6 The Voice

The stinging pain around my wrists forced me awake, thrusting me back into my nightmare. Lying on my stomach, I discovered my arms tied behind my back. Curling up on my side, I found my ankles restrained with plastic ties.

A rough male voice startled me from behind. "The traitor is awake."

I rolled over to find two men dressed in suits, sitting together on a fold down bench inside the hovercraft's cargo hold, both staring at me. The larger of the two, a bald man, put some kind of hard candy into his mouth as the smaller weathered face man leant forward, resting his elbows upon his knees.

Nauseated with a throbbing headache, I struggled to an upright sitting position. In the corner, lay a black body bag with the top half-unzipped. Hadrian's face protruded from the bag.

I began to sob uncontrollably. "Why!"

The smaller man clasped his hands together. "That's what traitors get."

Rage began to mix with my sorrow. "We are not traitors." I stared at the weathered face man who was sitting directly before me. "You murdered my brother!"

In one fluid motion, the man sat up straight and kicked me hard in the chest, knocking me over onto my side.

Riling from the pain, I struggled for air since my breath had been knocked out of my lungs. I felt the panic grow as I waited for my breathing to return. At the last second, I inhaled deeply and progressed directly into dry heaves.

The smaller man's laughter echoed about the cargo hold. "Disrespect us again, and you'll get much worse."

A stabbing pain in my ribs radiated out from the spot where his kick had landed. Sticky blood could be felt around my wrist where the plastic ties had dug into my skin. Unable to find a comfortable position, I struggle once again to sit upright. Returning my gaze to my dead brother, tears began to flow steadily down my flushed cheeks.

The larger bald man moved to the body bag, zipping it shut before returning to the bench.

Without removing my eyes from the body bag, I clear my throat. "Shouldn't we have had a trial?"

The weathered face man huffed. "They had been collecting evidence against your family for quite a while. They sentenced the two of you in absentia."

"So fast?"

"What can I say, our government is efficient."

"Why am I still alive?"

"You received a different sentence."

Hesitantly, I looked at the smaller man. "Which is?"

A maniacal grin spread across his face. "Life in prison…if you can call it that."

I knew exactly what he meant. Emotionally, I began to shut down as I watched the larger man suck on his candy free of emotion. I turned back to my brother's body. "What about my parents?"

"Your brother is with them now." The smaller man spoke as if he had committed the acts himself.

Reliving my last moments in my head, I remembered the boy and girl from the woods. Did they exist? I thought. Of course they did, Hadrian saw them...maybe. I began looking around the gray, dingy cargo hold for other body bags. Did they kill them, leaving their bodies in the forest?

The weathered face man snapped at me. "What are you looking for?"

"Nothing." Returning my eyes to my brother's body bag, I knew best to remain silent, for I did not want to be tortured for names that I did not know. My mind began to wonder; Do they know about the train conductor and the drunken man in the Hob? Did that young Peacekeeper turn us in?

From a hatch at the front of the compartment, a Peacekeeper stepped into the cargo hold. "Fifteen minutes until we land." As the Peacekeeper exited, he glanced at me with uncompassionate eyes before shutting the hatch.

I cleared my throat. "How did you find us?"

My question brought a smile to the smaller man's face. He moved before me and removed a small handheld computer. "All citizens carry identification chips in their bodies." He waved the computer past the location of my small pox scar, and a red icon appeared on the display. "It looks as if yours has malfunctioned, but the government learned that they were starting to fail a couple years ago." The man waved the computer past my right forearm, and a green icon appeared. "So they inserted new chips with the yearly tuberculosis testing. We might not have found you if you hadn't passed through one of our sensors in District Twelve. There aren't many of them in that district."

I frantically thought of where we might have set off a sensor.

The man held up the computer display for me to read. Below my identification, it listed 'sensor readings'. The last reading listed the small bank of District Twelve. When my face registered the discovery, the weathered faced man smiled. "Every bank in Panem has sensors in the door frames." The man returned to the bench laughing.

The bald man knelt down before me and removed a handkerchief from his pocket, glaring at his partner. "Show some professionalism." The larger man wiped the abundant nasal discharge from my face, folded the handkerchief over, and dabbed my tears. He again scowled at the man. "And you shouldn't be telling her about the chips and sensors."

An averse groan came from the smaller man. "Oh, I'm not worried. I'm sure our secrets are safe with her."

The bald man frowned as he removed a black hood from his other pocket. He stared into my eyes for a moment without judgment before slipping the hood over my head.

...

Blinded by the hood, I could tell that they had returned me to the Capitol from the dry smell of concrete and steel when the hovercraft doors opened. They cut the plastic tie from my ankles and escorted me off the hovercraft. I could easily discern that we had landed on a rooftop since the various sounds of the city were emanating from well below.

They guided me inside, and we immediately entered an elevator, which travelled so far down that my ears had to equalize. When we exited the elevator car, the hard shoes of the suited men echoed off the corridor walls. There were a couple more turns until a heavy hand gripped my shoulder.

The weathered face man from hovercraft spoke directly into my ear. "I'm going to cut the plastic tie from your wrist. If you attempt to flee or resist, I'll punish you. Do you understand, traitor?"

"I'm not a traitor."

An open hand struck me hard upside the head, causing me to see stars beneath my hood. "You won't be mouthing off much longer." The man took hold of my wrists, and I felt the plastic tie drop away.

My arms were stiff, making them difficult to bring forward. When the hood ripped from my head, bright ceiling light blinded me. A hard shove propelled me forward and caused me to fall. I landed hard on my chest since my stiff arms were slow to react. As the metal door slammed shut, I sheltered my eyes from the light and heard the heavy lock turn.

Eventually, I rolled over and surveyed my prison cell. My eyes continued to squint from the bright ceiling lights that were protected by thick security glass. The concrete walls were painted white, layered with many years of graffiti and human suffering.

With the strong urge to urinate, I began looking for the toilet, but the room was absent of a bed, sink, and a toilet. I found a hole in the corner of the room. When I peer down it, the revolting smell told me that this functioned as the toilet. Next to the hole was a single faucet with years of teal colored oxidation on its surface. The cell floor appeared to slope towards the hole for the convenience of easy cleaning.

I used the hole, followed by washing the dried blood from my wrist wounds that were caused by the plastic tie. I sipped water from my cupped hand before washing my face. With little else to do, I sat in the far corner and silently wept.

...

Without a bed and blanket, I could not sleep. To make things worse, time began to stand still, and the tattered District Twelve clothes that I wore provided no warmth as the chill of the concrete reached into my bones. Most frustrating, the lights never turned off.

Two hard raps on a cell door down the hall brought me to my feet. Two more hard raps sounded on a closer cell door. Then two raps sounded from my door. A small slot opened, and two slices of bread were pushed through onto the floor followed by a slice of yellow cheese.

I kneeled down to call through the slot. "Can I have a blanket please?"

No response came as the slot closed and the knocks progressed down the hall.

Collecting the bread and cheese from the floor, I began brushing off the dirt. I returned to my corner and nibbled on my food.

The process repeated itself some time later: knocks followed by two slices of bread and a slice of cheese. I called out again for a blanket to no reply.

This repeated several more times. Whether it was 8, 12, or 24 hours between events, I did not know. All I knew was that I was cold, hungry, and in desperate need of restful sleep.

Lying against the side of my cell, I fell into a wistful state of confusion as my chronic headache grew in intensity. Throwing an arm over my eyes in a failed attempt to shield out the light, I began singing. Halfway through the song, I remembered it to be one of my brother's least favorites, which caused me to cry.

A female voiced called out. "Don't stop. Please keep singing."

I sat up. "Hello?"

"You have to speak louder."

I stood up and found the narrow slits of a metal air vent in the concrete wall near the ceiling. I raised my voice. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes. Did you just arrive?"

"I think so. I've already lost track of time."

The voice paused. "How many meals have you received?"

Fighting my headache and sleep deprivation, I tried to recollect the knocks to my cell door. "I think five."

"Then you've been here two and a half days. They feed us twice a day."

Relieved to have some human contact, I rested my head against the wall. "How long have you been here?"

"I think close to two weeks."

"Do they ever turn off the lights?"

"No."

"Do they feed us anything else other than stale bread and cheese?"

"No."

I fell silent weary to ask further questions.

"What's your name?" The girl's voice sounded oddly upbeat.

"Lavinia."

"I'm Samantha, but most people just call me Sam." There was a pause. "What brought you here?"

In my confused state, I struggled to understand her question. "Two men in suits."

"No, silly. What was your sentence?"

"Oh. Um...they say that I committed treason."

"Did you?"

"No, but they are accusing my father of the crime, so I guess that they've found me guilty by association." The words brought a pang to my heart, and I began wiping away tears. "They killed my parents and my brother. I'm all that's left."

There was a long pause before Samantha replied. "Me too, but I had no siblings."

I took a deep breath in a futile attempt to stop my tears. "Why are you here?"

"Treason. We all thought the plan would work."

I stepped back, looking at the vent as if I expected to see her face. "Really? You're actually guilty?"

"Yes. President Snow is a monster. My father was working with others to remove him from power. I use to run messages for my father."

I leant against the wall. "Did your father force you to do it?"

"No. I volunteered."

"Why?"

"We've become a country of fear that hides behind a false sense of national security, which in turn, imposes unwarranted cruelty on the districts. My father was Agriculture Minister, and he often took me to District Nine and Eleven on his business trips to show me the truth." Samantha paused. "Have you ever visited a district, outside the tourist areas?

"I've been to Twelve. I tried to mingle with the people." I closed my eyes remembering all the frail souls. "They were all suffering from hunger."

Sam's tone became inquisitive. "So you're actually innocent?"

"Yes. I didn't know what my father was doing. He did try to protect us by putting us into hiding."

Her tone became serious. "My parents told me that suicide was my best option if we were found out. Running away would not be far enough." She paused to clear her throat. "How did they find you?"

"An identification chip in my arm set off a sensor in a bank."

"My father destroyed the one in my shoulder."

I began rubbing my forearm. "The men in suits told me that they injected new chips into our forearms with the annual tuberculosis testing."

Sam was silent.

I raised my voice. "Are you okay?"

"We didn't know about the new chip. We should have been scanning our whole bodies."

"Did I just put you in more danger by sharing this?"

"They've already tortured me. I wouldn't be here if they weren't done with me."

A cold chill spread across my skin. "They tortured you?"

"They drowned me water." Sam's voice began to wobble. "I told them everything that I knew right away, but they continued drowning me. It felt like an eternity."

When I lifted my hands from the wall, they shook uncontrollably. "Are they going to do that to me?"

"I don't think so. They interrogate people before they bring them here. They must have known prior to your arrest that you had no information, so you were fortunate...for an innocent person."

Fighting my sorrow, I swallow back my grief. "Where are we?"

"We're in a holding jail until the next Avox training session begins. The doctor who will alter our tongues only takes us in groups, so they send the groups to training every couple of weeks. My interrogators told me that I had just missed the last group. They could come for us at any moment."

When I remembered the Avoxes who I had seen serving at governmental functions, I shuddered. "Are you afraid?"

"Yes. You?"

"Yes." A realization came to my mind. "I've never seen an old Avox. Have you ever heard of Avoxes being let go?"

"No. You?"

A tear ran down my cheek. "No."

"How old are you?"

"I turned 18 a just before they captured me. You?"

"20."

I slid to the floor and wrapped my arms around my legs.

After some silence, Samantha made a request. "Sing for me. I really do enjoy your voice."

Wiping my eyes dry, I searched my memories for an uplifting song. I began singing, but my voice broke at the end of each line. After a couple stanzas, I stopped, sobbing.

"Thanks for trying." She spoke with a sympathetic voice. "It was very pretty."

Weeping, I buried my head in my arms.

Hearing my cries, Samantha tried to console me. "Sorry if I've upset you. Rest now, and we'll talk later."

"Okay." Sitting against the wall, I shut my eyes, realizing that my words probably did not pass through the vent. Unable to return to my feet, I remained seated and drifted off into restless sleep.

...

The turning of the heavy lock pulled me from sleep. The door opened revealing a Peacekeeper. "Time for your training." He gestured for me to step out of my cell.

With stiff muscles, I stumbled to my feet and stepped into the hallway. The man turned me around, and a plastic tie bound my wrists.

A different Peacekeeper opened the cell next to mine, and I saw a thin woman step out, wearing clothes that appeared too big for her frame.

The young woman had loss much weight in captivity. She turned towards me as a plastic tie bound her wrists. She was shorter than I, and her hair stopped at her shoulders. Notably, a brightly colored tattoo was visible running along her front neckline. She looked at me and smiled.

Staring back, I could not return her smile as my body began to tremble. Before the Peacekeeper slid the black hood over my head, I spotted in Samantha's eyes the hint of madness that seemed to fuel her peculiar smile.