2-3. Change of plan
I lose track of time and begin to wonder whether we will ever leave these caverns. I'm soaked and feeling quite cold. Gradually, over the noise of the flowing river I can hear the sound of machinery. The noise is getting louder.
"Can you hear that?" I call to Hope. "It sounds like machinery."
"Yes. It's the water intake pumps for the arena. Get ready to row for the left bank. If we miss our landing it will be a hard paddle back upstream."
"Wouldn't it be better to land somewhere further along?" asks Cato.
"The pumping station is where we land," insists Hope, not willing to entertain any change of plan. "Unless, of course, you want to take your chances going over a waterfall."
We turn a bend in the river and there before us is the pumping station. A shaft of daylight in the cavern makes the lanterns unnecessary. I help Hope and Cato steer the dinghy to the bank just short of the first sluice gate. We scramble onto the narrow bank and Hope pushes the dinghy back into the river. The current quickly takes the dinghy. There's no way back for us.
About twenty metres above us I can see daylight. The roof of the cavern has been opened out to allow the four huge pipes from the pumps to take water into the arena. Next to the pipes there is an access ladder which zigzags its way upwards. Hope doesn't waste any time in starting to climb. With nowhere else to go, Cato and I follow behind her. But surely Hope isn't taking us back into the arena?
I'm so busy concentrating on our progress towards the daylight that I don't at first notice a platform and corridor about five metres below the surface. Hope steps onto the platform and waits for Cato and I to reach her. When I step onto the platform I realise my uniform and shoes are bone dry … except around my still wet underwear. This uniform is made of some amazing material.
"Decision time, muscle-boy," she says to Cato. "I recommend that you continue upwards and re-enter the arena. I don't know what the Gamemakers will do when they realise you have returned, but this is your last chance to go back. Stay with us and you'll probably become a fugitive for the rest of your life."
"What about me?" I ask before Cato can answer. "Don't I get a choice?"
"No," replies Hope. "Your sponsor has made arrangements for you. You should be safe enough once I deliver you."
"I'm not leaving Katniss," says Cato without hesitation. "I'm going where she's going."
"Very touching," sighs Hope. "Very well. Don't say I didn't give you a chance. Come on."
"Thank you, professor," I whisper to Cato as Hope strides off along the narrow passage leading away from the platform.
"I'll claim my reward later, princess," smiles Cato with wink.
We follow Hope along the narrow passage until it joins a much larger corridor. Hope stops just short of the corridor and listens for the sound of any movement ahead.
"This is one of the main service corridors," says Hope. "If anyone stops us, let me deal with them. Keep calm and everything will be okay."
After the poorly lit passage, the lights in this corridor hurt my eyes. Cato clothes are still wet and he briefly stops to wring out his clothes before entering the corridor. Cato and I walk slightly behind Hope as she leads us along the corridor. After a short distance the corridor opens out into a circular chamber about twenty five metres across with doors every few metres around the circumference. There are a few grey-uniformed workers in the chamber but they don't pay any attention to us. In the middle of the chamber is a small security checkpoint. Next to the checkpoint is what appears to be a rank of small open-sided vehicles. Hope leads us towards the front vehicle and indicates we should climb aboard. Cato sits on a narrow bench at the back while I take one of the two front seats.
"Hold it, caterpillars. Where are you going with that buggy?" asks a man wearing a white-uniform with a holstered weapon on his belt. He must be a security guard. I presume the green uniforms Hope and I are wearing earn us the nickname 'caterpillars'.
"Section Two," replies Hope.
"Let's see your authorisation," says the man. "There's a security lock-down. Two of the tributes are missing. Nobody leaves their assigned area without authorisation. Which is your assigned area, anyway? There are no caterpillars stationed in this area."
"Which is why we were sent here in the first place," says Hope trying to sound bored. "There was a chemical leak in one of the corridors. Faulty pipework. Now we need to get back to Section Two quickly in case there is a similar problem elsewhere. We were sent here before the security lock-down."
"What about him? Where's his uniform?" persists the man.
"Chemical contamination," replies Hope. "We had to destroy it."
"Hmmm …" says the man, uncertain what to do next. "What's the name of your supervisor? I'll have to check with your supervisor before I can let you take a buggy."
"Call this number," says Hope handing the man a card from her pocket.
"Wait here," replies the man as he returns to the small booth, which must be his station.
We don't wait. As soon as the man's back is turned, Hope leaps into the seat next to me. She moves one of the two levers on the panel in front of us and the buggy jolts into life. Cato is nearly thrown backwards out of the vehicle. The buggy has no steering wheel and seems have a top speed slightly faster than I can run. The silver coloured strips in the corridor floor seem to provide the guidance system.
We are almost out of the chamber before the security guard realises we have left. He briefly gives chase before deciding to sound the alarm and warn the neighbouring security stations. The delay in sounding the alarm gives us a few vital seconds, although I'm not certain what good it will do us. I look at Hope to try and gauge her reaction to what has just occurred. Her face gives nothing away.
"There's one of these contraptions following us," calls Cato from the rear seat of our buggy.
Hope takes a quick look behind us and lets out a quiet curse. It's the first indication she's given that her plan of escape is coming unstuck. The corridor we are following runs in a straight line. Every now and then there are tunnels branching off, but I've no idea where they go. In fact, I don't even know where this corridor is leading us. Hope is busy fiddling with the device on her wrist as though it may tell her a way out of our situation. Perhaps it will.
"Change of plan," says Hope suddenly. "Bale out at the next junction and run along the side corridor. About twenty metres on the right you'll find a door. Go through the door and climb the vertical ladder that goes to the surface. It'll mean you are inside the arena, but you should be far enough from the main area of activity to be safe. I'll come for you when I can."
"What are you going to do?" I ask on the off-chance that she'll tell me. She simply looks at me in disdain. I'm merely a package to be delivered in her eyes. At least it will mean Cato and I are free of our so-called rescuer for a while.
"Go … go!" calls Hope when we reach the junction she mentioned. Cato and I do as she says and run as fast as we can for the door. I look back when we reach the door but there is no sign of Hope or our pursuers. Cato quickly opens the door and in his haste nearly collides with the ladder in front of him. We are in a room no bigger than a cupboard.
Hope's instructions were for us to climb to the surface. I can see daylight about fifteen metres above us. Behind the ladder, however, is a platform with another ladder which goes down. Of course we have no idea what is below us.
"Up or down?" asks Cato, who is obviously thinking along the same lines as me. Hope is expecting to find us in the arena above, but that would simply place us back in her dubious care. And there is another possibility if we enter the arena. What if the Gamemakers' cameras detect us before Hope comes to retrieve us? If she comes at all.
"Down," I reply.
Cato doesn't argue and promptly climbs down the ladder. Fortunately the shaft is lit. At the bottom of the shaft is another door. We can't hear anything from the other side of the door, so hopefully the coast is clear. I carefully turn the door handle with the intention of opening the door a little way to see if it is safe to continue. Unfortunately the door has some form of automatic opener and my action causes the door to swing wide open with a clang. So much for stealth.
The door is at the end of a short corridor. I can't see what is at the other end of the corridor from where I stand. Going back is a poor alternative, so I step out and walk to the far end of the corridor. Cato follows behind me. When I get there, I look around in disbelief. We're in the main control room. There must be about forty people sat in a circle in front of us. Each is busy working at a console. The walls are almost entirely covered with screens showing different parts of the arena above. Some of the screens show one or other of the tributes. I can see Rue from District Eleven and the red-haired girl from Five. In the centre of the room is a large holographic map of the arena. On a raised platform to our right stand a small group of men and women who must be the Gamemakers themselves.
Despite the noise of our entrance, everyone seems too busy doing with whatever they are doing to bother with us. I look around for the security guards who must surely have noticed our arrival. But there are no signs of any security guards in this room. Perhaps the Gamemakers have an overconfidence in their perimeter security and keep their guards out of this room.
Cato takes my hand and indicates we had best go back into the shaft. Unfortunately the door has swung shut behind us and we have no means of opening it from this side without breaking a glass panel clearly labelled "alarmed". The signs indicate this is an emergency exit from the control room.
I've run out of ideas. We are cornered in the heart of the Gamemakers' domain. Even my green uniform seems out of place. Everyone in the control room is wearing a blue uniform. Only the Gamemakers seem exempt from wearing a coloured uniform of some sort. Cato is luckier. At a distance his shirt might be mistaken for a blue uniform.
"Your move, princess," says Cato, clearly devoid of ideas himself. "I'm along for the ride, remember. Hope said so."
"You can pull your weight on this venture, Cato," I reply. "I didn't bring you along just so you can flex your muscles and look good."
"You think I look good when I flex my muscles, then?" replies Cato. "This is a discussion we must continue when we have the time."
"Oh, shut up!" I snap, annoyed that I said what I did. I blurted out my private thoughts without putting my brain into gear.
"Did anyone ever tell you how attractive you look when you're angry with yourself?" whispers Cato into my ear.