A/N- Okay, I know everyone's all excited about that cliffhanger I threw out there at the end of the last chapter, and I seriously hope that this doesn't disappoint anyone. Thank you for reading.
I smell it first. The sickly metallic smell fills my nostrils, clogs my throat, seems to wrap itself around me and work its way into my lungs, suffocating me. My Games ended over five years ago, yet, it's like the ugly scent of death never really left me. My eyes are scanning the area before my brain is finished processing the smell, searching for some clue to where the smell could possibly be coming from. At first, I see nothing. I don't mean nothing is wrong. I mean that I see nothing at all. The usually busy streets are barren, not a single soul to be found. All of the stores that line our town square are closed, the lights off, shades pulled. The horrible possibility creeps into my head that Snow killed off my entire district.
That's when I hear it. The soft thunk of rubber boots on stone, not far away from me, but too quiet to find. I step forward, clutching my suitcase tightly enough that my hand goes numb.
My first instinct is to call out, to see who it is, but I have no idea what's going on, or who's coming. If the Capitol came to take down my district, there may still be soldiers milling around the streets, looking for stragglers. Instead of calling out, I gently set down my suitcase and creep forward, my eyes furiously searching for the owner of the footsteps.
Then, I hear the sound again. This time I manage to pinpoint exactly where it's coming from. Like it matters. By the time that the location of the noise sinks in and I whip around, the Peacekeeper is just inches away from me, the hard metal of his gun on my chest. I raise my hands up, showing him that I was never planning on doing anything. My heart is pounding against my ribcage, just waiting for him to pull the trigger.
"Don't you know about that qua-… Finnick Odair," he breathes, doing a double take when he sees my face. I feel my mouth stretching into what appears to be an easy smile, a smile that you can't help but trust. Really, my insides are twisting up, guessing at what he was going to say, wishing he hadn't cut it off.
"Yes sir. I just got back from a wonderful trip to the Capitol." His mouth opens. Closes. His eyes are lit up with confusion. He doesn't know what to do with me.
"I have to turn you over to the mayor," he says finally. Then he grabs a pair of handcuffs from his belt and gestures for me to hold up my hands.
"I'm not dumb enough to try anything," I tell him. "Besides, I have to carry my suitcase."
"It'll be necessary to have you restrained, when you… I will have your luggage sent to your residence immediately," the Peacekeeper says. I raise my hands hesitantly. He clamps the cuffs down. I close my eyes and bow my head as the man leads me off to the Justice building. My head plays through all the possible scenarios, everything that could've happened, but nothing fits. Nothing makes sense.
"What happened here?" I ask the Peacekeeper when no answer presents itself to me. The Justice Building is just a little more than a block away, but I can't resist. The Peacekeeper doesn't even look at me, though. I start fidgeting. It's nearly painful, not being able to know something that has so much to do with the ones that you love.
The Justice Building is swarming with unfamiliar people, all of them silent, with bright red faces, and weary, pain-filled eyes. They glare at me as I pass, hate replacing fear as they take me in, as they realize who I am. I do my best to make myself disappear, but that's never really been my strong suit. Instead, it seems like I have two sets of eyes or something, because every eye in that room is burning into my back.
I'm nothing but thankful when I get through the throngs of people, at least at first. Then I realize that the coldness of the hallways, with their white marble floors and bare stone walls, is worse than the icy eyes. The lights are horribly dim, and shadows dance on the walls, mingling with the voices of the people that still echo through the hallways to create a disturbing effect. I tell myself to keep my head up, my eyes straight, but I want to run. Every muscle in my body is telling me to run. I shouldn't be here. Something is horribly wrong, and Annie could be in trouble. This is a waste of time.
Then, the Peacekeeper stops in front of the Mayor's office. He knocks on the door.
"Come in," a man says in a nasally, slightly high-pitched voice that makes my skin crawl. I know that it isn't the mayor. I take a step backwards. Who, what is in there?
"I changed my mind," I tell him, my voice rising with anxiety. "I want to go home. I want to go to my house." The Peacekeeper doesn't even look at me. Instead, he opens the door, slowly, overly dramatically.
The man at the desk, evidently the man who spoke early, is indeed the mayor. He has a tag and everything. Mayor Winthrop, it reads, in big, bold leaders. That is the only thing about the man that even resembles big, or bold. The top of his little bald head wouldn't reach my shoulder, and he's as wiry as a coat hanger, with pasty skin and a pockmarked face. Thin wire glasses sit on a crooked aquiline nose, with pale gray slits of eyes peeking out from behind them. He looks like the kind of person who spends his afternoons talking to himself in his garden, chasing away little kids when they make fun of him. There's no way he could actually run District 4.
"What happened to Mayor Vincent?" I ask, not bothering with formalities. I've made up my mind about this guy. He's too creepy to trust. He fidgets nervously, like some kind of rat. His eyes never stop darting around. Not like Annie's do, though, but more like he's just on some kind of highly effective drugs.
"A lot happened while you were gone," he says. A shiver runs up my spine. I cannot stand that voice. It almost hurts to listen to. I should ask this guy if he could lead the rebellion. All he'd need to do was threaten to make a speech if the districts didn't rebel, and everyone would just jump to attention. Actually, never mind. I'd rather not have him anywhere near me, even if it meant the start of the war. That feeling increases when I start to smell him. The smell of something very similar to compost cuts through the stink of death that's been present since I got here. Is he decomposing or something?
"What, exactly, did happen?" I ask, after a second of thought. I don't want to hear him explain, but I desperately need answers, no matter how unreliable the source. I just need something, something to grasp at. I need to know that if I were to go to Victor's Village, that Annie and Mags would be safe, that Daisy and Rafe are fine.
"Your precious Mayor Vincent happened to get very sick, and passed away just two days ago. It was very tragic." The pure pleasure in his voice makes me sick. A five year old could figure out that he doesn't think it's tragic at all. I swallow.
"And how did this happen?"
"Well, after a quite inappropriate speech, he took ill very quickly, and he just never recovered. Really, it isn't surprising. The whole District was put under quarantine, after it started spreading." I grit my teeth. I try not to act out. I clench my fists. That goat ass of a president poisoned my entire district.
"And, have there been any other casualties of this disease?" I ask in a strangled voice.
"Not many at all. Really, only a select few got it badly. No one wants the population of my beautiful utopia."
"And why did some people get this disease when others did not?" I ask innocently. His thin, papery lips turn up into what I assume is supposed to be some kind of twisted smile.
"As I mentioned before, there was a speech where Mayor Vincent had made inappropriate comments about the topic of the Hunger Games. Several people attempted to agree with him, and it seems as if though the entire district started getting little fantasies in their head. We just had to show them how bad your luck gets if you decide to act upon those fantasies. Now, they are nice and compliant."
I feel myself panic. I know quite a number of people who would have supported the mayor. Really, all the people close to me probably would have. I want nothing more than to find out if they're okay. But I have more questions.
"So this is it? Just a disease. If that's it, then why was I brought into here wearing handcuffs?" He shrugs his thin shoulders, his lips stretching to the point that I wonder if they may rip in half.
"I guess, that there may have been a shooting. President Snow figured that you may be very… upset, and he didn't want you to cause a scene. You are much to valuable to do away with for something like that, you see." My heart stops. I swear to God that it just stops beating when I hear those words.
"Who?" I manage to choke out.
"It was very tragic, having a victor die like that. Such a waste," he says, wringing every drop of satisfaction he can get out of this. My wrists dig into the handcuffs, begging to be let free. I can't strangle the puny punk with handcuffs on.
"Who did you kill?"
"I didn't kill anyone. Your friend was making a scene, and it required swift retaliation." I close my eyes.
"Who died?" I spit out.
"Let's see… what's his name?" He taps his head, likes he's trying to knock the answer out. The handcuffs are starting to hurt, but I don't care. Maybe I can break them. They don't seem terribly thick.
"Answer me." That comes out as a growl.
"Oh, yes. Borglum, that was his name." Not Mags. Not Annie. But my closest friend among the victors. I stare at that pathetic little man, my eyes swimming with tears. It feels like I was just punched in the gut. Every breath is a struggle. My ribcage seems to be getting smaller, squeezing at my heart, constricting my lungs. I've dealt with death, but never has it so blatantly unnecessary.
I'm sure that he did nothing except utter one sentence against Snow, and they shot him on the spot. No second chances, no warning, nothing. They just lit him up. The handcuffs break through skin, but the metal doesn't give at all.
"Are any other victors "sick"?" I manage to spit out. I need to get my answers now, and I can let myself mourn later. For now, there's more that I need to know.
"Oh, I believe Miss Eliza is coming down with something as well. You see, she wasn't too happy with Mr. Borglum getting shot. She may have acted out more than President Snow is comfortable with."
"You're a prick."
"Why, I appreciate the compliment." Then this awful silence stretches out, every word that he'd uttered taking its time to sink in, one by one. My mind takes the information, slows down, processes it. If it's possible, I get even more pissed off. It's worse, because there isn't a thing that I can do. I just stand there, trying not to flip out, because that won't accomplish anything. Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to take out the threat, eliminate the enemy. It's what I've always done. It's what I want to do. But I force the anger down, I take a hold of my instincts. Right now, I don't need to worry about this slime. I need to get home, back to Victor's Village. I need to help Eliza, comfort Mags. Borglum was like a son to her.
"May I go?" I ask. Disappointment flashes in his spazzed out eyes.
"Don't you have anything else to say?"
"Thank you for filling me in. Now, I would like to have some time with my friends and family." Well, friends at least. It isn't like I really even have a family anymore.
"If you insist. I will have a Peacekeeper escort you to your home, just to make sure that you do not mean to cause trouble," he drones.
"Okay Sir. I appreciate it deeply." Those words are about as slathered with sarcasm as you can get. That seems to mean more to him than my sincerity. I remember someone saying that nothing pisses off your enemies more than when you forgive them, so for one last parting gift, I give him the present of my most beautiful smile. It doesn't touch my eyes whatsoever, but it's enough to take that smug grin off his face.
As soon as I walk into Victor's Village, Annie runs out of Mags' house to meet me. I guess she was waiting. She sprints straight into my arms. I reflexively hold her against me, just because I'm used to it. She doesn't complain, and I can't help but relax, despite everything. Then I really see her. Her skin is bright red and shines with a thin layer of sweat. Her hair is damp and messy, and her eyes seem to be sunk back into her head. Even worse, she's hot. I mean, her fever has to be over a hundred.
"Are you okay?" I ask her. She nods, then breaks into a fit of coughing.
"They came," she says, her voice hoarse and weak. "They shot him and made everyone else sick."
"Everyone else?" That stupid punk lied to me. Why am I not surprised? She doesn't confirm it though, she just shakes her head, then drags me over to Mags' house.
It's like walking into some kind of dysfunctional hospital. The air is contaminated with the smell of sweat and barf, but there's still that stink of death in the background. I take a tentative step forward, nervous of what I might find. When I see what awaits me in the next room, I know that I was right to be worried.
Mags is sleeping, her face as red as Annie's. Rafe is sitting by Eliza, who looks dead. I'm serious. Her fever must've broken, because she's ghostly white, her eyes giant black holes on her face. And God, she must've lost twenty pounds. She was thin before, but now she's emancipated. Her cheekbones stretch against her sagging skin, and the thin blanket she's covered with swallows her up.
Rafe's cheeks are red, but other than that he looks fine. Well, physically. His eyes seem haunted, and I can see fear there as well, fear of Eliza dying, of everyone dying. My grip on Annie's hand gets tighter. Everyone seems so weak. I have to know if there's any cure, anything that can help.
"Annie, can you look after Eliza? I want to talk to Rafe," I whisper. I don't think I actually need to, but there's just that kind of feeling to the entire house, the whole town really. Like just speaking could send everything that's in such a precarious balance tumbling to the ground.
"Sure," she says, just as softly. She tiptoes over to where they're sitting, obviously feeling the same way about the noise that I do. I guess it's just a human instinct. Rafe, who'd barely glanced up when we came in, gets up hesitantly after Annie whispers something in his ear. Then he slowly makes his way back over to me.
"Please tell me the whole story," I say softly. He gestures for us to go outside, so I open the door and step out into the cool fall air. It's a sweet relief, even with the taint of death. Better than actually seeing it, better than getting suffocated by all the other smells. Death smells good now, easy, compared to what I just saw.
"Borglum died," Rafe says to start off. I nod.
"I know. Our wonderful new mayor had me arrested as soon as I came into town, then explained things to me. Well, things as he saw them." I go on to tell Rafe what he told me, Rafe's face twisting more and more with every word. When I'm finished, he shakes his head.
"He has the big things right. Vincent spoke out against the Games, Borglum stuck up for him in an interview the next day, and things fell apart from there. They shot Borglum as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and Eliza freaked out. They took her and the mayor into custody. The day after they were released, both of them were sick.
"Then, it got worse. Mags thinks they released spores into the air, but whatever it is, the entire town has this disease, to some level. Everything has been shut down this entire week, so a lot of the poor are starving, since they can't work."
"How many have died?" I ask him.
"No one has said any actual numbers, but probably at least a hundred. Only the poor are really taking a hit, though, and that's just because they don't have the immune systems to take it. It's gotten to the point where Peacekeepers are burying bodies wherever there's loose soil, since most people don't have money to get actual graves.
"Then Eliza and the mayor both caught it hard, but that's because I think they injected it into the blood stream or something. I don't know, but Eliza is dying." I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to make it all go away when I open them. That's what I was afraid of, what I truly feared hearing after I saw her.
"She won't die, Rafe. I know that she won't. Snow can't just go around killing Victors like this. The people will hate him."
"They won't know it's him, Finnick. I've heard that in other districts, that the only thing being reported is a disease outbreak in District 4. That's what Borglum's death was reported as, too."
"Does anyone know what disease it is?" I ask.
"No. We paid the doctor to come over here, but she has no idea, nothing that would help. She just administered antibiotics and suggested plants to cool the fever, but nothing that she knows will work."
"So there's nothing we can do?" I ask. He shakes his head sadly.
"I don't think so." I cuss.
"Well, then I guess we should probably get back in there and start hoping and praying." He swallows hard and nods.
"I guess that's all we can do," he says. Then we go back inside, to try to save Eliza, and to pray that no one else gets any worse.