Here's chapter 2. I'll try to get chapter 3 up by next Saturday, preferably sooner but you never know.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The train moved silently along the tracks as Jeff and Tina were ushered to their separate cars, Witmate following after Jeff while Partante went off with Tina. The cars were carpeted, surfaces metallic and pristine. Though Jeff had showered this morning, he was aware of the smell of smoke that forever clung to the clothes and bodies of the citizens of District 7, with just the fainted scent of the pines that distinguished their district.
But it was distracting, being able to smell what made defined you while surrounded by all this clean perfection. It was like that for most districts, he imagined. Citizens of 12 smelling like coal, while the citizens of 4 probably smelt like fish. Well the poor ones, the richer citizens might have their own perfume, with some ironic name like 'Ocean Breeze', that smelled nothing like the salt-soaked winds the district was famous for.
Witmate opened the door to Jeff's room, then stepped back to allow the boy to enter. "Dinner will be in a few hours. I'd suggest staying here, resting up. Shower and change into whatever they left you in the closet. Someone will be sent to get you when it's time to end." Witmate's voice was rough, cracked from years of smoking; a habit he had picked up after his game. He'd often been seen with a cigarette between his lips.
Jeff was slightly surprised he hadn't noticed the man's trademark was missing sooner. The older man nodded towards the room and Jeff stepped fully inside before Witmate shut the door behind him. They're trainers, not babysitters, he thought with a quiet sigh. They don't care about us. They only want one of us to win so they don't have to do this job anymore.
Jeff ran his hand over the wall, looking for a switch to turn on the light. It turned out the train was too modern for switches, a sensor lighting up the room as his hand grazed over it. The room was huge, a queen sized bed taking up a majority of the opposing side of the room, covered in a dark blue comforter and some twenty-odd pillows. There was a dresser, a side table with a phone on it, and two other doors.
Assuming one was the closet and the other was the bathroom, he walked over to the nearest one and pulled it open slowly. It was dark and Jeff quickly found the light sensor, only to be blinded as artificial lights flooded this room as well. His assumptions were correct; he'd walked into the bathroom.
Inside he found it was as clean and perfect as the rest of what he had seen. The white and cream tiles on the floors and walls bounced light around, illuminating every corner of the room. There was a large bathtub, shower head on the ceiling, directly in the center of the tub. The sink had a variety of soaps and shampoos, along with towels and the necessary toiletries they would need for the two or three days they would be on the train. Tributes never brought things from home with them to the Games other than a token. The token.
Jeff went into his pocket and pulled the dog tag Jason had given him, finally giving himself a chance to get a closer look. He'd heard of the other tokens other had held over the years, pins and necklaces or some other identifier that held some special meaning. The only rule with tokens was that they had to be small and could not be used against other tributes once inside the arena. He'd heard of people trying to sneak in weapons as tokens, those usually getting confiscated within hours of arriving in the Capitol.
He flipped the little piece of metal over in his hand, smiling as he finally recognized it. It was a present their father had given Jason during one of their poorer holiday seasons. One of those 'don't forget where you come from' presents. Jason had loved it though, likening it to the necklaces they saw soldiers wearing in their textbooks.
The front just had a large '7' engraved into the medal, the back holding the motto of the games. "May the odds be ever in your favor," he muttered quietly, shaking his head "Yeah, the odds are definitely on my side." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he set the necklace on the sink counter and walked back into the room.
Quickly removing his shoes and clothes, he folded them neatly on the dresser. He found towels in the closet, along with several articles of clothing. How they knew his size, he had no idea. Never question the power and knowledge of the Capitol. Another lesson that was instilled in them early in life.
He grabbed a towel and headed back to the bathroom, turning on the water and giving it a minute to warm up. After a moment of thought, he picked up a matching set of bottles holding honey scented shampoo and conditioner, along with a bar of soap.
Stepping in, he let out a relieved breath as the hot water fell on him, sliding down his back as his muscles relaxed. This was nice. It almost felt like rain rather than having water pumped directly into his face like the showers back home. Part of him was tempted to take a bath, a luxury they lacked in District 7. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
Breathing in the steam around him, Jeff allowed himself a few minutes free of thought. A few minutes to just stand under the hot spray, his body warming up and melting under the comfortable heat. He washed his hair, enjoying the smell of honey as it engulfed him. Taking extra time with the soap, he scrubbed his body clean, hoping to wash off seventeen years of pine trees and burning wood.
It wasn't until his skin was starting to turn red that he stopped, letting the water rinse him off before spending another ten minutes just letting the water wash over him. He'd be surprised that the hot water didn't run out, but the Capitol worked in mysterious way to keep everyone happy. And heaven knows they wanted to keep the wranglers and workers comfortable.
He doubted they really cared about the teenagers they were about to kill. He turned off the water and grabbed his towel, patting himself dry before attacking his hair to get it dry. A fan turned on overhead, sucking the steam out of the room, the mirror clearing so Jeff could see himself.
His blond hair was still wet, hanging in his face in strands. His arms and torso were dark than the rest of him, a forest's tan from endless hours at work. He was muscular enough, not overly so like the guys who spent their days lifting the trees into trucks. He spent most of his days climbing up the trees, getting rid of the bigger branches before the big guns came in to clear the land. That had left with him with strong legs and a firmer core, his lithe body nowhere near as 'lanky' as it had been in his earlier years. He'd grown into his body, as his father had said. Yeah, he grew into all 6 feet of himself.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he walked back out to the closet. Inside he found a few nice button down shirts, a few good pairs of pants, ties, and two pairs of shoes. He questioned why he'd have to dress nicely if they were only going to be among themselves. Upon further investigation, he found t-shirts and jeans in the drawers, along with briefs and boxers. Guess they didn't know everything about him.
He decided on boxers, a green button down and jeans. Let them yell at him if they wanted, he was going to be comfortable. Not knowing how much longer he had until dinner, he considered exploring the rest of the train car, then remembered what Witmate said. Fine, he'd stay in the room. But he was not going to just sit around.
After drying his hair, he explored the room. He learned how to work the light sensors to dim and brighten the room, found a book in the drawer of the bedside table that contained numbers for different services on the train, along with the numbers to Betrizz, Witmate and Partante if he needed one of them. He wondered if the phone could call off the train, but doubted it. Plus, who would he call? His family? They had been through enough. It was better not to talk to them again. Maybe it would make losing him hurt less.
With a sigh he fell back on the bed, which felt as overstuffed as he imagined it would be. Sleeping on it would not be easy. He stared up at the ceiling, still waiting for everything to crash down on him. He wasn't holding back his emotions, but they never came. He still felt numb. Which, again, was probably better for his sanity. Emotions would cloud his judgment. They would make him hesitate, might even get him killed. No, it was better to stay numb. He let his eyes drift shut, imagining jumping around the treetops back home.
He must have drifted off to sleep, as he was woken up by a knock on the door. "Coming," he muttered loudly, getting up and smoothing out his shirt. A young girl stood on the other side of the door, her head bowed slightly. Avox. The word rang out through his head. They were servants of the Capitol, usually criminals or rebels. They could not talk; their tongues were cut out of their mouths as punishments. The girl gestured for her to follow him, leading him down the hall to the next car.
Another hall led them into what looked to be a small studio apartment. Off one side was a table set with plates, glasses, silverware, and the beginnings of a meal. And on the other side, a large couch in front of a large screen. Betrizz and Witmate sat at the table, looking over at Jeff for a moment as he entered, before going back to their conversation. Feeling out of place, he took his seat and looked around, taking the room in.
Partante walked in with Tina a few minutes later, the girl showered as well, wearing a maroon dress that cut off above her knees. As she passed, Jeff caught the faint scent of roses. While he could appreciate how she good looked, it did nothing for him. Girls in general didn't really do anything for him, but that was a topic he had stayed away from when he realized it. In District 7, men were tough. Being gay set any guy up as a target for attack, and Jeff was just trying to get by.
Once everyone was seated, two more Avoxes wheeled out carts of food. They made their way around the table, offering up lamb or chicken, a variety of sides, and whatever beverage they could come up with. The food was a little overwhelming; neither Jeff nor Tina were used to anything with so much flavor or spice. They took their time, eating slowly, meticulously.
Betrizz noticed this and smiled. "It's nice to see that you two have manners. I've heard horror stories from the other wranglers about tributes who ate like they had never had an etiquette lesson in their lives. Hand in their food, chewing with mouths wide open. Barbaric." She sipped her wine daintily, watching the two of them for a response.
Tina nodded, chewing the bite of food that was in her mouth before swallowing and speaking. "If there is one thing our parents make it a point to teach us, it's manners." Her words were almost robotic, her voice hollow. She was numb as well, cutting off her emotions that same way Jeff was. The wrangler had struck a chord but he said nothing, merely focusing on the food as Betrizz spoke again.
"That's all well and good, dear," she began, moving her napkin to her lap and straightening her posture. "Once we are done eating, we will watch the reaping ceremonies for the other districts. It will take us two days to get to Capitol, that time can be used by your mentors to prepare you however they see fit." Both mentors nodded from their seats, Partante speaking up this time, her voice aged but not nearly as rough as her counterparts.
"We have the files of the other tributes, and videos of past Games. We can study those, find your strengths, and figure out the best way to approach what you do in the Capitol. But for now, we will eat. No point in putting you two through more stress tonight. I'm sure today has been very draining." With that, they went back to eating in silence, Avoxes surrounding the room, watching warily. After three courses of overly spiced or overly sweet foods, Jeff was stuffed. It was good, he would give the chefs that much. But it was overpowering.
The table was cleared, dishes clinking as the servants removed plates of half eaten food. Part of Jeff wondered what would be done with the food. Would it be thrown away? Probably. With the amount of food available to them tonight, he could have fed his family for two weeks, and now all that was going to go to waste. It disgusted him to think that these people lived in such luxury on a daily basis while those in the poorer districts struggled to get by. Every day, they had to fight for work or money to live. And at the same time Capitol citizens sat back, getting fat on food they could live without.
The group moved to the couch, Betrizz in the middle, a mentor on each side, and Jeff and Tina on opposite sides. Tina pulled her knees under her while Jeff sat with his legs crossed on the cushion.
"Let's begin!" Betrizz said excitedly, grabbing the remote from a nearby Avox and pressing play. Onscreen, the entirety of District 1's population stood in an arena, teens in the middle as adults watched from the stands. The tributes surprised him; they showed little fear. Some of the bigger ones, the Careers, looked almost cocky. He'd heard about them fighting for who was put in the Games, but this was ridiculous. How could anyone look forward to being put in the middle of a death match?
Honestly, it held little interest to him. He'd meet the other tributes when they began training. The Capitol would never just send kids into kill each other. They had to introduce them first, allow them time to bond. To form teams and alliances, which meant more entertainment for the citizens at home. They would send the kids to survival training, along with weapons training, never chancing that kids would die without good cause. Besides, the audience was always more entertained with murder rather than someone freezing to death.
Jeff zoned out, his eyes on the screen but his mind elsewhere. Not really elsewhere, just unfocused. He didn't want to think right now. He wanted sleep. All he had to do was get through this, pretend he cared for now, then he could head off to a peaceful oblivion. At least until he had to wake up and relive this nightmare every day until they were sent into the arena.
Betrizz offered her comments as tributes volunteered, the richer districts having come up with ways of dealing with multiple volunteers. Smaller, weaker districts never had that problem. You couldn't pay someone to volunteer the farther out you went.
"He's huge…" Tina muttered as the male tribute from District 1 was finally chosen, the male standing on stage, his stance confident and his grin splitting his face in half. She was right, he was huge. Bulky and muscular, Jeff knew that if he was forced to combat someone like him in hand-to-hand, he would get his ass handed to him.
They moved on to District 2, Tina posed in her seat as the camera repeated its panning to show all the possible tributes. Again, the teens stood straight, clearly not worried about their fate. The girls went first, only four attempting to volunteer for the one who was called. Too bad for them, she accepted her role, her strides quick as she made her way to the stage.
Jeff fought the urge to sigh, his mind berating the entire situation. At least once they got to the later Districts, he'd see people who reacted the same way he had. Fear, shock, discomfort. Something other than overbearing confidence that made him question the sanity of these citizens.
The males' turn now. He watched, his expression bored. A name was pulled, one of the absurd names that the richer felt adamant to torment their children with. One voice volunteered, another followed. Then it happens.
Someone could have punched him in the gut; that would have been so much more surprising and much less painful than the voice he heard yell out. A voice he hadn't heard in four years. A voice he never thought he'd hear again.
The scene had his full attention as Nick stepped forward. His brown hair and dark eyes were the same as the camera passed by. He looked taller, older. He wasn't the same, lanky, newly teenaged boy. Guess they even put the new kids though training, he thought bitterly. Gone was his best friend. Gone was the boy he thought he could not live without. Now stood a man with the same air of confidence as everyone else around him.
Jeff watched as they went through the tribute process with the boys after the one who had been drawn bowed out. Please not him, anyone but him, he prayed, shaking his head slightly when he noticed Witmate watching him from the corner of his eyes. The mentor did not need to know that Jeff had a personal connection. God knows the advice he would receive if his mentor caught on.
After a moment, the decision was made. And Jeff felt his heart fall into his stomach as Nick made his way up to the stage. It almost hurt to breath, a million thoughts running through his head as Nick took his place next to the female tribute.
Just don't let me be the one to hurt you… he nearly muttered, praying to whatever sick deity controlled their lives. If he thought losing his best friend was hard, killing Nick would end up killing Jeff as well.
Chapter 3 will probably be more train scene. We will get to Capitol in chapter 4 and I have a few plans for Niff when they get there. Stick around to find out what.
