Katniss
Perched on the counter in the small kitchen, I shovel my concoction of beans, rice, and tuna into my mouth. I stare over at my backpack and bedroll propped against the wall by the exit. Tucked neatly next to them, is a bow. I smile around the spoon in my mouth. It's not a great bow by Capital standards and it's not as flexible as my handmade one at home, but it's sturdy enough and there are a ton of quality arrows for the quiver. Looks like fresh meat will be on the menu as I make my way south.
Scrapping the last bite of food out of my bowl, I jump down and make quick work of washing up. It's kind of ridiculous to worry about it, I know, but I feel a responsibility to the people who never got to use this place. Maybe buried somewhere in the computers is the reason for this place, not that expect it to be a cheery story. You don't build a self-contained bomb shelter because life is going peachy for you. It kind of makes me sad knowing that they never showed up here, which likely wasn't a pleasant outcome for the.
Putting the clean, dry dish away in the cupboard, I reach over and switch off the light over the sink. I stand for a moment, hands on the counter just breathing. Giving up food and safety is a gamble. I know nothing about the woods I'm about to travel through, the predators, the plants, or if I might have another run-in with the crazy man who held me captive. I glance over my shoulder at the bow propped in the corner. i" Well, this time at least the fight will favor the victor,"i/ I smile. A set of blue eye sparkle in my mind's eye, "Hell yes! You've got this," his voice rings in my ears. With one last look around, I push away from the counter. Sliding on a coat I found and pick up my pack. With it secure, next comes the bow and quiver. I give my load a tug, check it, and find it secure. With a deep breath, I yank open the outer door and flick off the lights in the living room, no reason to waste power.
With the door secured behind me, I look up the ladder. The early light rays of the day catch the dust motes in the shaft. Carefully, the rungs are slippery, I make my way up to the trap door. The door is stiffer on its hinges than I remembered, but with a good shove, it groans open. Dirt and grass fall onto my head, I shield my eyes and finish the climb one-handed.
Stumbling out into the morning, tears fill my eyes when they can't adjust quickly enough to the sun. With the back of my sleeve, I rub them away and turn to secure the door to the tunnel. With it all closed, I look down at the camouflage door and bow my head. "I don't know who you were, but thanks," I whisper into the wind. And with that, I turn on my heels and turn due south.
Peeta
The basement of the Victor's house across the green from Haymitch's is full past capacity when we arrive. The space is so packed the three of us are waylaid on the staircase, Johanna doesn't let this stop her though, she starts shoving at the backs of those in front of her. "A little help?" she scoffs at me. I'm already excusing myself to those blocking the way, but seeing that isn't not really working, I join her, elbowing my way through the crowd.
"Oye! MOVE IT!" Johanna yells over the din of noise.
From the right, a voice carries over the rest, "You heard the lady, make way!" Sergeant Major Heming instructs. Immediately the crowd parts like the Red Sea and the Sergeant Major is Moses.
Finally free of the stairs, I step into the basement and my breath catches in my throat. The entire back wall is covered in monitors. Some show interior shots of the house we just left, others appear to be of other "houses", a few are focused on the main gate and road, but most of them show different sections of forest and fencing. Gathered around the desk set in front of the monitors, is a group of 5 or so specialists whispering intensely amongst themselves.
In three strides I'm behind them, "Have you found footage of her?" I demand.
A small man with wireframe glasses looks up at me, his eyes tell me all I need to know.
"Was she alive?... Is she still alive," I ask, my voice cracking. Johanna's hand slips into mine, squeezing it.
The woman next to the bespectacled man turns, "She was….and as best as we can tell, still is….but there's a lot of footage," she warns.
Despite the terror biting at the back of my brain, a bubble of hope forms in my stomach.
The Sergeant Major, step up to us, huddled around the monitor. "How about a break? We are passing out MRE's for chow, come outside get a bite and give these folks a chance to do their magic," he suggests.
My impulse to stay, put myself to use, but that is just a laughable thought. I grew up in twelve, and the closest thing to technology I came in contact with was our ancient television that was only ever on for the games. Haymitch puts a hand on my bicep, "Come on, let's eat. They aren't going anywhere without answers."
With one last look at the array of monitors, I follow Haymitch and Johanna up the stairs and outside. On the main green, the soldiers have set up a couple of folding tables and are handing out the gray vacuum-sealed bags of food.
"I grab our bags," Johanna states.
"No Chicken a la King!" Haymitch bellows after her retreating form. "I can't gag that shit down again," he mutters.
I amble over to the front stoop of the house and collapse onto the bottom stair and bury my face in my palms.
I feel Haymitch join me, but he remains silent. He simply puts a hand on my back and gives it a pat that I'm sure he means to be comforting, but it isn't like he has much practice. Apparently, Effie is rubbing off on him, I muse.
Plastic raps against my knuckles and I look up.
"Chili Macaroni," Johanna states, handing me my food and tossing one to Haymitch. Flopping down onto the ground she yanks open the top of the bag and unceremoniously dumps it on the ground in front of her.
I just stare at the pack in my hands, with no real drive to eat. The only thing that matters to me at the moment is the camera footage.
Having opened the Chili Mac, Johanna shoves a fork in it and swaps me for the unopen pack in my hands. "Ya need to eat. You're going to get sick or pass out from lack of food and sleep, seriously," she directs.
"Wow, this one is worse than the chicken a la king one," Haymitch grumbles, setting the bag down and grabbing the packet of hard tack that someone had to the never to call bread.
I scoop up a fork full and shove it in my mouth, not really not tasting it.
We're sitting in silence for a while, picking through the contents of our pouches, when the front door flies open. "Mr. Mellark," the wire-glassed man calls, breathing heavily. We are all on our feet instantly.
"We found something," the man says, waving me inside.
Gathered again around the computer monitors, the wire-glasses guy takes his seat and nods to the woman next to him. She pushes play and the monitor on the top right comes to life.
The screen is filled with two things, greenery, and the stainless-steel fence we saw during our drive-in. Suddenly from the right side of the screen, the top of a head appears. Long brown hair tied hastily into a braid comes to a stop just at the end of the viewing area. It's her, I can't see a face at this angle, but it's her. Katniss stands in one spot for a moment, hunched over, her hands on her knees, catching her breath. On her back, a bundle is tied. She is catching her breath, but mine has stopped as I watch her straighten up. Finally, at long last, she beings to turn around, her face held to the sky. My breath whooshes out of my chest. Spotting what she is apparently looking for, she moves toward the bottom of the screen and disappears except for her shadow. After a few seconds, there is movement again at the top of the screen, a booted foot dangle from above. It shimmies for a moment, then disappears completely. I search the screen for an explanation, for any sign of her, but there is nothing.
"I don't get it," Johanna states, squinting at the screen.
"She just climbed a tree and used the limbs to drop to the other side," I say softly.
A snowy day many moons ago races through my mind. Early one winter's evening Haymitch and I were collected from our homes and shuttled to the Everdeen's home by peacekeepers. We were all apparently to wait for Katniss' to return. When she appears well after sundown, she ruined the peacekeeper's plans. I remember the story she told us that night about falling from a roof, but later in the cloak of night, she whispered the truth to me. A tree over the electrified fence and a none-too-soft landing. She's done that again.
Haymitch chuckles in joy at the escape. "Always resourceful, that one!
The woman at the keyboard nods, "Exactly right Mr. Abernathy," she affirms and taps a few buttons to bring up a new screen. We watch a silent wooded area for what feels like a lifetime when Katniss cuts across the screen running full speed, heading north.
"Unfortunately, this is all we have. the cameras only extend out about 5 miles from the fence, after that is a dead zone," the glasses-man states.
"When was this?" I ask, not seeing a time stamp on either film.
"Six days ago." the woman says.
My eyes slide closed. Six days is a lifetime when you're running for your life.
"This is proof of life we were hoping for," Sergeant Major says. "It looks like she took some provision with her, and I think Mr. Abernathy is right, she's a resourceful girl. I saw your games, she knows how to survive," he reassures us.
He's right of course, she has much better odds than I would in the wild.
The Sergeant Major pulls up a map, "We think she heading in this direction," he tells us, circling a large area on the map. "We are going to send out teams at daybreak."
I look outside and notice that the sun is indeed setting. "Does your team have experience with searches?" Johanna asks.
"It's not a role we have used much, but we are well-trained," he says confidently.
I ponder the response for a moment, my conscience nudging me with facts that I'd be an idiot to ignore. "We need Gale Hawthorn," I state evenly. The group of soldiers turn and stare at me, looking for an explanation. "Gale grew up in the woods tracking game. He was highly successful at it too. Fed his family and still had meat to trade. He'd be an asset, help us find her faster."
"Plus, we know he'll be motivated," Johanna tosses out.
I glare at her for a moment but turn back to the man in charge. "Can you get him here before sunrise?" I ask.
The Sergeant Major nods definitively. "I'll have him on a helo in an hour,"
With a nod of gratitude, I turn and make my way up the stairs and out the kitchen door. Stepping off the porch, I look up the moon as it starts its progression across the sky. "We're coming," I whisper. "Just stay alive…I'm coming."