The Floating Dead
I can't get to sleep
I think about the implications
of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Overkill, Colin Hay.
"Daddy, what happens to us when we die?"
Finn's just a kid when he asks, barely six years old and already fast earning a reputation in four as one of the quickest swimmers and loudest talkers in his school. His father, with his sharp suit and dismissive nature, brushes the question off.
"Finnick, I would much prefer for you to keep yourself focused on your schoolwork instead of all these silly questions".
"But I'm not in school just now" Persists Finnick, with all the exasperation he as a young child can muster. They're passing through the main street of town, situated along the harbour. The crowded market place is a hum with fishwives at their stalls, selling their husbands latest catches. On the boats rigged around the bay, men are at work, preparing to set out for yet another day on the waves. Finn and his father pass them all by.
It's not until they reach the Justice Building that the small boy pipes up again.
"Daddy? Can I ask another question?"
His father sighs.
"What now?" he asks, patience wearing thin though it's not yet 8 in the morning. Already his son's pestering has become too vexing for him.
"How come the Mayor's been away to the Capitol? Why is it he gets to go? Because Sammy Corrigan says..."
"The Mayor get's the visit the Capitol because he has been requested to do so by the President".
"Sammy Corrigan says..."
"You should be on your way to school by now Finnick, remember what I told you will happen if you're late again."
The threat of having his beloved tree-house torn down is enough to send the young boy off towards the school hall as fast as his small legs would carry him, narrowly dodging out of the way of an oncoming vehicle and several passersby. There's no time to be careful. Finn's been late for school three times this month, despite running all the way. He's always been faster in the water.
Back outside the Justice Building, Finn's father smoothes down his tie and stands up straight just as the Mayor's car, the only car in the district pulls up by the steps.
"Wasn't that your boy out in front of my car Odair?"
"Yes Sir, I apologize"
The Mayor nods understandingly.
"Children can be quite the handful, can't they not?"
"Indeed they can Sir, my boy in particular."
The Mayor turns to his assistant as they walk through the large polished oak doors of the Justice Building.
"You might want to think of sending him in for training Odair. All that energy of his should be controlled put to good use. I've seen the Career Academy do wonders."
Finnick is shipped off within the week, sent to another part of District Four. His father places a hand on the small boy's shoulder and gives a sharp nod as means of farewell. His mother is no more tender, flattening down her son's persistently ruffled bronze hair and cautioning him to remember his manners.
It's the last he see's of them until he's 10, when they arrive at the Career Training Academy to congratulate him on becoming top of his class. His father tells him he's proud, and Finnick isn't even sure why. He doesn't ask. All he knows is that he's good with a trident and fast in the water and when neither of those works he's able to talk himself out of anything.
Well, almost anything.
Volunteering at fourteen was never the plan. Usually one of the older kids would go to the games, one of the deadly seventeen or eighteen year olds. Sometimes they even came back. District 4 had its fair share of Victors, and Finnick wanted to show that he could become one too.
It was a spur of the moment decision on the day of the Reaping, and once those words- I volunteer- were uttered there was no taking them back. Everything was a blur then, until Finnick found himself sitting on a train, speeding towards the Capitol, wondering what the hell he'd just done.
He was fast, yes, and strong. He'd even been praised as gifted with a trident. Received top marks throughout all of his training. But he'd seen the Games before, watched the various tapes over and over. If there's one thing Finnick had learned was that the Games were -more often than not- unpredictable.
He may be gifted but against the other 23 children, against the arena, what chance did he really have? Briefly he wondered whether his father would still be proud if the worst should happen.
What happens to us when we die?