2-2. Underground escape
In their haste to resume the Games, the Gamemakers have made a mistake. In order to evacuate their own personnel quickly they have opened some of the hidden doors that provide access to the service areas below the arena. In their closed position the doors are almost invisible. Now, only ten metres from where Cato and I are hiding, there is a yawning gap that leads out of the arena. Perhaps not to safety, but certainly out of the combat zone and into the massive bowels of the arena complex. Cato and I don't hesitate. We charge towards the open door and the sloping corridor beyond.
"Stop!" comes the order from the green-uniformed woman suddenly blocking our way into the service corridor. "I must remove your tracker first. Over here. Quickly."
The tracker! I had forgotten about the tracker injected into each tribute's arm. There will be no escape for us while the tracker broadcasts our location to the Gamemakers. I go to where the woman is pointing and let her place a small device over my arm. It must be some form of surgical device designed to extract the tracker. More of the Capitol's advanced medical equipment that those of us in the districts can only imagine in our dreams. I feel a slight twinge as the woman does her work. It takes only a few seconds before I can see my tracker lying in a container attached to the device. She removes the device from my arm and I can see the line of a small cut in my arm that has been sealed shut.
"Keep it clean, or it will leave a scar," says the woman grabbing my hand. "Come on. This way."
"What about Cato," I call, resisting the pull of the woman's hand.
"My orders are to take you, and you alone," replies the woman while she looks around for any sign of trouble.
"I'm not going anywhere without Cato," I say.
"I hadn't anticipated you bringing company, Katniss," says the woman, after studying the strange piece of equipment strapped above her left wrist. "It complicates things, but it may work to our advantage."
She quickly repeats the tracker extraction procedure on Cato. She then throws our two trackers into the thicket around us. This time I don't resist the urgent pull of her hand as we run through the nearby entrance and into the arena's underground service area.
I've no idea what Cato and I think we are doing, where we are going, or what we are going to do when we get there. Situation normal, then. No … I'm joking. The exhilaration of the last few minutes has made me feel daring. This is anything but a normal situation. None of our training has prepared us for this. I hope the woman helping us has a plan of escape. Without her, Cato and I can only aimlessly run and hide. As the reality of our situation sinks into my brain, I begin to wonder whether my impulsive dash for freedom is nothing more than a short-cut to death. The woman leads us down the sloping corridor towards a larger well-lit area below.
By now the Gamemakers must have noticed our absence. If we are lucky, they will assume we are still somewhere inside the arena itself. Our discarded trackers may fool them into thinking that for a while. The huge unknown is whether our escape down here has been detected. I can imagine the Gamemakers' technicians frantically scanning the data from dozens of cameras surrounding the Cornucopia for any sign of us. Another group will undoubtedly be reviewing the camera recordings taken over the last ten minutes for clues about our disappearance. We can only hope the power failure has prevented a detailed log of our activities.
"We must wait in here for a while," says the woman, leading us to a nondescript room containing tables and chairs.
She closes the door behind the three of us. Moments later there's the sound of running feet along the corridor. Have we been seen? Fortunately not. The noise we can hear must be the uniformed people leaving the arena as ordered. The sounds last for a few minutes before stopping just as quickly as they had started.
"Who are you? What is going on?" I demand.
"You can call me, Hope. My task is to escort you to your destination."
"And where is our destination?" asks Cato.
"Yours will be back into the arena if I decide that your presence is jeopardising my mission. For now, you can follow us. Come on, we have a schedule to keep if you want to get out of here alive. It won't be long before the Gamemakers realise that the two of you aren't hiding near the Cornucopia."
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell us where you are taking Katniss and I," says Cato.
"Fine. You can stay here then," says Hope indifferently. She grabs me by my arm and hauls me out of the door. She's a lot stronger than she looks. Cato swallows his pride and follows a few paces behind us.
Hope relaxes her grip on my arm once she is satisfied that I'm following her lead. She doesn't give Cato a second look. She truly doesn't care whether he comes with us or not. She takes us away from the brightly-lit area. We walk in silence as we navigate a maze of dimly lit corridors. Hope turns into a narrow unlined tunnel which branches off from the metal-walled corridor. This tunnel could be part of a natural cave. No attempt has been made to do more than string a line of lights along one side of the rock wall. There's just enough light to see where we are going. As we move forward Hope periodically examines the device strapped to her wrist. I don't know why. As far as I can tell there are no side-tunnels and we must either go back or continue onwards. Cato and I have no alternative but to trust in Hope's plan of escape.
The tunnel starts to twist and turn. Before long I can hear running water ahead of us. It sounds like a river flowing over rocks rather than anything man-made. Hope brings us to a halt near a small pile of rubble.
"Take your clothes off and put these on," says Hope, handing me a green top and trousers like hers. "You'll have to take your chances, Marvel. I suggest you remove your tribute's jacket though."
"Cato," replies Cato. "My name is Cato."
"Whatever," says Hope not bothering to hide her disinterest in Cato's identity. "If Security stop us then you're on your own. Remember my mission is to get Katniss to her destination … you're just along for the ride. Get in my way and that ride will end abruptly."
"No," I snap. "I chose to bring Cato with me. I'll not abandon him while we are in danger."
"You're not in a position to make demands," replies Hope. "Your sponsor has gone to a lot of trouble to retrieve you from the arena. The kind of money your sponsor has expended means you are well and truly bought. I suggest you get used to it."
I shudder when I comprehend what Hope has just said. When I wore the Jewels of Desire at last night's television interview, I knew there was a risk of attracting the wrong kind of sponsor. It looks as though I've gained the worst possible kind … rich, powerful and demanding. This is turning into a nightmare.
"And what does my sponsor intend to do when you deliver me safe and sound?" I ask.
"Pay me a lot of money. My services don't come cheap … but I'm worth every cent of my fee."
"I'm sure. But what happens to me? And to Cato?"
"Not my concern. I'm just paid to deliver you."
"And what happens if I don't cooperate in your mission to enslave me?"
"It's in your best interests to cooperate. Think about it. You're stuck inside a heavily guarded facility with scores of people looking for you. What do you imagine the Gamemakers are going to do if and when they catch you? They'll want answers about how somebody managed to sabotage the start of the Hunger Games. By escaping you have made yourself a prime suspect. I wouldn't be surprised if your mentor and support team are already under arrest and are being interrogated. What's-his-name's team as well. The Gamemakers will want quick answers, and many people are going to suffer in the process. Pray that one of them isn't you."
"Are you saying that my sponsor is responsible for the sabotage?" I ask. "Just to get me out of the arena?"
"The less you know the better," replies Hope.
Better for who? Not me. Not Cato. Not my family. In fact, not anybody I know. I think I've made a terrible mistake in leaving the arena. It would have been better to die honourably in the arena than drag everyone who knows me into this mess. I don't want to die, but I won't shirk my responsibilities to my friends and family.
"Sorry to have dragged you into this," I say to Cato when Hope is preoccupied with the device on her wrist.
"I wouldn't have missed this for the world, princess," replies Cato. "But our rescuer leaves a lot to be desired. I think we should part company with her as soon as we get the chance."
"I agree," I whisper in reply. "But we might have difficulty breaking free."
Our conversation is halted when Hope indicates that she is ready to resume our journey. She hides Cato's jacket and the clothes I was wearing. Fortunately I remembered to remove my mockingjay pin from my jacket and pin it to the underside of my top. Sophie's ring has never left my finger. The snug fitting uniform is comfortable, but its thin material won't provide much protection from the cold. Instead of sturdy boots, I'm now wearing what appear to be light elasticated slippers. It's not the sort of attire for running around underground tunnels, but Hope seems to manage okay.
We continue along the tunnel for a short distance until it opens out into a cavern with an underground river flowing through it. The electric lighting ends here. Fortunately Hope is prepared and she produces two lanterns from a pack which was hidden with my uniform. Hope keeps one lantern for herself and hands the other to me. I begin to think that she intends for us to wade along the river, but she makes no move to enter the water. We follow the riverbank through the narrowing cavern until we reach the point where the river occupies the entire width of the cavern. Although the flow isn't particularly fast, the river seems deep enough to make wading difficult.
"Wait here," says Hope as she steps onto a narrow ledge beside the river.
Hope disappears into the tunnel formed by the river. She returns a minute of so later hauling a rope. On the other end of the rope is a small inflatable dinghy. On her command, the three of us climb aboard. The dinghy is very cramped with three of us on board and it rides low in the water. However, Hope doesn't seem concerned, so I calm my mounting fear that we'll sink.
"Make yourself useful," says Hope handing Cato one of the two wooden paddles.
We set off downstream allowing the current to take us. The light from the lanterns isn't strong enough to let us see very far. Hope and Cato use the paddles to keep us from going too fast and to steer the dinghy. I peer ahead into the gloom to give advance warning of any rocks in our way. It's a task easier said than done. Even at our leisurely pace we have little time to avoid obstacles and, of course, I can't see rocks just below the surface. More than once we collide with a hidden rock and the dinghy protests loudly. Fortunately it is well made and the fabric doesn't tear.