CHAPTER 29
PART I
For the first time since the hovercraft crash, I allowed myself a glimmer of optimism. Katniss's mental logjam had been broken, and everything pointed to her making a complete recovery, both physically as well as mentally. The Capitol was slowly becoming more and more stable with each passing day. There were incidents, of course – mostly from die-hard Loyalists that refused to accept that the Snow regime was dead – but, for the most part, most of the Capitol residents simply wanted to regain some semblance of order in their lives. They were more concerned about their immediate needs, such as having enough to eat, a roof over their heads, and warm clothes to wear. In fact, there were more problems with Rebel soldiers in the occupying forces than with the average, everyday Capitol resident. Many members of the occupying forces, especially those from Districts Six, Eight, and Ten, tended to be too heavy-handed when dealing with Capitol civilians. Fortunately, the Rebel leadership took legitimate complaints seriously – even General Beck from District Ten, who was widely known to pretty much hate everyone Capitol-born.
Of course, it probably helped that Boggs had a lengthy, closed-door meeting with General Beck. I heard later, from some very reliable sources, that Boggs told General Beck that he had no problem with sending Beck and every District Ten soldier back to Ten, if they felt that they were unable to discharge their duties in a fair and unbiased manner. Beck, of course, blustered and grumbled, but in the end he toed the line. He knew that Boggs was serious, and Beck hated the idea of being left out during the pacification of the Capitol.
Yes, I was becoming more optimistic with each passing day. And with that came restlessness. We – that is to say, Katniss and I – were no longer needed to inspire the Rebellion. We had no real organizational abilities. We weren't politicians, or planners, or even real soldiers. We could fight, if needed – we had both proved that much during our Games – and we were survivors, but there was really nothing for us to do here. Deep down inside, we were a couple of simple District Twelve kids – only there wasn't even a District Twelve to go back to.
There was also the little matter of my impending trial. I was still on probation for the stunt I pulled with Hammersmith and Brandywine. Once a day, as a term of my probation, I reported to Major Silenus Festuca, who had better things to do than ensure that I was behaving. Additionally, I was escorted everywhere by either Haymitch or Effie – mostly Effie, as Haymitch also had better things to do. I really didn't mind Effie's company – she genuinely liked both Katniss and me, and she was pleasant and knew her way around the Capitol – but she was a constant reminder that I wasn't a free man.
Eventually, I had been forced to tell Katniss what I had done. She had been wondering why I always had someone with me every time I visited her, and she had begun to hear rumors about what I had done. Katniss didn't say much when I told her, but I did get the distinct impression that she approved of what I had done. The same, however, could not be said of either Andromeda Snow or Sperantia Blackstone.
I was languishing in my assigned quarters in the Presidential Palace one evening when both Andromeda and Sperantia paid me an unexpected visit. Technically, I was under house arrest – if I left the palace grounds for any reason I was supposed to be escorted by either Haymitch or Effie – but the palace was so enormous that I figured there would be no reason for me to leave unless I had business elsewhere in the Capitol. My job here consisted mostly in staying out of the way while everyone else worked on the task of putting Panem back on its feet. I didn't mind too much, at first. The kitchen facilities here were, of course, first-rate – a real baker's paradise. That being said, I could only bake so much. That left a lot of time for me to think – so, when the security desk called to tell me that Andromeda and Sperantia were on their way up, I was pleasantly surprised.
I answered the knock on my door immediately. "The guard downstairs called and said you were on your way up," I said with a smile when I opened the door.
My smile faded when I saw the somber expressions on the faces of the two girls. "Speri and I would like to talk to you," Andromeda announced.
I opened the door wider and ushered them into my quarters. It was a suite, with a sitting room adjacent to the bedroom. "Come on in."
The girls brushed by me without another word. I began to wonder at the nature of their visit. "Please, sit," I said, as I forced the smile back onto my face. "Would you like some tea? It's still hot, I think. Or how about a cheese bun? I made them for Katniss and had extra."
"We're not hungry," Sperantia said, as she sat on a straight-backed chair.
"No," Andromeda added as she sat next to Sperantia. "Like I said, we want to talk to you."
I dropped into a chair across from the girls. "Okay," I said carefully. "What do you want to talk about?"
"We heard what you did," Andromeda said flatly. "Or tried to do, to Hammersmith and Brandywine."
I said nothing. "Didn't we just fight a war to stop that sort of thing?" Andromeda continued, the anger in her voice now apparent.
"What were you thinking, Peeta?" Sperantia demanded. "You, forcing them to fight – your own personal little Hunger Games. Was that it?"
"You – you don't understand," I stammered. "You have no idea what they did to Katniss!"
"We know," Andromeda said. "But that still doesn't give you the right!"
"I remember, back in Thirteen," Sperantia added, "how you used to tell me – tell us," at this she waved her hand towards Andromeda, "how important it was to have people accused of crimes to be treated fairly. And then you go and do something like this!"
"You don't understand," I said through clenched teeth as my own anger began to rise, "they raped Katniss. Raped – more than once!"
"And they'll pay for what they did," Andromeda said, and then added sadly, "Peeta, I looked up to you. I respected you. Speri's right – you talked about justice for everyone. Well, that must include people like Hammersmith and Brandywine. Because, if it doesn't, then you're no better than – well, than my grandfather."
When Andromeda mentioned her grandfather, there was a noticeable hitch in her voice. "I know," I said miserably. I knew how hard it had been for Andromeda to come to terms with the horrible things that Coriolanus Snow had done as President of Panem, and I had to remind myself that her own father was confined and awaiting his own trial. "It's this place," I muttered. "This place brings out the worst in people."
"I always thought you were better than that," Sperantia said. "The way you stuck up for me when I first arrived in Thirteen. You even got me to change how I thought – about the Capitol, about the Games, and about district people. You disappointed me, Peeta." She shook her head. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it is this place."
Again, I said nothing. "Peeta," Andromeda said gently, "Speri and I don't hate you. Far from it. But Speri's right. You disappointed us both, Peeta. But we're here right now because we care about you – about you and Katniss."
I sighed deeply. "I know how hard this whole thing has been on you both. I just want you both to know that I'm sorry I disappointed you." I smiled wanly. "I guess it was hard to discover that I'm not a saint." I paused for a moment before continuing. "I have to admit, though, that being on house arrest here is a lot nicer than the prison."
"What are they going to do to you?" Sperantia asked.
I shrugged. "I don't know. Some sort of tribunal, I guess. Boggs hasn't told me."
"Maybe afterwards," Andromeda said, "you and Katniss can leave and finally get some peace."
I didn't reply. I had given that matter a lot of thought over the last few days, and I kept drawing the same, inescapable conclusion: once the country had become stable enough, and once my own punishment had been decided upon and imposed on me, there was really no place in Panem for Katniss or me to go.
PART II
The visit with Andromeda and Sperantia had started tensely enough, but, by the time they left, they had managed to vent their anger at me and had even granted me some measure of forgiveness for what I had done. Afterwards, they both visited me regularly, and the subject of my forcing Cassius Hammersmith and Bacchus Brandywine into a Hunger Games-style fight was never brought up again. However, the dilemma of where to go once peace had been completely restored still hung over me. So, I turned to the one couple whose company I had been forced to share – Haymitch and Effie.
Haymitch seemed surprised by my admission. "I dunno," he said. "I just always figured you'd go back to Twelve."
I looked at Haymitch in disbelief. "Go back to what, Haymitch? It was firebombed, remember?"
"Not all of it," Effie pointed out.
I snorted. "Well, we sure as hell can't live in the train station, Effie." Effie looked crestfallen at my remark, and I regretted snapping at her as soon as the words came out of my mouth. "I'm sorry," I said contritely. "That was uncalled-for."
Effie looked at me with eyes that mirrored the hurt from my caustic retort. "Yes, it was, Peeta."
An awkward silence followed. "I heard," Haymitch said finally, "that Thirteen was gonna start moving Topside, now that Snow and his cronies are no longer in power."
I thought about what Haymitch had just said. I had heard rumors to that effect myself, and decades of little to no human presence had done much to restore the natural flora and fauna of District Thirteen. In many ways, the thick forests and gently rolling hills there reminded me of the forests that surrounded District Twelve. The only problem was that both Katniss and I had some less-than-pleasant memories of the time that we had spent in Thirteen.
"No," I said with a shake of my head. "Not Thirteen."
Haymitch sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay, then. How about Seven?"
An image of Johanna Mason flashed before my mind's eye. "No."
"There's District Four," Effie offered hesitantly, breaking her silence. "It has the ocean, and beaches."
And Finnick Odair is from Four. Finnick, who's been a mental basket case ever since Annie Cresta's death in that hovercraft crash. Katniss and I would be walking reminders that we still had what he had lost. "I'm sorry, Effie," I replied softly. "But no."
"Two?" Haymitch asked.
"Too bleak," I said immediately.
"Can't argue with ya there," Haymitch muttered. "Okay, then. District One?"
I shook my head. "Too gaudy and artificial."
"Three?"
The mention of District Three didn't stir up the same kind of strong emotions that Districts Four and Seven did. I liked Beetee - he was a good, kind man, but I hadn't been especially close to him. I thought back to my single visit there, on my Victory Tour. District Three had been clean, well-organized – and totally lacking in what Haymitch called "soul." District Twelve, for all its faults, had been alive with emotion. I was surprised that Haymitch had even suggested it.
I said nothing, but Haymitch didn't have to hear my response to know what it would have been. "Okay, then. Forget Three."
"What about the Triad?" Effie mused, almost to herself.
I glanced over at Effie, confusion written on my face. "The 'Triad?'"
"It's inter-district," Haymitch explained, "which means it's unsettled and unprotected."
"And it holds no unpleasant memories for either Peeta or Katniss," Effie said firmly. She pulled a PADD from her handbag and typed quickly on the keypad. "It's right here," she said, as she handed me the PADD.
I gazed at the screen. A map of Panem was displayed, with one area brightly highlighted. It was a sizeable chunk of land, bordered on the west by District Seven, north by District Five, and east and south by District Ten. "Why is so much land inter-district?" I asked.
Haymitch shrugged. "I'm not sure. There's some old legends that date back to before the Dark Days – that this place was a haven for criminals and undesirables. The Capitol tried to annex the Triad over a hundred years ago. According to the stories, Peacekeepers went in – and didn't come out."
At this, Effie rolled her eyes. "Myth and legend! Haymitch, I'm surprised at you for believing such tales! There've been aerial surveys of the Triad. Infra-red scans, radar mapping, even air quality readings. These surveys all point to no sign of human habitation at all." Effie reached over and took her PADD out of my hands, typed in some new commands, and handed it back to me.
She had pulled up some aerial photographs. Thickly forested gently rolling hills gave way to flat prairie land. "The forests are more to the west, towards Seven," Effie explained. "The prairie lies to the north and east and gets more arid to the south."
I glanced at Haymitch. "What do you think?"
"It's undeveloped, with no utilities or services at all," Haymitch replied. "Even if the new government allowed for settlement there – which I doubt – there's no running water or electricity. Even Twelve had running water and electricity."
"Not always," I mused. Although the lack of electricity impacted the Seam much more than "Townies" like me, we still had days where power was rationed to vital services only. I remember days where the bakery was lit by lantern, and we were forced to use wood-burning stoves to bake our products. As I studied the pictures, I found myself, for the first time in recent memory, feeling hope for my – and Katniss's – immediate future.
"I'm gonna talk to Boggs about this," I announced.
Haymitch snorted. "As if Boggs has any time right now for this sort of nonsense."
"If not now, when?" Effie asked. "Haymitch, how many displaced District Twelve residents do you think will want to remain in Thirteen? Their district – your district – is gone! Not to mention the refugees from Eight. There are thousands of people right now that have no home, and perhaps don't want to be resettled in the Capitol, or a new, strange district. Boggs – or whomever may be in authority at the time – will have to deal with this at some point!"
Haymitch sighed and glanced at me. "Dammit," he muttered, "I hate when she's right."
Effie smiled triumphantly, but, before she could say anything in response, Haymitch's phone rang. "Saved by the bell," he said, relieved, as he picked up the phone. "Yeah. Haymitch Abernathy."
Haymitch listened for a moment and then glanced over at me again. "He's right here," he said. "Do you need to speak to him?" Haymitch listened again and then nodded, his face suddenly grim. "Okay. I'll tell him. Goodbye."
"Tell me what?" I asked as Haymitch hung up the phone.
"It appears," he replied dryly, "that the wheels of justice are turning swiftly under the interim government. That was Major Simmons on the phone. He's what Boggs calls the 'Judge Advocate General' for District Thirteen, and as such is the closest thing to a Magistrate that Boggs has. Your hearing regarding the matter of you vs. Cassius Hammersmith and Bacchus Brandywine has been set – for tomorrow morning at eight."
My excitement over possibly finding a place to relocate vanished in an instant at this news. I vaguely remembered Major Simmons – a gaunt, humorless man that I had never seen smile – from my time in District Thirteen. And now, apparently, he was going to be the one to decide my fate – and my punishment.
PART III
"Peeta Mellark!"
Major Simmons had a deep, booming voice that seemed to fill the room when he called out my name. Haymitch nudged me with his elbow to remind me to stand and I rose slowly to my feet. "Here, sir."
"Citizen, are you represented by counsel? Who advocates for you?"
At this, Haymitch stood and raised one hand slightly. "I advocate for Peeta Mellark," he announced.
Simmons peered at Haymitch. "Are you an attorney, sir?" he asked pointedly.
"Jackass," Haymitch muttered, so softly that I was the only one that could hear him. Louder, he said, "Mr. Mellark attempted to secure the services of several different Capitol attorneys. None were willing to represent him in this matter."
Simmons' face clouded in anger. "Mr. Mellark," he said after a moment. "You may petition this court to appoint a qualified advocate to speak on your behalf, if you wish."
"Mr. Abernathy has proven to be adequate, sir," I replied. I cast a side-long glance towards Haymitch as I said this and smiled inwardly when I noticed his jaw tighten in anger.
"Very well, then," Simmons intoned. "Would you like the court to recite the charges against Mr. Mellark?"
"We waive the right of Peeta Mellark with regard to the reading of the charges," I heard Haymitch say. "He knows what he did."
Simmons looked surprised but composed himself quickly. "Very well," he said and then turn toward me. "Mr. Mellark, this court regrets that we are not able at this time to give you what's known as a trial by a jury of your peers. I will be the sole arbiter of your case here today. If you wish, this court can postpone this hearing until you have to opportunity to retain counsel."
"I understand," I said. "I'm fine with Hay – Mr. Abernathy's advocacy."
"In that case," Simmons said, as he turned to address Haymitch, "Mr. Abernathy, do you wish to present to this court any evidence or mitigating circumstances that may excuse Peeta Mellark's actions?"
"No, sir," Haymitch replied firmly.
Simmons turned towards me. "Mr. Mellark, do you wish to make a statement on your own behalf?"
"No, sir," I said. I'm afraid my voice lacked the conviction of Haymitch's voice. Still, I followed his advice. Make no excuses and don't try to justify your actions, he had said.
Simmons looked mildly surprised at my statement, but he continued smoothly, "Very well. Know that this will be your only opportunity to speak, or have your advocate speak, in your defense. Do you still wish to stand mute?"
Haymitch and I both stood silently. After a moment, Simmons sighed and shook his head slightly. "Very well. Peeta Mellark, after considering the overwhelming evidence against you, I have no alternative but to find you guilty of two counts of attempted murder, one count of reckless use of a deadly weapon, and one count of abusing your authority for personal gain. Therefore, this court sentences you to the following punishment – you may not own, possess, or have in your custody or control any firearm, ammunition, or edged weapon for a period of five years. You are directed to pay restitution to the families of Cassius Hammersmith and Bacchus Brandywine by forfeiting, in perpetuity, your Victor's stipend. This stipend shall be divided equally among all present and future Hammersmith and Brandywine families. Payment will begin immediately and will cease only upon your death. Do you understand these terms?"
I nodded. "Yes, sir."
Simmons gazed at me thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "This court has considered your service to the Rebellion and the physical, emotional, and mental trauma that has been inflicted upon you by the Loyalist regime in pronouncing this sentence. However, regarding the prohibition on weapons, know this – if you violate these terms, you will be imprisoned for a period of not less than six months for the first offense. Do you understand?"
"I do, sir," I replied.
"In that case," Simmons said as he banged his gavel, "consider your case adjudicated. We're finished here. Mr. Abernathy, Mr. Mellark – you are both dismissed."
Haymitch and I could not get out of that courtroom quickly enough. Once in the outer hallway, he turned to me and said one word. "Well?"
"You knew what his sentence would be before we even walked in there," I said accusingly.
Haymitch shrugged. "I suspected," he admitted reluctantly, and then added, "but I couldn't let you shoot your mouth off and give Simmons a bunch of bogus excuses. You would've gotten a least a few months' jail time for sure. Nice job on keeping your cool, by the way."
I bristled a bit at Haymitch's suggestion that I would "shoot my mouth off," and then I decided that he was probably right. Better to follow Haymitch's instructions.
"Thanks," I muttered. I was working on a sarcastic retort, but then my attention shifted to an unusual sight – a couple dozen shackled prisoners was being herded down the hallway by silent, grim-faced Peacekeepers. I nudged Haymitch with one elbow and nodded towards the shackled prisoners. "Haymitch, I whispered. "What the hell is that?"
Haymitch glanced over at the shackled group and shrugged. "Not sure," he admitted.
I snorted softly. "As always, you're a great help, Haymitch."
PART IV
I must admit, I found my sentence to be a liberating experience. I couldn't even touch a weapon of any kind, so I was able, once and for all, to dispense with all that "Soldier Mellark" nonsense. And Katniss made it quite clear that her Victor's stipend was more than enough for us both to live on. Of course, I wasn't going to sit back for the rest of my life and enjoy Katniss's stipend. I was a baker, and I fully intended to open a bakery – once, of course, I knew where I would be living.
On that subject, Katniss seemed intrigued by the notion of living in the Triad. She confessed to me that she, too, did not wish to return to District Twelve, and none of the other districts held any appeal for her. Of course, there was the matter of Primrose Everdeen that Katniss had to deal with – because wherever Katniss settled, she always wanted Prim to be nearby. And the problem that Katniss faced is that Prim wanted to be a doctor – which meant that she would have to remain in the Capitol to attend medical school.
Katniss continued to improve, both physically and mentally. The day after my tribunal, she was discharged from Victor's Mercy and moved back into the Presidential Palace. She soon discovered what I had already learned – us "Victors" had accomplished what Plutarch Heavensbee had hoped we would accomplish. We had been the face of the Rebellion, and, now that peace was settling unsteadily over Panem, we found that we were unemployed. At least I was able to bake. Katniss couldn't even hunt to relieve her boredom.
As it happened, Andromeda Snow was the one to break the monotony – and not in a good way.
Katniss and I were in the Palace Library, poring over everything that was available about the area known as the Triad, when Andromeda Snow showed up with Sperantia Blackstone. I knew that something was wrong as soon as they appeared. It was obvious that Meda had been crying and Speri was dry-eyed, but grim.
"Oh, Peeta," Meda said tearfully when she saw me, "my father was sentenced thirty minutes ago!"
"Mine, too," Speri added softly.
I wasn't surprised to hear that Marcellus Snow had been sentenced by Rebellion Tribunal. After all, he had continued to prosecute the war against the districts – carrying on the tradition begun by his father, Coriolanus Snow. But Quintus Blackstone had provided invaluable help to the Rebellion, staging a coup right here in the Capitol and ending the war without the necessity of launching a costly spring offensive that would, undoubtedly, cost hundreds, if not thousands, of lives – both Rebel and Loyalist. Not to mention that his help since the coup had been invaluable to Boggs.
"I didn't know that Boggs was holding Tribunals so quickly," Katniss murmured, almost to herself.
"They started two days ago," Speri explained. "They were holding hearings for lower-level officials in the Snow government and working their way up to the senior officials like Ministers." Her voice dropped and she added, "They were trying Loyalists in big groups – fifteen at a time or more. They just finished an hour ago."
The line of shackled prisoners that Haymitch and I saw in the Hall of Justice after my own tribunal ended suddenly made sense. That was probably one of the first groups to face Rebel justice. My own sentence had been lenient. I felt a cold chill run down my spine at the thought of what fate awaited those Loyalists that enthusiastically prosecuted the war against the districts. Another thought struck me as I pondered the fate of the Loyalists. Why were these Tribunals held so quickly, and in virtual secrecy? These tactics smacked more of the old Snow government than the open, progressive government that Boggs, and others, wanted to establish.
Katniss must have been thinking the same thing. "Meda, did anyone tell you or Speri that these tribunals were going to be held?"
Meda shook her head as she blinked back more tears. "No. Only that sentences have been handed down."
"And we don't know what anyone was sentenced to," Speri added, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice.
Katniss gave me a knowing glance. It was obvious that she was as disturbed about how these tribunals had been held as I was. Wordlessly I reached for the phone that was sitting on the table to my front and dialed a number from memory. "Let's see if I can't get you some answers," I said as the phone began to ring.
"Duty officer's desk, President Boggs' office," a clipped voice answered on the second ring.
"This is Peeta Mellark," I announced. "Is President Boggs available?"
"One moment, Victor Mellark," the voice said, instantly respectful. I don't know if the respect was from my association with the Mockingjay, my appearances in the various propos that Plutarch had produced, my status as a Hunger Games Victor, or my attempt at forcing two Loyalist bastards fight to the death. I didn't much care, either, if it gave me an "in" to Boggs.
The voice returned. "President Boggs is unable to speak to you now, Victor Mellark, but he did say that he would see you in fifteen minutes' time. He also requests that you bring Victor Everdeen with you"
"Thank you," I said. "We'll be there in fifteen minutes." I hung up the phone and glanced over at Katniss.
"He wants to see us both," I explained.
Katniss nodded. "Okay."
I turned and faced Meda and Speri. "We'll get you some answers," I promised. Let's hope, I said to myself, that the answers we get are ones that Meda and Speri want to hear.
Boggs wasted no time on pleasantries. "I suppose you've heard about the Loyalist tribunals," he said as soon as the door shut behind Katniss and me. He waved us into a pair of straight-backed chairs in front of his desk as he sat down behind a desk that could only be described as organized chaos.
"Andromeda Snow and Sperantia Blackstone came to see us," I admitted. "They want answers."
"So do we," Katniss said bluntly. "Holding secret trials smacks of something a Snow would do."
If Boggs was shocked at Katniss's bluntness, he didn't show it. "Actually, Coriolanus Snow loved the spectacle of a public tribunal, where the accused were forced to squirm for the entertainment of the Capitol," he replied dryly. "We have good reason for doing what we did."
Katniss leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "Then explain it to us."
"As soon as our forces had occupied the Capitol," Boggs began, "the representatives of the Rebel districts met to decide how we were going to handle the captured Loyalists. One faction, led by General Beck, wanted the authority to summarily execute Loyalists as they saw fit, with or without trial. A second faction, led by Commander Pullman, favored a slow, deliberate process of evidence-gathering and public trials, as a demonstration of our return to the pre-Catastrophes form of 'innocent until proven guilty' justice."
"Fascinating," Katniss said, the sarcasm and impatience evident in her voice. "But that doesn't tell us why you did what you did.
Boggs fixed Katniss with an icy stare. "I am under no obligation to explain my actions to you," he said coldly. "I agreed to do so out of the respect that I feel for you both. You will show me an appropriate level of courtesy and respect. Do I make myself clear?"
I think Katniss was more than a little surprised at Boggs' sudden shift in demeanor. "Yes, sir," was all she said, her voice uncharacteristically meek.
"Thank you," Boggs said. "Where was I? Oh, yes. Well, it was obvious to me that Beck's method of shooting Capitolites for spitting on the sidewalk was not feasible, nor was Pullman's plan of having long, drawn-out trials. There is still a lot of Loyalist sentiment here, and the last thing we wanted was to have to worry about resistance cells popping up in response to summary executions. Like it or not, we need the Capitol and its bureaucratic infrastructure if we are to govern the rest of the nation. Not having to worry about a disgruntled Capitolite planting a bomb in the Ministry of Agriculture goes a long way towards the quick restoration of order."
Boggs had a point. The average Capitolite was just as conditioned to obey the edicts of the powers-that-be as the average District citizen. But if Rebels started to rule with a heavy hand, it wouldn't take long for a resistance movement to spring up. But that didn't explain why Boggs wasn't for giving the Loyalists the types of pre-Catastrophe trials that had all but been promised.
Boggs explained that next. "Now, regarding a lengthy incarceration and jury trial. The longer we hold people – especially those that held real power in the Snow government, such as Cassius Hammersmith and Marcellus Snow – the greater the chance that they will be held up by stubborn Loyalists as martyrs. This was the main reason why Coriolanus Snow's grave location is, and always will be, a secret. If we waited weeks, months, or even years to build an ironclad case against these people, it's a sure thing that their very presence will incite fanatical Loyalists into acts of terrorism."
"So," Katniss said – respectfully, this time, thank goodness – "the answer is these quick tribunals?"
"Admittedly, the tribunals are a compromise," Boggs replied. "They're a way to dispose of a problem that has no easy solution."
"Quintus Blackstone was caught up in this," I pointed out. "And if he was, others were too. Like Praetor Antonius."
Boggs nodded. "And others, such as Brigadier Valerius." He sighed heavily. "This may be difficult to understand, but we had to put those responsible for the coup on trial as well as the Loyalists. So, they had their day in court, and guilty verdicts were reached on every coup member. Most of the charges included tacitly or actively supporting the Hunger Games, tacitly or actively supporting the exploitation and oppression of the districts, and tacitly or actively supporting a war of aggression by the Capitol against the districts."
"That doesn't sound like justice to me," Katniss muttered.
If Boggs was angered by Katniss's insolent tone, he didn't let on. "The typical punishment involved stripping the accused of whatever rank or title they held in the Loyalist government, forfeiture of all pay for same, and a life-long ban against any of them holding any form of elected office."
I glanced at Katniss. These punishments weren't really punishments at all, unless – "Haymitch mentioned something to me a while back. He was trying to explain pre-Catastrophes justice and mentioned something called 'double jeopardy.'"
Boggs nodded and allowed himself a faint smile. "Exactly. Everyone from Minister Blackstone down to the basic Peacekeepers that assisted in the overthrow of the Snow government has been tried, found guilty, and sentenced to a specific punishment or punishments. So now, if someone decides a year or two from now, that they were going to arrest and try some former government official because they held office during Snow's administration, they'll discover that they can't try a person twice for the same crime, if a judgment has been reached, and a verdict has been issued."
"So, nothing will happen to Speri's father?" I asked.
"Of course something happened to him," Boggs said, a trifle impatiently. "He was tried, found guilty, and stripped of his title and salary." His voice softened a bit and he added, "Blackstone will be going to work for the Interim Rebel Government – specifically, for me – starting tomorrow morning. It would be another crime to not use his knowledge of how the Capitol bureaucracy functions."
"And what of Meda Snow's father?" Katniss asked.
"As far as the true Loyalists are concerned, we have no plans on either long-term incarceration, nor are we planning on executing them," Boggs announced. "To that end, our only other alternative is to let them go."
Katniss immediately bristled at this revelation, and I admit I was both shocked and outraged to hear Boggs admit that the Loyalists were literally not going to be punished for what they did. Thankfully, Boggs explained what was going to happen to them before Katniss was able to say anything.
"I think you'll both appreciate our solution," Boggs said. "Especially as your participation, along with that of the remaining Victors, is desired."
I finally grasped what Boggs was saying. "You're banishing them."
Katniss looked at me sharply. "Banishing? To where?"
Boggs smiled grimly. "The Wilds. You leave the day after tomorrow." He paused and added, "I was going to speak to you about this tonight, but Andromeda Snow and Sperantia Blackstone forced me to reveal our intent a little sooner."
PART V
"Where do you think we are?"
I had been idly staring out the window as the train made its way north, to a border that was seldom discussed, when Katniss's voice snapped me out of my reverie and back to the present. I turned away from the window and smiled at Katniss. I patted the seat next to mine and gestured for her to join me. After a moment, she slid down onto the seat and repeated her question.
I shrugged. "Somewhere in District Seven. I'm not entirely sure exactly where we are, with all the detours we've been making."
Before the Rebellion, a trip like this would take a few hours at most in a high-speed train. But, here in District Seven, the Rebels had been very thorough in their sabotage of train tracks. As a result, we had spent more time traveling eastward or westward in search of undamaged track than we did traveling north to the frontier. Add to that the fact that we rarely exceeded one hundred kilometers per hour – on a train capable of four times that speed – and what you're left with is a very long, exhausting trip.
We had already spent over a day on this train, and the strain of the trip was really beginning to show on Katniss. She was restless – constantly wandering from one car to the next, never sitting still for more than fifteen or twenty minutes at a time. Part of her restlessness was due, I'm sure, to the nature of our mission. A bigger part of it was a result of her imperfect memory. It wasn't the big things for her – for example, she remembered our relationship, and what we meant to one another. It was the little things that had escaped her and would come back in little unexpected bursts – some good, some bad.
Katniss slipped her hand into mine as we sat and watched the forests of District Seven slip slowly by. "It looks like home," she said softly.
"It does, a little," I replied carefully, and then added, "of course, I never spent much time outside the fence."
"No," Katniss said absently. "You baked. I hunted." Something in the distance caught her eye and she pointed. "What's that?"
I squinted and followed her pointing finger. "A lumber mill, I think."
"Of course," she murmured. "This is District Seven. Their industry is lumber." She thought for a moment and added, "Johanna Mason was from District Seven."
I nodded. "Yes, she was."
A hint of sadness crept into her voice. "She was my friend."
I squeezed her hand. "Mine too."
Katniss turned and gazed at me intently. "Did you love her?" she asked suddenly.
The question took me by surprise. "She was the older sister I never had," I replied. "So yes, I loved her as a sister."
Katniss wrinkled her forehead in concentration. "You had two brothers."
I nodded. "Yes." I felt guilty for not thinking about my family for quite some time. "They…died. In District Twelve."
Katniss's face softened a bit. "Your mother and father too. They died; is what I mean."
"Yes." I thought about my father. What would you think of me now, Poppa? I asked myself. Would you be proud?
I felt tears suddenly well up in my eyes and turned away from Katniss. "You're thinking about your family now, Peeta?" Katniss asked softly.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. "I was eleven when my father died in the mines," Katniss said. "That was the worst day of my life up until then. I can't imagine you losing your whole family like that." She let go of my hand and twined her arms around me. "And Johanna too. You've lost everyone."
I turned and faced her as I blinked back tears. "Not everyone," I whispered.
Katniss leaned her head against my arm. "No," she murmured, "not everyone."
Haymitch grunted, and then cursed loudly as the truck we were riding in hit yet another pothole. "Son-of-a-bitch," he muttered. "Is that asshole tryin' to hit every damn hole and bump in th' road?"
Despite my discomfort I was forced to chuckle. "Take a look," I said as I waved my arm towards the back of the truck. The sides were covered with canvas, but the back was open. We couldn't see where we were going, but we certainly could see where we had been. "This 'road' is a glorified game trail."
Katniss snorted softly. "Some game trail," she muttered. "No self-respecting deer would be caught dead using it."
Just then, we hit another bump, prompting another stream of profanity from Haymitch. I couldn't blame him. The rail line had ended abruptly at a small logging camp some distance back. There, trucks had been waiting for us. It had been obvious that these trucks had been used by the lumberjacks to haul supplies and logs, not people. Still, we were lucky. Our truck had been hastily fitted with wooden bench seats. The trucks that hauled the prisoners lacked such "comforts." The prisoners were forced to sit on the truck bed and find whatever comfort they could on the hard, unyielding metal.
I shifted uncomfortably on the bench and stared out the back of the truck. A light rain was falling. Somehow, the grim setting outside was perfect for the grim task that we had traveled all this way to perform. Soon, we would be shoving several dozen orange-clad men and women through a hole in the border fence to fend for themselves the best that they could. They wouldn't be empty-handed – they would be supplied with weapons, tools, and survival equipment that had been stripped from the old Hunger Games Training Center, as well as food and water enough to supply the entire group for about two weeks – but they had only the most basic, rudimentary training in survival techniques. For most of the prisoners, this would prove to be nothing more than a delayed death sentence. Some were old enough for wrinkles and gray hair, most were not in good physical condition, and none were accustomed to living in the wild. Haymitch had said it best. "Hell, the Rebellion's done sentenced them all to death. They just did it in a way so that they can convince themselves that they gave the Loyalists a fightin' chance. Well, if it helps them sleep at night…"
Haymitch assured me that he didn't have a problem sleeping at night.
I doubt if anyone else in this truck had problems sleeping at night. In addition to myself, Katniss, and Haymitch, there were three other Victors riding with us: Cashmere from District One, Enobaria from Two, and Finnick Odair from District Four. I felt bad for all three – Cashmere had lost her brother during Katniss's attempted assassination in District Eight, while Enobaria and Finnick has lost Jackson and Annie Cresta, respectively, in the hovercraft crash. Enobaria and Finnick had become very withdrawn since the crash – never smiling or taking a part in the inter-district banter that they had both once reveled in. Cashmere was a little better, in large part due to the unlikely romance that had developed between her and Dr. Josephus Picardo, but it was obvious that she missed her brother Gloss terribly. However, Picardo was a steady, stabilizing influence on Cashmere, and that was something that both Enobaria and Finnick needed desperately.
Unfortunately for both, it seemed likely that such an influence would not enter their lives any time soon.
There were four other passengers in our truck. Plutarch Heavensbee rode in the cab with the driver, while Messalla, Plutarch's propo producer, and Messalla's camera crew of the brothers Castor and Pollux rode in the back of the truck with us. Plutarch was determined to show the entire nation that the new powers-that-be were benevolent and supported by the last six Victors left in Panem. To that end, we were all dressed in variants of the uniform that Katniss and I had worn during our propo shoots while the war was still being fought, complete with weapons: Katniss had her bow, Finnick had his trident, Enobaria had a spear, Cashmere a sword, and Haymitch had a knife. I was the only one that was not armed. Boggs was determined that I was going to obey the terms of my probation – with no exceptions.
There was a squeal of brakes as our truck abruptly stopped. "Now what?" Haymitch grumbled. A moment later, he had his answer as a pair of Rebel soldiers appeared at the tailgate.
"End of the line," one of the soldiers announced as the tailgate fell open with a metallic clang. I didn't recognize either soldier, but their clothing and accents marked them as District Seven. At that moment, I didn't much care where they were from, as long as I could climb down from the truck and stretch my legs.
The back of the truck emptied quickly, as we were all anxious to be able to stand upright again. Plutarch took Messalla aside, along with Castor and Pollux, no doubt to give them some last-minute instructions. Haymitch, on the other hand, wasted no time in answering nature's call by relieving himself against the nearest truck tire.
Katniss snorted in disgust. "Very classy, Haymitch," she muttered as I smiled and shook my head. Haymitch being Haymitch, I said to myself.
"Sweetheart, when ya gotta go, ya gotta go," Haymitch replied with a smirk.
I turned away to hide my smile from Katniss, and felt it instantly fade as I got my first look at the border fence that separated District Seven and Panem from the wilderness known simply as "The Wilds." I couldn't help but compare this barrier to other fences I had seen. The fence that had surrounded District Twelve had been a joke, having fallen into disrepair long before I had been born. Katniss had routinely climbed through one of many gaps on her hunting excursions. The pathetic District Twelve fence stood in stark contrast to the imposing, well-maintained barrier around District Eleven. That fence had been patrolled by Peacekeepers and had been electrified round the clock. Other districts had similar fences designed to keep their citizens "secure" from any outside threats. None of them could hold a candle to the structure that I was staring at now.
"Holy shit." I glanced to my left at the source of the voice, and saw, to my surprise, Finnick Odair. He rarely spoke to anyone unless spoken to first, so withdrawn he had become with grief at Annie Cresta's death. At that point I didn't care what he was talking about, as long as he was talking.
"I know," I replied softly. "I've never seen anything like that."
"Me neither," he said.
This fence was easily twice the height of the tallest district fence that I had ever seen. It didn't appear to be electrified – I guess even the Capitol balked at the idea of running power through a fence that stretched for thousands of kilometers – but it was topped with several stacked rows of razor wire that would slice a fence-climber to ribbons if they attempted to scale it. The fence itself was constructed of some sort of mesh, more tightly woven than a chain-link fence but still see-through. The section directly in front of our convoy had a large hole cut through it, big enough for several people to pass through at the same time. I could see the missing section of fence leaning against an unbroken section, and, from the blackened edges of the hole, realized that the material was sturdier and more robust than I had originally thought. Workers had needed cutting torches to open a gap. These same workers were standing by to close the hole once the prisoners had been shoved through.
The scale of the fence impressed all of us. "I never would have been able to hunt in the woods if Twelve had been surrounded by that," Katniss said softly.
"You tryin' to say you couldn't have climbed it?" Haymitch said with a chuckle.
"She would've gotten sliced-up fingers for her troubles." One of the District Seven soldiers had joined us, obviously amused at our awe. "You see that mesh?" he asked as he pointed at an unbroken section of fence. "Grabbing that would be like tryin' to climb a ladder made outta knives. The insides of the mesh are sharp for that very reason." He scratched his jaw idly and added, "Supposedly, some tried. Guess some folks decided it was worth the risk if it meant not bein' under Snow's thumb anymore."
"What happened to them?" Cashmere asked.
The guard shrugged. "Dunno. Shot on sight, most likely."
Plutarch walked up to us just then, and he got right to the point. "Messalla and I thought that the most compelling image that we could get from your presence here is to have half of you line up on one side of the opening, and half on the other. You'll form a gauntlet, so to speak, that the banished prisoners will have to walk through."
As Plutarch spoke, I glanced at the orange-clad prisoners. In them, I saw no arrogance, no air of superiority, no bluster – just naked fear. I thought back to my Games and the hovercraft flight that took the Tributes to the launch site. I saw the same fear in the eyes of my fellow Tributes during that flight that I saw here among the Capitol elite today. Idly, I wondered how many of them would still be alive once their pre-packaged food and purified water ran out.
"Line them up!" This sharp command was issued by the detail commander, Major Zander. The Rebel soldiers quickly obeyed, herding and prodding the prisoners – some now weeping openly – into four ragged lines. Each Rebel district had at least one representative soldier here, and I noticed that none of them were all that gentle in the way they handled the prisoners.
"Prisoners," Zander recited in a clear, ringing voice, "you have all been tried by representative tribunal and found guilty of multiple crimes against the citizens of Panem. Unlike the previous governments, the provisional government of the Republic of Panem has chosen to temper justice with mercy. You shall not suffer imprisonment for your crimes, nor shall you be put to death. Instead, you shall be given a fighting chance at survival –"
"Lies!" I recognized the shouted voice. "You condemn us to a slow death!" Cassius Hammersmith was just as afraid as the rest, but he was determined to get in a final word.
Zander glanced at Hammersmith contemptuously before she continued her recital. "You shall be given a fighting chance at survival. You have all been given survival training, and a generous cache of supplies." She gestured through the opening in the fence. About a hundred meters into the Wilds, a large mound of supplies waited for the prisoners.
"They should have had a Cornucopia," Finnick muttered savagely. "That would have been so ironic. Pity."
I admit I halfway expected to see a Cornucopia – but this was altogether too reminiscent of a Hunger Games launching as it was. I focused on what Zander was saying to clear my mind of that image. "– use your wits and training you will have a chance at survival." Zander paused and gestured to us assembled Victors. "Victors, please take your places."
Silently we moved forward and took our positions on either side of the gap in the fence. At the same time, several teams of medical technicians moved down the ranks of the prisoners. I could see that they were implanting trackers in the right forearm of each prisoner – the same way that Tributes were implanted. "We will know if you manage to escape the Wilds and return to Panem," Zander said. "Know that if you do, you will be shot on sight. There will be no second chance."
The rain began to fall harder now as the medics finished their grim task. Finally, the last tracker was implanted, and the medics stepped away from the prisoners. Zander wasted no time. "Prisoners, face left!"
The group raggedly turned to their left. Of course, a few started to turn to their right, causing the assembled Rebel soldiers to snicker in amusement. "At ease!" Zander snapped. The laughter quickly died. Zander nodded, satisfied that order had been restored, and issued her next command. "Move them through!"
Roughly, the soldiers prodded the prisoners forward, poking them sharply with the muzzles of their rifles. The orange-clad group shuffled reluctantly forward and through the gauntlet of Victors that awaited them. I was keenly aware of the cameras recording every second of the "walk of shame," and I very carefully kept my face impassive as one prisoner after another walked past me, their heads hung low, silent except for a few muffled sobs. I glanced at Katniss, who was standing to my immediate left, and saw that she, too, was keeping her emotions in check. All I noticed was a slight tightening of her jaw when Cassius Hammersmith and Bacchus Brandywine walked by her. Neither Hammersmith nor Brandywine met her icy gaze.
Finally, the last prisoner – fittingly, it was Marcellus Snow, head lowered, and silent - passed through the gap in the fence, and the workers there immediately grabbed the cutaway section and began to weld it back into place. We could still see the prisoners through the steel mesh. A few turned back at the sound of the removed section of fence being repaired but made no move towards the fence. I was relieved. I had no desire to see anyone gunned down – not even Capitol Loyalists that had made life miserable for so many in the districts. All I wanted to do was to get out of the rain and begin to try to put all of this behind me.
However, Katniss couldn't let the prisoners go without throwing one final barb in their direction. She walked slowly to the fence and rested her hands against the cold metal, taking care not to slice her fingers on the sharpened edges of the mesh, and pressed her mouth as close as possible to the barrier. "Hey!" she shouted. When there was no reaction, she shouted again. "Hey! You in the Wilds!"
Some prisoners turned and stared balefully back at the sound of Katniss's voice. When she had their attention, she said, in a fair imitation of Effie's affected Capitol accent, "May the odds be evah in your fa-vuh!"
Haymitch stepped forward and gently grasped Katniss's arm. I saw him lean forward and speak softly into her ear. As he spoke, Katniss's shoulders slumped forward and she allowed Haymitch to lead her slowly back to our group. Once he and Katniss had rejoined us, he announced, "Let's get the fuck outta here."
Major Zander, who had been standing nearby, nodded in agreement. "It's getting late," she said, and then raised her voice. "Listen up! We'll spend the night on the train and leave at first light. There's not much in Camp 29 except a few bars, so try to stay out of trouble tonight. Let's load up. We have a long ride ahead of us."
A chorus of groans rose from both soldiers and Victors as we made our way back to the trucks. I turned to Katniss as we walked. "Are you okay?" I asked softly.
"Yes," Katniss replied woodenly, and then added, "no. No, I'm not okay." She glanced over her shoulder at the fence, where the workers were putting the finishing touches on their welding job. "Haymitch is right. All those people – most will be dead inside a month. And you know what the worst part is, Peeta?"
"What?" I asked as I slipped my arm around her shoulders.
"The worst part is, I don't feel anything! Not hate, not satisfaction, not revenge." Katniss looked up at me. "I should feel something, shouldn't I? And that's why I'm not 'okay.'"
I didn't know what to say to that. To be honest, I wasn't sure what I should be feeling either. Mostly, I just felt tired. Katniss and I boarded our truck in silence and I don't think we spoke more than ten words to each other on the long drive back to Camp 29. We didn't have to. As soon as the truck lurched into motion, Katniss grabbed my hand in hers, squeezed tightly, and never let go until we got off the trucks almost two hours later. And that contact spoke louder than words ever could.
PART VI
"Hey, Handsome."
Those two words, murmured low in my ear, jolted me from my restless sleep. I sat up and focused my eyes on a familiar figure perched at the end of my bed. I was in bed with Katniss, in our berth on the train, and the woman that sat on the end of my bed could not possibly be here. Nor could the others that filled the small room. None of them could be here, because they were all dead.
"Johanna?" I finally managed to say, my voice hoarse and rusty from sleep.
Johanna Mason chuckled, deep in her throat. "Of course. Expecting someone else, perhaps?"
"I wasn't expecting anyone," I muttered. I managed to focus on the figure of a girl leaning up against the closet door. "Hello, Gamma. It's been awhile."
Gamma Churchill, my long-dead district partner in the Third Quarter Quell, straightened up. "Hey, Townie. I wanted to come earlier. Don't blame me for being away."
"We're here now to tell you that it's over," a masculine voice said. Gale Hawthorne appeared next to the bed near Katniss. "You won't be seeing us anymore." He gazed wistfully down at Katniss. "She did right by you, Mellark," he said. "We've come to say goodbye."
"Peeta," Katniss said sleepily, "who are you talking to?" I glanced over at Katniss as she rolled over and opened her eyes. She squinted her eyes a bit against the dim light given off by a single nightlight. "Who are these people – oh, shit. It can't be! This is a dream of some kind –"
"It's no dream, Catnip," Gale said soothingly. "Gamma and I have been visiting Peeta since the end of his Games. I guess you could say we've been trying to keep him on the right path."
"And I guess we've succeeded," Gamma added sadly. "We won't be visiting anymore."
"This can't be real," Katniss muttered. "No. It's not real." I glanced at Katniss again. She didn't seem to be afraid. Skeptical, maybe. But her practical mind wouldn't allow herself to accept what she knew was impossible.
"I'll prove that we're real," Gale said, and then turned to me. "Remember, in the Games, when I died?"
I thought back to that moment. "Yeah," I said slowly. "Katniss said something to you that made you smile."
"Do you want to know what she said to me?" Gale asked.
"You don't know what I said. You're not real." Katniss didn't sound very confident with either statement.
"Tell me," I said softly. "Tell me what Katniss said."
Gale gave Katniss an apologetic look. "Sorry, Catnip. She said, 'Wait for me. I'll see you on the other side.'"
That's it? "She didn't say anything else?" I asked in confusion.
Gale smiled at Katniss. "She didn't have to."
I looked at Katniss. She was tight-lipped with embarrassment. "I really didn't think I had a chance of surviving the Games," she finally explained. "I really thought that I was gonna die, like…"
"Like me?" Gale finished softly.
Katniss lowered her eyes. "Yeah. Like you."
"Good thing you didn't," Johanna said and then add smarmily. "How would we have won the war without the 'Mockingjay'?"
Katniss glared at Johanna. "I see being dead hasn't changed you any."
"It did change her, though." I turned at the sound of the new voice and stared as Evie Applewhite and Husker Brown, my District Nine allies, appeared. "It did change her," Evie repeated. "She told me that she appreciated life so much more now that she didn't have it anymore."
Johanna glared at Evie. "I told you not to repeat that to anyone!" she snapped.
"No, you didn't," Evie replied calmly, before turning back to me. "Don't mind her," she said. "She pretends to be mad, but that's just to cover up the fact that she's scared – like all of us were at first."
"You get used to it after a while," Johanna muttered.
"Yeah, you do," Husker chimed in, speaking for the first time. "It takes a while, though. Peeta, I'm sorry we didn't visit sooner. We weren't allowed. Just Gale and Gamma."
"What do you mean, 'didn't visit sooner' and 'not allowed?'" Katniss asked sharply. She turned towards me. "Has this happened before? With Gale and Gamma, I mean?"
"I couldn't tell you," I said apologetically. "I was afraid that you'd think I was crazy. But yes, they've visited me off and on. Ever since my Games."
"He's right, Catnip," Gale said. "Life for you both ain't been easy. You would have thought he was nuts, and that wouldn't have helped either one of you."
"I don't believe this," Katniss muttered. "This isn't happening. It's a dream."
I knew better. I'm not sure how, but the essence of what made these apparitions appear was all too real. "So why are you here now, after all this time?" I asked.
"To say goodbye," Gamma explained. "And to give you a final message."
"Not another riddle," I said. "Can't you for once deliver your message in plain language?"
"No riddles," Gale promised.
"Another Snow will someday lead Panem," Evie said. "To a peaceful, prosperous future."
"Another Snow," I mused. "Andromeda?"
"She's too young right now," Gale replied. "But yes. She will lead Panem. And Sperantia Blackstone will be at her side the whole time."
"The next few years won't be easy," Husker Brown added. "The entire nation has to be rebuilt. But it will happen."
"What about us?" I asked. "Me, Katniss, and the others? The last Victors? Where do we fit in?"
Gamma shook her head. "You don't. You've done what was needed. Your reward will be to be allowed to live in peace."
"Goodbye, Handsome," Johanna said softly as she brushed her fingertips across my cheek. "I'm glad I was allowed to come here tonight." She turned to Katniss. "Take care of him, Useless, or I'll figure out a way to visit you in your dreams."
"This is it?" I asked, as Katniss stared disbelievingly at Johanna. "This is goodbye?"
"Yes," Husker said. He grinned crookedly at me. "I'm glad I got this chance. My Games ended abruptly, if you remember. But it was worth it. Me dying, I mean. You lived and helped the Rebellion succeed."
"It wasn't worth it to me," I replied softly. I glanced at Evie. "Not for either one of you."
Evie smiled at me. "We'll see you again. Someday, a long time from now."
"A very long time," Gamma added. "So long, Townie."
"Take care of Mellark, Catnip," Gale said. "Or I'll join Jo and keep on visiting you until you do. Goodbye."
"Gale, wait!" Katniss said. Gale had already turned away. He stopped and looked back at Katniss over one shoulder. "Will I see you on the other side?"
Gale grinned at Katniss. "Count on it. I'll be waiting."
Just then Johanna leaned down and pressed her fingers against my forehead and pushed my head back against the pillow. I saw Gamma do the same to Katniss. "Go back to sleep," Evie said, as the room grew dark and my eyes fluttered shut.
I was jolted awake by an insistent pounding on the door to our berth. "You two got ten minutes to get your butts outta bed if you want breakfast!" Haymitch bellowed through the closed door.
"We're awake," I called back as I sat up. "We'll be right there."
Beside me, Katniss groaned and rolled over. "Come on," I said as I stood up. I swayed slightly as I stood and realized that the train was moving. "Haymitch would toss our breakfast just to be an asshole."
Reluctantly, Katniss pulled herself out of bed and we both dressed quickly. "I didn't sleep for shit last night," she grumbled as she pulled on a pair of pants. "I had this really weird dream –"
"It wasn't a dream," I said as I buttoned my shirt.
Katniss looked at me sharply. "What do you mean?"
"Gale, Gamma, Johanna," I said. "They were here last night."
"You dreamed about them too?" Katniss asked in astonishment.
"I didn't 'dream' anything, Katniss," I said patiently. "They were here. Husker Brown and Evie Applewhite, too."
Katniss shook her head. "No," she muttered. "Just a dream."
"I'll prove it," I said. "Before he died, you told Gale, 'Wait for me. I'll see you on the other side.'"
Katniss's eyes widened as I spoke. "What did Evie tell us about the future?" she asked, her voice a near-whisper.
"That Andromeda Snow will someday be the leader of Panem," I replied.
Katniss sat heavily on the bed. "It was real," she whispered. "It wasn't a dream."
I sat next to her and slid my arm around her shoulders. "No, it wasn't a dream," I said gently. "And we can't tell anyone else. I don't know why I kept getting visited by Gamma and Gale, but I do know that their riddles and prophecies have all come true. We need to leave this one alone and let these 'future events' happen. Andromeda will make a good president – she's compassionate and believes in equal treatment for everyone. But only if we don't talk about it." I tilted her head up so I could look in her eyes. "Besides, Katniss, no one would believe us," I added with a smile.
"Then why tell us?" she asked.
I shrugged. "I don't know – unless it's to warn us to stay away and let these events happen naturally, without us interfering."
Later that morning, after breakfast, Katniss and I sat and watched as District Seven rolled slowly past. We didn't think, or speak, about the condemned Loyalists that had been banished the day before. And we certainly didn't speak about our nocturnal visit by deceased Tributes and Victors. Instead, we took comfort in the silent company of each other. We sat that way for hours and had scarcely moved. And that's exactly how Major Zander found us.
She slid into a seat opposite of where Katniss and I sat. "I just received a message from Acting-President Boggs," she announced. "In light of recent events – meaning the banishment of the Loyalists – by Executive Order, he has ordered that you, Peeta Mellark, are no longer on any form of house arrest. You are no longer required to report to Major Festuca daily; nor are you required to been escorted by either Haymitch or Effie Abernathy. This does not affect the ruling on you owning or possessing weapons, nor does it affect the restitution payments that you are making to the families of Cassius Hammersmith and Bacchus Brandywine."
"So, I can move around without an escort," I replied, and added sarcastically, "not that I have any place in particular to go."
"He also wanted me to pass along to you that there has been increased interest by 'stateless refugees' – that's mostly people like yourselves, from District Twelve – in settling the inter-district area known as 'the Triad.'" She paused and a rare smile creased her face. "To that end, Acting-President Boggs has, with the concurrence of General Beck, Commander Pullman, and other district leaders, announced that teams will be dispatched beginning in June, in order to survey areas in the Triad for settlement potential."
Zander's words slowly sunk in. "Does that mean we'll get to live there?" I asked hopefully.
Zander nodded. "It appears so," she replied. She stood and, with another smile, patted both Katniss and I on our shoulders. "Congratulations. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."
Katniss looked at me hopefully. "Does that mean that we'll get to settle there soon?"
"I don't know about 'soon,'" I said with a grin, "but yes. We get to homestead a new land."
In my mind's eye, I was already drawing the blueprints for my new bakery.