Chapter 36

Shelter

Coulson

This time, I don't have time to step aside. I just have to keep my voice down and hope that the people nearest me don't panic. I tune my radio once again – I desperately request a conference, hoping against hope that she hasn't gone down to the shelter herself yet. Much to my relief, I hear her voice. "What do you want, Lieutenant?"
"Please, don't close the doors yet …"

"The deal was to hold them open until the sirens were triggered. They have been."

"Listen closely," I say, done with the pretense of respect and deference. "Do you think the Capitol doesn't know where we're going? They probably already got surveillance footage of you taking in the first three hundred, or the one hundred in the trucks. They won't be able to ignore you anymore. They're going to spin it one way or another – do you want them to show footage of these people dying on your front door and call you out for the heartless coward you are or do you want them to have to try to spin your saving them?"

"I can't risk a direct hit to the shelter with the doors open." That's incredibly unlikely – even most of the upper structure will probably survive.
"Then don't. Just keep it open until the bombers are in your skies – I assume you already had everyone or almost everyone down there before the sirens even went off. It won't take hours to close the doors, and I know we have a second siren rigged to let you know when they're closer."

"We do."
"If nothing else, leave the outer doors open – the increase in risk to the shelters from doing so is marginal, and we'll be safer in there than out in the open."

"I agree to both conditions, Lieutenant. But I expect more decorum in the future …"
"Take it up with Fury," I say abruptly and tune my feed back to Howard. I turn to the mother behind me, about to fall over with exhaustion, and lift her four-year-old son onto my back. She's so scared by what she overheard she lets me take him without making a peep. I take a few steps back and find a little girl in her father's arms – I take her from him, also without a peep.

"Howard, please tell Katniss to come to the front. I'm taking as many as I can now." Then I take my megaphone, and I announce as much to the group at large. I tell whoever can keep up with me to do it – we're very close and I have hopes I can get them to District 13 ahead of the bombers.

I run as fast as I can – which at this point is not very fast at all, considering how exhausted I am and I have one kid in my arms and another on my back. But it's still too fast and I know I'll start losing people – I've got to count on Katniss to get them and hope for a miracle. "Are we going to be okay mister?" the little girl in my arms asks.

"If I can help it, yes," I tell her, and almost immediately regret wasting breath on speaking.

I used to hold President Coin in the highest regard – she was elected when I was just a little boy, before I even tried to get my miracle. She's the only leader I remember. I never questioned her when I was a kid. I even thought that if she didn't want me to join Fury's forces, then it wasn't meant to be. But Fury fought for me – my time in the brig said almost the exact opposite thing to him than it did to her. It said I was a good kid, but I would go against orders when I needed to protect someone I loved.

Fury's headquarters were a long, long way from District 13 – and not just because it was in the wilds hundreds of miles away at the time. I watched as at least half the men and women I came to headquarters with lost their minds with the little measure of freedom they were given – stocking up on the small amount of alcohol we were given in our rations to get drunk, having usually unprotected sex like rabbits in any room that had a soft surface (and even those that didn't), staying up all night, and pulling stupid dangerous stunts in training. It was disorienting for me too at first – I felt lost and confused the first time I had more than a few minutes of free time. I decided to fill up the time by watching the tapes of the previous Hunger Games – to see what we were fighting against and what I'd been afraid of all my life. The only time I ever got drunk was the fourth night I'd spent watching children murder each other. While I was hungover the next morning, I vowed I was going to stop it, even if I had to lay down my life for it. Danvers is the only one who heard me say it – she drank more than me but wasn't nearly as smashed.

This wasn't what I had in mind when I made that vow, but it's the same end – saving people from the Capitol. I'll come back as many times as I can before the sirens go off and I'm going to be holed up in the upper structure right along with them.

I'm sweating and every muscle aches when I catch sight of the district where I was born. I lead on, sprinting across the valley, the opposite of the way I went when I was searching for my miracle. The kids in my arms are like lead weights but I don't set them down.

I cross the threshold one more time. I know the way to the bomb shelter by heart – we drilled for it constantly. I make my way through halls and down stairways to the big, heavy multi-layered doors and the deep staircase. There's two guards at the door, waiting for the second siren.

"Stay back ten feet," they tell the people behind me. "Two at a time." They nod me through and I step up to the top of the stairs. "Can you walk the rest of the way?" I ask the little girl and boy as I set them down. The boy nods and begins to make his way down, slowly but surely. He doesn't have to hurry anymore – once the doors close he'll be safe. The people behind me hurry around me and down the stairs to safety as quickly as the guards nod them through. "Where's my Mommy?" the little girl asks, clinging to my hip.

"She's coming," I tell her, even though I don't know. "She'll be with you before you know it – you just need to get down to safety to get some food and water." She nods and I realize she'd be crying if her body had water to spare on the tears. "You need to go now, sweetie, I'm going to go find your mommy," I say, and she finally lets go and heads down the stairs.

"Where's the trucks?" I ask the guards. They look at me blankly. "Where are the trucks Gale brought the kids in?"

"We parked most of them on the northern side – we brought four of them and the jeep into the ruins in hopes they'd survive the bombing …"

"Thank you," I say brusquely and take the quickest way out to the trucks. I can take one of them and load up some more people.

I pass the little girl's mother in the valley and tell her that her daughter is waiting on her. I'm relieved that she really is on the way – I'm sure we've separated a lot of families as it is. Finnick and Johanna pass me – Johanna's carrying an old man on her back and Finnick has a little girl in his arms. I'm glad to see them run past, and I hope they stay but I think I know better.

The sky is alive with lightning – there's hardly any rain, and besides there was no storm in the area. I know this is coming from Haymitch and his hammer. For once I don't hate magic.

Some of the bombers have gotten around Haymitch and the others – there's fire all around, and some of the people have scattered. We're not going to have time to look for them and I know they're lost unless they get themselves to the outer structure …. And even then they might be gone by morning. As soon as I stop the truck, people are piling in and throwing relatives on. I have to threaten people with a gun to get them back once the truck is as full as it can stand – people are fighting over the spots left and it's going to get ugly.

I drive back as fast as I can – I hope everyone's holding on tight. It's probably a matter of minutes before the second siren goes off and the guards shut the doors, and every single person who gets beyond those doors is going to be safe and will be among the survivors of District 12.

I unload everyone on the threshold – by now the people I led on foot are all inside and I have to show the new arrivals the way, a move which costs me valuable time.

And so on and so forth, I do it until the truck is in danger of running out of fuel, and then get another one since there's no time to worry about refueling. It gets worse with every trip – the flames are thicker and I hear the bombs dropping. I don't go to the back – I get swarmed by people as soon as I get in sight – so I don't see how many bombs have actually hit the train of fleeing refugees. The line is now scattered and there's huge gaps – the healthy are running further ahead and the old and sickly are falling behind. I know there's very little chance they'll get into the shelter – but I know where to keep them relatively safe in the upper structure.

The second sirens go off, and I know it's over for getting to the shelter. But I still need to get everyone to District 13 as quickly as possible, and in the safest space – there's no time to panic.

I take the group from my truck to the lowest cafeteria – it's on the lowest floor low and large and it was meant to be a secondary shelter for anyone who couldn't get into the main shelter. I tell them to duck and cover along the side – this room can hold two thousand people. I don't know where I'll put everyone else.

Not long after, the refugees start pouring in.

Over the next few hours, I find places for everyone to be (hopefully) relatively safe while the bombs fall on and around the building. The bombs rattle my chest and my skull, and I can feel the heat from the fires burning outside every time I go to the doors to usher people in. I also feel the thunder from Haymitch's lightning deep in my bones – he's still taking down hovercrafts left and right.

I see Duke – he's figured out his gun isn't doing any good and brought me an old man, wounded by a bomb blast. I take him to an anti-aircraft gun – this one will actually help.

I see Peeta, carrying a woman I assume is his mother. They're both burned and wounded, but they're alive for now. I take him, with a group of others, to one of the classrooms where I spent my days as a student.

Finnick and Johanna had gone back of course – they come back with an old woman and a little boy, respectively. "You can open your eyes now," Johanna tells the little boy when they're in another classroom – I imagine her carrying him over scorch marks and piles of body parts and I hope he listened and kept his eyes closed.

The stream of refugees is slowing now – I'll know when I see Katniss that all the ones who are coming are coming.

Finally, I see Katniss – carrying a boy way too heavy for her and now out of arrows – and I know that, after almost six days, our ordeal is almost over. I almost break down then. But I think of someone else. "Howard – tell Carol to take off and Tony to get in here – Haymitch won't come in until they do, if then." I call Duke down to the doors – he doesn't need to be told twice. He sprints to the doors and ducks in, then waits for me to tell him where to go. I grab Katniss's hand and practically pull her to the classroom where I put Peeta and his mother – she's clearly horrified by what she sees. I'm hoping she's picked up at least a little of her mother's trade. She kneels by Peeta's mother, and I hope that's a good sign. Maybe she has some training from her mother.

With that, I finally find a place for myself. And Duke. I know Tony or Haymitch will shut the doors behind them when they come in.

I only realize as I lay down in the brig that I'm burned – the air was so hot it burned my throat and lungs. Duke's got the same problem and his hands are burnt by the metal of the gun. I apologize for not thinking about that and find the nearest first-aid kit – they're all over the place around here. I start to bandage his hands and I wish we had water to drink. "Coulson – we lost so many … there was blood and body parts everywhere …" he's shaking very hard, and I know it's not just from his injuries. I have to keep calm for him too – he doesn't need to see anyone else break down.

"Just think about the people you helped save," I say quickly. "The ones who aren't body parts and ash – the ones who are safe in the shelter or who have a real good chance up here."

"How likely is this structure to survive?"
"Very likely. It's designed to minimize the risk of a chain reaction collapse – the upper levels will be destroyed but we should be safe here." Should be – if they get lucky with a bunker buster a lot of people will die. "We just move people into the shelters to be sure … and because just the vibrations from the bombing can trigger heart attacks in people with certain conditions and aneurysms to burst." Some of the elderly people will certainly die from such. "We're at low risk here. Try to sleep." I know that's not likely when there are bombs falling every few seconds, and we feel them shake the whole structure, but it's worth a shot.

"Phillip?" Danvers … Carol … calls to me from the door. Somehow, I'm not surprised she knew where I was going to go to hide.

"I'm here," I croak back, my throat more and more sore by the minute. She sits by me, and puts my head in her lap. She's all bruised and cut up. She has water – the pilots take several bottles on missions, and she must have saved one for the shelter. She pours some into my mouth and I could kiss her for it. She gives some to Duke and goes back and forth between us until the water's all gone. I'm pretty sure she gives me more, but Duke's not complaining. She explains that Haymitch covered her and Tony while she crash-landed and Tony came inside – one of the Capitol pilots was finally smart enough to manage to hit her just before I told Howard to give the order, and thanks to Haymitch she was able to sprint inside while the plane self-destructed. She says he finally came in after her and he's dead exhausted – he asked where the alcohol was and then passed out.

"Did he close the doors?" I ask.

"Yes – yes he did. I took him to the room where Katniss and Peeta and the others are waiting – I had to put my hands around his hands to move the hammer. You can stop worrying about things, Phillip … It's all taken care of." I didn't have time to count while I was showing people to different parts of the shelter … but I know from the spots we filled that we got less than three thousand … if I'm generous in my estimate of the people taken by hovercrafts and the people we got into the bomb shelter, we got four thousand people – only half of District 12's population – and many more up here will die from their injuries or the vibrations of the structure, assuming the best. I try to focus on the half that are alive, but all I think about is the half we failed and the part of the "rescued" half that's still going to die – I turn my head and keep my tears silent so Duke won't see me break down, since he's so fragile right now as it is.

"Phillip – we saved at least three thousand people," Carol says softly. "Which is three thousand more than would have survived without us." I know she's right and I force myself to focus on it, calming myself. There will be time for mourning later.

We sit like that for a long time. "It's safer to lay down," I say, and she does. She lies next to me and takes my hand. I hold her hand tight. "How long can this go on?" Duke asks, his voice hoarse and cracking from the burns and the thirst.

"It depends on how many resources the Capitol wants to waste – theoretically it could go on for days," I say, knowing that means almost everyone in the upper structure will die from dehydration. "More likely, considering the battle that they've had – a few hours." My only hope for the rebellion as a whole is that the Capitol's losses are heavy enough they'll have to take some time to lick their wounds – and we'll be ready for the next step before they are – that this was a Pyrrhic victory for them. But for once I can barely think about the future – I think about surviving the next few hours.

The next thing I know, I'm being woken by Howard's voice, telling me he's trying to have a medic look at me, but they're setting up a triage and of course there are a lot of people much worse off than me. Somehow, I fell asleep. Duke was apparently awake the whole time – he's sitting up and staring. I hope he'll be okay – his brother's going to need him.

Author's Note

Pyrrhic victory: /Main/PyrrhicVictory

I upped the survival rate pretty dramatically because otherwise the Avengers and Fury would suck at their jobs – if Gale can save eight hundred people leading them blindly into the woods by himself with no warning, having a lot more help and advance warning should significantly decrease the body count.

I really wanted to do a cross-gender friendship that was really platonic but it's sort of coming across as sexual tension. So if you like it … crack pairings ftw! And if you don't like it I'm sorry that wasn't my intent.