4.9 Chaos in the Capitol
"The Capitol is in chaos," says Effie. "There's talk of postponing the Games until things calm down."
"Is there any news about my mother?" asks Gillian, worried by Effie's announcement.
"Oh! Hello, Gillian. What are you doing here?"
"Her mother left her in my care," I reply on Gillian's behalf. "So what have you heard?"
"It seems that reports of President Snow's assassination are wrong," replies Effie. "His son was killed in the assassination attempt, but President Snow survived. I'm sorry, Gillian, but I've heard nothing about your mother's whereabouts."
"She might not have gone back to the Capitol after she left here," I say, more to sooth Gillian's concerns than any other reason. "When did you hear about this, Effie?"
"Only a short while ago," replies Effie. "I was visiting my sister, Sylvie, and we lost track of the time. We were leaving the room which we were using when we overheard a couple of the gamemakers talking."
I recall that Sylvie was Effie's counterpart for District Two during the 74th Hunger Games. They didn't get on very well last time, but they seem to have put their differences aside in our current circumstances. Effie goes to the large entertainment screen in the common area of our suite, and tries to find a television channel showing a news bulletin. Several channels are blocked and the others are broadcasting mindless pap. We all sit down and we each try to work out the consequences of Effie's news.
Our silent thoughts are interrupted by a strange beeping sound coming from the communications panel in our suite. I look at the others to see if any of them knows what the beeping sound means.
"It's an incoming video call," says Effie, who has much more experience with dealing with this sort of technology than I. We all go over to the console and see a flashing message from an unidentified caller requesting a video conference with me. I'm torn between answering it and ignoring it. It could be Beetee letting us know what he's been able to do, or it could be Plutarch Heavensbee successfully hacking his way into the arena's systems. Haymitch makes my mind up or me by pressing the button to accept the call. I notice he ducks out of the way quick enough afterwards though.
"Miss Everdeen," says a voice as the picture comes into focus. It's a face I never thought I'd see again.
"President Snow," I reply in kind.
"You don't seem surprised to see me," President Snow replies.
"Nothing surprises me where you are concerned," I say. "I'd heard that the rumours of your death were greatly exaggerated."
"They are, although my son wasn't so fortunate. The culprits will pay in blood in due course. Now, I believe that you have my granddaughter with you."
"Grandfather!" cries Gillian stepping into range of the camera before I can answer President Snow's question. I momentarily wonder how President Snow knows Gillian is with me, but I quickly realise that one of the gamemakers must have told him.
"Gillian, my dear," replies President Snow, displaying a rare flash of genuine feeling. "I'm so glad you are safe and well. I want you to stay with Miss Everdeen and do as she says. She will see you to safety."
"What's happened to my mother?" asks Gillian.
"I have no information about her whereabouts. She was last seen leaving the Hunger Games arena with a military escort. I'm sorry I can't give you anything more definite. If you hear from her, you must let me know as soon as possible. Now, I'd like to talk with Miss Everdeen alone."
The others leave me as President Snow commands, although they will still be able to hear our conversation. But President Snow had already considered that problem, and he silently shows me a set of instructions written on a sheet of paper and held before the camera at his end.
"Do you understand what you are to do?" asks President Snow once his final piece of paper is moved away from the screen.
"Yes," I reply. "I don't comprehend the reason, but I understand what you want me to do."
"Good. Now remember that nobody else must know what I've just ordered you to do."
"It will be safer for Gillian if I had another person's help," I say, hoping that he'll agree to let Cato help me.
"Safer in some respects, but more dangerous in others," replies President Snow. "You're on your own on this mission, Miss Everdeen. I don't need to remind you of the consequences of failure."
I try to hold my emotions in check, but President Snow just smiles at my futile attempt to control my anger. Surprisingly he doesn't reprimand me for showing dissent.
"I know you wish that I had died at the hands of my would-be assassin," chortles President Snow. "You may yet get your wish. But for now try to remember our respective positions and power. I shall follow your progress with interest."
President Snow moves to reach his controls in order to terminate the call. I only get a momentary glance at the extent of his injuries before the screen goes blank. He may have escaped death at the hands of an assassin, but he's obviously been badly injured. Perhaps that's what he meant when he said I might get my wish. Perhaps he's a dying man grasping at the last vestiges of his power.
"So what's going on?" asks Haymitch, beating the others to the question they all want answering.
"We're being sent home in the morning," I reply. "Effie, you and the other Capitol citizens will go back to the Capitol, while everyone else goes back to their district."
"What about me?" asks Gillian.
"You're going to be my guest in District Twelve for a while. I suppose that means that I'll need to find a job and somewhere to live."
"But what about the rebels? What about Plutarch Heavensbee?" asks Prim.
"Both are problems we need to face," I reply. "Hopefully Beetee has found a way of keeping Heavensbee and his friends off our backs for the time being. Otherwise I fear that we'll be going nowhere tomorrow."
"What did President Snow really want?" asks Effie.
"Like I said, he wants me to take Gillian to District Twelve and wait for further instructions," I reply. It's not a lie, but nor is it the whole truth. I wish President Snow had allowed Cato to help me with what I must do, but I understand why he refused. Cato's presence in District Twelve would attract the very attention I need to avoid. If Prim was a bit older, and Haymitch more reliable, I could enlist their help, although I hesitate to place them at further risk. President Snow obviously has confidence in my ability to succeed, even if I don't share his mood of optimism."
By morning everyone in the complex knows that the 75th Hunger Games are postponed for four weeks, and that the tributes and mentors are to return to their own district today. We won't be boarding luxury trains in front of the television cameras, though. Military air-hoppers will ferry us to our home districts with as little ceremony as possible. It's as though we are all being sent home in disgrace. What most people find surprising is that Prim, Haymitch and I are being returned to rebel held District Twelve; or more precisely, a field several kilometres from town. The gamemakers have made some half-hearted promise that a rebel vehicle will meet us and take us the rest of the way, but I wouldn't be surprised if we end up walking.
The air-hoppers arrive three hours earlier than expected. What was a reasonably well organised evacuation is reduced into chaos. I'm forced to scrap my plan to see Beetee and Cato before we leave. There's no indication that Plutarch Heavensbee is secretly interfering with what is going on, although I won't breathe easy until Prim, Haymitch, Gillian and I are aboard our air-hopper. It seems more likely that Heavensbee will simply stall his plan until we return in a few weeks. How the District Twelve tributes are going to do that from within rebel held territory remains to be seen.
Since the landing pad isn't big enough for all the air-hoppers to land together, we are told to board our respective air-hopper in district order. Which means, as usual, District Twelve leaves last, a good hour after the District One craft departed. I managed to give Cato a quick wave and a blown kiss as he and the rest of the District Two team boarded their air-hopper. Finally the last air-hopper lands to transport us to District Twelve. Effie sees us off with a heartfelt goodbye. It seems that those from the Capitol must wait here for a few days until the current crisis in the Capitol is brought under control.
We settle in our seats as the pilot and co-pilot prepare to take off. For some reason I get a niggling feeling that something isn't quite right. I'm wearing my emerald ring today; the one which Effie gave me. The ring that the superstitious part of me believes has special powers. So at first I put my doubts down to my overactive imagination triggered by me absentmindedly turning my ring on my finger. Then simple logic takes over and my doubts turn into certainty. The air-hopper's crew are wearing tiny District Thirteen insignia on the lapels of their uniform. We're being kidnapped ... again!
By now the craft has reached its normal cruising altitude and is heading towards its destination. I know that because of the relatively close proximity of District Thirteen to District Twelve, there's only a small difference in the course our craft needs to take to reach either destination. I wait for a while until the crew starts to relax. They have every reason to believe that the hardest part of their mission is over. Being the last air-hopper to leave the arena means this crew carried the greatest risk of being caught by the real Panem military, who will presumably be arriving on schedule to provide the tributes and mentor with transport to their districts.
I casually lean forward until I'm near enough to reach the co-pilot's holstered gun. He must have been expecting trouble at the arena since he's unclipped the safety strap on his holster, but forgotten to replace it later. Providing I can move fast enough I should be able to snatch the weapon and have it pointing at his head before he can react. I pick a moment when both pilots seem preoccupied and make my move.
"Change of course, fly-boys," I shout as I point the weapon in their general direction. "Take us to District Twelve."
"Katniss?! What are you doing?" asks Prim in alarm.
"These two are from District Thirteen. We're being kidnapped once again," I reply, hoping it's enough to convince everybody that I'm not insane.
"Put the gun away you stupid girl," replies the pilot. "We're already going to District Twelve."
"Then bring up the navigation map on your screen and prove it," replies Gillian.
The pilot hesitates, but eventually does as Gillian demands. Refusal would only give weight to my assertion that we're not heading for District Twelve. The map displays with a red line marking our course and the route to our destination. I don't recognise the terrain shown on the map around our destination, so I'm fairly sure it's not District Twelve. I repeat my instruction to change course. The pilot obviously considers bluffing his way out of this, but he seems genuinely worried that I might use the weapon in my hand. He gives a sigh and resets our course. The map now shows our new destination to be near a lake I recognise from my hunting trips from District Twelve.
We land in a clearing near the lake. As I expected, the place is deserted, although I suppose we should be thankful that nobody is shooting at us. We disembark and I allow the two pilots to leave with their craft. I keep their weapons in case they are tempted to try and recapture us. However, other than the embarrassment of being overcome by four civilians, they probably aren't too concerned about our escape. They know that District Twelve is held by their rebel allies, so they probably believe our recapture is only a matter of time. I wonder whether President Coin and Plutarch Heavensbee will think likewise.
We don't linger in the area since we won't be safe until we each the relative safety of town. I lead the other three along one of my old hunting trails and an hour or so later we reach the rebels' first outpost.