Chapter 8: Push
(6 months earlier)
Both winters and summers were notoriously brutal in District Six. But if he had to pick one, Lee would take the cold.
Pulling a wool hat further as far down as he could over his ears, he stepped down off the front steps of his house. The round garden, surrounded by the strip of pavement that ran in front of the semicircle of houses, was full of browned shrubs and dead flowers sprinkled with a thin layer of brittle snow.
Not that it's much to look at in the summer, either.
The rusting metal archway leading out of Victor's Village opened into the what was considered the nice part of town, with less-cracked streets and occasional tiny gardens, where the mayor and Head Peacekeeper and wealthiest merchants lived. The entire neighborhood was buffered by the main shop and office streets on three sides and the town square on one.
Lee skirted said square when he reached it, trying to ignore the low-ranking Peacekeepers who had been put on decoration duty on and around the Justice Building that loomed on the right. The main train station was beyond it, and past the warehouses that surrounded the square where the nicer neighborhood didn't, rows and rows of dark, cramped apartment buildings lined the streets. Almost nothing green ever grew in their shadows, and faulty plumbing was a common issue, adding to the district-wide stench from the factories and rail yards.
Sad part is, this isn't even our worst area to live in. That would be the Sweeps, the slums on the other side of the largest factory sector. Single-story shacks cobbled together from whatever could be scrounged from the neighboring scrap heaps were the norm there. If a person or family in Six couldn't afford rent in the apartments, the Sweeps was where they went. Morphling addicts who were too far gone to work tended to be the most common evicted.
My family was headed there for that reason. They'd had maybe a month or two left before eviction when Lee had been Reaped.
He actually passed their old apartment building as he walked. He didn't linger.
Even for early morning, the factories were quiet as he made his way past them. All shut down for today. The one good thing about Tour season: an extra day off for everyone.
Near the edge of the Sweeps, the two barely-connected buildings of one such factory perched on a low rise, surrounded by high fences topped with razor wire. All factories had security measures, but none of the others did like this one.
Not many people want to steal automobile parts or things like that. Not worth a lot in-district except to a few. But most would steal morphling.
He wasn't sure why the Capitol had decided to manufacture morphling in District Six along with the cars and trains and hovercrafts. Maybe they just wanted to put it in the midst of the most miserable population possible.
The rotating staff of Capitol chemists or whatever they were didn't give out the exact formula, concocting it almost in secret in the factory's Block 1. That was where the best batches were also processed and packaged for sale to wealthier districts and the Capitol. Block 2 was where the less refined morphling ended up being readied for shipment to other outer districts and to District Six's own few licensed dealers. And, because the Head Peacekeepers and their underlings would usually look the other way in exchange for bribes, much of that supply ended up in the hands of street dealers as well.
Then it gets to everyone else. In a crowded, sinking, smog-covered district, everyone was looking for some kind of escape. So we have underground fight rings, technically-illegal street racing, and addiction.
The far side of the morphling factory's fence bordered the narrow road that divided much of the Sweeps from the factories. "Beggar's Lane" was the unofficial name, where begging could be conducted out of the way of factory operations and far enough away from "nicer" neighborhoods so the Peacekeepers would turn a blind eye. Due to the cold and early hour, it was empty today.
Lee was grateful, as he'd forgotten to bring much of anything with him, money or otherwise. Although I'm wary of giving money, knowing where it'll probably go…
Sometimes he would give money to the younger kids, though. They're not always indirectly begging for their parents' morphling. I wasn't when I first used to come here, after all.
His parents paying the rent and buying their drugs while leaving nothing left over for anything else was the reason he'd ever been out there in the first place. It wasn't until later that he'd needed to pay his own dealer.
Trying to shake off those memories, he peered out across the slums. Too hazy to see the lake today. Sometimes, when the wind cleared the air enough, one could see out past the lower portions of Six's eastern wall and see the massive lake beyond it. When Lee was a child, even knowing that he wouldn't make it past cameras and electrified wires and patrols, he'd sometimes daydream about going swimming in that lake.
I wish I could daydream like that still. Age and the fog that kept creeping over his mind with no warning had taken that from him.
The district was just starting to wake up when he made it back to Victor's Village. He checked on Axela first, finding her snoring on her couch. He woke her up and urged her in the direction of the shower before making breakfast for them both.
"Why wake up? No one would miss us," she grumbled.
"They would. You're not actually sick this year, so I'm not making that excuse. Besides, I won't mind getting to meet...him."
Darien Lopez will be in our district today.
According to what Lee had seen on television, Panem's latest Victor had already almost caused riots in Eleven, Nine, and Seven already. No amount of cutaways and editing could really hide the chaos that kept unfolding along the 99th Victory Tour.
I'm sure he's pleased. This is what he wanted, isn't it? Isn't it what so many of us want?
That didn't make it not terrifying.
As it turned out, Darien's entourage kept him well out of Lee and Axela's way. While they stood at the back of the Justice Building's stage, the Five gave a scripted speech delivered in an overtly displeased tone that could rival Helvius's on a bad day. Six's crowd was mostly silent per usual, but Darien did get a few loud snorts and angry mutters from a few in the crowd.
There's more Peacekeepers around than normal, Lee noted. Security is almost never this high for the District Six Victory Tour stop.
During the party at the mayor's afterward, Axela excused herself as soon as possible, and Lee's attempts to exchange more than a few words with Darien were met by diversion by the mayor himself. Lee eventually gave up and went home early, too.
Don't let the troublemaker talk to much with other Victors. I see.
Watching the Tour recaps that followed, Lee saw that Four and Three reacted more enthusiastically to Darien than Six, without the outright rioting from certain other districts. Two and One were quiet. Too quiet.
Helvius's explanation for One when Lee called him was, "The Victors and elites hate him, but the rest...He's made them uncomfortable. Good for him."
Discomfort from the inner districts, unrest from the outer ones, a Quarter Quell on the way…
During the final ceremonies of the Tour, during which Darien was barely allowed to speak, it felt to Lee like all of Panem was waiting for something to snap.
The general unease seemed to continue for a while afterwards. Lee's life fell back into the familiar routine of walking, sketching, checking on Axela, and calling Helvius at least once every few days. He even took some messages from some of Axela's "friends" when she was too high to do so.
It used to be Linus she tag-teamed this stuff with…
From what he gathered over time, Five kept being put on lock down, Seven kept falling behind on timber quotas, Nine was going the same way as Five, and even Twelve had a riot at one point. Something big was in motion.
And we're ready for whatever comes next. Lee didn't know too many of the people included in that "we." He didn't need to. I'm ready.
Then the Quarter Quell twist was announced.
It was almost midnight by the time Helvius called. "Sorry I'm so late. Cashmere came over to my place and got stupid drunk."
"It's okay." I wasn't sleeping. The morphling Axela had offered before taking it herself had been so horribly tempting, though.
"No, it's not okay!" Helvius went from mumbling to shouting in a heartbeat. "They're trying to kill you again, Lee, and I…"
"Hal... "
" Fuck! " He heard the other man's heavy breathing on the other end. "Cashmere...between all the swearing, she said...She thinks they're going to take me, Lee. Get rid of all the problems while they're at it…"
Lee held back a sudden wave of terror. "They might not."
"But even if they don't, you... Lee…" Helvius's voice broke, then, after a pause, he whispered, "I don't want to do it again."
" I know." I don't, either. I want to survive.
Hadn't he fought for years to do just that?
Tears stung his eyes, and for a while, the only sounds he heard from the other end of the phone line were stifled sobs..