Greetings reader! Welcome back to another installment of 'Unlikeliest of Victors'!
Since I posted the last chapter I went back and I edited the summary to make it a little less bland that it was. There are times I sincerely wish the word count on it could be higher, but I'm satisfied with how it reads now. Hopefully you and others will find it appealing.
Just as a warning, this chapter is one of my trademark longer chapters that are somewhat the norm in my other work. However, this being a new project, I'm trying to stick with smaller word counts. That didn't turn out to be the case this time. There are a lot of things in this chapter that are important to the plot of this story towards the 3/4 point. I'll leave it up to you to discover them, but be patient. I promise shorter chapters in the future.
Without further ado:
6
For a long time, I experienced a lack of sensation before my perception changed. I felt sluggish, and weak, like I was being buoyed to the surface of a syrupy lake. Different memories floated to existence as I drifted about. I saw the Shadow exactly as I saw it the first time. Dirty, filthy, smog-filled. The oil refineries and desolate shacks transformed into a hill covered by flowers and roses. I saw my family and others eating a lunch before fire exploded all around and hid them from view. The scene transformed and I was sitting in school surrounded by my classmates.
The roar of the fire transformed into a tirade of jibes and insults as hundreds of unseen birds screamed strange noises. I was suddenly whisked away to my sister's room. A thunderclap drove me from the foot of the bed to my Julia's side. She laughed and I looked at her shocked that she would dare laugh at my fright. A tree suddenly fell through the house and with a scream we were back in her arena. I tried in vain to lift the tree that had fallen on top of her but she looked at me quizzically, oddly calm in the face of death, placed a hand on my cheek and repeated my name.
"Katherine. Katherine. Katherine."
A serpent appeared and hissed at me nearby.
"Don't look at it." she said turning my gaze back to her. "Open your eyes."
And with a heave of effort the world turned painfully white. The light hurt my eyes and I squinted to make out something with form.
"She's awake!"
I recognized the voice but I was far too confused by my surroundings to put a name to it.
I blinked several times and the white resolved itself into different colors and shapes. My family came into focus with my mother sitting next to me, my Father looking on from the foot, of the bed, my siblings all in chairs in the corner. There were tubes hooked up to me and the steady pulse of a machine which recorded my vitals.
I must be in the hospital in the center of town. I reasoned.
I felt a hot prickling sensation and turned to a bucket that was sitting in mom's lap before I started retching and heaving.
For a terrible moment all the emotion I had felt earlier returned with such force that I was convinced at any moment the world would be consumed by fire and monsters. Her words were lost to me as I emptied my stomach into the container, but I felt the cool touch of her hand and I knew I was safe.
Safe.
The word had new meaning for me now.
"Eww."
I looked up and I saw my brother Thomas with a grin on his face from his spot in the corner next to a pristine counter that smelled like antiseptic. I knew he was doing it to tease but at that moment I felt hot, prickly, nauseated, and generally unwell. The gesture didn't sit well with me.
"Thomas Emerson." My mother reprimanded sharply and his face fell. He did sneak one last grin in when her face was turned.
"You're alive!" a tiny and frail voice said. I twisted my head slightly and Persephone came into view holding my Grandfather's hand for support from a spot behind my mother.
"Hey Persephone." I said putting the smile into my voice rather than my eyes.
"How you doing?" my Father said from the foot of the bed with a tired smile.
"Do I need to answer that?" I croaked out.
His smile saddened. "No. You don't have to. I know you're in a lot of pain right now."
"Understatement of the day." I thought to myself. I hurt everywhere from the top of my head where a small lump was, to my shoulder which throbbed with sharp pulses of pain to the beat of my heart. The backs of my arms and legs feel especially raw, even against the incredibly soft hospital gown and bed sheets I'm in. I didn't want to see them.
"I'm sorry." I said after a moment.
"You have nothing to be sorry for." he shrugged his shoulders.
A nurse opened the door and stepped in followed by a doctor.
"Oh good. She's up earlier than expected. Doctor Ignatius has a full report for you." The nurse said bowing her head.
The doctor gave me a wide smile and spoke in a very pronounced Capitol Accent. "Well, look who decided to wake up now? I haven't had any patients die on me yet so you'll be pleased to know you won't be the first!" he said wagging his finger at me mischievously.
As if I had planned on any of this happening. This man's sense of humor was a little unneeded at the moment but I played along but putting a smile on my face which took a lot more effort than I anticipated.
"When I was called all the way to District 5 I figured it would have been a medical emergency for your Mayor, what with his age and all, but when I was informed it was a girl I scoffed. Who could be so important as to summon me all the way out? But then I heard about the circumstances of your injuries and can I just say that I am honored to meet a girl who had the guts to take on a bunch of rebels with little thought of her own safety? If only all the Capitol knew how heroic some of you District folk can be!"
"Do we have a prognosis Doctor?" the Mayor asked somewhat miffed by his comments.
Dr. Ignatius totally missed my Grandfather's offense and smiled. "Yes we do!" he beamed as he turned to me.
"If you haven't figured yet, you're going to live and recover just fine. I had my fears when they fished you out of the river and brought you here." He clicked his tongue several times.
"Second-degree burns on a quarter of your body, some slight heat damage to your hair, severe dehydration, skin abrasions to the knees and arms, and that shoulder wound…goodness me. That was a pain to clean up. If that bullet hit the artery I might have considered you for dead. You're lucky you made it to the water when you did or the chemical agents would have burned you a lot more than they did already. You're also going to feel some nausea for the next days as the medicine puts you back together but otherwise you're going to feel just fine within a week! Isn't that wonderful?"
"Yeah." I agreed feeling wonderfully miserable.
"Splendid! I don't anticipate any major side-effects but if you develop anything out of the ordinary make sure to get in touch with me as soon as possible okay? The Mayor has that number. Just take it easy for a week and work yourself back into your normal routine. Can you two oversee that?" he asked turning to my parents.
"Yes. We'll watch her." my father spoke for the two of them.
"Excellent. Again, if you have any questions please give me a call. Now, if you'll excuse me I got another case of a liver transplant needed back home." He sighed. "Better get going."
"Thank you Doctor." My grandpa said shaking his hand.
"No no! Thank your girl!" I would have never been able to get to see a glimpse outside the Capitol other than my regularly scheduled visits if it weren't for her! Ta-ta now!"
He walked outside the door and I saw a large crowd gathered outside for a moment before the door closed.
"Dear, I think the town's anxious to see her." My mother nodded towards the door.
"You're right. I'll take everyone else home and you and Mayor Finch can watch her."
"Actually Julian, I was going to have the Manor prepped." My Grandpa said with a wink in his eye towards me.
"Are you serious?" I asked excitedly entirely forgetting my misery for a moment.
"Why not? We all deserve a week off I think. Your father and I won't abandon our jobs but I think Saturday showed me that sometimes we take each others presence for granted. I'd like nothing more than to spend some time with you while you heal up. I think that the manor is a much better place to be punished than our house."
I was about to utter a reply when I stopped.
"Wait, what do you mean punished?"
My grandfather chuckled and looked at my father who suddenly looked very uncomfortable. He composed himself in a moment.
"Well, Katherine Finchley," he said sternly invoking both first and middle names. "You're grounded." He said this statement trying to look angry but a grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth. I think he thought that he was convincing.
"What?" I said unsure of what he meant. My reaction drew the grin out further.
"Well... you did run off and put yourself in a dangerous position when I clearly told you to come back." he said disappointed. The grin said otherwise.
"Are we missing the point that I saved a dam and the hostages?"
"No, but you also drew the wrath of the Peacekeepers. They weren't happy that they had another civilian running loose in the dam. Let's not forget that because you ran off into the dam we're all here in this Hospital." This time the grin did fade.
"If they had moved on the dam, then grandfather would have died." I pointed out.
"But we don't know that." he interjected.
"Actually we do. The leader ordered that if the Peacekeepers make any move towards the dam they were to start shooting hostages." he spoke up.
My father stopped and risked a glance at his father.
"Well, the fact of the matter is the Commander strongly emphasized that you should be punished for interfering in their operations...so I'm grounding you.
"Wow...that's harsh."
This time the grin broke through.
"Mmhm." he nodded. "Quite harsh. You'll be confined to a house and not allowed to leave or go to work or hang out with friends."
"And as Mayor, I oversee all punishments for infractions of this magnitude. Since interfering with the Peacekeepers is somewhat of a serious offense, I get to have a say. I think that your punishment would be best served at the manor." Grandfather added with a wink.
"Thank you grandpa!"
He nodded again and gestured for everyone else to file out. He was the last one to leave out the door leaving me with my mother.
"Can I have some water?" I asked recoiling at the taste of bile at my mouth that I hadn't recognized until now.
"Certainly." The nurse said. "Shall I let a few visitors in?"
"I think she can handle it." My mother said turning towards me.
"Go ahead." I confirmed once the nurse had handed me the glass.
She walked outside and the first people that were in my room were the trio.
Henry entered first carrying a giant bouquet of flowers both native and foreign. The flowers were a pleasant addition to an otherwise sterile smelling room.
"Hey hey. Look who's awake!" Benjamin called out.
"Aww. Guys thank you!" I said as Cassandra emerged carrying an enormous basket of sweets from Mr. Hollinger's bakery and Benjamin appeared behind carrying an envelope.
"If you think this is something you should look outside! I've never seen the waiting room so crowded in my life!" Henry laughed. "I think all the local shops are out of stock because everyone rushed to grab something for you."
I rolled my eyes.
"Come on, I'm not that special."
"Oh don't give us that." Ben shook his head emphatically setting down his envelope. "Like it or not the whole town owes you for being crazy enough to take on a bunch of maniacs."
"What happened?"
"After you caught on fire and dove into the water?"
"Sure. Start from there."
"Well the track workers all fought to the death. Simple as that."
"And the others?"
"They all made it out thanks to you. No major damage to any infrastructure." My mother supplied.
I looked towards Cassandra who was suddenly tearing up.
"Do you need— "
Before I could finish the question she came up to my bed and gave me a hug and I suddenly hurt a lot.
"Ow. Ow ow ow ow." I protested as I could feel my raw skin and aching shoulder much more acutely.
"Oh sorry!" she squeaked when she realized she was causing more pain and backed off.
"Perhaps we save hugs for another day?" I suggested as I gingerly massaged a particularly raw spot on my forearm.
"Hugs for another day." She agreed.
"Well, we probably should let a few other people say thanks." Henry said after a moment.
"But we just wanted to make sure you didn't feel alone in recovery." Benjamin added. "Just one more request please."
"Yes?"
"Please...don't do anything crazy like run into a dam full of rebels and set yourself on fire." His voice suggested humor but his eyes were serious.
"Don't worry. I don't plan on doing that for a long time."
"Take care of yourself Finch." Henry said.
"And get well too!" Cassandra called out as she exited.
Benjamin paused in front of the door and looked as if he wanted to say more.
"Thank you." He said after a moment. "Thank you for saving our lives."
He was gone without another word.
Over the course of the next hour I was visited by assortment of people that ranged from the lowliest factory worker to the upper echelons of leadership. Each came with their own message of thanks and offered me their wishes for a speedy recovery. The pile of gifts started by my friends were overflowing by the time
I was humbled by the gifts from some of the more impoverished families. Some gave me their whole wages for that day. Others gave me a loaf of homemade bread or jam. I wanted to give the money back but they refused to receive it. In the end I kept it. Gifts were something that were always given very meaningfully and treated with reverence and respect in our culture. Out in the desert where the towns in District Five were the only source of life and simple changes could mean death, we knew the value of a gift. Still, I felt terrible about receiving so much money that I didn't need and vowed to find a way to return it.
By the end of the hour I was tiring and my mother supplied more of my answers on a regular basis. Eventually the nurse closed my door and shooed away the crowd and I managed to drink some water and fell asleep.
When I awoke again it was late afternoon and I was being prepped for discharge. I hungrily ate the meal provided to me and was able to catch a few more minutes of sleep before they woke me and I changed into some casual clothing of mine that was brought from home in a bathroom nearby.
I got a good look at myself in the mirror my face was relatively untouched and my hair was much shorter than it was before, someone had cut it and had actually spent time making it look somewhat decent. I wondered if that was Dr. Ignatius work.
No more long hair. I lamented. I didn't mind shorter hair but it was fun to let longer lengths of it fly when I ran. It still retained its fiery color but looked subdued. The rest of my body was a different story. An enormous mass of bandages covered my left shoulder which stood out against my skin which looked red, raw, and angry. It truly hurt as much as it looked.
I had some difficulty seeing that body in front of a mirror but I held on to the promises that I would return to normal. Beauty wasn't something I tried too hard to be concerned about.
They took me out in a wheelchair towards a car that would take us to the Mayoral Manor past a cheering crowd (though I honestly didn't remember much of it later). A chauffeur opened the door of the car sitting nearby. There were only a handful of cars in the District (the rest of us commuted by train or by other means) but I appreciated the transportation which enabled me to just sit back in my seat and watch the world pass me by. The crowds faded as the car pulled away and we turned towards the east. The height of the buildings kept steadily dropping and the space in between them kept growing until the buildings stopped suddenly and the roads turned to dusty gravel.
We had to detour around the Dam but there were still enough access roads open that we only gained a dozen minutes of extra time at most in the car.
As we rounded a bend further up a hill where I had run across to infiltrate the dam. I caught sight of the Dam still there in one piece. It was hard to miss a massive blackened streak of concrete farther below where Harry's bomb had seared carbon and other substances into the concrete. Harry was mostly likely part of that blackened streak, incinerated for trying to bring down the Capitol.
So it goes.
I felt a shiver down my back and suddenly nauseated again. That could have been me blasted and baked into the bridge.
"What happened to me after the bomb exploded?" I asked my mother who was sitting next to me.
"I wasn't there to see it but after it went off you fell into the water and a few people made a chain while another person swam out to grab you before you were sucked into the tunnels. They brought down an ambulance and your father and I rode with you to the hospital. You were out for a solid day before you showed any major signs of life." She put an arm on my right shoulder.
"What day is it?" I probed.
"Monday. And I'm glad I get to enjoy another one with you too."
The car rounded a couple more bends and the manor came into sight: a tall, three story building that dominated the landscape. Though unseen, I knew there was a contingent of Peacekeepers that kept full surveillance of the property. A long green lawn extended all the way to the road and the house was surrounded by trees. We pulled past two guard towers, stopped in front of a gate, and waited for the Peacekeepers to wave us through.
They did so after a second and the car pulled through onto a gravel driveway. The car stopped in front of the handsome wooden doors and the engine turned off.
"We're here." My mother said with a smile.
She got out, walked around, opened my door, and helped me out. I motioned that I wanted to walk by myself and she walked next to me ready to catch me in case I gave out.
"Your father sent a few things ahead but if you want anything else you'll have to let him know before he heads back to work. He needs to coordinate the workload between the other power plants while they secure and repair any damage to the dam and coal plant."
"Do you know whether he grabbed my notebook?"
"No idea. Come on Katie, I'll race you."
"What?" I gaped before she took off running for the door.
"Mom!" I protested. "I'm not in any shape to run!"
She laughed. "Well I guess you'll have to heal faster then."
"I'm working on it." I glowered.
She opened the door for me and I was welcomed inside the manor. I breathed in the smell of the house. We had no idea how long this house had been standing but the house was ancient from its stone and brick walls, to its interior decoration, to the trees that ringed the property. It had been updated several times over the years under previous mayor's and each iteration brought a new layer of history that was fascinating to think about.
"Katie's home!" I heard Hugo call from somewhere upstairs.
I stepped through the landing and was greeted by a front entrance with lots of wood detailing. The wood was warmly lit by a chandelier that hung from the ceiling and I watched as he descended the spiral staircase that extended two stories up. To my left there was a sitting room that held numerous chairs that one could fall asleep in.
I passed by the mudroom and took off a basic pair of slippers that had been slipped on my feet. I frowned. I was missing my shoes. The shoes of a messenger were specially designed for the individual's feet so that they could run without the long-term damage acquired by wearing other shoes.
"What happened to my uniform?" I asked.
"Your shirt and jacket absorbed a lot of toxic material and had to be destroyed. As for your pants and shoes? The fire burned them beyond the point of saving." My father said appearing from the hallway to the right of the stairs which lead into the kitchen. "You'll be pleased to know that I had your supervisor put in another order for everything from District Eight and it should be here in two weeks.
"A fortnight?" I asked. Such a time-frame wasn't heard of.
"Unfortunately." My father said sympathetically. "Since we had those track workers go rogue, The Capitol is putting temporary restrictions on importation and exportation. All of it is going through a screening process."
"Do they expect to find explosives in the shoes?"
My mother looked to reprimand me.
"No Marissa, she's fine." My father said turning to his wife. "Why don't you help Thomas settle in."
She turned and left to go seek out my youngest sibling.
My father gave me a hard stare the moment she left.
"Sorry." I apologized though it was hard to put a lot of sincerity into it.
"Look, if it means that more lives will be saved from others who value human life so little, so be it. I'm not interested in losing any more of my family members any time soon. I am proud of you though." My father sighed. "I did manage to pick up your notebook." He said switching topics.
He pulled from his bag a large, heavily worn notebook with a series of spiraling metal ring connecting the other pages together. "I know how much you use it so I figured I would bring it along."
"Thank you." I said receiving it gratefully. "May I please head to my room?" I asked unsure of what else to say.
"Which one?" He chuckled.
"You know full well which one I'm referring to."
"Guess I owe our Mayor twenty."
"What?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Oh we made a bet before you arrived. He bet that you would ask about going there within the first ten minutes. Are you sure you can handle the stairs?"
"Yeah." I said after a self-evaluation of my body. In reality I wasn't so sure, but I was eager to head upstairs.
"There's a bowl of soup for you on the counter. Eat it and I'll leave you be. Dinner will be ready in a few hours. If you need anything just give a holler."
"Thank you." I smiled.
He came close and we lightly embraced for a second before he left for the car awaiting outside. I found and drained the bowl of soup in the kitchen and put the bowl in the sink. I returned to the stairs and began taking one slow step at a time. It wasn't an exhausting task, just painful. Eventually when I had climbed the last step, I paused at the top. I could stop and look out the window to my right and admire the beauty of my District, but that wasn't the reason why I was up here.
Down a hallway was a large set of dark wooden doors with brass doorknobs. I took them in my hand and slowly turned it. The hinges squeaked softly but otherwise made no noise. I stepped inside and closed the door and breathed in deeply. Looking around I looked upon the rows and rows of books on massive shelves that extended all the way to the ceiling. I felt a quiet thrill within me. I breathed in the smell of aging paper again and sighed.
For over eight years now I had spent countless hours of my life inside this room absorbing a fraction of the words and knowledge contained inside. I learned more inside this room than I ever did inside the walls of a classroom. Ages before the manor passed into our care, someone had gone through and removed anything that might be considered illegal leaving large gaps inside the sections of history, philosophy, politics and a few other subjects that had their section entirely removed giving me no clue as to what could have been there. There were still reams and reams of material covering sections like botany (there was a lot of books on botany), anatomy, and physiology.
Books in District 5 were limited mostly to textbooks on subjects that we dealt with every day such as electricity, the care of electrical equipment, etc. To my knowledge in our library, what you would call fiction was mostly written for those younger than twelve. Even then, the themes in the book didn't attempt to hide a love for the Capitol. It wasn't a hugely touched section in the library.
I looked around at the empty shelves. Just because they were empty didn't mean that the information was lost however. I moved to a corner of the room over to a table and opened up a drawer. There were reams of random paper inside. I removed it and pulled on a little ring inside.
A floorboard next to one of the couches gave a tiny pop before sliding away. Inside was a massive pile of books. On the other side of the room I had discovered a false bookshelf and found a separate room behind it filled with some of the books that had been removed from off the shelf. Some of it exhibited signs of burned and the pages were incredibly fragile. Others had just been hidden away.
This knowledge, though forbidden, was what I craved every time I visited. I felt a dangerous sort of thrill every time I visited and read the contents. I knew that some of this stuff could get me killed.
For instance, I could tell you that almost 500 years ago, this planet looked entirely different.
I could tell you that Panem grew from the ruins and shadows of a continent once known as North America with District 5 occupying what had once been the states of Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah in the United States.
I could tell you that the Sweetwater River that supplied us with much needed water used to exist elsewhere in the world. It followed a similar path to where the Green River used to run.
I could tell you that the United States, one of the countries Panem had risen from, had broken from a tyrannical power from before it and had established a country on the principles of democracy, personal liberty, and an emphasis on protecting individual freedoms. That country grew to became an Empire of its own, but like the countless others I had read about, it, like the English, Persian, Ottoman, and the Roman Empire (which Panem in many respects drew from), had all fallen to anarchy.
I only needed to look to one of our school's textbooks on the History of Panem to fill in the rest of the blanks.
What those textbooks didn't say was that the Capitol was, in essence, the quintessential totalitarian/authoritarian dictatorship with some grounding in the principles of mercantilism. The District's served as colonies while the Capitol served as a mother country. These governments had fallen before but not before a lot of blood had been shed. It had happened to the United States who separated itself from Great Britain, but it had its own share of issues.
I grabbed a couple books and picked them up before closing the floorboard and grabbing others to cover my tracks. I wasn't entirely sure what my grandpa or father would think of my choice in reading materials. I kept my notebook nearby and filled it largely with notes on what I had read to throw them off their tracks. Occasionally I would jot down a note from the forbidden books in code and keep it to reflect upon. Sometimes I would commit entire pages of it to memory before disposing of it and tossing it away. This ability to memorize that I had developed one of the reasons I was the top of my class at school.
Admittedly it was difficult sometimes to keep my tongue and withhold what I learned inside this room but I couldn't trust anybody with it. Not my parents or grandparents who worked so closely with the Capitol, not my schoolmates, teachers or friends. Especially not Cassandra (the girl had an affinity for saying things she wasn't supposed to say.)
The only person I might be able to trust was Benjamin but I had no idea what his opinion of the Capitol was. He, like myself, kept our innermost thoughts secret. It was no lie that we didn't like the Hunger Games, everybody shared that sentiment, but other than that he kept those thoughts to himself.
If I was to honestly answer whether the Capitol was needed, at the end of the day I would answer yes. What other choice did we have? Perhaps we could return to how things used to be, but that was an impossibility given what I understood of the situation. As long as the District's lived in fear of being cut off, there would be obedience. President Snow seemed to take a cue from Niccolò Machiavelli when he said it was "greater to be feared than it is to be loved." That was one of the reasons why the Hunger Games was so effective. It served as an annual reminder that the Capitol remained in control and had the power to do what it pleased.
Still, it wasn't a secure system. I had burns on my body to prove that point.
What's not to say a new government had the potential of being worse than the Capitol anyways? I thought back to Harry on the Bridge and his Scarlet Sun movement. They may have claimed to be a rebellion for the people, but that wasn't showcased when they tried to kill a District's populace. Many movements in history were started for noble causes but degenerated to committing terrible atrocities.
And what if a rebellion failed again like it did in the Dark Days?
There used to be a 13th District. That was before they turned their focus on Nuclear R&D and their supply of nuclear weapons on the Capitol. We're told that in the conflagration that followed, they were utterly wiped from the surface of Panem.
I filed away those thoughts for later and turned myself to the other reason I was here.
Ever since Julia had been torn from our family unprepared for the Games, I had been absorbing whatever knowledge I could glean from these books in the library to develop a game plan if I was ever chosen for the Games. It wasn't a super high possibility, but my sister's casket was enough evidence to convince me how faulty that logic was.
The manor offers more than books for education. In the back of a house there is a greenroom that houses an impressive array of plants that's been cared for by me since my first visits. I've devoured the subject of botany since then and at this point I'm confident I can identify instantly which plants could save, heal, clothe, feed, or kill you. If the greenhouse wasn't enough, we also have the forest that provides other examples of native flora. The property is fenced in by a twenty-foot wall with security equipment every few feet but it provides an excellent training ground (provided the Peacekeepers and my family don't see me) on how to do many things. I've practiced fire-starting (nothing more than theory), knot tying, snares, camouflage, and a host of other skills. When I was younger I even made the excuse of playing "Hunger Games" with my younger brothers to secretly put some of these skills to the test.
Technically "training" for the games was illegal but it was a well-known secret that the tributes in District's 1, 2, and 4 had some sort of education program in place to train children for the time they would be thrust into an arena like the Gladiators of the Roman Empire and kill each other for sport. Why else did they look more fit, act so brutally, and wield weapons as if they had grown up with them?
If I am to survive, should I ever enter the arena, I at least want to be better prepared than Julia.
In three weeks when our District's escort Aquilina Lockvale arrives I know that she will wish us a "Happy Hunger Games!" in an obnoxiously simpering voice before wishing that the "odds be ever in our favor".
With the 74th Hunger Games approaching those odds are mathematically greater that I would be selected. This year five slips of paper containing my name would be in the reaping ball. One for every year I've been eligible.
There are however children though who will have their names in that ball somewhere in the realm of 40 times. These children are the impoverished who receive tesserae: tokens worth a meager year's supply of grain and oil for one person.
The option to receive tesserae is available in the districts of Panem to children between the ages of 12 to 18 (those eligible to be reaped). If their family is struggling for food, they can have their name added additional times to the reaping only once per family member, in exchange for an equal number of tesserae. Once a child has claimed tesserae, they can collect oil and grain rations once a month for a year. This, however, is not enough to ensure survival as many still require money for basic needs such as rent, soap, thread, and candles, just to name a few. Tesserae entries are cumulative though. Instead of five, next year I'll have six.
It's one of the reasons why my grandfather takes it upon himself to help these families out as much as he can. The tesserae is a sick system that targets the impoverished. Even with his assistance, he can only do so much. Those who take tesserae home will have much higher odds of being reaped but again, "miracles" like Julia happen. Nobody is immune.
There's one thing in the Capitol's favorite phrase that's slightly incorrect though. The word 'Odds' has everything to do with math and nothing to do with luck (although I'm sure some of that is required).
I've come to the conclusion that it's about not wishing the tributes luck, but that it's actually a formula to win. This means two things:
You can control your odds of winning to some extent and you can control whether you die on the first day, or finish as the last man or woman standing and (again, to some extent) mitigate the threat of your competition.
With this revelation I started by reviewing the tapes from every Hunger Games in existence. The local library contained these tapes in abundance and I analyzed every detail in another notebook I had filled up at home. It was a painful and horrifying process that still gives me nightmares on occasion, but I think I have a contingency for just about any situation. I look over the math I have scribbled down on the front cover and I review it before perusing through the book in front of me.
My odds initially before the game start are one in twenty-four. You might think that the games favor a tribute's race, age, gender, or even District but the tapes I've watched show that overall, everyone has a roughly equal chance of winning. The winners have come from a variety of backgrounds over 73 years and from each of the 12 Districts. In fact, the percentages between each District are almost identical with only a few tenths of a point difference on average. The upper extremes (okay, outliers) being Districts 1 and 2.
If I'm selected, I'll have a week to prepare physically, mentally, and emotionally. I'm unsure about my math there but I know that what I do with the week will largely influence how I perform. From the one letter Julia wrote home, she reported that there was a plethora of food varieties (but that she wasn't interested) and that she would only get to train for three days. The rest of her letter was censored. We're not allowed to know the specifics of tribute life I guess.
I'll have no idea what type of arena lies in store for me if I'm reaped but I have to prepare for the possibility of no food in the arena which has happened over the years in a variety of formats. One of the things I plan on doing is loading up with food. As a physically active adolescent I burn a lot of calories on a daily basis. As a possible tribute fighting for my life 24/7, I definitely will burn more. I lean towards the thin side so, if anything, I want to put on some mass to give me extra staying power. If I can gain just 5 pounds of fat, I can give myself enough energy for eight days without food or my body starting to shut down.
Food is also something that kills a lot of the other tributes. On average, almost half of all the tributes die attempting to find food in whatever form it takes place in. Food and water are weapons that the Gamemaker know how to use well. More telling to me is how the Careers perform in environments where their food supply is disrupted or ceases entirely. Those are the years the other Tributes seem to win more often.
The second part of my week's preparation involves training. I'm not going to learn how to wield a sword, throw a spear, or handle an axe like a master in three days (although I know I learn very fast) so my goal is to mainly concentrate on the more passive survival skills like snares, camouflage, fire-starting, etc. I currently have a book on knot tying open right now and I take a shoelace that I've saved and began reading over the contents.
These "passive" skills also play a huge role in who wins in the end. Overall 43.8% of all victors have won through "outliving" the other person and in many instances, the winning tribute also displayed at least some aptitude with these skills. I have no concern with identifying plants and, while I haven't actually eaten very many, I know more than a few insects that are save to eat.
If I do pursue the study of a weapon in training, I'm going to study knives. Again, referring to my notes, a little more than 30% of all victors in previous years won through the use of a knife and knives are more likely to show up than any sort of other weapon at the Cornucopia hands down. For example, during the 70th Games, the year Julia was reaped, there were at least four different types of knives I saw whether it be single bladed, double, throwing, or one designed to be a multi-purpose utility. Besides from being a weapon, knives are also an incredibly versatile tool that can save your life in more ways than one. Not surprisingly there's a lack of books covering the subject in the library but I've made it a priority to study if I'm reaped.
From my medicine classes I know that if I focus on throwing weights, heavy weapons, and wrestling, I'm going to build muscles in my upper body which will increase my caloric intake and reducing my time to starvation if there's no food.
The last thing I have listed is the numbers regarding the Cornucopia.
The Cornucopia is a giant horn-shaped cone with a curved tail filled with everything needed to survive and help you kill 23 others. Unsurprisingly, this location where most of the killing takes place. Every year when the games begin the tributes are taken into what's called the "Launch Room" but others in our District call it more terrible names. The tributes are put into pipes which take them directly to the surface of the arena. When they emerge, they are presented with the golden (or silver) horn which is overfilling with supplies. The first ten minutes, often times longer, is a bloodbath where the Careers fight it out between each other and the other tributes who dare to go for the supplies.
It's the place I'd least want to go yet every year at least nine (oftentimes more) tributes die in a fight over the goods. It's where the Careers are at their best and demonstrate what they've done for every day of their lives. They've been well fed, brutally trained, and they're fighting in close quarters.
In short, it's suicide.
My odds of survival go from one in twenty-four to an enormous one in fourteen if you avoid the Cornucopia and assuming the average of ten tribute deaths holds true. My priorities should be establishing survival before I look for a weapon. The first priority is water which in 72% of all arenas featured was used by the Gamemakers as a weapon to kill the tributes through thirst, poisoning, or forcing them to come up with unique ways to obtain it. One year for instance, all the water was found in melting snow and ice. That made for a miserable game for everyone.
The only other trends that I've picked out include avoiding any sort of alliance with another (because what better way to draw attention to yourself than kill your ally in your sleep? It is only one winner after all). It's better to lie low and play defensive the entire time rather than being aggressive. Revenge kills are brutal and I have no desire to have my body menaced and mangled like I've seen it done before.
All in all, I think it's a pretty good plan in theory that I can adapt to just about any sort of arena. In practice though is a different story. A lot of my survival will depend on luck and what the arena provides me. It's taken two years of off and on study to perfect some of the passive skills in the manor I just hope I have another two years left to prepare the physical and skill aspects. I didn't become a messenger just to be fit.
I frown at the knot I was attempting to duplicate in my hand. I undo it and start over again. Supposedly it's a knot to be used in a tripwire. The knot is supposed to attach to another line. When it triggers it should allow for anything ranging from a dead-fall trap to a series of weights to drop below. It takes two more times before I get it down and then I undo it and try it over and over again testing its activation by tying one rope to a finger and the knot to another. When it works I repeat its success ten more times. Satisfied, I undo it.
If I can replicate this for six more days without the book's help, I'll consider myself as having mastered this note. I replace the book in the floorboard and spend the next several hours reading a book on geology while going over all the knots I've learned from the beginning. I'm taking notes on caves to identify likely places where they could form.
The book I'm studying doesn't offer much but I pick out a few notes of rocks that could prove to be lethal. After another hour I smell food being prepared downstairs. We have staff that are hired from the District by my grandfather that take care of the maintenance, cleaning, and food preparation, but my mother prefers to work with them. She's learned a lot from taking care of Persephone at home and exchanges information and recipes with the staff of a regular basis.
I figure at some point people will look for me so I pack up the books and make sure to leave nothing in place. I make sure to do this out of sight of the security cameras on the shelves. I only leave the geology books so it appears that I'm still reading it and leave no other trace of my presence. I grab my notebook and slowly traipse down a flight of stairs to where my other bedroom is located.
I open it up and sigh. The room smells like fresh linens and flowers. A pair of windows face northeast towards the mountains beyond my District and the dam which is obscured by a couple low lying clouds. The view from here is spectacular and I remind myself to thank my grandpa again for bringing us here. I peer at my nightstand and realize it and my floor around it are covered in the gifts from the hospital. I notice Benjamin's card which I haven't opened yet. I store the notebook inside one of the pillowcases and sit down on the bed gingerly.
I open the envelope carefully with my fingertips and pull out the card. It's a simple floral design bought from one of the small shops downtown but it melts my heart instantly.
"Dear Katherine," I read to myself.
"In the stores there are little sections that separate the cards by occasion but somehow they don't have a section devoted to people who save others' lives. So, we hope this suffices. Henry figured something blank would come from the heart a little more. So, as messengers, we thought we would deliver a message to you.
You're probably going to get this a lot but we wish you best wishes in recovering. It's going to be awfully quiet without around so please, hurry up and get better. I might die from boredom." I smile as Cassandra's voice breaks through the paper.
"But really, we can't express our thanks enough for being ^ (stupidly) brave enough to risk your lives for us. None of us ever asked for it, but you've given us a hundred reasons to be grateful that we can call you our friend. Be safe, be happy, and we look forward to spending more days running with you. We miss you."
Below were their signatures in scrawling ink.
I put the card down and for a minute the hurt disappeared and I felt overwhelming gratitude for the love they sent.
"Dinner time! Come and eat!" my mother's voice announced.
The feeling disappeared and the pain returned with a desire to eat. If I was going to get back into the swing of things, I needed to start by eating. I placed the card on my nightstand and I painfully got off the bed to go downstairs and eat.
Did anybody recognize anything of importance? I'm sure you did. Remember and keep track. The plot of this book has largely been determined but I'm interested to hear where you think this is going and how it's going to get there. In other words, Reviews are wonderful. :)
The research on how to "survive" the Hunger Games took a lot of time and and extrapolation to come up with. However, I came across a 'Film Theory' a week ago on YouTube which was absolutely beautiful and encapsulated all that I had found and slightly more. Go search it up!
The goal in this chapter was to provide a context that we can use to explain some of her later action in the novel as well as give a chapter to wind down before introducing the next major plot point. I can't wait to put out the next chapter!
Yours in writing,
theotherpianist