January 16th, 2012
Author's Note: First off, thank you all so much for your reviews! Less than a day and my traffic stats exploded! I love all your comments, suggestions, and questions very much! Just some quick housekeeping that I've seen repeated a few times…
To clarify a few things:
1) The passage of time roughly correlates to the span of time covered in Catching Fire. My understanding is that Gale and Katniss had their talk in the cabin in the mid-winter range, the Quarter Quell announcement happens in late winter to early spring and that the 75th Games take place mid – late spring. I am trying to follow that sequence in this story so the passing of time is a little vague because I don't want to bore you all with random mundane stuff. I alluded to spring's arrival in Chapter 8 and I would say that so far we've covered about a month.
2) I did not want Katniss to tell Peeta and Haymitch first about her pregnancy either; the fangirl in me actually outright revolted a few times while I was writing. However, Katniss always seemed to surprise me in the books and I'm trying to stick with that character point in my story too. I originally had her telling Gale but I believe that Katniss would immediately grasp the implications of her condition on a much bigger scale than her and Gale. She seems very preoccupied about the Capitol in CF and I want her anxiety and awareness to continue in my story too.
3) I also originally had not planned on working pregnancy into the story… but Katniss is so opposed to a family of her own in the books, I thought it would be interesting to see how she handled the situation when faced with it. I guess we shall see… ;)
4) I have not forgotten about the tapped phones and Capitol surveillance… this will play into the story further on… If I recall correctly, the tapping of phones wasn't realized until later on in CF anyway.
5) Last but not least, Confession: I do not have it in me to kill off Gale Hawthorne… rest assured, he is not dead. (Read on )
Hope that helps and sorry for the long-windedness! As always, reviews guilt me into writing more!
Three situations earn the status of mining disaster in District 12. All of them are synonymous with death.
The most common disaster is a collapse in one of the vast underground tunnels. The room and pillar mining method is out-dated by centuries, but it is the only method useful to a district devoid of automated machines. Miners labor long days with pick and shovel to dig massive rooms supported by columns of coal as they bore into the mountainsides. This is the disaster that leaves many children orphaned.
The second disaster seen most often is a poisonous gas leak. All sorts of fumes are trapped beneath the expanses of bedrock and earth. They are pockets of death and there is no way to detect or avoid them. Canaries are brought down to act as sacrificial alarms, but someone has to carry the poor bird forward. There are only so many who can navigate the narrow passageways to escape the toxic air.
The third disaster is the least common but the most deadly. Explosions are not an unheard of misfortune in our district, although they do carry a greater shock value than gas leaks or tunnel collapses. I suspect this is because of the violence and immediacy and ferocity. Explosions claim more miners' lives in a single instant; there is practically no time for evacuation.
I find it cruelly ironic that now, of all times, my education decides to resurface from the deep files of my brain. It was painful enough to sit through lecture hours in school, having already been a victim to the curriculum, but to have it playing endlessly as I race toward the mines is pure torture.
I think I may be panicking, though I can't quite tell for sure. My throat and lungs sting with the sharp inhalations of frigid air that I choke down. The skin on my cheeks and neck feel non-existent with cold, yet burn in agony. My eyes stream tears and I tell myself that this is also a manifestation of the weather and not that I am already crying over a horrible outcome. My body screams at me to slow down, that this amount of exertion hurts. My heart does not care in the least bit.
Please, please, please, I think – I pray. Not him. Not him.
The harder I try not to envision Gale trapped beneath the surface, the more detail my minds paints for me to see. The idea of him pinned beneath a black boulder in absolute darkness, injured or trapped, sends me into complete overdrive. The burn drops to my thighs as I push myself forward, push myself faster.
Please, not Gale.
I must look like a wild animal when I reach the edge of town, though most of the people who notice me have a similar crazed look in their eyes. The ones that don't have their attention focused solely on the elevator shafts, prayers on their silently moving lips, begging some unknown deity with hands clasped to their chests. When the mines are in full swing – as they should be this late in the morning – the elevators constantly creak, lifting loads of coal to the surface and smothering miners arriving for later shifts within. Now two shafts belch thick roiling smoke and only one shaft moves with rickety purpose.
I glance around, scanning the miners who have managed to resurface. Their dark stained faces are easy to identify in the gathering throngs of people. Shouts of happiness mix with cries of anguish as each lift brings forth a few more faces from the depths of the earth. I watch family members embrace in exhausted relief and friends shake hands with tired smiles. Throughout it all, the sirens continue to wail overhead.
Rudely, I push through the ever dense crowd and receive a few "Heys!" and "Watch its!" for my lack of courtesy. I'll care about manners when I find Gale.
To the left of the mine entrances, a large wooden board holds the daily mine assignments for each team. A large man checks off the names of the miners that have survived and passes a red line through confirmed casualties. I shove my way to the front and recognize Thomas Atwood – he's been the foreman long before my father's death. I like Thomas for his gentle strength and no nonsense attitude. I also like that he frequently trades for rabbits at the Hob. Once I break through the front line of the small horseshoe gathered around the daily boards, he beckons me forward. Though I'm standing right next to him, he cups his blackened hands to his mouth and shouts into my ear to be heard over the din.
"He's not surfaced yet, Katniss!" His hand gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze, one thick finger pointing to the board for confirmation. I follow his direction and find Gale Hawthorne inscribed in dark bold handwriting along with the five other men on his team. None of the names are checked, but none of them have red lines scrawled across them either. I find it hard to be comforted by this fact. With the relative youth of this disaster, they most likely haven't been found yet.
"What happened, Tom?" I ask, shouting too.
I don't like his frown when he answers, "Explosion of some kind. Not quite sure of the extent. A few are saying it was on the east side."
The mines of District 12 are divided arbitrarily into East Mines and West Mines. Rooms of excavation on the eastern most side of the earth are even-numbered and rooms on the west are odd. The higher the number of the room, the further into the earth the miners work, the higher the risk of explosions and collapses.
Trying to ignore the rising dread that pushes inward on my chest and makes it difficult to breathe, I look back to the board to double check my fear.
Room 26
Gale Hawthorne
The East Mines only have 28 rooms.
I stare unblinkingly at Gale's name for a good minute before I can look away. Tom must see my apprehension because he ushers me to the side, his arm draped in a comforting gesture over my shoulders.
"He just hasn't surfaced yet, Katniss," he offers, nodding as if to convince himself as well as me. It would be more reassuring if I didn't see the sorrow and sympathy already directed at me in his gray Seam eyes.
I feel lost, weightless even, as I walk towards the periphery of people anxiously awaiting each elevator of survivors. A few people separate to make room for me, whether from their recognizance of my grief-filled stupor or my status as Victor I don't know. I can't even feel badly about not finding the voice to thank them for this small kindness.
At some point the sirens turn off and the noises of the crowd saturate the tense still air. The wind has quieted as if it too realizes the consequence of each elevator full – or half-full—of miners that rises to the surface. For the vast majority of the gathered, each revelation of dirty faces is a balancing point. For some, the scale tips to joy and relief. Most of the rest are left with the sickening weight of another stone of dread to add to their ever-growing pile of resignation.
I've lost track of how long I've been standing among the perimeter when I hear my name behind me.
"Katniss! Mom over here!"
Searchingly, I turn to the wary eyes of the crowd for the caller. A head of floppy black hair practically bowls me over, his arms colliding around my middle with impressive force. I wonder if Rory truly meant to hug me, or was using me to stop his forward momentum. Either way, I let my hands circle him and hold tightly to the human connection I have to Gale.
As Rory and I separate, Hazelle appears, her two youngest in tow. The sense of calm she displays is a balm to my fraying nerves. I will never cease to be amazed at how strong she can be in the face of such horror. She offers me a small sad smile when Vick tugs my pant leg for my attention.
"Did you find Gale?" he asks, and the innocence of his question almost shatters me.
I shake my head, swallowing around a lump in my throat that goes down with all the grace of a chalky boulder.
"No," I say, then hurriedly add, "Not yet."
"Well, we're going to park it right here and wait for him," Rory says. He crosses his arms defiantly and sits cross-legged with his younger brother at my feet, their eyes trained to the elevator shafts.
Hazelle and I exchange a glance. I can see the worry in her eyes that her sons might not be rewarded for the attentive vigil. A strong sense of déjà vu threatens to buckle my knees so I dig my thumbnails into my balled fists, trying to instead block the emotional tide with a physical pain.
"Your mother made Prim stay with her to start a triage," Hazelle says after a moment of tense silence.
"Good," I say. "She'll be needed when the wounded start surfacing."
I think of Gale emerging, limping from a sprained ankle or twisted knee, maybe holding a dislocated shoulder, and hope that is how he emerges. I immediately feel guilty wishing an injury on him when all I meant was that I'd rather him be injured than dead.
"Do you know what happened?" Hazelle asks.
"Tom thinks it was an explosion," I reply.
We are silent again.
Several hours pass and the watchful duo start to cave to the frigid air and rumbling stomachs. I can tell that Hazelle is torn between seeing to her demanding brood and staying for her eldest. Despite the sun's imminent descent and the lack of feeling in my toes and fingers, I reassure her that I will stay until Gale resurfaces. The fierceness of her hug and whispered thanks brings stinging tears to our eyes. I try to offer her an encouraging smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace.
As she turns to walk away, an idea occurs to me.
"Stay at our place," I say.
"I wouldn't want to impose on your mother," Hazelle says. "Her house is probably crazy right now."
"It doesn't matter," I protest. "She could probably use an extra set of hands anyway."
Hazelle stares at me, unconvinced.
"It's closer than the Seam…" I am really close to begging. "I don't want Gale to have to walk too far."
Recognition blazes in her eyes and I try not to look away, uncomfortable with what she might be seeing on my face. She takes a step toward me and places a hand on my arm.
"We'll stay," she says. But I hear the weight behind her words, the approval in her voice. The load of that responsibility frightens me, and I look down to my hands and where they've folded over my stomach. When I start, panicked over my subconscious posture, I realize Hazelle is already ten feet away, retreating towards the Victor's Village.
When dark sets in, Mayor Undersee orders all electricity to be routed to power the huge generators that illuminate the mine entrances for the oncoming night shift. Except, the night shift is not working and the stream of miners from the working shaft has dwindled to a trickle. It has been deathly silent for the better part of an hour when the gears clank and grind, signaling another miner has found his way out.
The lift seems to take forever to reach the surface, and when one lonely body stumbles awkwardly forward, I feel like I might explode with anxiety. When he looks up, my heart falls. I squat to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest as if I could possibly hold myself together while I feel like I'm being torn apart. Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I try not to be angry with the jubilant shouts and happy tears around me.
"Are you the last one boy?"
"How close were you to the explosion?"
"Oh Sean, thank god you're all right!"
"How many more are down there?"
"No, there's two more," the boy called Sean says. "One's badly injured, the other stayed with him." I look up to see him staggering around. If I wasn't feeling so demoralized, I would think he was drunk. "We need someone to help bring him up!"
I wish my heart wouldn't leap into overdrive the way it does. It's too dangerous to clutch to a thin fleeting hope like the one Sean promises me. Two miners still down there… They could be anybody, Katniss. But to not reach for that hope means something far worse.
What remains of the crowd presses forward as an exhausted Tom and Sean dive deep into the mine again. Each rotation of the pulley system sounds fragile and though the ride is only twenty feet and takes less than a minute, I am aggravated that it took even that much time at all.
Peacekeepers – new ones, their faces are unfamiliar to me – warn us to stay back. Some even bring out their crowd control shields in case all hell breaks loose. But they needn't worry. District 12 is used to being skeptically optimistic. No riot would start on such a wavering chance.
The elevator shaft groans into life and as it rises, my stomach seems to rise in tandem. My breathing is erratic, and I sound like I'm gasping for air. The gates slide open and Tom's burly form steps out, carrying a man I don't recognize under the arms. Sean emerges supporting the man's feet. As they stagger past, the injured miner doesn't look good. He's a sickly ashen color and the snow beneath their path is spotted with dark red stains. I swallow back bile.
The last figure to emerge has a disgusting excuse for a cloth pressed to the side of his face, and he walks slowly as if unsure that his feet are actually making contact with the ground. I can tell his head injury is making balance difficult, but I still hear myself impatiently demanding him to look up. As if he hears my silent plea, he does.
The tears start streaming instantly and I laugh from sheer exhaustion and relief. Gale stops moving and lets me come to him, his smile weak but present underneath layers of coal dust and ash. The smell of blood pervades the immediate air around him, but I bury myself into his open arm – the other still holding the cloth to his forehead—and try to think of something to say to him. I choke awkwardly instead.
Refusing to let go of him completely, I pull back, noticing then the weight he's shifted to me in the embrace.
"Gale?" I ask, worried.
"I just hit my head, Catnip," he says. His voice is a little slurred and judging by the way he tries to sway on his feet, I'm guessing the sooner we get him seated, the better.
"Can you walk?" The doubt is evident in my voice, but he nods with a noticeable grimace.
"Slowly."
Though he is immensely bigger than me, I tuck myself firmly under his arm, wrapping my other around his waist and we take the first painstaking steps toward the Village. I thought I was done praying when Gale stepped off the elevator. It seems I'll also need a prayer to get him home.
~Fin
I wanted to make this chapter infinitely longer but I really have to call it a night and wanted to update for you all... better Gale/Katniss reunion in the next one, I promise. :)