Chapter Twenty-five
"That woman back there. Who was she?"
Dyson put this question to Janus as the car containing the two of them, plus Rik who was sleeping off the copious amount of alcohol he'd consumed, made its way to the station. Adonis, Merope, Romulus and Remus were in a second car which was following behind. The woman, her bosom practically thrust into his face, her voice attempting to sound seductive, seemed to hover before his eyes and he shook his head in an attempt to dispel the image. There was no way he would ever do what she'd clearly wanted him to do, not with someone like her. Aside from probably being much older than him, she was also from the Capitol - and the last thing he wanted was to have one of the painted freaks who lived there in close contact with his body.
"Anastasia Phipps," Janus replied. "You'll want to watch she doesn't get her claws into you." He went on to explain that Anastasia had a "thing" about young male victors; whenever a boy won the Games, she would make sure she got to spend time alone with him, especially if he was exceptionally good-looking. Gloss from District 1 had been one of her conquests, as had Finnick from District 4. Dyson did not need to have Janus spell out what this meant.
"But what if you're already in a relationship?" Dyson thought of Paula, waiting for him in District 5. Even though they hadn't been "an item" for long, the thought of betraying her hardly bore thinking about. There was no way he would ever do something like that to her. Paula Saxon was his girl, not a freak like Anastasia Phipps.
"That wouldn't make any difference to her - people often sleep around in the Capitol. And," Janus added, "there's something else you ought to know." He lowered his voice so that Dyson could just about hear him. "There are people here who like to pay for the privilege of spending time with victors. And when I saying spending time, I mean getting intimate with them. What's more," he added, "President Snow arranges most of these liaisons personally."
Dyson grimaced in disgust. Janus had just said that Anastasia and people like her were treating the victors like commodities to be bought and used for sex - and President Snow was actively involved in the sordid business. The whole system was rotten to the core. Taking kids from the districts, forcing them to fight to the death, prostituting those who made it out of the arena alive. A reminder, no doubt, that even though they had survived the Games they could never escape the power of the Capitol. There was just one thing, though.
"And if you refuse?"
"Your loved ones pay the price," was all Janus said in reply.
After making their way through streets thick with revellers, the cars containing Dyson and his entourage arrived at the station, where a train stood waiting to take them to District 5. Dyson, his mind reeling from what Janus had told him, posed for a few photographs, before he and the other members of the party boarded the train and it pulled out of the station. He did not look out the window as the Capitol disappeared from view. He never wanted to set foot there again, but he knew he had no choice now that he was a victor. In a few months, he and the other District 5 victors would be back in the Capitol, along with whichever kids were unlucky enough to have their names drawn at the reaping.
The reaping. He recalled the ritual he'd had of telling himself he just had to hope his luck would hold until he'd outgrown the Games and was safe from having his name drawn. Only his luck hadn't held; his name had been drawn and, while he'd managed to survive the arena, he still hadn't escaped. Not only would he have to mentor future District 5 tributes, the Capitol now effectively owned him and felt they could make him do whatever they liked. The words Janus had said to him when he'd asked what would happen if you refused to bow to the Capitol's demands echoed in his mind.
"Your loved ones pay the price."
Janus had not spelled out what that meant, but Dyson could guess. Finnick had hinted that it had happened to his family, and Piper had told him about her parents and brother being found hanging by their necks at the entrance to District 5's Victors' Village. Killed because Piper had dared to speak out against the president of the day. A grim warning that dissent would not be tolerated, even from a victor. Especially from a victor. Because of the special status victors had, even the Capitol dared not harm them directly, but victors' families . . .
With a shudder, Dyson thought of Anastasia and how she liked to "spend time" with young male victors, how she had tried to seduce him at the party. Janus had warned him not to let her "get her claws into him", but it didn't sound as though he'd have much choice in the matter if he ever crossed paths with her again. Or rather he did have a choice, but it was between surrendering to her advances or refusing and his family being, as Janus had said, made to pay for his defiance. And that would probably include Paula as well and possibly even Trent.
Let himself be used as a sex slave by the Capitol or have his loved ones end up like Piper's family. Either way, it was a stark reminder that, even though the Capitol could never send him into the Games again, he was still at their mercy, perhaps more so than he had been before the reaping that landed him in the arena. For all winning the Games made them rich and famous, victors were little more than pawns of the Capitol, playthings to be used at will. And, if you didn't play nice . . .
"Your loved ones pay the price."
Those six words continued to echo in Dyson's mind as he lay in his berth, feeling the train vibrating beneath him as it carried him back to District 5. Back to where those who would be on the receiving end of the Capitol's wrath if he gave Panem's rulers any trouble awaited him. His parents and sister. The girl he loved and her brother, both of whom had been his friends from childhood.
None of them knew about the threat hanging over their heads.
The next day, however, Dyson had little time to think about what the Capitol might do to his loved ones if he crossed them. The train pulled into District 5's station first thing in the morning and, as soon as he had finished breakfast, he was whisked off to be prepared for his public homecoming, which would include an appearance in the main square, as well as the Victor's Dinner. Basically the same as in the other districts, except this time the Dinner would take place in Mayor Palin's house, not the Justice Building. After that, he would never have to go through the ordeal of a Victory Tour again, not as a victor, though he might have to do it as a mentor one day.
Might. The odds were that it would be several years before District 5 produced another victor. Several years of sending kids to the Games, only for them to come home in wooden boxes.
Knowing there was little he could do about the fate of future tributes, apart from advising them as best he could, Dyson pushed this thought to the back of his mind and tried to concentrate on what was happening in the present. Technically he was still on the Victory Tour, which meant his every move was being captured on film and would continue to be captured until the camera crews returned to the Capitol that night. And that meant he had to continue to keep his emotions in check as he had done since his breakdown in District 8. No matter what, he must stay focused.
Dressed in a cream shirt, charcoal grey trousers and black sweater, Dyson stood on the stage in front of District 5's Justice Building, as he had stood in front of other Justice Buildings in other districts. This time, however, the space on the platform below the stage that was normally occupied by the male tribute's family was empty; the victor was not reunited with their family at the end of the Victory Tour until the Victor's Dinner. Which meant he wouldn't see his parents and Tia until tonight.
However, the space for the female tribute's family was occupied by four people. A man and a woman, both around forty years old, whose faces bore the same look of sorrow Dyson had seen on the faces of other bereaved parents during the Tour. A small boy who looked as though he barely understood what was going on. A girl with strawberry blonde hair who looked so like Astra that Dyson briefly thought his district partner had come back to life. No, this had to be Naomi, the sister Astra had mentioned at her pre-Games interview, the one with whom Astra had done everything until . . .
Until she ended up in the arena, a place from which no-one under the age of fourteen had ever emerged alive. And thirteen-year-old Astra had been no exception. The lightning storm replayed in Dyson's mind. The two of them trying desperately to outrun the powerful bolts of electricity, only for one of the bolts to strike directly overhead and knock him off his feet. The moment he saw Astra on the ground, badly burnt but somehow still alive, and knew there was only one thing he could do for her. It was something he hadn't wanted to do, especially when he was already responsible for the deaths of Pleat and Linus from District 8, not to mention that Astra wasn't much older than Tia, but it had to be done.
He'd killed his district partner, slashed her throat. As with Linus, whom he and Astra had earlier found in agony after a bird mutt sprayed him with acid, it was a mercy kill, the only alternative to a painful death. But that didn't alter the fact that Astra was dead because of him. The lightning might be responsible for her suffering such horrific burns that she was no longer recognisable as the girl who had been his ally, but he was the one who'd delivered the fatal blow. And that meant he'd been credited with killing her. She was not his friend, merely his ally, and he'd never entirely trusted her after she knifed Randall from District 10 in the neck, showing that, small and slight though she was, she was capable of killing other tributes, including himself. But he'd never wanted to be the one who killed her.
Nonetheless, he had killed her. And now he was standing on a stage with her family only a short distance away. He tried not to look at them, especially Naomi who resembled Astra so closely, but his eyes kept being drawn inexorably towards them. They were on that platform because of him. Because he'd killed . . .
No, he must stop thinking about that. If he allowed himself to dwell on what he'd done to Astra, he would break down as he had done in District 8 when he was faced with the grieving families of Pleat and Linus. He'd sworn then that he was not going to lose control again and he'd managed to keep his emotions in check for the rest of the Tour, including when Augusta (the mother of Lupus's child) invaded the stage in District 2. And that wasn't going to change now, not in front of his own people. So he stood facing forward, his face a mask of indifference, as Mayor Palin gave the speech the mayor of every winning district gave in the victor's honour.
"In the past sixty-eight years, we of District 5 have sent many of our young people to the Capitol, of whom four have returned alive. Our latest victor, Dyson Kinsella, stands before you now, having fought against the odds to survive. And today we honour him, as those in other districts and the Capitol have already honoured him."
Mayor Palin's speech went on for a few more minutes, but Dyson tuned the rest of it out. As with the speeches on reaping day, he'd been subjected to it every year for as long as he could remember, though it had always been some other mayor in some other district making the speech before, while the whole thing was shown on every television in Panem. He could recite the whole thing from memory if he wanted, which he didn't. For one thing, where was the honour in surviving the Capitol's sadistic Games at the expense of the lives of twenty-three other kids, some of whom you had killed personally? He had no wish to be honoured for that, especially in front of Astra's family.
At the end of Mayor Palin's speech, a young boy of around eight or nine years old came onstage and presented Dyson with a bunch of flowers. Dyson accepted the flowers without comment, trying not think about the fact that he could be mentoring the boy in a few years time. He knew all too well that most of the boys he would have to prepare for the Games would not get out of the arena alive. But he had no choice in the matter; every victor who was capable of doing so was required to do their share of mentoring the tributes from their district. Just as he was now required to say the words he hated, the words which made him feel like a mouthpiece of the Capitol.
This time, because he was now back in his own district, the part of the speech which talked about it being "an honour and a privilege" to be in the district in question was changed to thanking his fellow citizens of District 5 for their support. Not that this made any difference to the fact that he felt like he was spouting Capitol propaganda. And then there were the words he must say next, the words he had already said (or tried to say in the case of Pleat and Linus) to the families of twenty-two dead kids, with Astra being dead kid number twenty-three. Nonetheless, he had to get through this. So, trying not to think about what he had done to her, he uttered the words the Capitol had given him.
"I also wish to thank the family of Astra for offering up this tribute. While she didn't win, she fought bravely and you can be proud of her for that. Let her sacrifice serve to remind you of the power of the Capitol and be thankful."
He said these words without emotion, as if Astra had been just another tribute; that was how he had dealt with this moment since his breakdown in District 8. But Astra hadn't been just another tribute, he realised. She was his district partner and ally, someone who'd been with him in the arena, until he had to . . . No, he mustn't think about that. But he must acknowledge her as an ally, even if he'd never really trusted her after she'd shown herself to be capable of literally stabbing people in the back. But, if she hadn't killed Randall, the District 10 boy would have strangled him and another tribute would have been making this year's Victory Tour. Not to mention that she'd already saved his life with that antidote after the mosquito mutt attack.
So he added a few more words to his speech. "But Astra was more than just my district partner. She was my ally and, if it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't be here today. I owe her a debt I will never be able to repay, but I can at least acknowledge her as a fellow tribute and as a citizen of District 5."
As Dyson finished speaking, the crowd applauded and Mayor Palin came forward to present him with yet another plaque to go with those he had received from the mayors of the other eleven districts. Yet another plaque to be stashed away and never looked at again. The only reason he had received those twelve plaques was because he was alive while twenty-three other kids were not. And he'd been at least partly responsible for the deaths of four of those kids, a fact with which he knew he would never fully come to terms. All he could do was try to put it all behind him, try to forget he had ever been a part of the Games, but the Capitol wouldn't even allow him to do that. He might be exempt from the reaping now, but he would soon be back in the Capitol, this time as a mentor.
"Hey." Dyson, dressed in a midnight blue dress suit with matching bow tie, approached Paula as those who had attended the Victor's Dinner left Mayor Palin's dining room.
She turned round at the sound of his voice. "Hey yourself."
Dyson looked at the girl who had been a close friend since they were both five years old, the girl for whom he had developed feelings that went beyond friendship. Feelings he'd spoken of in front of the entire nation and which had led to her being included in the guest list for tonight's dinner. Wearing a purple dress with a matching pin in her hair, she looked particularly attractive tonight and it had been all Dyson could do to keep from staring at her throughout the meal. They'd engaged in a little small talk, even flirted with each other, but Dyson knew there was no time for that right now. "Listen," he told her, trying not to think about the feelings simply being in her presence stirred within him. "We need to talk." He glanced round at the others who had been guests at the Victor's Dinner, then added: "Alone."
"OK," Paula said. And, without another word, she and Dyson left the room, made their way upstairs and entered the room where Dyson had been prepped for tonight. No-one saw them go, not Dyson's family, not Mayor Palin and his family, not District 5's other three victors, and certainly not Dyson's escort, stylist and mentor. They were too busy talking (or too drunk in Rik's case) to notice that the guest of honour and the girl he loved were no longer present.
Closing the door behind him, Dyson turned to Paula, feeling as he did so the fluttering sensation he'd first felt when she and Trent came to say goodbye to him all those months ago. That was when he'd first begun to think of her as more than just a friend, as someone he . . . But, now that he was a victor, his life would never truly belong to him again. He was the Capitol's property, to be used by its citizens at will. And, if he defied them . . .
"Your loved ones pay the price."
In his mind, Dyson heard Janus's words as clear as if his escort were in the room. Those words were why he had brought Paula up here, away from the other guests, and they were also why he had to say what he was about to say.
He cleared his throat, shifted nervously from foot to foot. He'd gone over what he wanted to say several times in his mind, but now that he was alone with her the words just wouldn't come. In the end, however, he managed to say: "Paula, you know I love you . . ."
To his surprise, Paula laughed. "Of course I do! Why do you need to tell me that?"
She tried to move closer to him, but he backed away. "That's the whole point," he told her. "If we're "together", I'll be putting you in danger. The Capitol are going to . . . demand things of me and they'll hurt those closest to me if I refuse." He thought of Anastasia and how she had tried to seduce him; only the fact that he was still under sixteen, and Janus coming to tell him it was time to leave, had prevented things from going as far as they might have done. But he might not be so lucky the next time he saw her, and now that he was required to travel to the Capitol every year, there was a good chance he would see her again. To say nothing of all the other Capitol citizens who saw him as their property.
Paula blinked. "What are you trying to say?"
"That we need to call time on us." Dyson forced himself to say it in the same matter-of-fact tone he had adopted during the Tour when he had to say the words that made him feel like a mouthpiece of the Capitol. "I don't want to, but . . ." He had to struggle to get the next few words out. ". . . it's the only way I can keep the Capitol from hurting you." He waited to see how she would react. Would she break down in tears? Would she demand that he give back the crescent moon pendant she had given him and which he now wore tucked under his shirt? Or would she calmly accept the situation?
She did none of these things. Instead, she moved closer to him, looking him directly in the eye. "And do you think the Capitol aren't hurting all of us already? They forced you into their Games. And they could still do the same to me, or Trent, or Tia. Us breaking up won't stop that from happening. The only thing that will is . . ." She lowered her voice to a whisper. ". . . to put a stop to the Games."
It took Dyson a moment to process the last six words and, when he did, his mind reeled with the implications. Put a stop to the Games? Was that really possible? It would mean the whole of Panem having to rise up against the Capitol, something which hadn't even been attempted for decades. And the last rebellion had been what led to the creation of the Hunger Games in the first place. Since then, aside from a few attempts to restart the rebellion in the decade following the Dark Days, the Capitol had maintained its iron grip on the nation and no-one dared to oppose them. Could there really come a time when the people of Panem overthrew their rulers and made it so that kids no longer had to fear ending up in the arena? If so, how?
"I don't know," Paula replied when Dyson put this question to her. "But there has to be a way. Even Snow can't cling to power forever. Some day - I don't know when - something will happen and Panem will be freed from tyranny."
Looking at the expression on her face, Dyson knew she was serious; she wanted the Games brought to an end. And, if she felt that way, there must be others who felt the same. He recalled Wiress's song about Nellie, the elephant who ran away from the circus; he'd wondered at the time if there might be a coded message in that song, a message that the people of Panem would one day no longer have to face the prospect of losing their young people to the Capitol's sadistic Games. If only there was a way to unite the districts, a symbol for them to rally around, they might one day rise up again. And this time they would hopefully succeed where their ancestors had failed.
It might not happen for several years, but the time would come.
