Chapter Nine: A Lonesome Road
Astrex Monsoon
Author's Note: Our fifth POV is revealed this chapter, and I've put the POV's name under the chapter title. We're getting really close to the Reapings, and then we'll be on our way to the Capitol. I don't usually complain, but you guys have been lacking a bit in faith/reviews/any responses lately :D Just tell me how you feel about the chapter. Or not.
I crack my knuckles, staring down at the wide expanse of muddy brown farmland from my vantage point – a lengthy, tall, leafy branch that tilted slightly from a large, formidable oak on the edge of the property. Leaves swirled around my perch, some getting stuck in my hair, some falling down to the road below and passing by children as they squelch through the mud.
My name is Astrex Monsoon. I'm a resident of the dilapidated District Eleven, home to immigrants, orphans, and the dark-skinned. I glance at the darkies passing below me, playing with musty old soccer balls and laughing. I don't care for them.
I myself am white. Probably one of the only white people in Eleven, but I don't really care for my record holding. I rest my head on my arm, glancing at the small scars along my pale arm. Results from fights. They look wonderful.
The darkies continue to talk loudly from below, and I feel like yelling at them to shut up, but I know that would reveal my position.
I run my hands through my long black hair, thinking about the events of the past few days. Sure, there was the announcement for the Quarter Quell (which didn't really mean much to me), and there were quite a few whippings that I had been happy to attend and watch. But that's not what I was focused on.
I was focused on the fire that I had set a few minutes ago at one of the plantation houses. So far, everything looked normal. But there was a hint of smoke coming out of the windows on the southern end of the house. Nobody seemed to notice it.
Small bits of sawdust drifted into my blue eyes. I squinted, rubbing them with the back of my hand. When I opened them up again, I saw the fire leaching the back of the house. I grinned.
"More of a show for me." I smiled, leaning back against the trunk of the tree. My black shorts rubbed against the branch, cutting off small bits of bark that fell to the road below. I gazed at the steadily growing fire, smiling wide.
I've always thought of myself as a trouble child. After eighteen years in District Eleven, most people can say they know me and the various problems I've caused. But I don't care much. In fact, I've considered going into the Hunger Games and causing mayhem. Many people might agree that's the best place to go with my "skills."
I laugh, a loud maniacal laugh. It's fun being half-crazy.
I glance at my old, rusting watch, and realize I have to be at the fields in an hour for my job. I hate working, but it's practically the only way I make money.
The darkies on the road below me are starting to notice the fire. Brent Flora, a tall, mediocre-looking guy I know from my job, calls out "Fire!" A few darkies sprint past the tree, in the direction of the firehouse. This just keeps getting better and better.
My hands clench against the branch as I feel the whole tree shake. A man with a cart runs by, in the opposite direction of the fire, his hands tightly clutching onto the cart. In the cart is a television, with a small bit of ash dusting it.
I laugh, realizing the man is a looter.
He looks up nervously, then continues on his way.
A few more people run along the road, calling for help. I decide it is time to get out of the tree, and I begin to climb out. Surely, I think, nobody saw me set the fire.
Then I decide that I want to go back to the plantation house. They say arsonists always return to the scene of the crime, but I don't really care. I want to see how much damage I caused the rich people this time.
There's really only two parts of District Eleven: the barons (what I call the rich people) and the darkies. I guess I'm somewhere in between. I'm definitely not a darkie, but my family isn't what you'd call rich, either. We have a little money, but not enough to go on a spending spree with.
Not like I really care. I've never been the type of girl that loves splurging on dresses and the like.
I walk down the dirt road towards the plantation, my dirty bare feet squelching in the wetted mud. My hair hangs down into my face, and I don't really feel like pushing it to the side. I just walk up the old dirty road towards the slowly burning plantation house, a lock of hair hanging in front of my left eye.
A man with a crutch hobbles in the opposite direction, a look of fear on his face. I wonder why, and I am presented with the sound of a bullhorn somewhere ahead. Curious, I keep walking forwards. A few more darkies run past me, and I notice none of them are carrying any loot. It's almost like they're running in fear. But of what?
I walk through the gate into the courtyard. The smell of smoke is in the air, and I can hear burning wood and things breaking inside the building. Somewhere, a man is shouting into the bullhorn, but I can't exactly make out what he's saying because of the loud commotion.
That's when I first hear the shots.
Peacekeepers are the first thing I think of. There's more shots, and I hear a child screaming. My face turns to one of horror, and I turn to run back through the gate. There's two Peacekeepers standing there.
"Stop or I'll shoot your fucking head off!" The one on the left screams, who is a bit younger than his counterpart, and is holding his gun shakily. My eyes widened.
There was a pathway deeper into the plantation house near where I was standing, and without a second thought, I dove into the entrance. The Peacekeeper's gun went off a few times, and I had a fleeting glimpse of one of the darkies slamming into him as he tried to get past the young Peacekeeper.
I sprinted down the pathway, ignoring the cries of pain and the sounds of fiery chaos as the buildings around me started to collapse as the pillars holding the ceilings up were being eaten away by the inferno. Behind me, a blast of glass flew outwards as the second floor of the workshop fell apart, crushing whoever happened to be inside at the time.
To the left appears to be the main part of the plantation house, and the place where I set the fire. In front of me, a wall breaks off from the workshop and slams into the ground, blocking my path.
"Fuck!" I yell.
"Hey, stop!" I hear someone from behind me. Immediately I know it's the Peacekeeper from the gate. I make another stupid, split-second decision and jump into the main building.
Fire burns all around me, flaming planks and pieces of masonry fall down around me as the building shakes from another explosion.
"That's the kitchen!" A darkie yells from in front of me. He hasn't seen me yet, so I turn to the left, jump over a corpse, and run up the stairs. The darkie sees me.
"Where the fuck are you going? The whole damn upper floor's on fire!" I lose sight of him as the roof above the stairs starts to collapse. I jump up the last few steps and dive onto the landing, barely avoiding the ton of debris comes tumbling down onto the stairs. In front of me there's two doors, but the right is on fire. I take the left one.
It's a little girl's room, clothes spread all over the floor and the mirror smashed. The place has already been half-looted. I guess that's what the darkies were doing before the Peacekeepers came. Well, assuming it was the darkies.
A large wood beam comes crashing down through the ceiling, decimating the wool-carpeted floor in front of me. Splinters and chips of wood fly everywhere, and I'm knocked off my feet as fire flares up out of the gap the beam created. I jump back up to my feet, glancing at the gap. Composing myself one last time, I take a leap.
I barely make it, my feet landing on the very edge of the other side. I swing my arms and almost topple backwards, but I manage to get my balance. Fire rages all around me as I rush through the doorway, coming out onto a balcony that oversees the courtyard. On my left, the workshop collapses into rubble, crushing a few escaping people beneath it.
"Fuck me!" I shout, leaping over the banister towards the small building in front of me, possibly a garage. I crash through the roof, pieces of shingles and wood crashing down all around me as I bounce off the car and land on the concrete floor. I can hear my ribs cracking as my chest smashes into the floor, my arms flailing out in front of me. I hear a slight pop in my shoulder as my arm skids along the ground.
I manage to get to my feet, my arm hanging a bit limply as it screams with pain. I've probably popped my arm out of my socket, but that's not something to worry about now. The fire hasn't gotten to this building yet, but it will soon enough. I stumble along next to the car, hoping that the door is unlocked. Luckily, it is, and the stupid plantation owner has left the keys in his truck. Thank God.
I turn the key as a few bricks come tumbling down through the flimsy, broken ceiling, landing on the hood of the car. The engine stalls, and I scream in frustration, slamming my hands into the dashboard. By some miracle of life (or maybe it was just my anger), the car starts and the headlights brighten to life. I slam my foot onto the accelerator, and the truck shoots out of the garage as it collapses around me.
"What the hell did I do…" I mutter as I hear the plantation house crumble into a pile of rubble, probably flattening anyone else who was left inside. Which was me a few minutes ago.
I feel horrible as I drive around the wreckage of the plantation house, but there's nothing I could've done. Well, except not have set the fire in the first place. But I had no idea it would get this much out of control…
A few fires rage on in the rubble of the plantation house. The truck bounces along the dirt road, a few lose bolts shaking here and there. I sigh, wiping my forehead free of sweat.
That's when I see the two Peacekeepers from earlier at the gate, standing right in the middle of the dirt road.
"Oh, shit!" I yell, clenching my hands against the wheel.
"Get out of the car, missy." Says the young Peacekeeper, the same one who aimed the gun at me earlier.
I sigh, opening the door of the truck and hopping down onto the squelchy brown mud. The Peacekeeper marches forwards with a pair of handcuffs in the crook of his arm, his right hand reaching to take them out. I make my decision then.
"Fine." I say, holding out my arms. He clicks the handcuffs around them, and I'm led back to the other Peacekeeper, who starts to walk down the wet mud trail.
"We'll just take you back to your parents. They don't know that you've been here, and they don't need to do. Last time was a misdemeanor, but…"
"I get it, Troth." I say, looking up at the all-but-familiar Peacekeeper. He grins.
"You might just go to jail for once, missy." The other Peacekeeper, the one I don't know, rubs his hands together, trying to warm himself up. The cold wind blows across the old path.
"There is no way I caused all that." I protest. Troth shrugs.
"Yeah. But did I say you caused anything? Nope. Thanks for the confession, though." He grins again.
"Oh, shut up. Why were you shooting people?"
"That's for me to know and for you to find out in the far future."
I give up trying to talk to him. Troth is my older cousin, and he always seems to know when I'm getting into trouble. He's caught me with the pyromania before, but this is new…
I look down the path ahead of us. It's filled with weeds and various ruts of broken, dried mud, and the cold wind blows at a headwind, causing me to blink every few seconds or so.
District 11 is a bleak place, filled with the horrors of mankind. The outcasts of Panem.
And here I am. One typical outcast.
Walking down this lonesome road…
I sigh. I hate the Capitol.
Author's Note: Also, after this chapter there will no longer be an author's note at the beginning of the chapter. So, how do you like the new character? Sorry to the original author of her, as I had to alter her a little bit. Make sure to review!