the apothecary. They took me to see her. She dressed me 'n gave me some stuff for pain, 'n sent me home. But I was ruin't. Had a wife 'n two girls. Couldn't support 'em any more, and she was Seam-stubborn so I knew she weren't about t' just let me die. So I left as soon as I were able. Went through a hole in the fence into the out-districts to die. Don't know how I managed to survive but I did. Wandered around for days, till I was too weak to go on. When the Thirteens found me I was sittin' under a tree, waitin' to die."
"But you didn't," Katniss says quietly, then, "What's a 'noob?'"
I chuckle. "Noob. Newbie. New guy. I was trainin' 'em both. Good kids, both of 'em. Name of Drew Everdeen 'n Angus Hawthorne."
The girl - Katniss - draws her breath in sharply. "Drew was your daddy?" I ask.
She nods, biting her lip. "Yeah," she says softly. "He...he died. Over six years ago. With Gale Hawthorne's dad. Mine accident."
"I'm sorry," I say, knowing how inadequate that sounds. "Hawthorne - the same Hawthorne kid that brought in all those people from Twelve?" I ask.
"That was his father," Katniss says.
"Your daddies would be proud o' you both," I say. "Now help me up. You gotta be gettin' back."
Katniss helps me up. She's stronger than she looks. "How do you know about me?" She asks as I lurch to my feet.
"Coin made us watch all the Games," I reply. "Mandatory viewing. 'Why we fight,' she always said. Guess some things never change."
In the darkness I can sense, rather than see, Katniss looking at me. "No," she says slowly. "I guess not. Goodnight, Walker."
She turns and heads back toward the hospital without another word.
"Let me see your face," Katniss insists.
I shrink back deeper into the shadows. "No," I whisper. "There's a reason why they have me workin' down here at night."
"Yes," she insists, gently taking the flashing from my good hand.
I stand there miserably as she flicks the light on and plays it over my face, then down to my useless arm, my left hand twisted into a frozen claw. She flicks the light off and hands me the light.
"You were burned," she says quietly.
"Yeah," I reply bitterly. "Enjoy the horror show?"
She says nothing. "My turn," I say suddenly, flicking the light on and playing it over her face.
"Why're you cryin'?" I snap. "I don't want your pity. Pity's the worst of all." Angrily I turn the light off.
"Not pity," she replies defiantly. "But what I saw in your eye."
I stand silent for a moment. "What did y'see, girl?" I ask softly.
She replies just as softly. "Kindness."
"This is the only work I can do," I reply to the girls question. We're standing in the corridor. The last couple of nights she doesn't even bother with the crawlspace. "Not that they need a night watchman - not with all the cameras and sensors everywhere. But in Thirteen, everyone works."
Katniss looks at me in alarm. "So they know? Know that I'm here?"
"Relax," I chuckle. "Unless someone sits down and pulls the video feed they'll never know."
"Oh," she says, clearly unconvinced. She changes the subject. "Did you check the archives?"
"Yeah," I reply flatly. "Their names weren't on any of the lists of refugees from Twelve."
"I'm sorry," Katniss says quietly.
"Don't be," I say brusquely. "Doubt if they'd want t' see the man what abandoned them anyway." I try to stifle a grunt of pain and shift my weight to my other leg, and grunt again at the new stab of pain.
"Is it bad tonight?" She asks gently.
"It's always bad, girl," I manage to say through clenched teeth. "And save your breath. Hospital won't give me nuthin' for it. Says it's chronic, and to deal with it."
"That's not right," Katniss says stubbornly.
"It's the way it is," I say, more sharply than I intended. "Alright. You better - you better be gettin' on back."
The girl hesitates, then suddenly leans forward and gently kisses my cheek. I'm frozen in shock.
My good hand reaches up and touches the spot on my cheek. "What's that for?"
"Didn't know how else to thank you," she says shyly. "For your kindness. G'night, Walker." She turns abruptly and hurries up the corridor. I'm still frozen in place. That was the first time anyone has kissed me in twenty-three years.
"It's just a small kindness," I whisper.
I never see Katniss Everdeen on my watch again.
Of course, I know what happened to her. She was released from the hospital the day after the last time we spoke. Released to become the Mockingjay. To become the symbol of the Rebellion.
Sitting in the deserted mess hall one night during my mid shift break, I eat the sandwich and thin soup that's offered that night and watch video of her in District Eight, comforting wounded, shooting down a Capitol bomber with an exploding arrow. And shouting defiantly at the Capitol.
"If we burn, you burn with us!"
But when I look at her on the TV screens, I don't see the Mockingjay. I see the scared little girl in the shapeless hospital smock begging for just five more minutes!
She's the bravest person I've ever met.
"Come on, Walker!" Two service techs grab me and hurry me down the corridor. I can hear air raid sirens blaring and emergency lighting coming on everywhere.
"What...what's going on?" I gasp, my ruined body unable to keep up. The two men adjust their grip on me and practically carry me to the stairwell.
"Air raid!" One replies. "Not a drill! The Capitol's attacking. Bombers inbound!"
We stumble down the stairs, three among hundreds - no, thousands - scrambling for the emergency shelter located at the very bottom of Thirteen. After what seems like an eternity, we arrive in the shelter. I check myself in at one of many scanners set up for that purpose; inserting my tattooed arm in, hearing it beep, and withdrawing my arm for the next person.
The machine tells me where to report for my bunk assignment. I make my way through the crowd slowly, until I find my assigned bunk. I notice it's a single, rather than a bunk bed.
Guess no one wants to sleep below - or above - a walking horror story.
I make my way to the nearest Supply Station, give the woman there my bunk assignment, and receive a backpack with emergency supplies. She barely looks at me while she helps me. I can't say that I blame her.
I go back to my bunk, drop off my supplies, then return the pack to the Supply Station. We can all hear - and feel - the bombs dropping. Soon the air is thick with dust that's been shaken loose from the explosions. In the dim light it looks as though the emergency shelter is filled with smoke.
My bunk is set against a wall. I settle down onto it and lean back against the wall. Nothing to do until meal time. I guess I doze off. After a while, I don't even notice the shaking from the exploding bombs.
A new shaking awakens me some time later. I realize that there's no more explosions. Then what -
"Hi," A girl's gentle voice says. I glance over to see a young, blonde girl, dressed in hospital white, sitting on the edge of my bunk. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry..."
"It's alright, girl," I say, sitting up painfully. "What do you want?"
"My sister asked me to find you," the girl explains. "She said to tell you that she'll come over to see you as soon as she can."
I stare at this little blonde girl for several heartbeats. "Your sister?" I finally ask.
"Yes," the girl replies. "You are Mister Walker, right? She said I would know you by your..."
"By what?" I snap, causing the girl to recoil a little. "By my lovely face?"
"By your eye patch," the girl finishes softly. I look away, groaning inside. I did it again.
"I'm sorry, girl," I say. "Didn't mean to snap at you. Yeah, I'm Walker."
The girl looks me right in my eye - and smiles. "I'm Prim," she says. "Prim Everdeen."
"Then your sister is..." I say slowly.
The girl - Prim, she said her name was - nods. "Katniss. My sister is Katniss Everdeen. She asked me if I could give you something." The girl reaches under her hospital smock and pulls out a rectangular, unmarked box, which she hands to me.
I look at her in confusion. "I don't...what is it?" I ask.
Prim leans toward me conspiratorially. "They're morphling tablets," she says quietly. "Not pure, but still pretty powerful. Katniss said that you're always in pain." The girl sits back and looks at me sympathetically. "Take one every twelve hours. There's a hundred in the box. I hope they help you."
Pain pills. I've practically begged for these for close to twenty-three years - and now, they fall into my lap courtesy of two young girls.
"I...I don't know what to say," I stammer. Prim looks at me with a smile, then, like her sister, leans forward and kisses me quickly on my cheek.
"Katniss was right," she says. "You do have kindness in your eye."
I clutch the box to me as Prim stands up. "I have to get on back, Mister Walker," she says. "Thank you for helping Katniss when she needed it. It was nice to meet you."
As she turns to go, I manage to finally choke out, "Wait!" Prim turns back to me.
"How...how can I ever thank you...or her?" I stammer out.
Prim smiles at me one last time. "Katniss told me to tell you that it's nothing. Just a small kindness."
I watch her walk away as my vision suddenly blurs. I lean back on my bunk, grateful for the dim lighting. For the first time in over twenty-three years, I'm crying.
And it all began with a small kindness.