When the next morning rolls around, and Sae and I arrive with a fresh loaf of bread I just baked, we find Katniss already up and about. Well… about as active as she can be in her current state. She simultaneously looks well-rested yet completely drained, if that's even possible. At the same time, there seems to be this positive air about her as if she had just gotten something off her chest; still, I don't press her about it.
Actually we eat breakfast in relative silence even though I do inquire Sae about the status of Twelve as of this moment, as well as the delicious hash and stew she cooked up; it actually uses real beef. While I'd like to speak with Katniss, and occasionally do send her an encouraging glance, I think that it'd be the most fair if she's the one to instigate things on her own terms. I do get a kick out of the fact that she's feeding the cat all her bacon, considering their enmity; well, I guess former enmity now.
Lunch goes the same way. In this case, we set up a picnic blanket in the middle of the houses, and invite the rest of the current inhabitants to take a break to join us. I even convince Haymitch to participate; okay, it may have taken a bucket of ice water and a threat to cut off alcohol shipments, but what matters is that he's here, relatively sober, and not being that much of a jackass at the moment. Katniss still doesn't say much, but the large-ish group of people isn't instigating her flight instinct, and it may be minor but I swear I can see some life creeping back into her cheeks as she allows Sae's granddaughter to braid her hair.
I also finally do take the time to visit the bakery and things… didn't go as badly as I thought they would, and Thom thankfully has everyone give me space both during the episode and when I start speaking to my family members; when I finally walk away from that melted lump of an oven, I feel utterly drained — even more than usual — yet it almost feels as if something is no longer exerting a painful amount of pressure on my insides and skull.
In the meantime, while it's clear that I'm no use directly assisting in the cleanup process — I tried, and all that I managed to accomplish was to distract everyone from their initial job in helping me deal with my episode — I manage help in another way by baking various treats for all the workers each morning; it's actually the first time some of them ever had pastries.
It goes like this for the next couple days: get up out of bed, bake before sunrise, have breakfast in Katniss' house with her and Sae, bring treats to the workers and chat with them, host the picnic lunch, paint or draw a bit, have dinner by myself, go to bed, and have my nightmare-laden slumber interrupted at intermittent periods during the night with me waking up in sheer terror. All in all, it's a nice consistent routine.
However, almost a week after I had arrived, and as I'm handing some cookies to the workers near the train station, something comes around which pretty much demolishes said routine.
"The hell…"
Thom's comment makes look up to see that a train is rolling into the station. However, it's not one of the daily freighters, which had already arrived; no, this thing is way more massive, with each car large enough to contain several vehicles on both decks. After a few moments, I finally realize what this is: a troop transport. From what I've learned, these trains were used by the Peacekeepers to carry their troops — each train is capable of transporting a brigade's worth of soldiers, plus supplies and vehicles — from district to district, and during the war, many were captured to be repurposed for the Rebellion.
Though why is there one here?
I'm not the only person internally asking that question considering the looks of confusion and concern on everybody else's face, or how some are holding a tighter grip on their tools. Especially since this is not repainted in the standard issue of rebel vehicles; rather, the scuffed-up Capitol emblem shining in the morning light looks as if someone made a haphazard attempt at scrubbing it away but called it quits within a short period of time.
Finally the train slows to the stop and the doors slide open to reveal a crowd of people inside. Most are able-bodied adults who are probably in their twenties, thirties, and forties; however, there's a good number of elders and teenagers mixed in as well. In any case, they may not be in uniform, but it doesn't take us long to figure out that every single person in that train is from Two.
"What is this?" I can't help but blurt out.
"This," states a familiar voice, "is our penance."
Despite my initial shock at the turn of events, I still have enough wits about me to shake Marcus' hand as he steps forward from the crowd before asking, "Care to elaborate?"
"When I went back, I brought a bomb fragment with me that had the serial number. We used that, along with documents found in the Head Peacekeeper's office, to confirm that our forces were responsible for what happened. So it was decided that our responsibility now is to show our people first-hand what we were complicit to, and hopefully to make amends by helping out with the cleanup process."
"Well we don't need your help!" jeers one of the guys from the work group. "Your district has done enough as it is to ours."
Marcus doesn't say anything to that but merely looks down to mutter, "Yeah, I know. And if you don't want us here, we won't take it personally."
Thom looks at the source of the outburst with a glare that silences any further dissent, though he still says, "Well it's not like we can stop you either way." That's true; there's about twenty of us and probably way more of them.
The former Peacekeeper just shakes his head at that, "We don't want things to be like that; if we're going to contribute any, we don't want to be an unwelcome presence. We want for you to want our help."
Not even a couple seconds passes for that to sink in before the former miner breathes, "Finally." And after a glance around to make sure there're no objections — sure, there's some scowls here and there, but nothing past that — he pulls Marcus into a hug while saying, "We'll take all the help we can get. So yes, you all are welcome here."
As the hug is broken off, Marcus briefly looks completely at a loss for words before he finally restores his composure. "I… well… in that case, everyone here is at your discretion." As if those words are a release valve, the people come streaming out before us to stand in formations. There… there has to be at least a couple thousand of them.
Our eyes widen not just at the sight but the implication as well, and I can't help but blurt out, "You mean… Thom's your boss?"
"Actually all of you from this district are essentially our bosses. Whatever you order — within reason of course — we'll do without objection. The same goes for the following set of workers that will be coming here." There's more?
Thom actually looks and sounds like he's about to cry when he vocalizes my unspoken query: "There's… there's going to be more?"
"All these people are just here for the day. At sunset, they'll return, but a new batch will come by tomorrow, and so on. This isn't just to provide help, but to inform as many of our people what happened," the former Peacekeeper clarifies. "However, we'll keep a log to make the transition as seamless as possible. And all supplies and vehicles will be staying." To punctuate that last point, utility vehicles and trucks full of various tools come rolling out of the trains.
This is more than any of us would expect. We have just gone from a handful of people working with a paltry amount of tools to having a practical army — well in some ways literal, considering the likely backgrounds of most of the people before us — to use at our leisure.
So, considering how much he has toiled, it's understandable that Thom embraces Marcus — the former Peacekeeper looks more and more at a loss by the minute — again for a longer period of time while rambling his thanks in an incoherent manner. When he finally lets go, I don't miss that both guys wipe at their eyes before the former miner makes his next statement with a some thickness:
"Well then… let's get started."