What day is it, and what time? I can't move because my whole body is numb, especially my mouth. "Good morning, and Happy Hunger Games," says a person in a white uniform beside me. "Welcome aboard." Huh? "You've been assigned to serve the tributes from District Two, whoever they are." My blood runs cold. "The sedative should wear off in a half hour, before they climb on the train." What? "I can tell you're still groggy from all the general anesthesia you've been under for the past couple of days, so I'll be brief. You're on a train bound for the Capitol and the Hunger Games. You will be at Two's beck and call. Okay?" I can't nod, but at least I can blink, and I do so in a gesture of assent. What the hell happened to me?! Think back. Remember. Enobaria needed the second dose of serum, but begged you not to pay for it.
"Don't," she said. Now I recall. "Let me fight Damocles on my own terms, and with my own strength."
"But you'll die," I told her, taking a big risk as well as her hand. "I'm so numb I won't even feel it, I bet. Besides, why do you have to be in a threshing brawl against him in the first place? You'll both volunteer."
"I wish," Enobaria answered, "but once again, the almighty Flavius Gratis has complicated things. He says that this year, there shall only be one volunteer from his Academy: the very best, whether male or female. If there's anything he takes special pride in, it's his cruel unpredictability. There will be no second volunteer this year, because according to Flavius, 'why not let Fortune cast her die for once'?" She looked terrified. "He wants me to prove that I can kill every single first-tier, and if I don't, Damocles will be the only one left. That's why I have to win the threshing brawl tomorrow, but you've taught me a thing or two about honor."
"I'll get you that dose, by hook or by crook," I hissed. "Honor be damned, but I hate Flavius with every fiber of my being. If I let him have me, all is lost, and he'll know he's won. Medic Carlina takes teeth, too."
Enobaria looked confused. "Teeth? Whatever for? Porcelain crowns are far better replacements for them."
"It's the enamel, which is medically useful somehow in a new compound. She can have all my back ones."
"I don't know. My advice is that when the sedatives wear off, you leave both Flavius and me to our fate." Why didn't I listen to her? Why couldn't I have done that and let Enobaria lose, if indeed she did? I'm a Career tribute, and Careers…I shut my eyes tight. Careers kill, or let their opponents die by others' hands. I continued to try and recall the events of the past (two?) days, but they passed by in a great, hazy blur. All except for Flavius, standing above me in my mind instead of one of the train Medics. His face is leering.
"No." I remember clearly: I'd said that word in a long, drawn-out drawl through my sedative-induced drool.
Our trainer clucked his tongue. "Refuse me once, shame on you. Refuse me twice, shame on me. I had thought Enobaria would have been enough of a commodity for you to sell yourself to your only bidder, who is no third-tier in bed. Whatever are you going to give in exchange for Enobaria's victory, and her life?"
"Aaaaah." I had opened my mouth wide, flashing my strong teeth. My attempt to point to them didn't work.
"I see." Flavius looked down at me gravely. "I think it's time you learned what else I export to the Capitol, besides copious amounts of coin and volunteer tributes for the Hunger Games? Medic Carlina? Extraction time." For the fourth or fifth time, I had lost consciousness, but this time I hadn't awaked from it until now.
"Here they come," says the Medic beside me. "The two tributes from our hallowed District." As I sit up, my senses begin to return to me. To my immense relief, Enobaria and an unknown boy board the train.
"Yery?!" she almost screams, rushing over toward me. "Open your mouth. Do it. Now." When I obey, the gauze falls out, white except for a smear of blood. The rest of it is empty. Nothing remains within it except for a stub of tongue to help me swallow, but not to speak. If you can't eat, you can't work. That's what avoxes are for. Exports. I'm headed for the Capitol, to serve it for the rest of my days. Nevertheless, I give the weeping Enobaria a gentle hug. I will fulfill our wager after all, and pay my loser's forfeit at long last.
FIN 4/2/13