Chapter 22- Terra Coppersmith
The hovercraft disappears with my sister inside it; I sink to the ground, trying to find my bearings. She's gone. I can't do anything now but go to help her as a mentor. I can't move, though; the pain of losing Iry is too much.
What if she dies? What then? What life will be left for me then?
I don't know how long I sit there, watching the sky where the hovercraft had floated, where my sister was taken up into the sky and abducted. She's gone.
"Terra, we need to go. We need to get to the Viewing Hall before the Games start." Shuttle's come up behind me, holding my shoulders. "Terra?"
"She's gone," I whisper.
"I know. We need to get to the Viewing Hall so we can keep her alive. Come on." I let Shuttle help me up, and lead me back to the elevators. My legs are wobbly, and I have to hold onto Shuttle to stay upright. I lean on my mentor as she summons the elevator, and then she helps me into the lift.
"Where is the Viewing Hall anyway?" I ask as the doors close behind us.
"Still in the Training Center, but low down. Below the gymnasium I believe," Shuttle says, staring straight ahead at the doors. The elevator plunges down so quickly I lose my breath.
"Is it below the hospital?" I ask. I'm running my fingers over the places where my missing two fingers used to be. Please don't let Iry lose her fingers; she has such pretty hands.
"No, the hospital is below the Viewing Hall." The elevator slows to a stop, then the doors open into a massive room lit with thousands of florescent lights, similar to the ones they have in the gymnasium. The ceiling's lower than the apartment's, making the room feel slightly claustrophobic. And despite the lights, it's dark and gloomy.
There are clear stations with numbers above them on the wall, each having a giant television screen and a group of victors surrounding it. It looks like every victor, or almost every victor, is here, waiting for the Games to begin.
"We're at 8," Shuttle murmurs in my ear. Together we push through towards where Woven and Woof are already sitting, staring at the screen.
"You got her then," Woven says without taking her eyes off the television before her. Now that I'm closer, I can see that it's not one single screen but split up into four; one large screen and three smaller screens beside it. Underneath there's a long blank screen above a desk. Two of the smaller screens are black, but the others are showing footage.
"What are these all for?" I ask.
"The big one's the live feed, so we see everything that the audience sees," Woven says. "The top two of the others are for each of our tributes so we can track them, and the bottom one displays all the alive tributes' names and headshots."
I lean in close and see Iry's headshot directly above Azlon's. All twenty-four tributes are pictured, because the Games haven't started and everyone is still alive. "What about the long screen here?" I ask, pointing.
"One the Games start, that's where we choose our gifts, based on how much sponsor money we have."
"How long before the Games start, then?" I ask. "I don't even know the time."
"About an hour or so to go," Shuttle says, sounding tense. This is what she does every year; every year she tries to keep her tribute alive and she usually fails. Except for me. And this year, Iry. I hope.
"Good to see you!" Corinna says, coming over and giving Shuttle a hug. "Can't believe it's this time already. The last week just flew by, don't you think so?"
"Faster this year than normal," Shuttle agrees.
"Corinna! Quit chatting and come over here!" Elm shouts from the station right next to ours, with the 7 over top of the screens. Corinna rolls her eyes.
"He's so bossy. I'll catch up with you later. Good luck!"
"You too," Shuttle says. Not too much luck, mind you, I think.
"Fifty minutes to launch," a woman says over the intercom. I look at Shuttle, and she looks back at me.
"They'll have arrived at the arena by now," she says.
"She has to live," I whisper, shakily running my finger through my hair, combing out the knots I didn't get a chance to remove this morning. In my mind, I see Iry down below the arena, scared but determined. At least Damius is with her; he's the best stylist and friend she can have. He'll make sure she's alright.
"How are you faring?" someone says behind me. It's Mags, the victor from District 4. During my Victory Tour she was kind to me, and I've never forgotten that.
"I'm okay," I tell her. Can she see my hands shaking?
"I'm sorry about your sister. I really am," Mags says, coming closer. "I wish you all the luck in the world, Terra." She gives me a gentle one-armed hug, then walks back to her own tribute station.
"Mags is one of the best victors in my opinion," Woof says, watching her go. "You'll never hear an unkind word out of that woman." I'll agree with him on that one. Mags took me around District 4 during my Tour, and it's one of my favorite memories of all time, even though I had a flashback at the end. I've never forgotten the ocean and how beautiful it was, or how kind Mags was to me. Even though I killed her tribute.
Shuttle makes me sit down, but I don't look at the screens. Instead, I look around at the other victors; most of them are now at their own screens, but some are still going from station to station visiting with the friends they've made over the years. These are the only friendships that extend past district borders, I realize.
There're several victors I recognize from either watching them on television, from my Victory Tour, or from seeing them earlier this week; there's Arla, the drunk from District 9, Beetee the technical genius from District 3, and the girl from 1 who was the victor two years ago, Silk.
"Who's that over there?" I murmur to Shuttle.
She looks where I'm pointing and says, "Isaac from 10. Quiet man; never has been one for words." He's thin and tall, with grey streaked brown hair. About the same age as Woven I'd say. Talking to him is the tall and broad victor from 9, Ripple. I remember that he was kind, but didn't say a lot either.
"Forty minutes to launch." Every time that woman talks over the intercom, my heart jumps.
"Have you eaten yet today, Terra?" Woven asks, looking over at me.
"Not yet." There was no time to eat before I had to take Iry up to the roof, and I didn't want to eat anyway. Iry's going into the Hunger Games, and I can't stop her. I swore I would keep her safe and I failed. I failed.
"I'll go get us some breakfast then," she says, getting up.
"I'm not hungry," I tell her, but Woven doesn't listen.
"You will be later, and you'll want staying power today too. We'll be here a long time," Shuttle says, taking Woven's seat beside me. "On the first day all the mentors are here to see the arena and the beginning of the Games, but tonight we'll switch off into shifts."
"I'm not leaving Iry," I say immediately.
"You'll need sleep later."
"Don't debate it with her," Woof says. "I doubt you'll be able to change her mind anyway."
The big screen is showing Caius Glorystream and Marcus Fireglen, sitting in front of a camera and looking very cheerful. "The countdown is on, Marcus," Caius says.
"I think we're looking at a very exciting year! I'll be all of you watching are as eager as I am to get the Hunger Games started!" Marcus says, beaming at the camera.
"Want to bet?" I mutter. I don't understand why the Capitol people like watching us die. What's wrong with them? I don't think they even see the tributes as human until they win. And even then that's debatable.
"I got us all coffee," Woven says, putting a tray of cups down on the desk in front of me. I didn't notice it before, but she's got dark circles under her eyes as well. Looking around, most of the victors near me look tired and emotional; I doubt anyone slept well last night.
"Thanks," I say, choosing a mug and taking a sip from it.
"Did you get food?" Woof asks, picking up his own cup. "They've just put up the tribute cameras, but there's nothing going on yet." Instead of live footage, there's just a headshot of Iry on the bottom and Azlon on the top screen.
"I got muffins for each of us," Woven says as she hands each of us a muffin in a paper wrapper.
Woof grunts. "It'll do for now, I suppose," he says, taking his.
"Well you can get the food next time if you're going to be picky," Woven says, pulling up another chair and sitting down with her own cup of coffee.
"Thirty minutes to launch." My heart leaps again.
Where is Iry now? What is she doing? Is she in her uniform yet, and if she is, what is it? Where is she going when the metal plate rises? I have thousands of questions that can only be answered by waiting, and it's killing me.
"She's fine," Shuttle says, putting her arm around me. "Focus on something else until the plates rise, okay?"
"Okay." I eat my muffin, but it tastes like sand in my mouth. Down here in the Viewing Hall, there's low conversation going on in every corner of the room, but none of it is discernable. The Career mentors are all gathered together at their various screens; their tributes are all allies so they have to work together. Iry and Azlon didn't make allies, so we're on our own here at station 8.
Shuttle quietly laughs next to me. "What?" I ask.
"Seeder and Fabian have to work together this year, because their tributes allied, and the two of them absolutely hate each other." She's not wrong about that; I can see Seeder sitting down at station 11, and ignoring the man next to her completely, while he glares down at her.
"District 6?" I ask.
"That's the one. They've got four victors from 6, but only one of them is fully functional," Shuttle says, crossing her legs. "Lexa's always done alright, but Fabian's liked his alcohol a bit too much since he won, and Orna and Jass are hopeless."
"District 6, the morphling district," Woof says, still focused on the screen. I'm not sure what he's looking at; nothing's going on.
"She'll be getting her uniform on now, won't she?" I ask, looking at Shuttle.
"Iry's probably all ready by now and just eating something with Damius. You know he's going to take care of her."
"I know, but…" I trail off, unwilling to finish my train of thought. Iry's only thirteen and going into the Games. I'm scared for her; I'm scared of losing her. But they've heard me say those things before.
"Just focus on the coffee," Woof says. "We're all worried about them; you don't need to make it worse."
"Woof!" Woven scolds.
"It's true. We're already in worst case scenario, so let's lighten it up a little. Drink the coffee, watch the useless banter on the large screen, and let me figure out how to get rid of that idiotic escort while making it look like an accident."
So I do. I drink the coffee and block out everything else. Don't think, just wait. Shuttle and Woven talk together, but I can't hear what they're saying. Woof studies the chart where it shows how much money we have to spend for gifts.
And I just sit and wait, until the robotic woman finally says, "Preparing for launch; twenty seconds out."
This is it.
Please let my sister live.