The next ten minutes are awful. Thirteen's air raid sirens are very effective. They clang around in his head until he thinks he'll go crazy from the noise and the pain.
He follows some of the others from Command down, and down, and down. He can't be sure, but he thinks they're further underground than the hangar. What an awful thought. Haymitch thinks of all the tons of gray concrete, and brown metal, and dark earth above them, and feels almost faint.
He finds his bunk, the same number as his compartment, and slides into one of the spaces.
At least he can't hear the siren anymore. His head feels tender, like an overripe fruit. He can see Finnick getting settled and almost goes to him, but he can't bring himself to get up. He has this irrational, but overpowering, fear that if he leaves his bunk, the entire room will collapse.
So he rolls over, faces the rough cut stones that make up the walls of his bed.
Eventually, one of the gray suits tells him he can collect supplies that include a bedroll, and points to a counter a few suits are standing in front of.
Haymitch joins the line. When he gets his bag, he goes back to his area, sets up his bedroll, and lays down again.
He almost wishes his bed in his compartment was as tiny as this. There's something comforting about being in such a confined space.
The bombing, when it starts, is some of the worst minutes of his life, which is really saying something. Each bomb vibrates his whole body, which includes his overripe fruit head. He pictures his brain rattling around, first by the sirens, now by the bombs. Each one feels like a personal assault from Snow, and soon, he's so angry he's shaking. He'd like to hit something, or drink. Don't they sometimes give alcohol to shock victims?
Haymitch stays in his bunk the whole time they're below, except to drink water and use the restroom. He's harassed by a few of the jumpsuits about not eating, but Boggs, just a few beds down, gets them to leave him alone. He gives him a grateful nod and rolls over again to face the rock.
He had been alternating between the fear of the bunker collapsing, choking to death on cement dust, or dying slowly if a piece of rebar impaled him, and misery over Peeta, and Effie, and the others. He imagines Katniss and Finnick are locked in their own disaster scenarios, and considers going to comfort them, but the fear of leaving his bunk is just too strong.
Then, once the bombing seems to have stopped, he starts thinking of Terra, and his family.
He has thought of her many times over the years. He tries not to think of her, which feels terrible. She deserved to be mourned properly.
He had been so numb when she died. Even after the Quell, and Maysilee, and all those years of getting ready for the reaping, watching kids he knew getting murdered, he still had not understood the refined cruelty of the Capitol. How they make sure you'll never fight them again. Not just through oppression and humiliation, which a strong spirit might overcome, but through the additional torture of hurting, or threatening, the people you love. Making a lesson out of people like him.
Laugh at the Capitol and they'll ruin everything about life that makes it worth living.
He loved his Mama, and his baby brother. Even when his brother was being a pain in the ass – rabbit punching him in the back to wake him up, scaring him when he was in the outhouse, hiding a rat or spider between his blankets before he got in bed – he had still loved him with the helpless, spiteful, close, vengeful kind of love you can only feel for someone you have to put up with every day.
Mama could be annoying too, with her obsession with keeping the house in the Seam spotless, and her aggression towards dust and anyone who tracked in mud. But she would slip him extra food sometimes, stand up to his father when he was drunk and yelling at him and his brother, and even though they had next to nothing, like everyone in the Seam, she had always made birthdays feel special with a small gift, or a piece of hard candy.
He had even loved his father, who had died before the fire, of a heart attack not long before he was reaped. It was some of that same helpless, spiteful, vengeful love, with a lot more spite than anything else, but it was there, buried under years of resenting his weakness for drink, his change from grumpy and tired, to loose and silly, and back to furious and tired as he drank. Still, there had been nights he had made them all laugh till their stomachs hurt. Nights he had done shadow plays for the boys in the light from an oil lamp. When they were little, he had told them stories till they fell asleep.
He had loved them all. He feels ashamed that he never thought of them, that their deaths had become something he feared above all else.
And Terra, his girl. His beautiful, redheaded, freckle-breasted girl. He remembers her best in the clearing near the Meadow, where they had met up so many times before his Games. He knows he's edited the memory, adding things that he felt, rather than saw, but it's a lovely vision, and he's held on so tight for so long, afraid that letting go is the same as not caring about her after all.
She stands in the clearing in a patch of wildflowers, beams of golden sunlight shifting through the leaves overhead, lighting up the tips of her hair, waking the flames in them until it looks like she's wearing a halo of the reddest heart of a fire. She's dressed in the rags they all wear, there's coal smudges on her hands and face. She sees him coming, and she looks so heartbreakingly beautiful, smiling because she sees him, and has been waiting for him all this time.
His imagination conjures this all so intensely, he actually feels like he's been transported to the past, that he is 16 and holding his girl.
That first night in the bunker, he just remembers holding her, smells the lye and coal dust smell of her, feels the abundant, lush curves of her body. Sometime in the early morning, he puts his hands on her face, and, to the shade in his mind, he says, "I loved you, Terra."
She puts her hand on one of his, and smiles that shy, gentle smile that had made him feel weak and warm every time he saw it.
25 years too late, facing death, he says goodbye, and he lets her, and his family, go.
He sleeps the whole day. He has no dreams, just deep, restful sleep.
He still has to contend with living underground with the entire population of 13, but over the next few days, he feels more peace than he has felt in a long time.
He thinks again of what Seeder said to him (it still feels like a punch to the gut thinking of Seeder and Chaff) after he lost both kids in the 51 st .
"And I still don't know: is this life better than death? Maybe I'll never know. So, I keep going, and assume it is. But sometimes, I envy the dead ones."
Yes, he can admit he is envious of Chaff and Seeder. They died with a mission. They died trying to save people. And they never had to make it to Thirteen just to be shuffled to a deep, basement room, like they were diseased.
After several days, Boggs wakes him up by placing his hand on his shoulder when he's sleeping, and getting a punch in the abdomen that doesn't even seem to startle him, let alone hurt. He's relieved he doesn't have his knife, and wonders if it would have damaged the man anyway, he seems at least half robot.
Boggs just chuckles and says, "Sorry to startle you, soldier. President Coin is about to make the announcement we can leave. You're wanted in Command."
Haymitch gets up and follows Boggs. They collect Plutarch and Fulvia, and are among the first out the door.
One of the jumpsuits is handing out coffee in the new Command room. Finnick, Gale, and Katniss show up, then Coin.
The Mockingjay is called to action.
It's not the same at all, but oddly, he can't help thinking of Snow, selling Finnick, and comparing this to Coin's use of Katniss. A distraction, a prize, for the rebels, whether she wants to be or not.
Still, it's like he's been given new life when they go outside. Haymitch takes a deep breath.
The destruction of the top layers of Thirteen is significant and makes him feel wobbly in the knees, thinking of all of them buried alive under all of that.
They walk amongst deep craters and rubble. Exposed and broken pipes spew out compressed air and water. A few wires fitfully spit electricity from their ends.
"How much of an edge did the boy's warning give you?" he asks.
"About ten minutes before our own systems would've detected the missiles," Boggs answers him.
Katniss asks, sounding worried, "But it did help, right?"
Haymitch understands why she asks. It's awful to think Peeta might have put himself in so much danger, brought even more pain on himself, if Thirteen's systems would have just picked it up anyway.
He lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when Boggs affirms Peeta saved lives.
One of the Capitol camera crew decides they'll shoot in front of the Justice Building. It's been obliterated, and this crater, filling his mind with a swoony surreal feeling, is full of roses. Roses?
Katniss freaks out at the sight. Apparently, it's a message to her, from Snow. Having received plenty of messages from Snow in his time, his heart sinks for her. He doesn't quite understand, even after she explains, but he knows that Snow is very capable of finding and exploiting any and all weaknesses, until it feels like your weaknesses and fears are all you are.