The Survivors
(Disclaimer: I have no business connection with HUNGER GAMES. My only purpose in writing this story is to have fun and maybe share it)
District 5 had a cemetery reserved for tributes killed in the Hunger Games. Frankie didn't know whether other Districts had similar ground; it wasn't something people talked about.
The two most recent graves did not have headstones yet; the bodies of Flora and the male tribute, George, had only been buried a week ago after being brought back from the Capitol. There was a temporary sign put up labelled HERE LIES FLORA FINCH AND GEORGE PERCY, and there Frankie stood.
"Are you a survivor?" asked a voice behind her – but shyly, as if conscious that she might be breaking in on Frankie's private thoughts.
Frankie turned around to see a woman in her twenties, dressed in solemn clothes.
"Yes," she said. "I'm Flora Finch's sister."
"I'm a survivor too," said the young woman.
"You knew Flora? Or George?"
"I didn't mean that. She pointed at another grave. "Anthony was my brother."
"I'm sorry."
"I'll go, if I'm intruding on your sorrow. But if your WANT to talk about it, there's a group called the Survivors. Brothers, sisters, lovers, close friends of tributes who died. We meet after each Hunger Games. You're welcome to come."
"Is it all right? I mean, will the Peacekeepers object?"
"They won't. The meeting is at 7:30 tomorrow, the Old Warehouse."
"I'll try to come.
O-O-O-O-O-O-
There were about a dozen people at the Old Warehouse when she arrived the next day. A few looked familiar but were not personal friends; she thought she remembered them from prior Games broadcasts. Each of them was wearing a badge – not a full name, but a letter and number. She spotted the woman who had approached her in the cemetery. Her badge said M69.
At the door was a woman, labelled F72. "Can I make you a label?"
"I don't know the rules for it."
"F if your loved one was a girl, M for a boy, and the number is the year of the games."
"Oh. I guess I'm F74 then. Flora Finch was my sister."
The woman wrote out the label and handed it to Frankie. She was just affixing it to her blouse when an older man stood up.
"Greetings. For those of you who aren't familiar with our society, let me explain how it started. I lost my cousin in the 58th Games. On the next anniversary I was so overwhelmed by the memory that I went to a bar to drink. By complete coincidence, I was sitting next to the lover of one of the 59's losers. We got to talking, and we decided it was healthier to commiserate with each other instead of
getting drunk. Other people joined us over the years."
"At first the Peacekeepers were suspicious, and sent somebody to spy on us. Again, we lucked out. The Peacekeeper was from District 2, and had lost a cousin in one of the Games. In the Career Districts it's a disgrace to lose the Games, and the Peacekeeper had to hide his feelings of loss. He was moved when he spied on us and saw us remembering our loved ones. He told his superiors that we were no threat, and so we grew."
He ended his speech, and other survivors began talking.
"The Survivors talked me out of committing suicide," a man labelled M62 spoke up. "62 was the year we last had a victor, Dorcas Sun. Everybody was celebrating, forgetting that for one tribute to win the partner had to die. The partner was my brother, and I had to mourn silently. Some other Survivors spotted me and persuaded me to go on living. And to give her credit, Dorcas tried to console me as well once the excitement had worn off."
The woman labelled F72 spoke up. "A friend of mine who knew of my loss spoke to me a few weeks ago. She said we don't completely die. Something, the soul, survives after the body, but we can't see them. They go to dwell in a happier place. So my sister may be there." The F72 pointed to a man with a M65 badge. "He disagreed."
"I had a reason," said M65. "Yes, it would make us happier to know that our loved ones are still alive somewhere. But maybe this is something that we shouldn't be happy about. The Capitol kills 23 children every year. 22 this year, but that was a fluke. It's terrible, and we ought to admit that the crime is terrible, and not try to mitigate it by saying that the victims are not completely dead. I heard about this year's girl. Very intelligent and very promising, everybody said. But the promise is broken."
Frankie fought to keep from crying. M65's words were harsh, but they probably needed to be said.
A small teenage boy got up. He was wearing a badge labelled M74, which meant that he was mourning Flora's fellow tribute George. "I know what I'm going to do about George. What I should have done this year. I'm going to volunteer for the Games. If I win, I'll be winning for George as well as me."
M65 shook his head. "The odds are not in your favor. 23 out of 24 against, as a crude estimate."
"At least I'll be with George if I lose, if F72 is right."
The conversation flagged a bit, and the oldest member, F58, spoke up again.
"So, I see we have a new member," said F58. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about? Anything you say will be kept confidential among us."
"I haven't sorted everything in my head yet," said Frankie. "There's something that bothers me but it may sound trivial."
"Go on."
"During the mandatory viewing of the Hunger Games, they showed the pair from District 12 discussing their rivals, including my sister. Only they didn't discuss her by her name, Flora Finch. They called her Foxface. It's as if my sister was already being erased as a person, even before she died."
"I don't think it was a intentional insult," said M62. "Dorcas told me the constraints tributes were under in the arena. There was no way to keep records or look up information; you were forced to rely on your memory. If you expect to die within a week or two, and have no memory training, it's difficult to memorize the names of 20 competitors. At best you memorize the names of important allies and enemies. For the others the best you can do is notice some feature to tell them apart. Not to be facetious, but one can scarcely walk up to another tribute and say 'Can you tell me your name before we fight to the death?' "
"And Flora WAS trying to be unobtrusive," reflected Frankie, "so it would make sense that she would be overlooked until she was one the few tributes left. All right, that makes me feel better."
She tried to rethink Flora's role in the Games, and tuned out the rest of the gathering, which seemed to be winding down. Eventually F58 seemed to declare it officially over.
"We'll meet again after the Victory Tour," he announced, "but anybody should feel free to ask advice of other members in the meantime.".
As Frankie left the Old Warehouse, she heard a man's voice behind her. "Is that all we're ever going to do? Cry for our loved one's? Not avenge them?"
She turned and stared. She was sure that she had seen him at the meeting, but he was no longer wearing his badge. "You didn't ask that at the meeting."
"No, of course not. If the Peacekeepers come snooping again, and hear rebellious talk, they'll make the Survivors disband, leaving people in misery. But we're talking privately now. What would your choice be? Passively mourn, or actively rebel?"