Disclaimer: I don't own anything in here, etc. etc.
I picked at my uniform gray sleeve and consulted my forearm for the 100th time. I glanced at my nervous peers, also dressed in the mandatory grey dress of all District 13's inhabitants. Were we were all walking in the same direction? We were. We all turned the corner of the dim, white corridor simultaneously and came face to face with one of the main bunker doors. I checked my wrist again, scrutinizing the daily updated tattoo that was supposed to make it impossible for us to forget our schedules for the day. It of course always said my name, Prim Everdeen at the top, generally followed by school classes interspersed with medical classes. Today though there was only the one thing on the list after breakfast. Today I should have been in one of the classrooms with the rest of my fellow medics learning practicing yet more stitches by re-binding our textbooks, like we always did. Apparently not today though. Because, today, all of our schedules had directed us students to wait here, right in front of one of the secondary bunker doors. The group began to mutter in the confines of the imposing walls and in the shadow of the sealed bunker doors. More people began to pull up their sleeves to consult their schedules.
"We could send someone to go check the classrooms in case the schedule machine malfunctioned."
"Yah, like things in District 13 ever deviate from absolute perfection and accuracy."
"Gooood morning, students."
Fifty-six tired students immediately swiveled toward at sound of the voice.
"Good morning, sir." we all chimed as one.
The District 13's Chief of Medicine strolled by and pulled back his sleeves to scan his communicuff against a sensor on the wall near the main doors. The sensor beeped and the doors slid open.
To reveal cows. Lots of them, no joke. On blankets, one cow per blanket. They appeared to be sleeping, belly up.
"Well, what are you waiting for students? It's a new day, chop chop, inside the bunker all."
Being inside of the vast space that was Secondary Bunker 12-B didn't make the scene any less confusing. We halted a few yards in front of the first row of cows, huge grey (like everything else here) woven mats underneath each cow. A few inches of space was left unoccupied on each blanket. The bright lighting from the embedded overhead light showed that the area from where we stood, to the far end of the cavernous stone bunker was occupied by the cows. Having lived here for the past few months with Katniss and my mother, I recognized the distinctive uniform of the cooking division by their hats. Two dozen or so of them lined one of the side walls. On the opposite wall, standing at attention with the bunk-beds carved into the stone behind them, were a handful of the soldiers, armed.
"Today we start your real, practical training…"
Yes
"Today will be a special exercise. I managed to recruit a few soldiers and kitchen staff to aid us today. In front of us are 56 cows, that's right, exactly one for each of you. Um, if you'll look around you should see a stack of cards being passed around, take the top card and pass the rest on.."
A deck of clean white cards with clear numbers printed on them passed by, I took the top card and handed the rest to the person on my left. The card simply read 5A. I glanced back at the cows, then the Chief who continued talking.
"I was generously allowed to divert these cows' fate from going straight to the kitchen after their long journey from District 10 and facing certain, painless death to feed us all. After much red tape and negotiating with our noble president, President Coin, yes, I've spared these cows that fate.."
There was scattered, hesitant applause from some that quickly died at his next words.
"Instead they will most likely die here, their last moments staring at the ceiling, helpless, paralyzed. bodies riddled with bullets…unless y'all can do something about it."
And then I noticed the small neat gauze bandage on the left of each cow's neck. That they were breathing faster then they should have been if they were sleeping. Because the cows weren't asleep.
The horror dawned on me at the same time I realized I was leaning forward, ready to move. Pulling on the latex gloves and surgical mask from my pockets.
"You'll find equipment and supplies underneath each mat. Also underneath each mat? That cow's letter and number. From left to right in front of us we've got numbers, from the back to here we've got letters. No complaints or questions will be answered, this is to be treated like an active war zone so follow all the protocol you've been taught these past few weeks. And when, sorry if, your patient dies, step back and come to the opposite wall and observe your peers in order to make space to allow the kitchen crew to take the cows down to prep them for dinner."
..5A..5A..5A..Okay that put me in the far back and to the right.
I looked at the Chief give a brief nod to the soldiers and kitchen staff standing against the walls.
And as one the soldiers stepped forward, raised their guns, and aiming down the lines and moving down the rows they fired. Blood spurted out of the cows as the bullets ripped into their chests. A few would die instantly, a blessing. But I, I was going to make sure one cow, my cow survived, And I pushed my way to the front of the crowd, feeling my shoes and socks grow wet. The blood had soaked through my shoes, the lighting made strange shadows on the wall bouncing off the liquid adding a surreal dimension to the horror we witnessed, A twisted spotlight to highlight the bodies we had to try to save. To do our best to save, even as the holes in their bodies were painfully obvious, even as their muscle twisted and pushed to move their fur. And couldn't.
"What are you waiting for? Your patients are dying. Go save your patients, chop chop!"
I ran towards 5A.