Chapter Eighteen

Light.

The first thing Dyson saw when he opened his eyes was a pale yellow light that gave off a diffuse glow. He vaguely registered that he was lying on his back and that there was something on his left arm, something made of . . . metal? A frame? An image of another boy flashed into his mind, a boy who was attacking him with a spiked mace as he fought back with a machete. And it was no ordinary fight; for some reason, he and the boy with the mace were trying to kill each other. His opponent brought his mace smashing down on his arm, producing a sickening crunch as the bone was broken. Agonising pain. His arm dangling limply . . .

Before Dyson had time to think about what this fragment of memory might mean, something was injected into his other arm and he drifted back into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

For two days, Dyson had been in the hospital that had been built beneath the Training Centre, where the Capitol's best doctors were working round the clock to heal the injuries he had sustained in the arena, mostly blunt force trauma from Lupus's mace, though the bites he'd received from the bat mutts also needed to be treated as a matter of some urgency, as they contained toxins that could cause the resulting wounds to start breaking down just when they were on the verge of healing. The only way to get rid of these toxins was by injecting a powerful antidote which had been developed by the scientist who had bred the bats, an antidote whose precise formula was only known to a handful of people in the Capitol.

As for Dyson's arm, the blow from Lupus's mace had completely shattered the bones, meaning the only hope of mending it was to insert metal pins attached to a wire frame, which Dyson would have to wear for several weeks at least. Which meant, come the night he received his victor's crown, he would have to appear on nationwide television with this device on his arm, but at least there was a good chance of saving the limb and he might even regain full use of it in time. Unlike Chaff, the District 11 boy who'd broken his arm early in the Forty-fifth Games and spent nearly two weeks with it in an improvised sling. Somehow, despite this injury, he'd not only made it into the final two, but won those Games by stabbing his last opponent to death with a knife wielded in his uninjured arm. Much like how Dyson had won his Games. However, Chaff's arm could not be saved; by the time he emerged as victor, gangrene had set in, meaning the arm had to be amputated at the elbow to save his life.

Right now, the fight was on to save Dyson's life, ensuring that the Capitol would have a living victor to present to Panem, as they had done every year since the Eleventh Games. Before that, the winning tribute simply had any injuries patched up by the vets at the Capitol Zoo, reflecting the fact that the people in the districts were considered by many in the Capitol to be less than human. They were then shipped back to their district without any kind of fanfare or ceremony and left to get on with their lives. But the changes to how the Games were run which had been introduced at the Tenth Games had been expanded on in the years which followed, including the introduction of a televised victory ceremony and, six months after the Games, a tour of the districts for the victor. While there was provision in the rules for a victor dying before they could be crowned, this eventuality had never occurred and the doctors treating Dyson were determined that it never would. Not because they cared about him, but because the Capitol needed a victor to parade in front of the cameras.


Dyson had no idea how long it had been since he was plucked from the arena as the victor of the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games, but he knew that it had been several days at least. The only people he saw were the Avoxes who came to his room to deliver his meals and check on how he was recovering. Of course, they couldn't speak to him - the Capitol had seen to that when they sentenced them to have their tongues mutilated - but at least they provided company, albeit briefly and silently. Without their visits, he might have begun to imagine he was the last human being alive.

The food he was given was bland, designed to help his shrunken stomach to recover. At first, it consisted of clear broth and plain water, which he found it an effort to finish, much less keep down. But, as the days passed, more solid food was gradually introduced to his diet, though it would be a while yet before he could cope with the rich fare traditionally served in the Capitol.

When he wasn't being given his simple meals, he spent most of his time in a drug-induced sleep. Gradually, however, he was allowed to spend more and more time awake, time which, in the absence of anyone to talk to, he spent thinking about what his life would be like now that he was a victor. He would be given a house in District 5's Victors' Village that would be his for as long as he lived and he wouldn't have to go to school, or get a job in one of the power plants. Nor would he have to line up behind the ropes at the reaping, hoping against hope that Janus would not draw his name from the boys' reaping ball. Victors were exempt from being reaped, even if they would otherwise still be eligible. Their family members, however, were not, which meant Tia could still end up in the arena some time in the next six years.

But, even as a victor, there was nothing he could do to prevent his sister from being reaped. Nor was there anything he could do about the fact that he would now be expected to do his share of mentoring District 5's male tributes, most of whom would die in the arena. What would it be like to have to prepare a boy for the Games, only for him to end up as another corpse in a wooden box? That was what Rik had been doing since he won his Games; he'd seen twenty-seven boys, including the two who'd been chosen for the Fiftieth Games when there had been twice the usual number of tributes, into the arena, but only one had come out alive. No, the odds were not in favour of Dyson mentoring a tribute to victory any time soon.


Eventually, the time came when the last of the tubes which had been used to administer drugs into Dyson's system were removed and he was able to leave the hospital. Dressed in a brand new outfit identical to the one he'd worn in the arena - he'd had some difficult getting the sleeves of the shirt and jacket over the frame on his arm - he watched as the invisible door to his room slid open, then stepped out into the corridor beyond. He walked along this corridor until he came to the room where they were waiting. Adonis, Janus and Rik. His stylist, his district escort and his mentor. The traditional welcoming party for a new victor.

Aware that this reunion was being captured on camera, he approached the three men with his head held high and his shoulders back, as Janus had taught him while preparing him for his pre-Games interview. The last thing he wanted was for Janus to accuse him of "walking like a gorilla". As he drew level with them, he shook hands with each of them in turn and they congratulated him on his victory, though he noticed that Rik's words were somewhat slurred, not that this was unusual for the man who had until recently been District 5's only male victor.

"Been celebrating?" Dyson asked, noticing the ever-present hip flask in Rik's hand.

"Yeah, you could say that," Rik slurred. "After all, you're the first . . . the first . . ." A bout of alcohol-induced hiccups prevented him from finishing his sentence, but everyone present knew he was trying to say Dyson was the first tribute he had mentored to emerge as victor. "Here's to Dyson . . . Kinsella!" he managed to get out, before taking a long swig from his hip flask and hiccuping loudly.

At this point, Janus came over and took Rik by the arm, hauling him out of the chair he was sitting on. "Come on. Let's get you upstairs so you can sober up before tonight."

Tonight was, of course, the night Dyson would be presented to the nation as the latest Hunger Games victor. He and his entire entourage would appear on a stage set up in front of the Training Centre, where there would be a sizeable live audience, not to mention that every television set in Panem would be tuned in. They would watch a film showing highlights from the Games, then President Snow himself would present Dyson with the victor's crown. After that, Dyson would have one final interview with Caesar Flickerman, before returning to District 5, where he would stay until his Victory Tour in six months' time. And, six months after that, he would be back in the Capitol for the Sixty-ninth Games and every subsequent Games until he died, or until he was unable to make the journey. That was the life of a Hunger Games victor.

In the meantime, he waited with Adonis as Janus escorted Rik to the fifth floor. After several minutes had elapsed, Adonis told him to follow him and they began to make their way along a corridor. This corridor led to an elevator, one which, unlike the two main elevators, only had access to the roof, the lobby and the hospital. Dyson had seen this elevator in the days leading up to the Games and had wondered where it led, but had never dared ask anyone. Mainly because of the sign on the doors which read:

No tributes beyond this point.

He'd taken this to mean tributes weren't supposed to know what lay "beyond this point" and indeed they weren't, with the exception of the one who emerged as victor. As he had done.

He entered the elevator and Adonis pressed the button for the lobby.


Before long, Dyson was in the District 5 suite, surrounded by his prep team, the three people who'd groomed him for the pre-Games events and who would prepare him for tonight's ceremony. They consisted of two men named Romulus and Remus, who he guessed were twins since they looked almost identical except for the fact that one of them had black streaks in white hair, while the other had white streaks in black har, and a woman named Merope. The latter wore her pink hair in an elaborate updo and had multi-coloured stars tattooed down the length of her arms. She was also the one in charge of the team and, as such, was the one who hustled Dyson into the dining room, where his first proper meal since before the Games awaited him.

Roast chicken, potatoes and carrots, plus a bread roll and a glass of water. His portions were strictly controlled to avoid the possibility of him suffering from indigestion, or worse, if he ate too much while he was still recovering from starvation. The last thing the Capitol wanted was for the victor to throw up on live TV. However, he was allowed to pour himself a second glass of water from the jug on the dining table, which he sat sipping until Merope told him it was time to get ready for the ceremony.

Ten minutes later, he was standing naked in front of the mirror in his room, as Merope, Romulus and Remus looked him up and down. He recalled how he'd been embarrassed the first time he'd had to undress in front of them, how Merope had clicked her tongue and told him she "didn't think he had anything she'd never seen before." It had been all he could do to resist the urge to cover the area immediately below his waist with his hands in an attempt to preserve a little modesty. Now, however, he mentally tuned his prep team out and stood staring at his reflection as he had done on the day of the reaping.

Red hair, brown eyes, medium height. Physically, he looked like the same boy who had stood in his room in District 5, telling himself he just had hold on for another three years and then he would be safe. Indeed, the only signs that he had been in a Hunger Games arena were the metal frame on his left arm and the fact that he was noticeably thinner than he had been before. But, though he would regain the weight he had lost and the frame would be removed from his arm once the bones were completely healed, he knew he would never again be the boy he was. He was a victor, the sole survivor out of twenty-four tributes, which meant his life had changed forever - and not necessarily for the better if some of the other victors were anything to go by. He thought of Rik and Haymitch, who spent most of their waking hours drinking, of Delta and Marius, who were constantly doped up on morphling. Was that how he would be in another twenty-odd years?

However, he didn't have long to dwell on this before Merope told him to get in the shower, where the feel of the water running over his body helped to distract him, if only temporarily. When he was done, he emerged from the bathroom and Merope, Romulus and Remus immediately set to work on his hair and make-up, though the latter was much more muted compared to what a female victor, or some of the men in the Capitol, would have had and mainly served to draw out his features on camera. They chattered among themselves all the while, though Dyson paid no attention to what they were talking about.


Dyson stood under the stage, dressed in the outfit Adonis had designed for tonight. A black short-sleeved shirt with gold lightning bolt motifs, black trousers and black lace-up shoes that bore the same lightning bolt design as his shirt. As the national anthem blared out, he watched as the members of his entourage stepped onto the platform at the far end of the room and were carried onto the stage to thunderous applause. Merope was the first to ascend, followed by Romulus, Remus, Janus, Adonis and Rik. To Dyson's relief, the latter seemed to be sober for once and there was no sign of a hip flask in his pocket; no doubt Janus had something to do with that, but Dyson had no time to think about it, as it was now his turn to emerge onto the stage.

He stepped onto the platform and was swiftly carried upwards. The experience reminded him of the moment when he emerged from his tube into the arena and he felt his heart rate, which was already faster than usual, quicken. But what awaited him was not tributes out to kill him, but a huge crowd comprising many of the Capitol's most prominent citizens, all of whom were cheering for the latest Hunger Games victor, cheering for him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the victor of the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games . . . Dyson Kinsella!" Caesar Flickerman declared, gesturing towards Dyson with a flourish. His hair was still dyed mint green and his eyelids and lips were still painted to match; he wouldn't change their colours until next year's Hunger Games, when he could be brilliant white, or navy blue, or mauve. There was no telling what colour he might choose, but he never chose similar colours two years in a row.

Rik led Dyson to the ornate, throne-like chair in which the victor sat for the ceremony, then, as Dyson sat down, took his seat with the rest of Dyson's entourage, as Caesar entertained the audience with a few jokes. Next came the film showing highlights from the Games, starting with the reapings and following the tributes through the chariot parade, the announcement of the training scores and the interviews. Dyson watched the pre-Games segments without betraying any emotion, as if he had no personal connection to these Games, as if he was watching in District 5 with his parents and Tia. But, as the segment with the interviews ended with the tributes standing in a row, he tensed. He knew what was coming next, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to see what he was about to see, not that he had much choice in the matter.

So he forced himself to watch as the camera panned round the circle of tributes, before the film cut straight into the bloodbath. Every death which had happened at the Cornucopia was replayed in full, including the moment when he slashed Pleat's throat with the machete he had taken from her; he felt physically sick watching himself, but he dared not look away. Then, once the area around the Cornucopia was clear of living tributes, the seven who had fallen were shown in close-up, the cameras which had captured the bloodbath lingering on the wounds which had killed them, forcing Dyson to look at the gaping hole he had made in Pleat's throat.

As the recap continued, Dyson saw the moment the Careers surrounded Digit and Salacia speared him with her trident, the moment Linus was attacked by the acid-spraying bird mutt and was left with such horrific burns that, when Astra and Dyson encountered him hours later, there was nothing Dyson could do for him except put him out of his misery. Tallulah being chased off the edge of a cliff by Dazzle and Garnet. Astra and Dyson fleeing from the mosquito mutts. Salacia falling into a Gamemakers' trap and being impaled on the spikes at the bottom of a pit. Astra knifing Randall in the back of the neck as he tried to strangle Dyson. Even though she had saved his life, Dyson had become suspicious of her motive for doing so, wondering if she had only saved him in order to kill him later. That was the kind of thing Career tributes did, not thirteen-year-old girls from District 5, but you could never completely trust any of your fellow tributes, not even your district partner.

Not that it mattered what Astra's motives were because, two days after the incident with Randall, she too was dead, struck down in a Gamemaker-engineered lightning storm and put out of her misery by Dyson. Garnet, Monica and Xylon had also been fatalities of the lightning, though, unlike Astra, the bolts which hit them had killed them outright. Indeed, when Xylon was hit, there was nothing left of him but a completely blackened remnant of a human being.

With only eight tributes left, the action started to pick up, starting with Bellona and Lupus chasing Glean until he tripped and sprained his ankle, at which point Lupus bashed his skull in with his mace. The "feast" which had claimed the lives of Synthia and Fathom followed, then the moment Valerie killed Dazzle, only to be near-decapitated by Bellona shortly after. With Bellona's death in a Gamemakers' trap, the Games came down to Lupus and Dyson. The final fight was as bloody and brutal as Dyson remembered it, though it felt strange watching it on a screen when he had been in the thick of the action; it was like he was watching another Hunger Games with different finalists. Towards the end, he saw himself pretending to be close to death in order to draw Lupus in, then springing on the District 2 boy and stabbing him to death. The cannon fired and Dyson staggered away from Lupus's body, only to collapse unconscious just as Claudius Templesmith was declaring him the victor of the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games.

As Dyson was airlifted out of the arena in a hovercraft, the recap ended. The anthem played and President Snow walked onto the stage, followed by a girl who might have been about ten years old. The latter carried a crown on a velvet cushion and as she and Snow drew level with Dyson, she held the cushion up. Snow took the crown and, with great solemnity, lowered it onto Dyson's head, giving Dyson a whiff of the rose in his lapel. Dyson, who had never been within smelling distance of the president's roses until now, almost gagged at the overpowering scent, but he quickly composed himself as Snow congratulated him and a round of cheering and applause began, which only ended when Caesar declared the ceremony over and reminded the audience that Dyson's final interview would be broadcast the next day.


"You wanted to talk to me?"

Paula approached Dyson, who was sitting on the verandah of his new house in District 5's Victors' Village, where he now lived with his parents and Tia. Since his return three days ago, the two of them had had almost no chance to be alone together; TV cameras had followed him wherever he went, capturing the moment his family and the Saxon twins met him at the train station, the moment Mayor Palin handed him the keys to the grand house that would be his for as long as he lived. So, much as he wanted to talk to Paula, he hadn't been able to do so without it being captured on film for the whole of Panem to see. She'd greeted him at the station with a kiss which caused him to feel the same sensations he'd felt when she kissed him after the reaping, but there had been no time for him to say anything to her before everyone was hustled out of the station and into the waiting cars.

Now, however, the cameras had gone and wouldn't be back until the start of Dyson's Victory Tour. So, for the first time since his return, he and Paula finally had some time to themselves. Time for him to tell her how he felt about her, but also what those feelings could mean now that he was a victor.

"Yes." Dyson looked at Paula as she stood in front of him, taking in her reddish-brown hair, her brown eyes, noting again how attractive she was. But he forced himself to ignore that and plunged straight into what he had to say. "Paula, we've been friends for years and, right after I was reaped, I began to think of you as . . . something more. Only, I didn't say anything then because I didn't think we'd see each other again. Now that I'm a victor . . ." He paused, trying to find the words for what he wanted to tell her.

"What does you being a victor have to do with anything?" Paula asked, sitting down on the seat beside Dyson.

"It has to do with a lot. I'm safe from the reaping now, but you've still got three more years. And, if Janus were to call your name, I'd have to watch you fight in the arena, maybe even watch you die. And I don't think I could stand that, especially if there was anything between us . . ." Dyson sighed. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want you to be my girl, but I don't think we should do anything about it, not until you've outgrown the Games."

He half-expected Paula to ask for her crescent moon pendant back, even reached up to unfasten it from around his neck. But, before he could do so, she shook her head and put her hand up to stop him. "No, Dyson," she said. "These last few weeks, watching you get reaped, thinking I was going to lose you, taught me something. You have to make the most of the present because you never know what the future will bring. Maybe I will get reaped one day, maybe I won't, but I'd rather we had at least a little time together than die in the arena regretting that I gave up the guy I loved."

Dyson looked at her, wondering if he'd heard her correctly. "Did you say . . .?"

Paula giggled. "Yes, silly! I love you and, since we don't know how much time we'll have . . ." As she had done on the day of the reaping, she didn't finish her sentence. Instead, she leaned towards him and he leaned towards her until their lips touched.