"What's unique about transportation is that it's the one function that repeats itself throughout the supply chain."

- John Murphy


Clanging rings from the boiler room as the steel workers pound the red metal repeatedly to the intended shape. The smell of rubber and metal are a homey scent to all of district 6 citizens. The reeving of multiple engines guides my in the direction of the trial strips. The transportation district has three testing strips.

The first is a multi surface field made specifically for hovercrafts. The ground pulls away to reveal tar, sand, dirt and water with each new level allowing the makers to test the way the anti gravity mechanism affects it's surroundings. With each different field the hovercraft affects them in different ways. For tar the surface is sometimes heated up after hovering for a long period of time. The sand is blown slightly in a circle right before the hovercraft lands. Water is the newest slide they are testing. For years when a hovercraft flew over water the antigravity air would part the water in a circle while hovering and a lined path behind when flying over. The district is working towards fixing that draw back now. Dirt is ideal for landing it doesn't warm as much as the tar and it doesn't catch like the sand or separate like water.

The second testing strip is a tar mat that stretches for nearly a mile. The length allows the test drivers to hit high speeds with motorcycles, luxury cars, peacekeeper vehicles, and extras. Next to the tar strip is also untamed land that follows the mule long tar to test the all terrain vehicles.

The third is a stretch of track that goes on for a few miles. This is where the cab's controls are tested separately then with the train cars testing alignment and overall build. The trains are run for nearly a day in total for the tests and then lifted into the Capitol tracks where the entire machine in built together. This usually goes on at night because the speed train is less likely to come by.

I'm on my way to the second testing strip now to see the district's best motorcycle mechanic, Hemi Carr.

Tires squeak as a black sport touring motorcycle glides fast over the pavement skidding in a circle to stop. The rider's identity is concealed by the personalized riding gear. The man's large shoulders are further bulked by the layers of an old distorted and remade peacekeeper suit. Rumors tell the story that he had fought during the rebellion in the dark days. He's said to be well over ninety and wears this suit to remind everyone of his viscous actions as a young man.

In truth he is only in his mid fifties having been born well into the Hunger Game years. That doesn't make him unfeeling to the situation by any means. He had to go through the fear of being the name picked for sixteen years as well, he was just never picked, like his children. Anyone with a mind could tell his children were targeted by the Capitol when year after year all four of his offspring were chosen and thrown into the game. Only one survived as a victor.

His leg swings over the bike now standing on two feet remaining to hold it up until a younger man come to take it away. They have a short conversation then the young man rolls the bike to the packing area. The older man reached to his all black peacekeeper helmet pulling it from his head and resting it under his arm.

"Good ride, Hemi." The man whips around at my usual greeting.

Despite having just taken off his helmet his hair is still covered by the ever present black beanie to help hide his growing baldness. His icy blue eyes shine against his wind burned raw skin that turned his skin to a leather tears ago. The bottom half of his face is obstructed by a full beard of white and orange. His top lip is home to a bushy orange mustache that rises slightly on the sides. His large body, though covered by his all black peacekeeper gear is colored with tattoo after tattoo of the memories he lost.

"You've been gone too long, Hotshot." His mustache twitches as his smile tries to take up his entire face. Hemi takes giant steps until he is grabbing my body to his in a long, tight, hug. After a minute we let go and he becomes stone again. "What's the deal?"

"Our place?" He nods and we head further off site to the old abandoned runway nearby.

The strip is a sun worn tar with countless arrows that were used to guide plans. Hemi walks to the right and pops a squat on the old plane that we've been visiting for a while and looks to me.

"Are you here to see me or on buisness?"

"Usual stopping." I stare at his reaction he nods then looks down trying to hide the disappointment all over his face.

"So, what's your name this time?"

"Clio Anderson." It my turn to look down, not being able to feel his downtrodden expression.

"Well, Clio, let's get down to business." He claps his thighs and sits up straight.

"How are the hovercrafts coming?"

"Bradley's programming a new one as we speak."

"How many are we at?"

"Three."

"That's amazing."

"You said you wanted them done A.S.A.P."

"You're doing more than I thought could be achieved."

"Bradley's the best."

"Guess he hasn't changed much."

"You should go see him and Turbo."

"I'm here on buisness."

"Doesn't mean you can't take a break."

He's right in a sense. I can't remember the last time I did something for me and not for Rosamund, Lace, Terra, Digit, Coventina, Genera, Clio and all the others.

"When this is over I'll have all the time in the world."

"You never know if you'll make it out, live your life. You're apart of a great cause, but at the end it you don't want to have regrets."

He knows me and that gives me comfort, but also a feeling of loss. I'm leaving again.

"May the power be returned."

"May the truth be seen. Keep it in mind, Hotshot."

"Will do, old man."


So Hemi and Clio are close, but how close?

R&R and Follow!

DECEMBER DANIELS