INTERVIEW WITH THE MOCKINGJAY – Chapter 11
Meredith tells me that she has to finish doing her prep for the evening's Town Meeting, and Archer is waiting for me, so I hold her again, enjoying her warmth in my arms after so long.
"You still look beautiful, dark lady," I say.
"And you're still handsome, fair man," she answers. "Now get your bags unpacked and call your paper. I'll see you at the Town Meeting."
I walk down the hall back to the police area, to find Archer and three cops gathered around a TV set, watching a news report. Archer is sitting on our bags.
"Ace, where's our transport," I start off.
Archer puts his finger to his lips. "Shh…it's about the terrorists."
I pay attention to the news. Apparently Panem troops and cops are sweeping the arena used for the 47th Hunger Games, having found evidence of a break-in to the fenced-off area. The troops are securing the scene while the cops process it. Apparently some kind of ceremony – or at least a picnic – was held on this particular arena. Among the items found is a video chip, which the police will review.
"I did a shoot at this site," Archer says. "It was mostly desert. Damn hot. Three of the Tributes died of thirst and heat in a week. During the tour, some of the tourists nearly passed out from heat prostration."
I shake my head in disgust. The newscasters show us shots of the live crime scene, and troops and police officers walking around, looking serious.
"Are they sure it was the terrorists," I say. "Maybe it was just a bunch of thrill-seekers."
"Boss, are you listening? They found a video chip left behind."
"Could have been tourists, who left behind their video," I say.
Archer looks at me in disgust. "No, they're leaving a message. I'll bet you on it."
I shrug my shoulders. When it comes to the behavior of these terrorists, he's right.
The footage of the incident scene is replaced by General Cassius Gray himself, immaculate as ever, facing the cameras.
"At this time, we cannot comment on the nature of the materials and debris that has been found at this Hunger Games Arena, but we can confirm that we have found a video chip. We will review this material. This is an ongoing investigation, and my only additional comment is that we will pursue these terrorists and bring them to justice," Gray says.
"You tell them, General," I say, mockingly.
Archer and the cops look at me, stunned. "That guy's a hero," one of the cops says. "He liberated the Capitol. Won the war."
"He was a pompous windbag in the war, and he's a pompous windbag now," I say.
Before the cops can defend the hero of the war, a male coal miner bounces into the Police Station, a typical District 12 resident with dark hair, dirty face, and miner's jacket. "What do you say and what do you know?" he hollers, enthusiastic.
"My man Thom!" shouts a police officer back, giving him a hand-slap. "The happy bridegroom!"
The cop throws his arm around Thom's shoulder. "Thom here is giving up bachelorhood on Friday, for his girlfriend Gloria," the cop says.
"Yeah, and the whole District is invited," Thom says. "What's everybody watching?"
"The troops are going over a Hunger Games Arena, where they found signs the terrorists have been hanging out," says a cop.
"No kidding," says Thom. He looks at the screen, and points at a man who is standing rigidly at attention before Gray. "That's my buddy! Gale to me, Colonel Hawthorne to you guys!"
"You and Gale are friends?" I ask.
"Since childhood…we did everything together. Well, except go hunting and fight in the war…but everything else! We dug coal in the mines!" he says, clearly enthused. "It's great to have friends going places!"
Interesting, I think.
He smacks his hands together. "Okay, where are the two guys I gotta pick up?"
"Right here," I say, introducing myself and Archer.
"Great," Thom says. "Let's get your bags loaded." He starts grabbing bags and takes them outside, and hops into a truck. We and the cops help Thom load the truck, and we climb into the seat.
"I'm Thom, by the way," he says.
"I guessed that," I say. "So you're getting married on Friday. Congratulations."
"Thanks," Thom says, as he starts the truck. "We got you guys a room, just like the BA requested. It's clean, with two beds."
"Has it got a shower," Archer asks.
"All the comforts of home," Thom says.
"Who's the lucky girl," I ask.
"Gloria McClain, from District 13," Thom says. "And we are excited."
"I'm sure you are," I say.
"So why are you two guys here," Thom asks, as the truck bounces over rutted roads.
"We're doing stories about District 12," I say, as I nudge Archer in the side. I don't want him to mention the Mockingjay. "How it's rebuilding after the war. How's that coming?"
Thom shrugs. "Well, we lost a lot of people, a lot of buildings, and had to start over basically from square one," he says. "This is our home, you know?"
We drive past a group of construction workers shuffling along. "What are they working on," I ask. "We aren't getting too many answers about what's going on around here."
"They're building new homes for the District residents and a new town square," Thom says. "Right now, most of us are living in these godawful temporary barracks. Temporary barracks, temporary stores, temporary offices, temporary loading platforms, temporary bars, and temporary people."
The truck bounces over a pothole. "Temporary roads," Thom says. "So the BA said you guys are with a newspaper?"
"Panem Times," I say. "How's the BA doing?"
Thom shrugs. "She's okay, I guess. Okay with me, that is. She runs the District pretty well, but I don't know…"
"What don't you know?" I ask. Archer gives me a look. He's puzzled.
"I hear shit…like she was kicked out of District 11, like she took money or something. And that she sleeps around. But I've never seen it. I think it's all bullshit, myself."
I ponder that statement for a long moment. "She's my girlfriend," I say at last.
Thom slams on the brakes and looks at me with wide eyes. "I'm sorry," he blurts. "I'm not going to get in trouble, am I?"
"I understand Commissioner Davis has been trashing her pretty regularly," I say, carefully picking my words. "I'd like to know why that's going on."
Thom gets the truck started again. "Commissioner doesn't like people from outside the District," Thom says. "All I know is that he's pissed that they stuck him with a BA who took money in another District. I don't know the details myself."
He pulls the truck into a parking space in front of another one of the ubiquitous modular buildings, and jumps out. "I'll get you a cart, so you can take your luggage to your room, and get you checked in," Thom says.
We pile out of the truck. Waiting for us is a bony old woman with gray hair. "I'm Greasy Sae," she says. "I run the billeting facility here. And the mess. You must be the reporters from the Capitol."
"That's us," I tell the old woman, shaking her hand. She walks us into the building, and goes behind an unpretentious hotel front desk. Behind us, Thom starts hauling in bags, placing them on a trolley.
Greasy Sae hands us two room keys. "242," she says. "You have mess numbers, so you won't have to pay for anything until you check out." She hands us a register to sign.
"We'll be billing everything to our newspaper," I say. "Is there a phone in the room? Are there any messages for us?"
"Funny you should ask," Greasy Sae says, reaching for a pile of pink slips. "I've taken six calls for you from someone named George Altman. I think you better call him back. He's pretty mad, and he got madder when I told him I didn't know who you were. Another from someone named Kae Lyn Harrington."
Archer and I look at each other. "Here's the latest disaster," I say to him. "Let me handle Altman."
"Yeah, like you've handled everything else," Archer says.
"Why don't you take that shower you want," I retort. I ask Greasy Sae where Room 242 is, and she points down the hall. We follow Thom and the trolley to the room.
As we plod down the hall, Archer says, "That reminds me…your girlfriend, Meredith…she is a stone-cold fox! And she is into you!"
I turn red, not knowing how to answer that one.
Archer continues, "But I'm getting tired of all the mystery stuff…what's this crap about her sleeping with the whole District? And did she really get kicked out of District 11?"
I spin on Archer. "First off, I can assure you, she is not 'sleeping around.'"
"Yeah? How do you know that?"
Angrily and impulsively, I yell, "She wouldn't even sleep with me! And I'm the love of her life! So I don't think she's going to sleep around." I turn back to follow Thom, who is some distance ahead of us. Hopefully, he hasn't heard me. Already, I'm regretting my openness with Archer. He has a remarkable knack for irritating people to make them open up. Maybe that's not such a bad thing for a journalist, I think.
"You never did her?" Archer asks. "You gotta be kidding me!"
Thom stops the trolley at Room 242, and I open the door. "Thanks, pal," I say.
"Sure, if you need anything, just call the front desk, and they'll connect you to me," he says, as he shoves the trolley into the room. He and I start unloading the gear.
"I'm going to take a shower," Archer says, striding into the bathroom.
Thom unloads the last piece of luggage, and takes the trolley out of the room. I sit down on the edge of one of the beds and stare down at the message blanks. "Altman," I mutter.
I dial the newspaper, and George Altman comes on the phone right away.
"Where the hell were you?" he asks, his voice slightly distorted by the long distance.
"We've had a fun day," I say. "We may be kicked out of here tomorrow."
"How did that happen?"
"You're not going to believe this shit," I say. I explain to him what has happened all day, giving him the short version, leading up to being re-united with Meredith.
"Well, I guess it wasn't a total loss," George says. "You hooked back up with your inamorata. And if she wasn't the Business Administrator of the District, you might be heading home by now, in a body bag."
"Yeah," I say. "I didn't know this District has a bunch of draconian anti-media ordinances on the books, though."
"I'll get our lawyers to work on that," George says. "Of course, by the time that gets resolved, it'll be six years from now. So what are you going to do? I would have thought that letter from the President would let you in."
"Didn't have much impact," I say. "Besides, they say I violated two District Ordinances by not checking in with the Commissioner and talking to the Mockingjay without their permission. So now I'm a lawbreaker."
"Those laws are ridiculous…that'll keep our lawyers busy. So what will you do?"
"I'm going to the Town Meeting, to argue our cause, and hope I can convince the residents to let us stay here," I say. "What else can I do?"
"Not much," George says. "I'll have our legal counsel appeal this ordinance here, see if we can find a judge to issue an injunction on it. I don't think we can, though. They've given the Districts a good deal of autonomy for the present. Once there's an elected national legislature, it'll be different."
"Yeah, I don't have time to wait for the constitutional intricacies," I say. I lean forward. "By the way, don't hook me up with Mr. Archer in future."
"What, he's causing problems?"
"He's got the diplomatic skills of a crazed bull. He's pissing me right the hell off. He's an arrogant ass, and he keeps asking about my personal life."
"Well, unfortunately, because you stumbled into your long-lost girlfriend, he's sort of trapped right in it. Look at it as a teachable moment."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.
"It means that you can mentor him a little, and knock off the raw edges. Maybe he'll learn something out of it. Archer represents the generation we want to reach…the kids who are going to run Panem after we're through with it. They didn't get their chance to fight in the Hunger Games or in the war. Think of him as being like the terrorists General Gray is chasing."
"Yeah, I saw that on the news just now. What's the story on this video chip?"
"Naomi's reporter on the scene, Eric Soderholm, says that it's rumored to be a message from Caesar Flickerman himself. Telling kids to stand up and fight for their right to be in the Hunger Games. That is not confirmed."
"Wow," I say. "Where did that come from?"
"We have to find out," George says. "So will the Mockingjay talk to you over dinner?"
"Well, she told me that she is legally barred by the terms of her parole from leaving District 12, and that torques her off something fierce. Apparently even if she goes out of the fence to go hunting, she's violating parole. In theory, the local cops could and should arrest her for just going hunting deer. Fortunately, one good thing the Commissioner here is doing is ignoring that regulation."
"Bully for Mr. Davis," says George. "Make sure you report that."
"I intend to," I say. "Here's the thing…Katniss wants a condition of the interview that she get her ban on leaving the District lifted. I told her we would look into that."
Silence at the other end of the phone. "That's an interesting order, Charlie. How are we supposed to do that?"
"Maybe we can get our lawyers to look into that, as well. We can certainly advocate on the editorial page for a relaxation of the ban."
"I'll talk to editorial about it," George says. "And legal. Tell her we'll look into it. Anything else she wants from us?"
"Yeah, she's demanding to hear my war story."
"Well, I've been asking that for some time," George says. "If you tell her, you can tell us and our readers."
"That's a subject for another day," I say. "Listen, there's something else we have to check out. Who do we have covering District 11?"
"District 11? Nobody. Hell, putting you out in District 12 is costing us a bundle. What about District 11?"
"I heard from a source that Meredith is being accused of taking money from District 11 and being kicked out of that District."
George lets out a whistle.
"I think it's bullshit," I continue. "Like I said, the Commissioner here hates her guts, and is eager to spread lies about her. So I want Naomi to have somebody look into this and prove that it's bullshit."
"The finances in the Districts are a total mess," George says. "The war and the upheaval made it open season for anyone with larceny in their hearts or a penknife to grind." The man is still a walking cliché festival, I think.
"But you'll have Naomi look into it?" I ask.
"I'll talk with her and see what we can do. I can't imagine there was that much money to steal in District 11, anyway. All the Districts were broke. Still are," George says.
"Thanks, George. I'll keep you posted."
"Yeah, you two sound like you have had a quite the day. At least the odds are getting better in your favor."
"I'm sick of that cliché, George. Got anything better?"
"Well…do you really know how to make venison fajitas?" He laughs.
"I got the class from the food desk," I say. "They're not hard."
"Okay. You hang tough. Talk to you later."
With my boss disposed of, I call Kae Lyn on the number she gave me, as Archer emerges from the shower, wrapped in a towel. "George mad at us?" Archer asks.
"No," I say, without looking up. "He was just concerned that we hadn't checked in. He's mostly worried about this Town Meeting."
"That figures." Archer opens up a zippered bag to find clothing. "Anything else?"
"Yeah. Apparently that video chip they found at the Hunger Games arena is a message from Caesar Flickerman himself, urging teenagers to fight for their right to party at the Hunger Games. But they're confirming that."
"No shit," Archer says. "That's huge."
"Yeah…I gotta call Kae Lyn. She's on it." I dial the number Greasy Sae gave me. It's not a number I'm familiar with. After some rings, wheezes, and hisses, Kae Lyn answers.
"Hey, Kae Lyn, it's Charlie. Where are you?"
"You'll never believe this, Charlie. I'm on a hoverplane at the 47th Hunger Games Arena."
I'm amazed. "How can you be taking a call on a hoverplane?"
"They issued me a cell phone," Kae Lyn says. "It's great. I can call anyone from nearly anywhere."
"A cell phone? What the hell is a cell phone?"
"It's a new technology…or I should say, it's re-discovered old technology. I got the first one the newspaper issued."
I turn to Archer. "Kae Lyn has a cell phone. She can call anyone from anywhere. Did you ever get issued a cell phone?"
Archer shrugs his shoulders. "I never even heard of a cell phone. How come they didn't give us one?"
"How come they didn't give us one?" I ask Kae Lyn.
"I guess they figure that since I'm going to be in movement on this story, and you're going to be in a fixed place in District 12, I needed it more than you."
Archer pulls on his shirt. "When you're done, I need that phone," he says. "I have to plug in my camera to my laptop and feed my photos to the desk."
I nod. He breaks out his laptop computer. "Get mine, too," I tell him. "I'll file my notes."
I tell Kae Lyn what has happened so far.
"So you met up with the Mockingjay," she says, when I reach that point. "Fabulous. So, is she crazy?"
"No, just defensive and quiet. And very pissed off. You know it's illegal for her to leave District 12? Every time she goes hunting, she's breaking the law. The one good thing the Commissioner here is doing is not enforcing that condition on her parole. I think she'd go berserk if she couldn't go hunting."
"You should go hunting with her," Kae Lyn says. "I bet she'd open up to you if you went for a walk in the woods."
"Another good idea," I say.
"I love being right all the time," Kae Lyn says, her voice scratchy. "Sounds like you've had a bizarre day."
"Yeah, and it gets better." I tell her about our meeting with Commissioner Davis, and lead up to its epilogue. "So you'd never believe who is the Business Administrator for this District."
"Caesar Flickerman."
"You wish…no, it's unbelievable. Meredith!"
There is a silence at the other end of the phone. Finally, Kae Lyn says, "Your Meredith? Meredith Jackson?"
"The one and only! She's running District 12!" I pause. "For once you were wrong!"
"You're kidding! It's like that old movie we saw: Of all the gin joints in all the world…"
"…I had to walk into hers," I finish up, remembering the film. "She's alive!"
"And she's still in love with you? Hasn't met another guy?"
"She flew into my arms," I say. Archer is sitting on his bed, with an amused expression. "Introduced me to her boss as her boyfriend. She's been here since the war ended."
"Well…how's she doing?" Kae Lyn asks.
"Not too well," I say, my voice dropping. "This District Commissioner hates her. He's spreading stories that she stole money in District 11 and is the town doorknob in District 12. He's really trying to undermine her, so he can get rid of her."
"That's got to be total bullshit," Kae Lyn squeaks. "She didn't even sleep with you, and she was into you from the moment you first met, and I know that for a fact."
"Well, you just assumed that at the time, based on her body language," I say.
"No, I know that for a fact," Kae Lyn repeats.
"How do you know that," I ask.
Another long silence. "I think she should tell you that," Kae Lyn answers. "Anyway, I can't believe she's a thief and a slut. I think that Commissioner just hates her guts."
"I asked her to come back to the Capitol with me when she's done here in District 12," I say. "She didn't really give me an answer."
"I think you threw too much at her. She's probably still amazed that you walked through the door. You haven't seen each other in seven months. And technically, you've never been on a date…I don't think you've even taken her out to dinner. You guys just ate together in the mess hall in training," Kae Lyn says. "That's not like going to a restaurant in the Capitol."
"Never thought of that."
"Why don't you try a little re-bonding first, and then carry her off into the sunset," Kae Lyn says. "You two have a lot to catch up on. And besides, she's right in the middle of a big job…she can't just pull up stakes overnight."
"You're right again," I say.
"I love being right all the time," Kae Lyn says.
"Well, 95 percent of the time," I answer.
Kae Lyn laughs. "Besides, I don't think she just wants to move in with you and share your apartment in the Capitol. She wants the ring. You'll have to go the distance."
There's a life-altering thought, I realize. "You've given me yet another thing to think about," I say. "As if I haven't got enough to deal with on this road trip."
Kae Lyn sighs at the other end of the line. "Any one who could win the war can cope with a few personal dramas at the same time," she says. "Just solve the big crisis first, interviewing the Mockingjay. Meredith isn't going anywhere."
She's right, as usual. I bid her goodbye, and turn the phone over to Archer, who hooks it up to his laptop computer, to download and transmit his photographs.
I break out my laptop computer, and start writing my first article, my account of our arrival in District 12 and first impressions. "I think I'll leave Meredith out of it," I say to Archer, "Except for her role as Business Administrator."
"Yeah, I don't think the readers care about your love life," Archer says, not looking up from his computer. "I just don't get how you two are so in love, but you never got it on."
"You still don't understand what was going on in the war," I say, not looking up, either. "You really need to have been in it."
"So what the hell happened with her?"
"Let me finish this paragraph, and I'll tell you," I say.
It is the fifth week of our training, and Meredith and I have stopped in mid-jog on the path at the lake, ostensibly to enjoy the charming sight, but actually we're stopped there for some passionate kissing and hugging. It is about the only place in the training center that we can find for any privacy and quiet.
With District 13 drill sergeants and instructors running the training, our time is strictly controlled. The period around sunset is usually for "reflection," so Meredith and I do our "reflecting" where we can get away from our fellow trainees. At first, we share Shakespeare with each other. Then we share music. Then we share stories about our childhoods with each other. Then we start holding hands. Now we're busy locking lips.
I kiss Meredith passionately, swirling my tongue into her mouth. We pull apart. "You're beautiful, you know."
She leans into my face. "And you're unbelievably handsome and sweet." She strokes my face and shoulders. "I'm glad I met you."
She is wearing her usual white tank top and blue running shorts…I am in t-shirt and running shorts myself. I can feel the heat of her perky breasts as I bury my head in her shoulder. "So am I," I whisper.
I pull back and gaze into Meredith's eyes. They are shining at me. I stroke her right cheek. She takes my hand and starts kissing my fingers. She stops at my middle finger and takes it into her mouth, swirls her tongue on it, and releases it again.
I am instantly aroused, and lick my lips. I reach forward and gently stroke her left breast through her tank top. Meredith closes her eyes, enjoying the sensation.
Then she opens them. Her eyes are tearing. "Stop," she moans.
I withdraw my hand from her breast immediately. "I'm sorry," I say. "I thought…"
"You thought right," she says. "I do want you to…I want to, but…"
"Say it," I say. "I won't condemn you for it."
"I don't want to get pregnant. Not here. Not now," Meredith says firmly.
I purse my lips and withdraw from her, to give her room. She is sitting down on our log, and draws her feet in and knees up, plopping her head down on them. She puts her hands together in front of her mouth, and rocks back and forth.
I look down at the ground, not sure what to say.
She's right, of course. We have no birth control. In the Capitol, they have shots that women can get that will turn off their ovulation until they take a second shot, which turns it back on. Out in the Districts, we have condoms. Sometimes.
But Gus Lewis has banned both birth control and sexual intercourse, with good reason. This is war to the death, and he does not want the stirrings of new life to prevent us from winning it.
I stare out at the lake, and the ducks and geese. They are quacking and honking at us.
Meredith is still rocking. I move back to her and wrap my arm around her. She slides in to me. "I don't think I'd be too upset if you had our kid," I say at last, trying to sound light. "But I agree we should not have one right now."
She smiles into my face, but her eyes are wet.
I kiss her on the cheek. "I'll wait for you," I sing.
"If I should fall behind, wait for me," Meredith answers. She has learned the song.
We hold each other in silence for a few moments. "When it's over," I say.
"When what's over?" Meredith asks.
"When the war is over," I say. "Then we'll have our time."
She touches my knee and squeezes it. "Thank you, Charlie. I didn't mean to lead you on like that…"
"I know. I love you, too," I say for the first time.
She leans over and kisses me passionately again. "I love you, too," she says, for her first time.
Then she slips from me, rises, and walks over to the edge of the lake, staring at the ducks. I gaze at the sensuous, slender line of her legs, rising up from the battered socks and sneakers, up to the bottom of her blue running shorts, and just make out her panty line. I am filled with checked desire and lust. She looks back at me, and smiles.
"I know what you're thinking," she says.
"Raging hormones," I say.
Meredith laughs. Then she folds her hands. "What will happen after the war?" she asks.
"We win, Gus Lewis keeps his promise and shoves his knife up Coriolanus Snow's ass, the tyranny is ended, and we live in a free nation."
"Yes, but what happens to us?" Meredith replies.
"That's a tough one." How can you think of a future in a world without war?
"We both know what the future is," Meredith says. "We're going to a battlefield. We may not even come back. And if we do, it could be as crippled wrecks." She faces me again.
I try to imagine her perfect face torn apart like the Tributes I have seen on television in the Hunger Games. Unfortunately, I succeed.
I rise and take her in my arms. "Whatever happens, I'm coming back to you. Whatever happens, we'll do it together. I'm not going to lose you or give you up. I'll come back for you."
"You promise?" She asks, looking up into my eyes.
I nod vigorously. "I promise," I say.
"All right," she says, smiling again. "I'll hold you to that." We kiss again. After that, she strokes my cheek. "I'll be waiting."
"And when this is over, I'll rock your world," I say.
Meredith laughs. "You'd better. And someplace a little more upscale than this."
"What's wrong with doing it in the bushes," I retort.
"Only that I want to be devoured by you, not the mosquitoes."
"Details, details," I say. "You can't have everything."
"Oh, no, I want absolutely everything," Meredith says. "Come on, let's finish up the run, before they wonder where we've been."
"So that was that," Archer says. "You agreed to hold off because you had no birth control."
"Yeah," I say.
"You know, the odds of making a kid were not that favorable…"
"I couldn't take that chance," I say. "We had a war to win."
"Yeah, but they might have won without one of you. Or both of you…"
"Or maybe not," I yell. "You still don't get it! The whole country's future was at stake! We couldn't put our personal desires over the goddamn war! Did you really want 100 more years of Hunger Games and starving Districts?"
Archer is stuck.
"You did, didn't you," I say. "You could go on taking rich Capitol people to Hunger Games arenas and take more pictures of them standing in front of old Cornucopias. Just like these goddamned terrorists."
"I'm nothing like these terrorists," Archer snaps. "I don't blow things up. And you don't know a damn thing about me!"
We both stare down at our computers for a while. Then I say, "Look, I'm sorry. We have to work together here. Let's not let our passions get in the way."
"The only passion I see here is that you've found your lost girlfriend," Archer says. "I just want to do this job and get out of here. You're the one who's giving in to your passions."
He's got me there.
The District 12 official mess hall is yet another modular building, and dinner is served cafeteria-style. It's a decent grade of chicken cordon bleu, with Greasy Sae overseeing the servers, watching everything.
After Archer and I take our trays to our table, Greasy Sae joins us.
"How's the food, gents?"
"Pretty good so far," I say, eating the salad. "Is any of this made here?"
"No, it all comes from the Capitol, except for the bread. Peeta Mellark bakes that every day."
"Well, it's good bread," Archer says.
Greasy Sae sits down and joins us. "I know why you're here," she says. "District 12 is a very small place. You're here to interview Katniss Everdeen. We think the world of her and Peeta, and we don't want her hurt any more. She's already suffered enough."
"I'm not here to hurt her, either," I say. "I just want to learn her story, so that we can get the nation back on its feet. I'm about rebuilding, not destroying."
"Well, you'll have to convince the Town Meeting about that," Greasy Sae says.
"How do we do that?" I ask.
She rises from the table. "Try telling them just what you told me," she says. Then she walks back behind the serving stations. Archer and I follow her with our eyes. We don't say anything to each other, but I take a legal-size notebook out of my bag, move my food tray, and start writing.
After a few moments, Archer asks, "What's that?"
"It's what I'm going to say tonight."
It's not hard to find the Town Meeting. An extremely large modular building sits opposite an uncompleted structure, which appears to be some kind of theater or auditorium.
The sun has set now, and floodlights light up the area. A heavy truck, loaded with materials for a construction site, thunders past.
District 12 residents are heading into the building, easily recognizable by their olive skin and dark hair, except for a few with blond hair. They must be the merchant class, I recall from my briefing papers.
Outside the building, I find Sam Horn, with some of his staff, all wearing their yellow vests. The aides clutch rolled-up blueprints, and one clutches a laptop computer. Sam bounds over to me, shaking my hand and slapping my back. "Charlie Allbright, glad you could make it! You're going to love our presentation!"
"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it," I say.
"They've pushed me back on the agenda, I just heard. Apparently you're up first. What's that about?"
"We'll…find out," I say. Out of the dark I hear people chanting behind me, "Four more years! The champ is here! Four more years! The champ is here!"
Behind me comes Commissioner Ron Davis, cleaned up but wearing a miner's jacket and jeans, smiling and shaking hands with all the District 12 residents he meets. Some of them receive hugs. He kisses women on the cheek, and pats the head of a teenage boy.
"They love this guy," Sam says. "He's one of them, a real miner. He gives me grief at every Town Meeting."
"What's the chant?" I ask.
"He's running unopposed for both District Mayor and District Senator," Sam says. "That's his election slogan."
"Real catchy," Archer says.
Commissioner Davis strides up to me and regards me critically. "Well, Mr. Allbright, now we'll decide your fate. It's up to my residents. I serve them, you follow?"
"I got it," I say.
He sweeps past me and into the building. Moments later, Meredith arrives, lugging a briefcase, followed by an aide. We embrace. "Are you ready?" she asks.
I hold up my notebook. "I've got something ready," I say. I lean into her and say quietly, "We have to talk later…they're really sabotaging you around here."
"I know," she whispers back. "They all think I'm a slut."
"No, it's not that…there's something else."
She pulls back from me. "What?" she asks.
"Something about money."
Her eyes widen and she turns slightly pale. "We'll talk. It's complicated," she says. "But it doesn't change how I feel about you." She leans back and kisses me again, and we hold each other.
I hear a male voice say, "You know, you two look good together."
We break the kiss, and there's Katniss Everdeen standing there with Peeta Mellark. Peeta is the author of the comment.
Meredith moves toward Katniss and they kiss each other on the cheeks in greeting, and Meredith does the same to Peeta.
"I didn't realize this was the guy you were talking about," Katniss says, pointing at me. "I guess I should have figured it out."
Meredith blushes. "I told Katniss about you and me," she says.
"Lies, lies, all of it," I say. "Never laid a hand on her."
"I know," Katniss says, giving me a flicker of a smile. "She said you were the perfect gentleman." She points at us. "But Peeta's right, you two do look good together."
"Are we still on for the venison fajitas?" I ask, trying to keep things light.
"I guess we'll find out," Katniss says.
"I talked to my newspaper about your issue about being unable to leave the District," I say. "They're going to work on that."
"Good," Katniss says. "Glad to hear it."
"Where's Haymitch?" Meredith asks.
"Passed out drunk on his floor," Peeta says. "They delivered his liquor to him this morning. He gave me his proxy."
"Why don't we get inside," Archer says. "It's getting cold out here."
The meeting hall is set up like a vast lecture hall, with hundreds of chairs and little desks facing a center table. A TV crew has cameras set up to make a DVD of the proceedings for the official record. Sam and his pals sit down up front, setting up a screen, their laptop computer, and a projector. They move quickly and without fuss. Their presentations on construction progress are obviously a regular feature of the Town Meetings. Everyone takes a copy of the meeting's agenda as they enter the hall.
Katniss and Peeta are sitting in a far right-hand corner of the upper deck of the auditorium, and have a small table in front of their seats, with glasses of water. District 12's two most famous citizens and Hunger Games winners rate special treatment, obviously.
At the desk in front of the hall, Meredith sits next to Ron Davis. She breaks out her briefcase and starts placing papers on the desk. I notice that she and Davis do not greet each other. Two clerks sit next to Meredith.
Davis bangs a gavel on the table, and announces, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. How are you all doing tonight?"
Various answers come back as a roar, variations of "Doing fine, Commissioner."
Davis grins broadly. "Glad to hear it. District 12! Best District in Panem!" I am seeing a very different commissioner from the man who yelled at me in the police station. This Ron Davis is a cheerleader and a man of the people. He clearly knows how to play them.
Meredith reads from her agenda. After some legalistic preliminaries to bring the meeting to order, she says, "Tonight, we are switching our usual order of business, to accommodate an action item placed on the agenda by the Commissioner." She turns to Davis and nods.
Commissioner Davis rises from his seat and accepts a cordless microphone from an aide. "Good evening. As most of you know by now, this afternoon, a reporter from the Capitol…"
The word is greeted by hisses in the audience. Davis smiles. "A reporter from the Capitol, Charlie Allbright, of the Panem Times, and his photographer, Ace Archer, arrived in our District today."
Archer pulls out his camera and starts moving around to take pictures. At the very least, we'll have a story about the Town Meeting. Davis ignores my cameraman, but the people in the audience stare at him and at me.
Davis walks around the front of the lecture hall. "Now, I think you all know that Mr. Allbright and Mr. Archer violated two of our Town Ordinances when they came here. They didn't check in with my office, and they went right up to our beloved Katniss Everdeen…" He nods toward Katniss, and she sips her drink.
"…Our beloved Katniss Everdeen and started interrogating her. Now we're all learning about the new notion of freedom of the press, and freedom of speech, and right here, we're enjoying other new freedoms, right to free assembly and to petition for the redress of our grievances." Davis looks right into the eyes of some of the attendees.
"And we're learning about petitioning for the redress of our grievances right here," he continues. "And while we're learning about these rights, we do know about the Capitol! We know how they've starved us for 75 years, they've taken our children, they've tortured us, whipped us, beaten us, and then they bombed our District into rubble! And since the rebellion, since the war, the Capitol has come here, saying they're going to rebuild our District. And what have they done? They've filled us up with 3,000 construction workers, who have spent the last seven months building facilities mostly for themselves! And what have we District 12 residents been doing? We've been going back in the mines, doing double shifts, just like before the war!"
Audience members nod, applaud, and cheer. Sam Horn and his construction crew look pale and embarrassed.
"So we know about the Capitol! And we have grievances against the Capitol! We want to know when the Capitol is going to build our new homes and shops! We want to know when the Capitol is going to compensate us for the losses we've suffered! We want to know when the Capitol is going to get us out of the mines and get us those safe and high-paying jobs in the medicine factory they promised us! We want to know when the Capitol is going to ask us, the residents of District 12, just how District 12 should rebuild itself!"
More cheering, and supportive yells. I look over at Katniss and Peeta. They glance at each other and back at Davis. I see Greasy Sae and Thom in the audience, too.
Davis continues. "Now, this is a Town Meeting, not an election rally…"
The audience laughs.
"But I can tell you that when I am elected this District's Mayor and Senator, the Capitol will hear from me…and that means they'll hear from all of you!"
More applause.
"So what has the Capitol done now? Have they sent us coal miners to relieve our workers? No! Have they disciplined the drunken construction workers who get into fights and urinate on our property? No! Have they moved ahead on building our new homes? No! What have they done? They've sent us a reporter, from a daily newspaper in the Capitol, and he says he's here to tell the story about District 12!"
Davis points at me, and everyone looks at me. Archer gets the shot of Davis pointing at me.
"Well, I don't think he's here to tell our story at all! I think he's here for one reason, and one reason alone! To tell the same old story! That District 12 is a bunch of inbred hillbillies and charming yokels. He'll tell his readers that Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark are crazy! He'll tell them that the Capitol is doing a great job of making District 12 safe…for Capitol residents to visit, like an old Hunger Games arena. And that we don't count."
Davis saunters across the stage. Meredith looks livid.
"So I'm here to ask you tonight, as the residents and citizens of District 12, to give our answer to the Capitol, and all of its lying, wealthy…Hunger Games sponsors," he makes the phrase sound like an epithet, "that District 12 is strong, District 12 is proud, District 12 stands tall, and we will not allow liars to come here and misrepresent us to the rest of Panem!"
His speech is greeted with hearty applause. Greasy Sae does not applaud. Neither do Katniss or Peeta.
Davis walks back to his table and hands his cordless microphone to Meredith. She reads out a resolution calling for the expulsion of me and Archer, for violating the two District ordinances, in precise, clipped language. "Any seconds?" she finishes.
Many people raise their hands. Davis sits next to Meredith, grinning.
"All right," Meredith says. She looks right at me. "Mr. Allbright?" she asks.
This is my moment. I rise from my seat, carrying my notebook, with my scribbled speech on it. As I pass Archer, he thumps my fist. "Do it, boss," he says.
I walk over to the main table, grab the cordless mike with one hand, and look at my speech, held in the other.
"Good evening," I say. I look into the faces of the residents. They've been whipped up by Davis's speech, but I sense that they are not his mere puppets. "My name's Charlie Allbright, I am a reporter for the Panem Times, and I am here to do a story about District 12 and Katniss Everdeen." I pause. "And I want you to know who and what I am, and why I'm here."
I lean against the podium. "It's absolutely true, I took the train down from the Capitol yesterday. But I'm not originally from the Capitol. I'm from District 2, as it happens. I guess that may make it worse, I'll admit it."
There is a rumble from the crowd.
"You won't like this much, either. My father was a Peacekeeper."
The audience reacts with mutters to each other, gasps, and expressions of surprise. They are used to the idea of Peacekeepers being celibate for their 20 years of bullying.
I smile. "Yeah, that surprises a lot of people. But he was a Peacekeeper. I can't tell you what he did in his career. I don't even know if he was ever stationed here." I pause. "But I can tell you this. I was never a Peacekeeper. When the rebellion started, I joined the rebellion. My father urged me to do so."
I glance around the room. Katniss is eyeing me closely. "I served in the rebellion and the war. I'm a combat veteran. I was a combat correspondent, and I commanded a platoon of light infantry in a unit we called the 'Black Devils.' The official name was the 1st Special Service Force. Some of you may have heard of it."
People look at each other in agreement. Sam Horn watches me intently.
"I fought in a number of battles, against the Peacekeepers. Yes, I killed a number of them. I also saw a great number of my friends get killed, including my commanding officer. I know, personally, what the war and the rebellion was about."
There is silence after I say that.
"After the Black Devils were disbanded, I fought in another unit to help liberate the Capitol. I helped to capture President Snow's palace. Since then, I've been working for the newspaper. I've been covering the war crimes trials, reporting about the proceedings against the very people who starved, tortured, and bombed you."
I look at Meredith. She is giving me a warm smile. Archer snaps a photo of me.
"Ace Archer is my photographer. He's a good one, and he's not from the Capitol, either. He originally hails from District 1. He's a pretty good cameraman."
Archer waves at the audience.
I walk around the stage area. "Now, what Commissioner Davis said is partly right. I am here to do a story about Katniss and District 12. I didn't check in when I came here, and I did start talking with Katniss without anybody's permission. In my defense, I didn't know that was illegal. If I had known that doing was breaking the law, I would not have done it. I do my job in an ethical manner."
I look at my notebook, and go on speaking.
"Which brings me to my next point. I am not here to tell lies about District 12. I am not here to misrepresent you, or Katniss Everdeen. I came here with a very simple order: tell the truth. I'm not here to make anyone look bad, not here to harm anyone, least of all Katniss Everdeen. I'm about rebuilding, not destroying," I say, looking at Greasy Sae. A smile flickers across her face.
"Your Commissioner has indicated that you feel that the Capitol is not listening to you, that they've shoved you back in the mines, and that they are still mistreating you." I pause for effect. "That's the story I want to bring back to the Capitol when I leave here. I can put that story before the entire nation. And if you let me, I will."
The only sound is the shuffle of papers and feet.
"I'm here to interview Katniss Everdeen. The entire country knows her name, but not her story. A lot of people have used her to send messages to inspire the rebellion. I want to tell her story. The entire nation was inspired by her to win the war. The entire nation needs to be inspired by her to win the peace."
I circle around in front of the seated residents. "I'm not here to harm Katniss Everdeen. I'm not here to make her look bad, and I'm not here to make her look crazy. I'm here to tell her story. I want to make that clear. Katniss's story. Not my story, or my version of her story. Katniss's story."
I walk back to the table. Davis fumes. I sip some water, and resume my speech. "A lot of you are concerned that I'm invading Katniss's privacy. Well, you have a right to feel that way. And maybe she doesn't want to tell that story. But I think that decision is up to Katniss. A lot of people have been using Katniss in the Hunger Games, in the war, and I think it's time we let Katniss decide for herself what she wants to do.
"Katniss and I agreed that I'm going to cook dinner for her and Peeta and my photographer tomorrow night at her home." I look back at Meredith. "Your Business Administrator wangled herself an invitation as well." She looks down at the table and laughs.
"I'll be honest with you…Meredith and I have a relationship." I look back at her. We smile at each other. "I didn't know she was even here until I got here." I look back at the audience. "So I have a very good reason not to write unfavorable things about this District and its residents. I kind of have a vested interest in it."
The audience laughs. I wait until they're done.
"So I'm going to finish this up by re-stating what I said before…I'm not an ogre. I'm about rebuilding, not destroying. I'm here to tell the truth, not to make anyone look bad. I'm here to tell Katniss's story. I think that decision should be made by Katniss herself, and I think that discussion should be between me and her. All I want from you is an opportunity to write about what's really going on in District 12, and make my case to Katniss, in private, and let her decide whether or not she wants to do this story."
I gaze around the room.
"That's all I've got," I say. "Thank you for your time and for hearing me out. Whatever happens, I'm damned glad I got a chance to come here and see how strong you are in the face of so much adversity."
I walk back to the table, and hand my cordless mike to Meredith. She beams at me, and gives me a thumbs-up. Davis has his mouth on top of his hands. I see Archer out of the corner of my eye, and he's giving me a thumbs-up, too.
I turn around. The audience is silent, pondering what I've just said. I return to my seat, and cup my mouth in my hand. I'm shaking and nervous. I can't believe what I've just done.
Davis grabs the cordless mike, and says, "Does anyone want to comment on what we've just heard?"
"I would," says a thin voice in the upper corner. We all turn to look.
Peeta is rising to his feet. An assistant dashes over to him with another cordless microphone, and Peeta takes it.
Everyone turns toward the baker, who hobbles for a moment on his prosthetic leg, and then stands up straight.
"State your name," Davis says from his table, sounding ritualistic.
"Peeta Mellark," comes the answer, "and I just want to say that I agree with Mr. Allbright. I think we should let Katniss make her decision on whether or not she wants to be interviewed. And I think it's time someone told our District's story. Maybe if people in the Capitol know what we've gone through and what we're going through, things will get better for us."
Everyone stares at the blond baker.
"A lot of stuff has been told about us. This guy wants to know what we think, and he wants to hear it straight from us. I think we should talk to him."
He looks down at Katniss. She smiles up at him. Maybe there is something going on here between them, I think.
Peeta looks back at the stage. "Besides, I want to try those venison fajitas." He sits back down.
Everyone looks back at me. Commissioner Davis looks flushed. Meredith covers her face with some papers.
Then I hear the sound of clapping. I look to the source, and it's Greasy Sae, applauding Peeta's little speech – and mine. Other hands start joining her, and suddenly the entire audience is applauding.
Archer snaps a photo of a grim-looking Davis, then returns to his seat next to me. "Either we're staying or he's going to kill us," Archer says.
The applause goes on, and finally stops. Davis grabs his microphone. "Anyone else want to speak?"
Dead silence in the hall.
"Then we'll take the vote. All in favor of expelling Mr. Allbright and Mr. Archer?"
A few hands go up. Meredith counts them. Fifteen or so.
"All opposed to expelling the reporters?"
700 hands shoot up in the air. Meredith tries to count them, pointing her pen at the crowd, but Davis stops her, grabbing her hand. "Don't bother," he says, lowering her hand.
Davis slouches back in his chair for what seems to be the longest time. Then he rises slowly, a smile drawing across his face. "Well, I am the servant of my people, and they have spoken clearly and almost unanimously. So I am at their service. Mr. Allbright, Mr. Archer, welcome to District 12. I hope you enjoy your stay."
He bows slightly to us. I rise from my seat. "Thank you, Commissioner," I say. "We'll try not to get in the way."
Then I sit down. Meredith is beaming at me. Then she looks down at her agenda. "All right," she says. "Moving on to the next item on our agenda. Mr. Horn's latest report…"
She is cut off by a vast audience groan, as Sam and his crew set up their laptop computer and their screens to give their report. Obviously the residents have heard him before, and they are not satisfied with the speed of the workers' efforts.
Meredith whacks her gavel. "While Mr. Horn sets up his gear, why don't we take a 10-minute break," she says.
I crumple in my chair, exhausted. "You won this one, boss," Archer says to me.
"I feel washed out," I say. "That's it. I'm done."
"Yeah…you want to bail out?"
I rub my eyes. "We can't. We have to cover the Town Meeting, and file a story on it." I climb out of my seat.
"Where are you going?" Archer asks.
"I have to thank some people," I say. I dodge through the milling residents, some of whom are trekking to a refreshments stand, others to the bathroom, towards Katniss and Peeta at their table.
The baker and the Mockingjay are quietly sitting there. Katniss is reading the meeting agenda. I extend my right hand to Peeta. "I want to thank you for what you did," I say.
He accepts my hand. "I think it would be wrong to silence you," he says. "Katniss and I know a little bit about sending messages to the public."
"I haven't decided yet whether or not to let you interview me," Katniss says, not looking up. "But I don't think the Commissioner should stop you from doing stories about the District. I've had enough of powerful people abusing their power."
"Well, thanks all the same," I say. "And we're still on for the fajitas."
Katniss looks up at me and smiles slightly. "I don't want to miss those," she says. "And I want to hear about you and Meredith…as well as your war."
"You'll get plenty of both," I say.
I walk down through the people and bump into Greasy Sae, who is coming towards me. I reach for her hands and take them in mine. "I want to thank you, too," I say.
"You're welcome," she says. "Commissioner Davis fights for us, but sometimes he gets over-excited."
"Does he really have your best interests in mind?" I ask. "He seems like he's promoting himself."
"Both," Greasy Sae says. "You did good," she says, squeezing my hand. Then she moves past me.
Finally I head down to the big table, where Davis is talking with two aides, and Meredith is getting her agenda straight for the rest of the evening.
"It's going to be a long night," she says. "Are you staying for the whole thing?"
"I have to," I answer. "It's a story. Can we get together after the meeting?"
Meredith smiles sadly. "I'd love to," she says, "But I'm going to be exhausted when this is done. Meet me at my office tomorrow morning, around 10 a.m. I'll give you a tour of the District."
"I want to be with you," I croak. "I've missed you so much…we need to catch up…"
Meredith strokes my left cheek. "I missed you too, fair man. But we've got jobs to do first."
I grasp her hand in mine. "I know…I just don't want to lose you again, dark lady."
Meredith smiles sweetly. "You won't." We lean forward and kiss each other, in full view of the entire population of District 12.
Commissioner Davis and his aides are also staring at us. The Commissioner wears a defeated expression.
I offer him my hand. "What I said holds, Commissioner," I say. "I'm not here to do a hatchet job on your District. I'm here to report the truth."
Davis grudgingly accepts my hand. "Don't fuck with us," he says. "Don't fuck with the Mockingjay. You follow?"
"I follow," I say, not sure what other answer to give.
Davis nods vigorously, and sits down at his table, and starts pawing through the agenda with Meredith. I notice their tones and body language toward each other is clipped and distant.
One of Davis's aides, a typical District 12 young woman, with olive skin and dark hair, gives me a studious look, as if she's appraising me.
"I'm Linda," she says. "Linda Morrison. Commissioner Davis's aide."
"Nice to meet you, Linda," I say. "You look like you have something on your mind."
"No, nothing huge," she says. "I was just thinking…" she points at Meredith and then at me. "You and the BA look good together."
I chuckle. "Several people have said that today," I answer. I pat her on the shoulder, and return slowly to my seat, passing through the residents, who are returning to theirs as well. Some of them pat me on the shoulder, others offer me their hand, or mutter, "Nice speech." I feel too tired to feel triumphant.
As I walk back to my seat, moving through the desks and chairs, I have a flashback…I am walking away from one of the battles at the Bridge, having just fought behind Mark Salmon, Gus Lewis, and Kae Lyn, to rout an incoming charge of Peacekeepers. I can see the bodies of them, their white uniforms torn and shredded, blood drenching the desks and chairs, intestines and organs hanging out, dying Peacekeepers groaning in death agonies, the air filled with the acrid stink of cordite and lead, smoke drifting away.
And I see Gus Lewis standing over the scene, arms folded, shaking his head, and saying, "There is nothing half so melancholy as a battle won…except a battle lost."
I have to tell that story tomorrow night. And all the other stories of my war. I've just won a battle, and it feels melancholy. I wonder if I'm up it.
Archer slumps into the seat next to mine, checking his pictures on his camera, and looks at my distant expression. "Are you okay, boss?"
I repeat Gus Lewis's quote about the melancholy battlefield.
"Sorry, I don't get it," Archer says. "What do you mean?"
"I mean it might have been better if we had simply been kicked out of here and sent home," I say.
Archer's eyes look into mine. Then he says, "I think I get it."
"All right," Meredith says from across the room. "Let's get on with the next item on the agenda…"
I sit up in my chair, flip a page in my notebook, and focus as Sam Horn gets up to do his presentation.
Sorry, folks, I put this chapter up, took it down, and put it up again...I put up the wrong version of this chapter...I am dealing with computer crashes, and I posted the earlier version of this chapter. This is the final edition.
This took a while to write, for obvious reasons, and I apologize for the delay. I have been working 12-hour days, and my computer is locking up and freezing every time I use the Internet. It is most frustrating.
