Chapter 3 – Stones Instead of Bones
When they arrive at their destination, there is confusion on the part of the Peacekeepers at the receiving end as to where to put Annie and the other victors. The driver insists their paperwork says to deliver the prisoners and return to base immediately; the guards on site insist they have no paperwork and have to wait for orders from above. Johanna shouts critiques and rude suggestions that make Annie laugh, wincing at the hysterical edge.
In the end, the Peacekeepers herd the manacled victors into the building, down a long hallway to a large elevator, and finally into what looks like the same cell Annie was in before, although she's a little fuzzy on the details. The same people are there, though, strengthening that impression: Finnick's stylist, Rafe; Atala Renlo, former assistant to the Head Gamemaker; fellow victors Shale and Silke; and the blonde woman Peeta greets as Effie, who enfolds him in an overwrought hug. It isn't until Enobaria greets the Gamemaker by name, expressing surprise at finding her here with "these rebels," that Annie recognizes Atala as her siren. Enobaria's comment starts a chorus of protest from Shale and the golden Effie that they're no rebels. Silke remains silent where she sits on the floor in the corner of the cell, her expression unreadable as she watches.
Annie slips past the other prisoners to the far corner and slides down the wall. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she tries to make herself small enough to disappear, but Shale follows her, positioning himself against the wall, not quite close enough for their shoulders to touch. She wants to tell him to go away, but she doesn't want to talk to anyone, so she merely shifts away from him, leaning against the wall and hiding her face between her knees.
"Where did they take you?" he asks, either ignoring or not picking up on her signals to leave her alone.
"Go away, Shale," she mutters to her knees.
"You were gone for three days." Ignoring then, but at least she knows now how long she was in that hospital. "So where were you? What happened? What did they do to you?"
What did they do to me? She feels again the shock of when Dr. Muhti uttered the word miscarriage, the pain ripping through her, tearing her apart that first night, just as despair rips though her now. Finnick is dead, and the only part of him she might have been able to hold onto – save for memories that will inevitably fade – is gone. What did they do to me? They destroyed me. But aloud she says only, "I don't want to talk to you."
"They gave me a physical, just to make sure none of the blood on my clothes was mine, but then they brought me straight back here." Annie curls up more tightly, her fingers digging into her arms so hard she can feel the tiny crescents of pain where her nails threaten to break through her skin. "At least I got some clean clothes out of it, right?" He won't stop talking. Loosening her grip on her arms, Annie lifts her hands to cover her ears, pressing hard to block out the sound of his voice.
"Hey, Rocks for Brains." Johanna approaches from where she had been leaning against the bars and kicks the sole of Shale's shoe; Annie sees it through the space between her ankles. "Leave her alone."
"I don't have to answer to—"
She kicks him in the shin. "She obviously doesn't want to talk. Now leave her the fuck alone."
Annie's muscles begin to tremble with the need to escape, but there's no place to go. She sways, rocking forward then back, trapped between Shale and the wall. A scream starts to build in her chest, clawing its way up her throat. The tears she couldn't shed for Finnick, for the child who never had a chance to be, burn behind her eyes. Squeezing them shut, she rocks harder, faster, clenching her teeth together to keep the scream from escaping. Her grief is hers; she doesn't want to share it with these others. With the possible exception of Johanna, they are not her friends.
Muffled voices. Air movement. A subtle change in temperature to her left and the feeling of open space around her. Annie leans to the right, her head and shoulder against the wall. She has no idea how long she rocked or when she stopped, how long Johanna and Shale argued. It frightens her, losing track of herself like that. Opening eyes sticky with dried tears, she drops her hands to her knees. Her muscles ache from holding so tightly to one position. Her throat is scratchy, and she has the slightly panicked thought that the scream must have escaped after all.
Lifting her head, Annie looks around, almost immediately meeting the concerned gaze of Johanna where she sits on the floor a few feet away, apparently keeping an eye on her. Or standing guard, Annie thinks, choking down a laugh. Enobaria and Silke have Shale corralled in Silke's corner of the cell. He shakes his head at something Enobaria says, launching into a string of words Annie is too far away to hear. No one but Johanna seems to pay any attention to Annie.
Pushing up from the floor, a moment later Johanna hunkers down in front of her. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks softly, her voice pitched so only Annie can hear. "It's okay to say no."
In the face of Johanna's kindness, the fact that she isn't expecting anything from her, the words and the pain pour from Annie. Martin's death, killing the Peacekeepers, being so close to escape only to have it snatched away – Johanna snorts at that but doesn't otherwise interrupt the flood of words – President Snow gloating over Finnick's death by electrocution. Finally, her voice barely audible even to herself, Annie tells Johanna about the miscarriage.
Through it all, Johanna listens. When Annie falls silent, her tears flowing freely, Johanna reaches out and takes Annie's cold hands in her warm ones. Other than that small gesture, she doesn't express sympathy; rather, she shakes Annie's hands until Annie looks at her, until green eyes meet brown.
When Johanna seems sure she has Annie's attention, she says bluntly, "The fucker lied, Annie."
Her heart feels as though it stops for an eternity, only to begin racing to make up those lost beats. "What?"
"Finnick was only a little closer to that tree than I was." Johanna releases Annie's hands and holds her own out, backs raised. Jagged red lines cover her skin, shooting up her arms to disappear under the sleeves of her government-issued gray jumpsuit, just like the one Annie wears, the ones Peeta and Enobaria and Shale wear. "I was electrocuted, too." She spreads her arms wide in a here I am gesture, then waves toward Enobaria. "So were Bari and Peeta over there. Yeah, it hurt like hell, still does if I move wrong, but we're not dead."
The victor from 2 levers up from the floor and saunters toward Annie and Johanna. She claps a hand on Johanna's shoulder and digs her fingers in hard enough to make the younger woman wince.
"Don't call me Bari." The smile that stretches her face doesn't reach her dark eyes, although something does glitter there.
"Show her the lightning marks," Johanna says with a grimace. "Bari." She grits her teeth when Enobaria squeezes harder as she lowers herself to the floor. Grinning toothily, the smile looking genuine this time, Enobaria shoves her left sleeve up, exposing the same jagged red lines – like bolts of lightning – that Johanna bears. "There is no reason to believe Finnick is dead," Johanna continues. "That bastard Snow is messing with your head, Annie. He told you that just to hurt you."
Hysterical laughter bubbles up inside Annie again, along with renewed hope. She doesn't let either of them loose as her gaze traces the thin red lines.
"As for the miscarriage..." Johanna glances at Enobaria then toward the others across the room, the Capitolites. Lowering her voice to just above a whisper, she asks, "Have you slept with anyone but Finnick in the last few months?"
"What? No!" Annie stares at her and her hands drift almost of their own volition to her abdomen. The unwanted memory of that horrible pain is almost enough to make her double over; she so wishes that she could forget.
"Then you weren't pregnant."
Shaking her head, feeling like Johanna's words sucked all the oxygen from her lungs, Annie whispers, "I don't understand." She isn't sure she wants to understand.
"Finnick is chemically sterile," Enobaria tells Annie, her gaze resting on Shale when she makes her announcement, but she meets Annie's eyes. "We all are." Her voice is neutral, but there is a fiery anger burning in her dark eyes, the promise of violence held in check.
"All?" Annie thinks she might vomit, if she had anything in her stomach to void. Bile rises in her throat, bitter and burning, threatening to scorch her to a crisp from the inside. That awful, terrifying laughter beats at her, demanding release as Johanna nods.
"Those of us Snow uses." Johanna curls her lip and clenches her hands into fists when she says in an exaggerated Capitol accent, "Condoms are such an inconvenience, but we wouldn't want any accidents, now, would we?"
xXx
The broadcast cuts off, and as if through a tunnel, Finnick hears his own voice still shouting denials. Someone – Coin? – says, "Get him out of here," and Finnick falls silent. His vocal cords feel raw. Haymitch helps him to his feet, holding him steady until a boy in a gray uniform arrives to lead him away. Haymitch starts to follow, but Coin asks him to stay, her voice clearly conveying an order, even though it's couched as a request.
Boarding an elevator, Finnick and his escort descend deep underground. Too stunned by what had just happened on top of all that came before, Finnick stares blankly at the back of the boy's head. The doors open on a white corridor, and they make their way down twisting passages past several rooms. In one of those rooms, Katniss lies on a narrow bed, her arena uniform exchanged for a hospital gown. Finnick barely has time to take that in before they reach another room and stop. After checking the number above the doorway, the boy soldier gestures for Finnick to precede him.
A young woman with pale skin and white-blonde hair breezes past them and shoos the boy soldier out, then pushes Finnick toward an uncomfortable-looking examination table covered in stiff white paper. Shoving a small white bundle at him, she draws a curtain around the table, cutting off his view of everything that might distract him from the images that have begun to scratch at the back of his brain. She leaves him there with a curt, "Put that on and wait for Dr. Colburn."
Changing into the hospital gown, leaving his borrowed clothes in a heap on the floor, Finnick waits. He doesn't want to sit on that table; it reminds him too much of the Capitol and the examinations he had to go through at the beginning of every visit. After several minutes of waiting, he slides down the wall to sit on the floor beside the pile of clothes, his bare knees tented in front of him. Leaning his head back against the wall, he shuts his eyes.
His uncle Rick is dead, captured by Capitol forces and publicly executed, so what does that mean for his parents? For Shandra and Kyle? The rest of his family? They should have all been together, whether watching the Games like good little citizens or fleeing the district, as Finnick had asked of them. Torturing himself, he replays the Capitol broadcast in his mind; once he starts, he can't stop.
"Down with the Capitol! We're stronger than you! We will fight you!"
Over and over Rick shouts his defiance. Over and over he drops, the snap of his neck echoing in Finnick's brain. When the memories of his uncle's televised death aren't sufficient torture, his imagination supplies its own details. The creak of rope straining against wood dried by summer heat and salt air. The cries of gulls and crows squabbling over their feast. The wind moaning as it passes between and around the buildings of the town square, picking up dust and sand in swirls of dull tan and beige to coat cloth and skin and hair. The sickly sweet odor of meat beginning to turn.
The flow of images, sounds, smells stops abruptly when a woman – almost certainly Dr. Colburn – arrives, pushing past the curtain and pulling it closed once more. She has an iron gray buzz cut and wears the same gray shirt and trousers everyone else in District 13 seems to. Finnick feels like he and his friends are the only civilians in some kind of military compound.
"Well, Citizen Odair, let's have a look at you." Dr. Colburn removes a pair of glasses from the top of her head and slips them onto her face, pushing them up the slope of her nose with the tip of her middle finger. A jagged pink scar, contrasting sharply with the darkness of her skin, splits her left eyebrow and disappears into her hair line. Nodding her head toward the exam table, she orders, "Have a seat."
Eyeing her warily, he stays right where he is. Dressed in nothing but his underwear and the thin white hospital gown, still reeling from the shock of his uncle's execution, he feels more exposed now than he ever did with a client. At least then he could hide behind the mask he had created, pretending to be confident and in control. He doesn't know what to do in this situation, how to act. The only people here he trusts aren't in much better shape than he is, and the denizens of this place have neatly separated them, leaving them to sink or swim on their own.
"Citizen Odair." Colburn's voice is all sharp edges and prickly points. "Sit." She raps her knuckles on the exam table with a rustle of paper.
"I'm not a dog," he tells her, fighting the sudden urge to giggle. Leaning forward, he drops his knees, biting the inside of his cheek in the hope that the pain will distract him, but it only serves to intensify the surreal fog in his mind.
Blowing out a gust of air, she takes two steps toward him and reaches out a hand, probably to yank him up onto the table, but he jerks backward, hitting his head hard against the wall. Her eyes widen, and she drops her hand back to her side. "I meant no offense, Citizen Odair."
"Why do you keep calling me that?"
She cocks her head to one side. "It's your name, isn't it?"
Pressing one hand to the back of his head – I probably just gave myself a concussion – Finnick snorts, holding the giggles again at bay. "No, not that. 'Citizen.'" He leans back against the wall, dropping his hand to his lap. Still feeling far too exposed, feeling as though he's maybe falling apart and it's just that no one has noticed yet, he draws his knees up once more and wraps his arms around his legs. Clasping his hands around his wrists, he digs his fingers in just short of causing pain.
"You're a victor." She steps closer again, but this time makes no move to touch him. "You and the others started the rebellion. Leadership voted unanimously to grant you citizenship." She smiles then, transforming her severe features into something almost welcoming. "Please, Citizen Odair," she says, her voice softer, "from what I've been told, you've suffered a series of shocks to body and mind. Let me help you."
"Shocks?" Finnick looks at her earnest expression, so at odds with her gruff orders only moments before, drops his gaze to her outstretched hand, and loses the battle. Giggles turn to guffaws until tears stream from his eyes. "Shocks." The arena. The lightning. Electrocution. District 13. Annie in Snow's blood-stained hands. His uncle's murder. The laughter rips from his throat like broken glass and he can't stop, can't breathe. He grips the sides of his head, grinding the heels of his hands into his temples, desperate to stem the tide of hysteria before he drowns in it.
Cool hands cover his, implacable as they force him to look into a pair of light brown eyes behind metal-rimmed glasses. "Citizen Odair, you're safe now." That sets him off into more peals of hysterical laughter.
Colburn backs away from him and calls out a name he doesn't catch. A moment later, the pale blonde woman hurries into the room and stops to stare at Finnick. He curls into himself, hoping if he can no longer see their horrified expressions, he might be able to get control of himself again.
"Tasha, get Dr. Aurelius."
"Yes, Dr. Colburn." Tasha backs quickly out of the room again, her footsteps echoing down the corridor as she runs.
Finnick hears rattling as Colburn searches for something; a moment later, she jabs a needle into his arm. Sounds begin almost immediately to echo and his vision fades, losing focus and color as he drifts away.
When he wakes, he's lying flat on his back, his bed surrounded by a light gray curtain cutting him off from the rest of the room. The lights on the ceiling are blinding, and he tries to block the light with his left arm only to discover his wrists strapped to the bed. There's a large thing – metal and plastic – covering him from stomach to mid-thigh, setting his nerve endings to tingling. Panic begins to rise, and he fights the urge to tear himself free of whatever it is, his muscles twitching with the need to escape, escape, escape.
On the other side of the curtain, he overhears a man's voice. "And he was the only one? Not the others?"
"Yes, Connie," Dr. Colburn replies. "I'll give him something that should reverse the effects. Other than that, he's in fairly good shape, physically, given what he's been through in such a short time. I'll want to keep him under observation for a couple of days, but after that, he's all yours."
The conversation seems to be at an end as Finnick hears footsteps walking rapidly away. A moment later the curtain opens, and Dr. Colburn steps through.
"You're awake," she says, walking over to the machine. Her glasses reflect a lighted readout as she looks down her nose at it. Apparently satisfied with whatever she sees there, she toggles a switch. The tingling abruptly stops along with a faint buzz he hadn't noticed until it was gone. She hits another switch and the device rises, retracting along a track between the lights into a niche in the ceiling.
He jumps at a sudden sensation of cold on his left arm, trying to jerk his arm away with no more success than before. "Relax, Citizen Odair." Colburn swipes at his arm again before pushing a needle into the center of the site she'd just cleaned.
"What is that?" He tries to keep his voice steady, but he can't judge whether or not he succeeds – he's had far too many drugs injected into his system over the years, most of them without his consent, to be capable of relaxing about it now. It's not even the first time Dr. Colburn has shot him up with something, and she didn't ask then, either.
She pulls the spent needle from his arm and places a cotton ball on the injection site. "It's just a vitamin cocktail. Nothing for you to worry about." She tosses the needle into a small receptacle labeled Caution – Biohazard. "It'll speed your recovery from the dehydration." She makes a notation on a clipboard at the end of his bed and then pulls a sheet up to cover him. "Try to get some sleep, Citizen Odair. You'll feel better in the morning." Her words and tone sound comforting, but she won't meet his eyes.