And When It Doesn't End
Sassafras "Sassy" Hemlocke, District One, Victor of the 384th Hunger Games
Interview preparation day. I loved it, personally, as far as days of preparing for the Games went. It was generally when I really got to know the kids for that year. Some of them just stayed so monosyllabic that you couldn't get to see them shine until then.
This year, of course, things were different. District One had Jullius and darling Sage, of course, who I both already knew. Jullius, from the training, and Sage from home. Because we'd already had some preparation time, I let them both sleep in, but got up early, myself, to do some more thinking about their angles. Jullius now had to make up for not being in the opening ceremonies, poor dear, but I was sure he could pull it off. Sage was the same as ever, no last-minute changes there.
Speaking of my daughter, she emerged from her room right around then, clearly very recently awake, still in pajamas, and picked up one of the Capitol pastries from the table to pick at. "Good morning," I said. "Do you want some orange juice? Just brought it in fresh today, it's really lov—"
"—No." She frowned. Of course; Sage didn't like orange juice. But a mother could try, right?
"Well, that's all right. Maybe later."
Then, another voice, low, from the edge of the hall: "I'll have some."
"Oh, good, Jullius, you're up, too. I'll send for some." I sent an Avox off for another glass and suggested that we all sit for breakfast. Feriah showed up, already dressed, like Jullius, but quickly disappeared again to get something.
There was a sudden commotion going on outside, probably a traffic accident, I supposed. Sage, Jullius, and I started eating, and blocked out the noise with the clatter of silverware. But even in the few minutes before Feriah came back, the shouting and honking from outside was becoming, frankly, a bit disturbing. We all stood and went to look out the window.
Outside, traffic was backed up—what looked like for blocks! Oh my Panem, it all looked ridiculous. People were getting out of their cars, making wild hand gestures.
"What the hell's all this about?" Sage asked.
"Dunno," said Jullius.
The phone rang. We all jumped. "I'll get it," I said, and went to pick up the line. "Hello?"
"Sassy. I need you to come to an emergency meeting. Immediately. There's a driver waiting for you outside the building."
I recognized the voice. President Paylor? What's happened? "Of course! What's the matter?"
"There's been an… attack, here in the city. On the Gamemaking Center."
"Oh, no—I'll be there as soon as I can." The line went dead. I put the phone down, feeling panicky, and looked at Sage and Jullius. "I have to go. I'll be back. Feriah will work with you for the morning."
"Wait a minute! What's going on?"
"Sorry, dear, I can't say—I'll be back." I half-ran over to the elevators, and hit the button for the ground floor, leaving everyone else behind, confused. I took a few deep breaths, and by the time I had, the elevator door opened and I moved across the lobby, for once trying to avoid conversation but giving people half-hearted smiles and waves.
There was, indeed, a driver waiting, and I got into the back of the car. After a few minutes of driving through back-roads, I had to say, "Excuse me—where exactly are we going?"
"The Gamemaking Center, ma'am, and then to the Capitol Building."
I nodded. "Thank you," I got out, and then tried to relax. Relax, though! An attack on the Gamemaking Center now? Opening Night was tomorrow! The Games, the day after. The Games…. Oh, what exactly had happened? What was changing now? If the Gamemakers didn't have access to the arena controls—what would happen?
The driving slowed when we were forced to get back on the central street that the Gamemaking Center was on. But we weren't far off. The driver pulled up to the curb and I got out of the car. Several other people that I recognized were gathered in front of the building, surrounded by security, which we got through—President Paylor, the Gamemakers, Litiea and Kizzy, who I assumed had come in separate cars from the Training Center—odd.
"Don't worry—the building's been cleared," were the first words I heard. I looked around—the scene was chaos, emergency teams still there, the panic of those who'd been in the Gamemaking Center, the press, trying to get closer to it all, and still, there were a few calm people around, helping others.
Well, that was one good thing.
. . . . .
Aidan Paylor, Age 42, President of Panem, Capitol
The five victors arrived quickly. I was glad, seeing as we could then move in the security entourage to the Capitol Building. It would be a welcome relief from having to put up with the Gamemakers for the last half hour or so, at least one of whom was hysterical while Lavender tried to calm her. And speaking of such, the Head Gamemaker also had herself in a state and was nothing short of livid, equally as hard to put up with as everyone else.
So yes, I was very glad, besides the fact that it all meant I could get away from the building that had recently almost exploded. The main problem, the fire on the first floor, was out, at least, with only a few… insignificants, injured.
There wasn't much talk until we got to the Capitol Building, my office. I told the victors the really fairly uninteresting story and finally got to the important part: "Security's been increased everywhere of any importance in the Capitol. The important thing is to stay calm. The Games, of course, will proceed as normal."
"How?" Lavender demanded as soon as I finished. "I mean, we can't… if the Gamemaking Center's closed off—"
"It won't be," I said.
"But we can't run the Games from there! There's no way security can be sure of anything already."
"You doubt the people who quite possibly saved your life today?" I asked, and noticed a message pop up on my desk, the re-confirmation of my being alive from Kline. I sent back: "Still breathing. Still dealing with insolent teenagers. I'll be home for dinner. xx"
"Yes! The inside of the first floor is half destroyed, Kaye was almost killed—"
"—And it's all perfectly secure now. I have no doubts in the security I have for you and your… friends. If you do, then it's your problem to deal with."
Lavender finally fading into a shocked silence, I turned back to the victors, who, of course, I needed to send back to their tributes as soon as possible. "We'll update you all as we know more. For now, keep an eye out for anything suspicious, and we'll have the Peacekeepers right on it. The interviews and Opening Night—" another ping from my desk "—will, of course, be watched over very closely. Now, your rides back to the Training Center are waiting outside. And, of course, I don't need to tell you—this isn't something to go gossip about."
"Of course," said Sassy, who was the only person to say anything. Trey, Litiea, Keith, and Kizzy had been quiet.
The victors left. I looked at the new message. "I'll see you then. Love you." I decided it was nothing to answer right now, and let it be. "Now," I said to Lavender, "if you'll tell me the actual reason you're pissed off at me, I can pretend to care, and we can both move on."
She blinked at me.
"I'm waiting."
A few more seconds. Then, "You knew all along, didn't you?" She shook her head. "That none of the treatments worked. And then you lied about it."
Ah. So she was still concerned about "the children". "Yes. We needed to make sure that the tributes would be willing to uphold their side of the deal for as long as possible."
"Why couldn't we actually fix their problems? Give Airah the medicine that works, give Tam the right surgery, give Zattiana the right medication, get Alder's surgery right? What would it have done?"
"No matter what we did, they still would have been inferior competitors, and not ready to face Fourteen. Now, we don't have to worry about anyone we made a medical deal with getting that far. If they can still prove us wrong, then fine." I started to sort through a few papers on my desk, and then looked up again, wishing the whole chaos of the day could be over already. "They aren't getting that far, are they?"
"Why not?"
I slammed the papers back down. "Because, Lavender. We've talked about this. This is our last chance to weed out the ones we don't want facing our enemy, to break them first. The tributes'… psychotic attacks, have been done nicely. Soon, they'll face the arena as well, and it will be too much for them." I paused. "Won't it?"
"Is that a challenge?" she asked, through gritted teeth, still glaring at me.
"No," I said, and swept the last papers aside, looked up again. "That was an order."
