All the Rides We Take Part 3/3
Part One
Part Two
Things had been getting better for a while. Easier, easier to tell the difference between the real memories and the ones that had been made up to hurt. But now that Gerard was back in the Capitol, a place that he’d had no interest in ever seeing again, things weren’t going quite as well.
He’d only been there for a day. The unit had been watching him like a hawk ever since he’d arrived, as though they expected him to jump on Frank and try to unscrew his head at the slightest opportunity. He wouldn’t, though, he’d at least got control of those impulses, even if he still had some doubts about whether Frank was going to try to murder them all in their sleep.
A couple of the unit’s members were supposedly there just to handle the cameras. Ray was one of them, and it was nice to have the familiar face there. Gerard figured he must have volunteered for the mission; more than that, he must have begged to be allowed to go, Ray who’d never held a gun or taken a life before. They’d been issued guns, though, just like the rest of the unit, because they were in a war zone, and just because this was being fought with images as well as weapons, it didn’t mean that they didn’t need the latter. Everyone had a gun. Everyone except Gerard. They’d taken the one he’d been issued as soon as he’d arrived.
There were other familiar faces there as well. The man who’d come to save him from the Capitol, whose name Gerard had learned was Walker. A couple of the others from that expedition had come along as well, named Talbot and Crawford. And William Beckett was there, William who’d saved Gerard’s life in the arena and let his fellow District 4 tribute die to do it. And of course, Frank, whose face was both familiar and unfamiliar now.
As far as Gerard could understand it, their presence in the Capitol was supposed to be mostly for show, but there wasn’t exactly anywhere safe to hide in between making propaganda for the rebellion. They were constantly in danger and stayed on the move to avoid the Capitol’s soldiers catching up with them. Their presence wasn’t exactly a secret, after all, and Korse would certainly love to get his hands on them.
As they moved further into the Capitol, the traps laid around the area became more numerous and more inventive. They had a narrow escape with one trap that sent plumes of fire roaring up out of the ground. A couple of the others were burned, not too badly, but painfully. A sleeve of Gerard’s jacket caught fire, but they beat the flames out before he could be hurt. They ran from the area, dodging side to side and trying to predict where the next fire would spring up, and with only that in their thoughts, it wasn’t too surprising that the next trap caught them completely unaware.
It was Walker who walked into it. Gerard didn’t even know his first name. Just Walker. A small, mildly hysterical part of his mind was giggling over the pun, Walker walking into a trap, while the rest of him was hoping that he was having a relapse, seeing things that weren’t real again. Walker was a good couple of steps in front of the rest of them when the trap exploded with a deafening noise, leaving nothing behind.
It seemed like they were all too shocked to react at first. Then Frank screamed, “No!” and the rest of them had to grab him to stop him rushing towards where the explosion had happened. They had no way of knowing whether the trap was defunct now, or if it could be triggered again.
They dragged Frank away and broke into the nearest building. After breaking down a few more doors, they found their way into a small apartment. It was deserted, like all this part of the Capitol was. It was somewhere they should be safe, not for long, but for an hour or two at least.
Frank was still upset. They all were, but looking around the room Gerard noticed the way they were all watching him expectantly.
“What now?” asked Bob.
“We still have to go on with the mission,” said one of the soldiers. Not one of the ones whose name Gerard had managed to remember. “We still have to get the footage and send it back; people need to see what’s going on.”
Bob hadn’t looked away from Frank during the speech, and once it was over, he said, “But that’s not why you came, is it, Frank?”
Frank looked up, seeming startled. “I came to kill Korse,” he said, his voice as harsh as the words.
“Well, we’re not likely to just run into him...” said Crawford.
“Not around here, we’re not,” Frank said. “I’m heading towards the palace; I’m going to try to find him.”
“You can’t!” objected the first soldier. “It’s against our orders. President Hayman will declare it treason...”
“So let her.” Frank stood up and dusted off his clothes. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. You can stay and carry on with your mission. But I’m going.” He looked across the room and his eyes met Gerard’s. Startled, Gerard looked away, and when he’d regained control of himself and looked back, Frank had dropped his gaze.
There was quiet in the room, and Gerard realised that they were going to agree. They were all going to follow Frank on his fairly ridiculous-sounding mission. If they did that, he had to wonder what was going to happen to him. They couldn’t go hunting for President Korse if they were dragging along Gerard. They’d have to leave him behind, leave him to be killed or captured by Peacekeepers and taken back to the compound where they’d drugged him and taken his memories away.
“You should kill me,” he said, interrupting the debate about how they could find Korse. “Before you go. You can’t take me along, you can’t fight if you’re watching me.” Their distrust hurt, but Gerard couldn’t blame them for it. He knew at any given moment he was on the verge of snapping and going for Frank’s throat. They had to consider the mission.
“We’re not going to kill you,” Frank said, and he sounded appalled, which was pretty funny considering that the day before he’d overheard Frank say that Gerard was no different from one of the Capitol’s mutants and that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he needed to. And nor should he; Gerard was too dangerous to have just wandering around.
“Then what?” Gerard asked frantically. “If you just leave me here, it’ll only be a matter of time before Peacekeepers find me, and I don’t want that, okay?” Even talking about it scared the shit out of him. Gerard thought maybe he shouldn’t feel that way, but he was pretty sure being dead was the only way he could be safe now, the only way he couldn’t be hurt and the only way he could avoid being used to hurt anyone else. He was just so tired of being afraid and tired of trying to figure out what everyone else was planning, whether their motivations were real or not. He wanted it to stop.
“You’ll have to come with us,” Frank declared after a minute’s thought. Gerard wanted to object, but finding the energy just seemed to be beyond his reach.
They determined that going through the street was too dangerous, and broke into the sewer system. It was dark down there, and oddly cold but humid. Gerard had no idea which way they should go, but Frank seemed to know. He had some kind of map. There were fewer traps underground, enough to make them wary but much less than up above. They travelled what seemed like a long way, but the tunnels were winding and the footing was pretty bad, so Gerard knew they were moving slowly. They stopped eventually, ate a small meal from their supplies, and settled down to get a few hours of sleep after setting up a watch schedule. Gerard wasn’t assigned a watch, of course. He knew that he was one of the things the sentries were supposed to be watching, but it was hard to care. Not when it meant he could sleep uninterrupted.
At least, that was the plan. His sleep was restless, troubled with dreams. He kept dreaming that they were being chased, that there were people looking for him and Frank and they always knew where to find them, no matter how well they hid. It was hard to dismiss it as just a dream when it so closely resembled what was actually happening. Gerard grumbled and shifted to get more comfortable. He did that twice more before sitting bolt upright, every muscle tense.
“What’s wrong, Gerard?” asked Ray, who was taking the watch. “Did you hear something?”
He thought maybe he sort of had. It wasn’t exactly a sound, though - it was more like a memory. Something was wrong. He wasn’t sure what it was or how he knew, but as soon as he acknowledged it, the feeling grew to be almost unbearable.
“I think we should get out of here,” he said, standing up. Around him, the others were stirring and groaning. “Guys!” he said. “Guys, come on! We need to move!”
“Whass goin’ on?” Bob mumbled, still half asleep for all that his eyes were open. Gerard didn’t bother to reply or explain any more - not that he could. He shouldered his pack and moved to the edge of the group, then stood fidgeting restlessly while the rest of them started to pack. Lucky it was so close to the time they’d agreed to move on anyway, or he would have had to work a lot harder to convince them.
They were just setting out when the sound of footsteps reached their ears. They all froze, standing still by the walls of the sewer, but in the silence the noise of marching continued. It wasn’t them, not an echo of their own movements. It was something else.
“Hurry,” Frank whispered, and they all broke into an unsteady, shuffling run.
Gerard was somewhere in the middle of the group, Bob’s hand on his elbow propelling him onwards. He was tempted to look back, try to see who or what was following them, but the pace was so rushed he didn’t dare. “Faster,” Bob hissed, but really they were going as fast as they could. The ground was uneven and they often had to slow down to duck under pipes and supports.
A gunshot sounded, very close, and Gerard nearly jumped right out of his skin. He looked back, then, couldn’t help himself. He might not know most of the soldiers, but if one of them was hurt, he wanted to know. They were all fine, though, on their feet still, and he realised that one of them had fired the shot. One of them had fired the shot towards a group of people advancing behind them.
Gerard blinked and tried to peer closer, but Bob pulled on his arm and he had to start running again. More gunshots followed, some from their own people but others from their pursuers. They ducked around a corner and tried to speed up.
They were dressed all in white, a bit like Peacekeepers, but their faces were... wrong. Not quite human. Their faces were white, not the natural white of pale flesh but the flat white of a painted wall. They were red lipped, with mouths permanently open in snarls, revealing long sharp teeth. They all had wild, tangled black hair, and each one was carrying a gun. Gerard tried to move more quickly. It sounded like they were getting closer.
A few more twists and turns went by, a few more exchanges of gunfire, and then one of them, someone at the back of the group, fell with a cry. They all stopped at once, gathered around her, and tried to hold off the things. She’d been shot in the gut, though, and couldn’t really move well. She kept saying, “Leave me here, leave me,” but no one wanted to listen. There were nearly as many of them as there were the white things, anyway - Gerard wasn’t sure what to call them, but with those teeth they reminded him of a storybook he’d had when he was young, about a monster called Dracula. In the pictures, he’d looked a bit like that.
Then another group appeared, farther off down an adjoining tunnel. Too many to fight, and the wounded woman yelled, “GO!” while feebly pushing Bob’s hands away.
They ran, and Gerard didn’t want to look back but he couldn’t help himself. The woman was on the ground, clutching her gun and firing wildly at the things, the Dracula-looking creatures, as they closed in. She hit one of them, and it stumbled but kept coming, and Gerard was ashamed of his disappointment that she hadn’t damaged them more.
In such a rush to get away, they forgot to keep checking for traps, and it came back on them horribly when two of them got a bit too close to the far wall. Blades suddenly slashed out from the wall and the floor and the ceiling and cut them to pieces. It was over so fast that Gerard found himself looking around wildly to make sure that it wasn’t Frank who was killed. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somehow he’d become pretty committed to the idea that he wanted Frank to live, and he was willing to roll with it.
They ran on down the tunnel, trying to be a bit more cautious, and so they heard when the blade trap was set off again and took out a few of the Draculas. Gerard reasoned that the Dracs couldn’t know where the traps were either.
They kept moving, and if they pushed as fast as they could they managed to keep the Dracs from getting too close, but they couldn’t ever lose them entirely. It was bad news, because they couldn’t just race around the tunnels forever, but even assuming they could find their way back up to the surface, they couldn’t afford to have the Dracs following them. It would draw far too much attention when they needed to be hidden. But the appearance of yet another party of Dracs, which managed to take out two more of the soldiers, convinced them that there’s no other way.
“Up here, there’s supposed to be a way out up here,” Frank ordered, leading them left at an intersection. “And be careful,” he added, “There’s a trap here, one of those bullet ones.” He showed them on his tablet, which had a grainy map of the nearest tunnels and showed where the traps were hidden.
The ladder was a problem, because they couldn’t really defend themselves while they were climbing it, and it was a long way up. The Dracs would be at the bottom of the ladder by the time they reached the top, and they’d be vulnerable the whole time.
“You two go up,” Bob said to Frank and Gerard, “And Ray and I will hold them back down here. Then you can cover us from up there.” It was the best plan they could come up with in no time at all, so Frank rushed to the ladder with Gerard close behind. They climbed as fast as they could, always aware of the Dracs closing in on Ray and Bob down below. The sound of gunfire got closer and closer, and before they’d even reached the top Bob was shoving Ray towards the ladder and trying to follow him while still facing out into the tunnel and holding the Dracs off.
Frank reached the end of the ladder and shoved the hatch open, squeezing through and pulling Gerard after him. He leaned back through the opening and looked down into the tunnel, but Gerard, sitting behind Frank and holding him to ensure he didn’t fall, could see that the tunnel was too full of Dracs for one person or even two to hold them off any longer. Ray was halfway up the ladder and Bob was still close to the bottom, not willing to turn his back on the Dracs long enough to climb.
“Trigger the bullet trap,” Gerard suggested, because they’d found that a well placed bullet could usually set them off.
“It might hit Bob,” Frank said, but he was adjusting his aim as he spoke. According to the map, the trigger point for the trap was a particular point on the floor, and Frank fired on it over and over without success. “It’s not working,” he snapped, frustrated.
“Is it the right spot?” Gerard asked, double checking on the tablet.
“It is, I’m sure of it,” said Frank, and Gerard was discouraged to see that he was right. Bob had realised what Frank was trying to do, and shot at the same point a few times himself with the same result. He had to stop after a moment, because the Dracs’ aim improved considerably when they weren’t being shot at.
“It must be shielded,” Frank realised, sounding defeated. “It won’t work. They’re just going to keep coming after us.”
Ray had reached the top of the ladder, and Frank had to move aside to let him through. Ray paused, though, in the hatch, looking down at Bob.
“Hurry up!” he yelled. “Bob! Come on!” Frank grabbed Ray’s shirt and pulled. He started to come through and then pulled away. “Bob!” he shouted again, and then repeated “Bob!” in a scream. “Fuck, no!”
Frank grabbed one arm and Gerard the other. They hauled him through as far below they heard a roar of gunfire.
Ray collapsed onto the ground and picked himself up after a moment, running back to the hatch and shoving it closed.
“Bob?” Gerard asked quietly.
“He ran into the trap,” Ray answered, and his voice sounded thick. “He just...”
“We need to get away from here,” said Frank, and if the words sounded harsh Gerard knew it was only because he was right.
******************
They hid in an abandoned shop a block away from where they’d left the sewers. Their underground travel had brought them from the war-ravaged part of the Capitol to an area where civilians were still around, although they were mostly staying off the streets. They sat behind the counter, hidden by racks of clothes, and looked at one another.
None of them wanted to be the first to speak. Ray’s lips were moving soundlessly, like the words just wouldn’t come. Frank looked like he was a thousand miles away. Gerard drew a deep breath, and said, “What now?”
“They’re all gone,” Ray said, and Gerard shook his head at him.
“Frank,” he asks, scooting across the floor towards him. A voice was screaming in his head, telling him to be wary, that Frank wasn’t safe. He tried to block it out. He just needed a few minutes more to figure out what Frank was going to do, and then he could stop himself from losing his mind. “We can’t just stay here.”
“Nowhere else to go,” said Frank, his eyes on the floor. “Ray’s right. They’re all dead. I got them all killed. It’s my fault.”
“They chose to come,” Gerard argued. The thought rose in him, unbidden, that Frank had set it up perfectly for everyone to die without him being implicated. Gerard tried to shake the thought free. It wasn’t true, wasn’t real. “They chose to come because they believed in what you believe in. They wanted Korse dead, and they trusted you to make that happen, and when you said what you were planning, each of them chose to help, knowing that the risk was high.”
Frank didn’t look up. His fists rested on his knees, clenched tight. “I shouldn’t have made a promise I couldn’t keep,” he said. “There’s no way I can get to Korse. It was a stupid idea. Stupid. Stupid...”
“Stop that.” Gerard grabbed one of Frank’s hands and gave it a little shake.
“We can still try, right?” Ray asked, looking at the gun he’d laid down beside him.
“That’s right,” said Gerard, trying to sound sure. “He’s still alive, and we’re still alive, and there’s no way I’m going to give up without trying to take him with me, not after everything he’s done.” He looked at Frank, trying to see if he was paying attention.
“I think there’s enough blood on my hands already, don’t you?” Frank asked. Gerard’s breath caught in his lungs, sharp and painful. He nearly choked on it. So much blood. Bert, and Mike, and Amanda, and Brendon, Jamia, and his parents, everyone else who had died in District 12, and pretty soon him, as well...
The television screen in the shop flickered to life, and they all froze for a moment, startled, before Frank said, “It’s okay, they’re programmed to turn on for special broadcasts just like in District 12.”
The report was about them. Of course it was; who else? They’d figured out that Walker was killed yesterday, and maybe they knew about the Dracs chasing them through the sewers, but they must not have known yet what the outcome was, because photographs were shown of all the rest of them. William. Bob. Gerard stared at him, but Frank looked away.
They warned Capitol citizens that if they saw any of the rebels, they should notify the authorities and not try to intervene themselves. Apparently, earlier in the day, a crowd of people had beaten to death a young man who looked like Gerard. They showed his photo too, and Gerard studied it closely, looking for the resemblance. There wasn’t much, he didn’t think. Not much to mean the difference between life and death, but enough. It was enough.
“There’s just as much blood on my hands,” he said to Frank. “If you’re responsible for them, aren’t I responsible for him?”
Frank shook his head, but Gerard didn’t listen. “They killed him because of me,” he said. “My fault.”
“You didn’t-”
“And neither did you.”
“It’s not the same, Gerard!”
Gerard shrugged. He moved to stand up before remembering that they had to keep out of sight. “What now? You going to hide down here until the rebels come through?”
Frank blinked at him. “And let President Hayman keep me from killing Korse? Fuck, no.”
“Alright then.”
***********
It had been a day since Frank and his unit had dropped off the radar. Alicia had made the mistake, when he hadn’t responded to any attempts to make contact, of saying to Vicky, “See? This is why I didn’t want you going to the Capitol. I’ve lost enough people already.”
“That’s my decision to make,” Vicky had snapped, and she hadn’t spoken to Alicia for several hours afterwards. She’d relented eventually, but Alicia thought it was more for pragmatic reasons than because Vicky had forgiven her.
Alicia hadn’t had much time to worry about Frank and the rest of them, or her argument with Vicky, because their plan to feed false information to the Capitol had gone ahead and since then, it had been a non-stop race to keep the different units in contact with one another and informed of the Peacekeeper’s movements. She was gratified to see it go so successfully.
The Capitol pulled most of the Peacekeepers from the rest of the city to protect the western edge they expected to be attacked, and the rebel soldiers advanced through the heavily booby-trapped eastern side. They were using small, simple remote-controlled robots that Bebe had designed. They were hastily made but they triggered even the traps which were shielded from gunfire, and that was all they needed.
The district was still mobilised for defence at any moment, but it was clear that that wasn’t going to be an issue. The Capitol was on the brink of falling. The rebels had moved through the streets and taken block after block, overwhelming the Peacekeepers in the end through sheer force of numbers. The Capitol. They should have been more cautious about making such bitter enemies of the districts.
As the fighting died down, Alicia was left without much to do besides try to contact Frank again and again. President Hayman had been furious when he deviated from the plan. She insisted it was because he was a danger to the other rebel’s movements, but Alicia didn’t really believe that. Frank and the people with him were smart enough to stay out of the way and not interfere, to get to where they needed to be. The president was angry because her plan hadn’t worked; the one where Gerard killed Frank and got him out of the way for her.
Alicia looked up when the door opened. It was Vicky, looking bored and irritated. She met Alicia’s gaze squarely, a slight frown on her face, but didn’t speak, coming to sit at Alicia’s side in silence.
“There’s no news,” said Alicia.
“Yeah, me either,” said Vicky. “Who would have thought war would be so fucking dull?” They watched a monitor playing a live feed of the main square of the Capitol. It was crowded, packed to the edges with terrified Capitol citizens who had fled their homes and were looking for a safe place. “Is that really all that’s left?” Vicky wondered, and Alicia gave a nod.
“We’ll have the president’s palace too, soon enough,” she said. “Within the day, it’ll all be over.”
“Who’s behind those barricades?” Vicky asked, pointing to where temporary fences had been erected and enclosed groups of children like a moat surrounding the palace.
“They’re kids,” Alicia said with a snort. “Capitol kids. They’re children, and Korse is using them as his fucking human shield. That’s how desperate they are; the only defence they have left is betting that we’re more merciful than they are.”
Vicky sat, entranced by the sight. “Are we?” she asked. Alicia didn’t answer.
**********
Mikey wondered what it would have been like to see the Capitol before all this happened. Back when it was a beautiful, glittering, magical city, the one that they saw on television. It was different, flying over it when it was all but abandoned, when parts of it were on fire and buildings were lying in ruins.
The transporter was flying straight to the heart of the Capitol, where the last of the fighting was taking place. Other groups of medics had been sent to other sites in the city throughout the fighting, but they were the last. The battle was supposed to end today.
Mikey looked at Linda, sitting in the seat beside him. She was sitting straight and stiff, gripping the seat tightly with both hands. Mikey might have thought she was nervous about flying - it was the first time for both of them - but he knew she was more worried about Frank. Neither of them had heard any news about him or Frank since they’d left District 13, and it wasn’t like that was unexpected - it had been made clear to both of them that keeping them informed of Frank and Gerard’s movements was not a priority - but the unknown was still a weight hanging over both of them.
The transporter landed in a small open area just south of the main square. It hadn’t always been open; a couple of buildings had been levelled and Mikey wondered if they’d done it just to provide a safe place for aircraft to land or if it was simply a fortunate coincidence. They left the transporter and Mikey followed the person in front of them as they were given brusque directions. Walk quickly, get a medikit from here, don’t stop, don’t be distracted, don’t deviate from the path. They walked quickly through the streets, the streets which had been made nominally safe by the presence of rebel soldiers. Mikey couldn’t help looking around him; he’d never really thought that he’d see the Capitol. And besides, somewhere in this city was Gerard. He was somewhere here, and Mikey couldn’t shake the thought that he was just around the next corner.
That changed, though, when they finally reached the main square. A soldier ahead of them held up one hand and directed them to stop. The square hadn’t been won yet; it was the last place in the Capitol where the rebels didn’t yet have power. The square and the palace behind it. Mikey looked through the masses of people and saw some kind of barrier through the crowd, children herded behind it. Sheltered there to keep them safe, he foolishly thought. Then the Capitol plane flew over.
It dropped things - little silver packages. Gifts. Mikey knew that; every year in the Hunger Games they sent little packages on parachutes just like that to the tributes who had sponsors. It was entirely possible that the Capitol was handing out emergency supplies to its citizens in this way. The children knew it too. They ripped the wrappings open, greedily tore into the packages and Mikey looked on for a few seconds of relative peace.
And then they exploded.
It was loud. The explosion was loud but the screams that followed were somehow even louder, in Mikey’s ears at least if not in fact. The soldier nearest them gave a wave and Mikey stumbled forwards, not even thinking, clutching his medikit and walking towards where the injured children were crying out. Linda was just ahead of him and he followed her as they made their way through the crush of people towards the work they’d come to do.
Suddenly, a hand closed around Mikey’s arm and pulled him aside.
He was startled and looked around, ready for a fight, heart beating hard, but when he saw who had grabbed him it nearly stopped. It was only at the last moment that he remembered to lower his voice.
“Gerard?”
He looked ridiculous, all dressed up in Capitol clothing. A bright green jacket with glittery glass cut to look like jewels stuck all over it. He was wearing a wig in a ridiculous shade of orange, and he’d even put make-up on, some kind of powder to darken his skin and eyeliner and lipstick to change the shape of his eyes and mouth slightly. Not enough to keep Mikey from recognising him, but Mikey was his brother. It seemed to have worked on everyone else.
“What the hell are you doing here, Mikey?” Gerard hissed. “It’s not safe!”
“No kidding!” Mikey snapped. He glanced back towards the barriers where the children were still crying out. Linda glanced back at him from far ahead, and Mikey waved her on. “I’m here to help. To work. Why are you here? Don’t you know they beat someone to death earlier today just because he looked like you?”
“I know.” Gerard looked scared but determined. “We need to end it now. What they’ve done-” He waved a hand at the scores of Capitol children that had been bombed by their own side, just to... what? As far as Mikey could tell, there wasn’t even anything they could hope to achieve by it. They’d just done it.
“I have to go,” said Mikey. “I’m needed over there. And you should get out of here.” He moved away from Gerard, forcing himself not to look back, knowing that if he paid too much attention to Gerard it might cause other people to notice him too. He made himself look ahead to Linda, already wrapping gauze around a child’s arm. He walked that way, although he knew that Gerard was following him, refusing to leave. It was infuriating.
That was when the second explosion happened.
******************
Gerard came close to a panic attack when he woke up. He was lying on a bed, surrounded by machines that were beeping and whirring, a harsh bright light shining down on him from the ceiling. He gasped and tried to stand up from the bed, but moving sent spikes of pain through his limbs. He kept going though, because there was something he needed to do. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, but it would come to him. He just had to keep moving.
He got up from the bed and made it halfway across the room, grimacing and wincing with every step, when the door slid open and someone stepped through it.
“Alicia?” Gerard asked, confused. “You’re not... here?”
Alicia gave him a withering look, but didn’t bother to comment. “You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet.”
“What’s going on? Where are we? Are we in danger?”
“The rebellion is over, Gerard. We won.”
Gerard made his way back on suddenly wobbly legs to sit on the edge of the bed. “We did?” He paused for a moment. “What happened? Where’s Mikey? And Frank, did you find him? And Ray?”
“They’re all fine,” Alicia said, but there was a faint tightness around her eyes that made Gerard nervous. “Mikey’s a bit knocked around from the explosion, like you were. He woke up this morning. Ray and Frank were there too, but not as close. They weren’t hurt.”
Gerard nodded. Everything Alicia was saying was good news, but she wasn’t acting as though it was good news. “There’s something else,” Gerard said, certain. Alicia winced slightly. “They weren’t hurt, maybe, but someone was.” She didn’t meet his gaze, and in a second, he had the answer. “Linda.” She jerked, and the air rushed from Gerard’s lungs. “Linda. Is she...”
“She was right in there when the bombs went off,” Alicia explained. “Right in the middle of it all. I’m sorry.”
“Is Frank...”
“He’s... handling it,” Alicia said, but there was too much she wasn’t saying in that sentence. Gerard tried to breathe and not imagine what Frank was going through right then, grieving for his mother while everyone else was celebrating.
“What the hell happened?” Gerard asked. “Why did Korse decide to drop bombs on Capitol children? What was it supposed to gain him?”
Alicia was quiet, and when Gerard looked at her, her face was drawn, lips pressed tightly together.
“What?” Gerard demanded. “Did he manage to get away somehow?”
“No, he’s in custody.”
“Why did he say he did it, then?”
“He hasn’t said why,” Alicia said.
Gerard watched her for another second, then shifted, startled. “You don’t think it was him at all!”
She looked away. “I didn’t say that-”
“But it’s true, isn’t it? So who would...” Gerard realised what the alternative was, if Korse hadn’t dropped those bombs, and the pain of it took his breath away. “It must have been Hayman. And she made it look like Capitol bombs - to destroy support for him? Or just to get past the barrier he’d made out of children?”
Alicia glared at him, and Gerard, too furious to think deeply on what it meant, said, “What should we do? We can’t let her get away with it!”
“And what would you like to do about it, Gerard?” Alicia asked, her tone mocking. “If she dropped those bombs just to convince everyone that Korse was evil enough to do it, what do you suppose she’ll do to someone spreading talk like that around? Saying that she murdered children? Trying to destabilise her power?”
Gerard listened unwillingly. “There has to be something...”
“We can wait. That’s all. We don’t have any proof. The whole idea sounds like a mad conspiracy theory, you know that, right? She’ll slip up eventually.”
“Yeah, by killing someone else, hurting someone else! We can’t just wait for her to take another life to prove how bad she is, we have to move now!”
“I’ve risked enough, Gerard!” Alicia snapped, her voice rising. He shrank back. “And so have you,” she added, softer. “We’ve done well. You and Frank and Mikey are safe, Vicky is getting better. I didn’t think we’d come out of it nearly so well. I just want... I just want. That. Just that.”
She sounded broken, and Gerard wanted to comfort her, reassure her that it was enough, they’d done enough and deserved to enjoy the respite they’d earned. He couldn’t, though. There was too much still to be done. But maybe he would have to manage it on his own.
*************
Gerard had still been asleep when Mikey woke up. He’d sat with him for a short while before going to see Frank, who hadn’t been hurt in the explosion but had accumulated enough injuries fighting his way through the Capitol that they’d brought him to the hospital anyway.
Mikey had gone to Frank’s ward with dread in his heart, not wanting to have to be the one to tell Frank that his mother was dead. He was selfishly relieved when he arrived and realised that Frank already knew. Knew because he’d been there as well, had seen his mother killed with his own eyes.
“It’s my fault,” Frank said, and although Mikey tried to convince him he was wrong, he wouldn’t listen.
They’d dropped the subject and were trying to find other topics to talk about when they heard someone approaching the room. Mikey recognised Gerard from the sound of his footsteps and sat up straighter. He poked his head through the door and looked in at them, his eyes huge and dark in his pale face. It was almost painful to look at him; when he’d left District 13 he’d just been beginning to recover from his stint in the Capitol, but all that progress was gone now.
“I’m sorry,” Gerard said, his voice choked.
Frank looked thoughtful, then shook his head. “Korse’s fault,” he said, and then, in a voice so drained of emotion it frightened Mikey, “I’m going to cut out his heart.”
For a second, it looked like Gerard was trying to make a decision about something. “Frank,” he said tentatively. “Why would Korse drop bombs on children from the Capitol, ones that he was using to shield the palace from the rebels?”
Frank looked at Gerard sharply, and he added, “Bombs that were made to detonate in two groups, so that the second would take the medics who came to tend the victims of the first?”
“Stop,” said Frank, and when Gerard made to continue, he snapped, “No! Shut up! It was Korse behind this! It was Korse, but we caught him and we’re going to kill him, so now it’s over!” He wouldn’t listen to anything else, and when Gerard tried to make him he struggled up from the bed and limped out of the room.
*************
Korse was to be executed. Publicly, so that everyone could see for themselves that he was dead.
Alicia had thought that the meeting would be about how to arrange the execution. Where it was going to be done, and when, and how. Frank insisted that he would be the one to do it. He wanted revenge, and it seemed the destruction wreaked on the Capitol hadn’t been enough for him.
But President Hayman had raised another matter before the discussion came around to the execution. At the beginning of the meeting, someone had raised a toast - that had been happening a lot - someone had toasted the end of the Hunger Games. And Hayman had said, “Not necessarily.”
It wasn’t justice that she was proposing, not even revenge. It was retribution, and Alicia couldn’t see it ending well. A new round of Hunger Games, taking the children of the Capitol citizens who had supported the old regime. It wouldn’t help Panem heal; it would just breed more resentment. In a few more generations, the Capitol would be the rebels, overthrowing the cruel districts. It couldn’t be allowed to happen.
“You can’t be serious about this idea,” Gerard said angrily. The look Hayman gave him made him recoil. She seemed furious that Gerard would even consider disagreeing with her. “This is what we were trying to stop! I won’t support it. I won’t have anything to do with it.”
“What do the rest of you think?” Hayman asked, looking across to the others gathered there. Vicky was there, along with Alicia, Frank, and Gerard. Bebe. The military strategists that Alicia had worked with back in 13. Travis McCoy. They wore expressions varying from discomfort to mild interest. “You’ve all suffered for the whims of the Capitol. Some of you have been made to play in their Games, for entertainment.” The president glanced back at Alicia and Vicky beside her. “All of you have lost people,” she added, letting her gaze move across the room. “Friends. Family.” Her eyes landed on Gerard and Frank, the latter of whom was looking at her with a strange light in his eyes. “I’ll put it to you all. We can vote on it. But I, for one, don’t want to see the sacrifices and suffering of the Capitol’s victims simply forgotten. Afterwards,” she added, as though an afterthought, “we can determine the manner of Korse’s execution.”
“My vote is no,” Gerard said fiercely.
“So is mine,” said Bebe, and a few of the others assembled added their voices. With each vote, the president’s face grew stiffer, angrier. Alicia watched until the president noticed her and smoothed her face into a more neutral expression. What is she thinking? Alicia wondered. Does she really crave blood so much? Or is it the power that she wants? Why else would she be so furious that the rest of them are going against her will? And what will she do next, if this endeavour fails?
“I vote yes,” Alicia said, just to see what would happen. Hayman stared at her, surprised but seemingly pleased. Vicky gave her a look, too, but Alicia glanced at her and Vicky said,
“So do I.”
Gerard looked disgusted, which might have bothered Alicia more if she hadn’t been occupied with wondering if the woman they’d put in power was any better than Korse. There were a few more yes votes to follow, and by the time everyone but Frank had made their choice, they were split evenly. The president looked almost gleeful, but her triumph faltered as she turned towards Frank, who seemed deep in thought.
“So many people died because of the Capitol,” Frank said. “They all deserve more. They deserve this - I vote yes.”
Gerard wrenched his arm away from Frank, mouth twisting in revulsion. He stormed out of the room, and Frank watched him go, looking lost. Alicia thought she almost felt badly for him. If she could still feel such things.
***************
Gerard hadn’t really wanted to go to the execution. He’d seen enough death, and he had no desire to ever see Korse again at all. He didn’t want to see Frank much, either, still too upset at the way he’d put his support behind the new Hunger Games. But Mikey had decided to go, and when Gerard had said he wouldn’t, Mikey had looked at him, that sad lost look he’d had on his face almost constantly since Linda had been killed. Gerard would do anything to keep Mikey from looking like that.
They’d built a new stage for this grim play, out in front of the palace where Korse had lived. Over the ground where a plane, a plane with Capitol markings, had dropped bombs on Capitol children. President Hayman wanted everyone to see every last trace of the Capitol’s power vanquished.
Frank had been dressed in some elaborate outfit. Not one of Patrick’s, but still, he looked good. Gerard had heard that Pete had been flown out from 13 to get Frank ready for this public appearance. Frank carried his bow, the showy one that Bebe had made, and he held an arrow. Korse was restrained at the other end of the stage. The two men looked at one another, glares so filled with hate and loathing that the air crackled with it.
Frank didn’t draw the moment out. Gerard glimpsed Hayman’s displeased face and thought that she must have wanted more of a show, but Frank was almost perfunctory in the way he nocked his arrow, drew, and aimed before letting it fly.
Gerard remembered when Frank had been younger. More innocent, but not completely so. Not in District 12. But he’d always had a core of kindness, of mercy, that had made Gerard fall in love with him. The Capitol had taken that away, too, because Frank didn’t let Korse die instantaneously, as he could have done. He didn’t shoot him in the heart; he missed, probably by no more than an inch, and Korse gasped and choked, blood slowly staining his lips and running down his chin as he drowned in his own blood. The Capitol had made Frank cruel.
And the Capitol had made Frank sly, because no one had noticed the second arrow that he’d tucked into his boot and quickly removed while everyone was watching Korse’s dying breaths. He didn’t miss a second time. He didn’t falter or hesitate, and the second arrow found President Hayman’s heart.
**************
Mikey wanted to speak for Frank at the trial, but Gerard wouldn’t let him. “We need to convince everyone that Frank didn’t know what he was doing, Mikey, not that Hayman was unhinged and deserved to die.”
Mikey glared balefully at his brother. “Someone should speak up for him,” he said, and Gerard rolled his eyes.
“I can’t, Mikey. After the stuff the Capitol filmed me saying, it wouldn’t help for me to come to Frank’s defence.”
Mikey scowled and shrugged. He didn’t care.
Frank wasn’t allowed to attend the trial. He’d been locked up in isolation ever since he’d killed the president, and apparently hadn’t even spoken to anyone. The trial was just a bunch of people talking about what should happen. Most of them had never even met Frank. It made Mikey furious. They were supposed to be better than this. They were supposed to be the good ones, and their victory was supposed to make things better. This, this farce of a trial, was Capitol bullshit.
Still, some Capitol head-doctor and a few other people argued convincingly that Frank’s actions were the result of post-traumatic stress and grief. The judgement eventually reached was that Frank would not be executed, but should return to District 12 and continue receiving psychiatric treatment. Mikey looked over at Gerard when he heard that, and Gerard responded with a smile and a nod. This was good news, the best they could have hoped for.
*************
Alicia wasn’t overjoyed to be given the task of watching Frank and making sure he didn’t assassinate anyone else, but it meant she would have something to do, and she had a feeling she would be in need of something to do.
It was just that she hadn’t really planned on returning to District 12, but that was where Frank was being sent. When she’d thought about what she might do, she’d imagined wandering around Panem, going to all the different districts where travel used to be restricted. Maybe having someone go with her.
She didn’t think Vicky would choose to follow her to District 12.
The railway had been sabotaged in several places during the fighting, so they flew back to 12 in a hovercraft. Large parts of the town had burned to the ground when it had been bombed, but the fine houses built for victors and their families to live in were far enough away from the town centre to have escaped damage. And no-one had ever lived there aside from Alicia, and Frank and Gerard and their families, which made them much more appealing than homes belonging to people they’d known who were now dead.
Other people were slowly returning to the district, too. Ray did. The mayor’s house was one of those which had been destroyed, and he ended up taking over an empty room in Frank’s enormous house. The victor’s houses became popular places to settle, being as large and comfortable and free of history as they were. There were always people around, and it got on Alicia’s nerves, although Frank seemed to like it so long as no-one bothered him.
Alicia was supposed to be keeping an eye Frank, but in reality she saw little of him. He spent a lot of time wandering around, walking through the woods and the remains of the town. Alicia wasn’t sure what he did exactly, but it kept him busy and she had no real desire to see him much. She just wished she had some other way to pass the time.
Being back in the house she’d occupied ever since winning her own Games was uncomfortable. The years she’d spent drinking herself into a stupor had kept her from noticing or caring how run down the place had become. She didn’t want to return to that, but it meant she couldn’t ignore the filthy floors and walls, the layer of dust across everything and the piles of garbage scattered everywhere. Every few days she resolved to jump in and clean the place up, turn it into somewhere nice to live like it had been when it was new. She never got very far, though, before her motivation ran out and she spent the rest of the day sitting and staring into space, wishing she could get her hands on a bottle of white liquor. Just one.
They’d set Frank up with appointments to talk to a psychiatrist, and they’d offered to do the same for Alicia. She’d never taken advantage of the opportunity, though. She’d handled her own problems her own way for long enough, and wasn’t about to change that now. The times when she saw Frank, she looked at him and wondered if it was helping him, making him better, happier, whole. She couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to ask.
It took months, but the damage caused by the war was slowly repaired. The rubble was cleared and new houses built. They started producing regular television again. Most of it was just news about the rebellion and the reconstruction. Frank and Gerard’s names were mentioned all the time, and Alicia heard her own frequently enough as well, along with other people she knew, or had known. Jon Walker, William Beckett, and the rest of the unit were remembered as heroes. News - gossip, really - about other rebel leaders was popular. Elizabeth Berg had settled in the Capitol. Gerard was there, too, meeting in person with the same psychiatrist who was treating Frank over the phone. No-one seemed to know where Vicky-T had gone, or what she was doing.
The railway line was fixed too, eventually. The first train to travel along it arrived in District 12 on a Thursday. Most of the town turned out to meet it, and Alicia figured that people must be desperate for entertainment. She didn’t bother to go, and neither did Frank. She’d decided that if she was never going to successfully make the inside of the house an appealing place to be, maybe she could grow a nice garden instead, and she was pulling weeds. It was difficult; she didn’t have gloves, or tools, and wasn’t sure how to tell the weeds apart from the other plants. After an hour or so the idea had lost its appeal and she went inside to wash her hands and possibly change into clean clothes, assuming she had some. And a knock came at the door.
People didn’t knock on her door. She wasn’t welcoming to visitors. Alicia considered ignoring it, but the person knocked again, louder and longer. She was preparing a scathing verbal assault when she yanked the door open and Vicky was on the other side.
Alicia blinked at her. It felt like several long minutes passed before Vicky said, “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” said Alicia, belatedly realising that she’d moved all the kitchen chairs into the hall a month earlier to clean the floor and never got around to putting them back, and she never went into the living room because she still hadn’t cleared out all the empty bottles. But she’d already said yes, so she stepped back and let Vicky come inside.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Gerard and Mikey wanted to come home, so I came with them.”
Alicia nodded, but decided after a second that that didn’t really answer her question. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you. It’s been months.”
“You could have called. I have a phone.”
“I don’t.”
“Well...” Alicia tried to think of a retort, but came up blank.
“And you never really said goodbye.”
“Well, I...” Alicia shrugged. “I’m sorry. That was cowardly of me.”
“Yeah, it was. And you never asked me to come with you.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to.”
Vicky rolled her eyes at that. “Stupid,” she snapped. Alicia recoiled, and Vicky took her wrist. “There’re not many people I spend time with by choice,” she said. “And there’re not many people I let get close. There’re not many people I’d bother to follow across the entire country. I wish I could hate you for making me do all those things for you, but it’s too late for that.”
Alicia realised her mouth was hanging open and quickly shut it. “I didn’t know.”
Vicky leaned in closer, her hands coming up to Alicia’s shoulders. “I’ve kissed plenty of people,” she said, quieter, “but none that I loved.”
“Nor have I,” said Alicia, almost breathless.
“So many things have changed,” said Vicky, sliding one hand across to rub Alicia’s jaw with her thumb. “And I think that should be one of them.”
******************
In District 12 they built a school out of logs and tar. They found a teacher, eventually. It was a long process to decide on one, but eventually even those who vehemently disagreed at first have to admit that the right choice was made.
In that little classroom, a girl grew tired of the problem she was trying to solve and raised her hand.
“Why do we have to be able to tell the difference between igneous and send-a-men-tary rocks?” she asked.
The answer to this question used to be, because one day you’ll probably be a miner, and knowing the difference could save your life. But it wasn’t anymore, and their teacher had a different answer.
He thought it over for a minute, biting down on one side of his lip with fingers twitching. “Because,” he said at last, and the other children looked up from their work too, knowing the signs of a good ramble when they saw them. “You have to know how to ask the right questions.”
You had to know how to ask the right questions. It was the only way to know for sure what was real, what was true, and what wasn’t. He was better at it now. Only rarely woke up in the night, heart pounding and afraid that his friends were his enemies. He’d learned the right questions, though, to make the panic stop, and Frank was always there to say “I love you” and “you’re safe” and “I won’t leave you”.
The children weren’t quite satisfied with his answer. A boy stuck his hand up and asked, “But what does that have to do with rocks, Uncle Gerard?”
Gerard hesitated, then picked up one of the sample rocks he’d brought to the classroom. “What is this?” he asked, and let the answers come and open up other questions. He kept going until he found a question they couldn’t answer, and said, “Well, then. How can we find out?”
“You could tell us,” said his nephew. He was a lot more used to Gerard than the rest of the children, and so always the first to make it clear when he was less than convinced.
“But what if I tell you wrong?” Gerard pointed out. “How would you know?”
“I’d check with my dad,” volunteered another girl. “He’d say if he thought you weren’t right.”
“He definitely would, Gracie,” Gerard allowed. “Let’s work out some more ways to find out what we want to know...”
One day the work of rebuilding Panem would pass to them. Gerard wanted to be sure that when it did, they’d know how to ask the right questions.
He’d always wanted to save lives.
Check out the wonderful art by josie and the awesome mix by fisa_is_your_friend.
Part Two
Things had been getting better for a while. Easier, easier to tell the difference between the real memories and the ones that had been made up to hurt. But now that Gerard was back in the Capitol, a place that he’d had no interest in ever seeing again, things weren’t going quite as well.
He’d only been there for a day. The unit had been watching him like a hawk ever since he’d arrived, as though they expected him to jump on Frank and try to unscrew his head at the slightest opportunity. He wouldn’t, though, he’d at least got control of those impulses, even if he still had some doubts about whether Frank was going to try to murder them all in their sleep.
A couple of the unit’s members were supposedly there just to handle the cameras. Ray was one of them, and it was nice to have the familiar face there. Gerard figured he must have volunteered for the mission; more than that, he must have begged to be allowed to go, Ray who’d never held a gun or taken a life before. They’d been issued guns, though, just like the rest of the unit, because they were in a war zone, and just because this was being fought with images as well as weapons, it didn’t mean that they didn’t need the latter. Everyone had a gun. Everyone except Gerard. They’d taken the one he’d been issued as soon as he’d arrived.
There were other familiar faces there as well. The man who’d come to save him from the Capitol, whose name Gerard had learned was Walker. A couple of the others from that expedition had come along as well, named Talbot and Crawford. And William Beckett was there, William who’d saved Gerard’s life in the arena and let his fellow District 4 tribute die to do it. And of course, Frank, whose face was both familiar and unfamiliar now.
As far as Gerard could understand it, their presence in the Capitol was supposed to be mostly for show, but there wasn’t exactly anywhere safe to hide in between making propaganda for the rebellion. They were constantly in danger and stayed on the move to avoid the Capitol’s soldiers catching up with them. Their presence wasn’t exactly a secret, after all, and Korse would certainly love to get his hands on them.
As they moved further into the Capitol, the traps laid around the area became more numerous and more inventive. They had a narrow escape with one trap that sent plumes of fire roaring up out of the ground. A couple of the others were burned, not too badly, but painfully. A sleeve of Gerard’s jacket caught fire, but they beat the flames out before he could be hurt. They ran from the area, dodging side to side and trying to predict where the next fire would spring up, and with only that in their thoughts, it wasn’t too surprising that the next trap caught them completely unaware.
It was Walker who walked into it. Gerard didn’t even know his first name. Just Walker. A small, mildly hysterical part of his mind was giggling over the pun, Walker walking into a trap, while the rest of him was hoping that he was having a relapse, seeing things that weren’t real again. Walker was a good couple of steps in front of the rest of them when the trap exploded with a deafening noise, leaving nothing behind.
It seemed like they were all too shocked to react at first. Then Frank screamed, “No!” and the rest of them had to grab him to stop him rushing towards where the explosion had happened. They had no way of knowing whether the trap was defunct now, or if it could be triggered again.
They dragged Frank away and broke into the nearest building. After breaking down a few more doors, they found their way into a small apartment. It was deserted, like all this part of the Capitol was. It was somewhere they should be safe, not for long, but for an hour or two at least.
Frank was still upset. They all were, but looking around the room Gerard noticed the way they were all watching him expectantly.
“What now?” asked Bob.
“We still have to go on with the mission,” said one of the soldiers. Not one of the ones whose name Gerard had managed to remember. “We still have to get the footage and send it back; people need to see what’s going on.”
Bob hadn’t looked away from Frank during the speech, and once it was over, he said, “But that’s not why you came, is it, Frank?”
Frank looked up, seeming startled. “I came to kill Korse,” he said, his voice as harsh as the words.
“Well, we’re not likely to just run into him...” said Crawford.
“Not around here, we’re not,” Frank said. “I’m heading towards the palace; I’m going to try to find him.”
“You can’t!” objected the first soldier. “It’s against our orders. President Hayman will declare it treason...”
“So let her.” Frank stood up and dusted off his clothes. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. You can stay and carry on with your mission. But I’m going.” He looked across the room and his eyes met Gerard’s. Startled, Gerard looked away, and when he’d regained control of himself and looked back, Frank had dropped his gaze.
There was quiet in the room, and Gerard realised that they were going to agree. They were all going to follow Frank on his fairly ridiculous-sounding mission. If they did that, he had to wonder what was going to happen to him. They couldn’t go hunting for President Korse if they were dragging along Gerard. They’d have to leave him behind, leave him to be killed or captured by Peacekeepers and taken back to the compound where they’d drugged him and taken his memories away.
“You should kill me,” he said, interrupting the debate about how they could find Korse. “Before you go. You can’t take me along, you can’t fight if you’re watching me.” Their distrust hurt, but Gerard couldn’t blame them for it. He knew at any given moment he was on the verge of snapping and going for Frank’s throat. They had to consider the mission.
“We’re not going to kill you,” Frank said, and he sounded appalled, which was pretty funny considering that the day before he’d overheard Frank say that Gerard was no different from one of the Capitol’s mutants and that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he needed to. And nor should he; Gerard was too dangerous to have just wandering around.
“Then what?” Gerard asked frantically. “If you just leave me here, it’ll only be a matter of time before Peacekeepers find me, and I don’t want that, okay?” Even talking about it scared the shit out of him. Gerard thought maybe he shouldn’t feel that way, but he was pretty sure being dead was the only way he could be safe now, the only way he couldn’t be hurt and the only way he could avoid being used to hurt anyone else. He was just so tired of being afraid and tired of trying to figure out what everyone else was planning, whether their motivations were real or not. He wanted it to stop.
“You’ll have to come with us,” Frank declared after a minute’s thought. Gerard wanted to object, but finding the energy just seemed to be beyond his reach.
They determined that going through the street was too dangerous, and broke into the sewer system. It was dark down there, and oddly cold but humid. Gerard had no idea which way they should go, but Frank seemed to know. He had some kind of map. There were fewer traps underground, enough to make them wary but much less than up above. They travelled what seemed like a long way, but the tunnels were winding and the footing was pretty bad, so Gerard knew they were moving slowly. They stopped eventually, ate a small meal from their supplies, and settled down to get a few hours of sleep after setting up a watch schedule. Gerard wasn’t assigned a watch, of course. He knew that he was one of the things the sentries were supposed to be watching, but it was hard to care. Not when it meant he could sleep uninterrupted.
At least, that was the plan. His sleep was restless, troubled with dreams. He kept dreaming that they were being chased, that there were people looking for him and Frank and they always knew where to find them, no matter how well they hid. It was hard to dismiss it as just a dream when it so closely resembled what was actually happening. Gerard grumbled and shifted to get more comfortable. He did that twice more before sitting bolt upright, every muscle tense.
“What’s wrong, Gerard?” asked Ray, who was taking the watch. “Did you hear something?”
He thought maybe he sort of had. It wasn’t exactly a sound, though - it was more like a memory. Something was wrong. He wasn’t sure what it was or how he knew, but as soon as he acknowledged it, the feeling grew to be almost unbearable.
“I think we should get out of here,” he said, standing up. Around him, the others were stirring and groaning. “Guys!” he said. “Guys, come on! We need to move!”
“Whass goin’ on?” Bob mumbled, still half asleep for all that his eyes were open. Gerard didn’t bother to reply or explain any more - not that he could. He shouldered his pack and moved to the edge of the group, then stood fidgeting restlessly while the rest of them started to pack. Lucky it was so close to the time they’d agreed to move on anyway, or he would have had to work a lot harder to convince them.
They were just setting out when the sound of footsteps reached their ears. They all froze, standing still by the walls of the sewer, but in the silence the noise of marching continued. It wasn’t them, not an echo of their own movements. It was something else.
“Hurry,” Frank whispered, and they all broke into an unsteady, shuffling run.
Gerard was somewhere in the middle of the group, Bob’s hand on his elbow propelling him onwards. He was tempted to look back, try to see who or what was following them, but the pace was so rushed he didn’t dare. “Faster,” Bob hissed, but really they were going as fast as they could. The ground was uneven and they often had to slow down to duck under pipes and supports.
A gunshot sounded, very close, and Gerard nearly jumped right out of his skin. He looked back, then, couldn’t help himself. He might not know most of the soldiers, but if one of them was hurt, he wanted to know. They were all fine, though, on their feet still, and he realised that one of them had fired the shot. One of them had fired the shot towards a group of people advancing behind them.
Gerard blinked and tried to peer closer, but Bob pulled on his arm and he had to start running again. More gunshots followed, some from their own people but others from their pursuers. They ducked around a corner and tried to speed up.
They were dressed all in white, a bit like Peacekeepers, but their faces were... wrong. Not quite human. Their faces were white, not the natural white of pale flesh but the flat white of a painted wall. They were red lipped, with mouths permanently open in snarls, revealing long sharp teeth. They all had wild, tangled black hair, and each one was carrying a gun. Gerard tried to move more quickly. It sounded like they were getting closer.
A few more twists and turns went by, a few more exchanges of gunfire, and then one of them, someone at the back of the group, fell with a cry. They all stopped at once, gathered around her, and tried to hold off the things. She’d been shot in the gut, though, and couldn’t really move well. She kept saying, “Leave me here, leave me,” but no one wanted to listen. There were nearly as many of them as there were the white things, anyway - Gerard wasn’t sure what to call them, but with those teeth they reminded him of a storybook he’d had when he was young, about a monster called Dracula. In the pictures, he’d looked a bit like that.
Then another group appeared, farther off down an adjoining tunnel. Too many to fight, and the wounded woman yelled, “GO!” while feebly pushing Bob’s hands away.
They ran, and Gerard didn’t want to look back but he couldn’t help himself. The woman was on the ground, clutching her gun and firing wildly at the things, the Dracula-looking creatures, as they closed in. She hit one of them, and it stumbled but kept coming, and Gerard was ashamed of his disappointment that she hadn’t damaged them more.
In such a rush to get away, they forgot to keep checking for traps, and it came back on them horribly when two of them got a bit too close to the far wall. Blades suddenly slashed out from the wall and the floor and the ceiling and cut them to pieces. It was over so fast that Gerard found himself looking around wildly to make sure that it wasn’t Frank who was killed. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somehow he’d become pretty committed to the idea that he wanted Frank to live, and he was willing to roll with it.
They ran on down the tunnel, trying to be a bit more cautious, and so they heard when the blade trap was set off again and took out a few of the Draculas. Gerard reasoned that the Dracs couldn’t know where the traps were either.
They kept moving, and if they pushed as fast as they could they managed to keep the Dracs from getting too close, but they couldn’t ever lose them entirely. It was bad news, because they couldn’t just race around the tunnels forever, but even assuming they could find their way back up to the surface, they couldn’t afford to have the Dracs following them. It would draw far too much attention when they needed to be hidden. But the appearance of yet another party of Dracs, which managed to take out two more of the soldiers, convinced them that there’s no other way.
“Up here, there’s supposed to be a way out up here,” Frank ordered, leading them left at an intersection. “And be careful,” he added, “There’s a trap here, one of those bullet ones.” He showed them on his tablet, which had a grainy map of the nearest tunnels and showed where the traps were hidden.
The ladder was a problem, because they couldn’t really defend themselves while they were climbing it, and it was a long way up. The Dracs would be at the bottom of the ladder by the time they reached the top, and they’d be vulnerable the whole time.
“You two go up,” Bob said to Frank and Gerard, “And Ray and I will hold them back down here. Then you can cover us from up there.” It was the best plan they could come up with in no time at all, so Frank rushed to the ladder with Gerard close behind. They climbed as fast as they could, always aware of the Dracs closing in on Ray and Bob down below. The sound of gunfire got closer and closer, and before they’d even reached the top Bob was shoving Ray towards the ladder and trying to follow him while still facing out into the tunnel and holding the Dracs off.
Frank reached the end of the ladder and shoved the hatch open, squeezing through and pulling Gerard after him. He leaned back through the opening and looked down into the tunnel, but Gerard, sitting behind Frank and holding him to ensure he didn’t fall, could see that the tunnel was too full of Dracs for one person or even two to hold them off any longer. Ray was halfway up the ladder and Bob was still close to the bottom, not willing to turn his back on the Dracs long enough to climb.
“Trigger the bullet trap,” Gerard suggested, because they’d found that a well placed bullet could usually set them off.
“It might hit Bob,” Frank said, but he was adjusting his aim as he spoke. According to the map, the trigger point for the trap was a particular point on the floor, and Frank fired on it over and over without success. “It’s not working,” he snapped, frustrated.
“Is it the right spot?” Gerard asked, double checking on the tablet.
“It is, I’m sure of it,” said Frank, and Gerard was discouraged to see that he was right. Bob had realised what Frank was trying to do, and shot at the same point a few times himself with the same result. He had to stop after a moment, because the Dracs’ aim improved considerably when they weren’t being shot at.
“It must be shielded,” Frank realised, sounding defeated. “It won’t work. They’re just going to keep coming after us.”
Ray had reached the top of the ladder, and Frank had to move aside to let him through. Ray paused, though, in the hatch, looking down at Bob.
“Hurry up!” he yelled. “Bob! Come on!” Frank grabbed Ray’s shirt and pulled. He started to come through and then pulled away. “Bob!” he shouted again, and then repeated “Bob!” in a scream. “Fuck, no!”
Frank grabbed one arm and Gerard the other. They hauled him through as far below they heard a roar of gunfire.
Ray collapsed onto the ground and picked himself up after a moment, running back to the hatch and shoving it closed.
“Bob?” Gerard asked quietly.
“He ran into the trap,” Ray answered, and his voice sounded thick. “He just...”
“We need to get away from here,” said Frank, and if the words sounded harsh Gerard knew it was only because he was right.
******************
They hid in an abandoned shop a block away from where they’d left the sewers. Their underground travel had brought them from the war-ravaged part of the Capitol to an area where civilians were still around, although they were mostly staying off the streets. They sat behind the counter, hidden by racks of clothes, and looked at one another.
None of them wanted to be the first to speak. Ray’s lips were moving soundlessly, like the words just wouldn’t come. Frank looked like he was a thousand miles away. Gerard drew a deep breath, and said, “What now?”
“They’re all gone,” Ray said, and Gerard shook his head at him.
“Frank,” he asks, scooting across the floor towards him. A voice was screaming in his head, telling him to be wary, that Frank wasn’t safe. He tried to block it out. He just needed a few minutes more to figure out what Frank was going to do, and then he could stop himself from losing his mind. “We can’t just stay here.”
“Nowhere else to go,” said Frank, his eyes on the floor. “Ray’s right. They’re all dead. I got them all killed. It’s my fault.”
“They chose to come,” Gerard argued. The thought rose in him, unbidden, that Frank had set it up perfectly for everyone to die without him being implicated. Gerard tried to shake the thought free. It wasn’t true, wasn’t real. “They chose to come because they believed in what you believe in. They wanted Korse dead, and they trusted you to make that happen, and when you said what you were planning, each of them chose to help, knowing that the risk was high.”
Frank didn’t look up. His fists rested on his knees, clenched tight. “I shouldn’t have made a promise I couldn’t keep,” he said. “There’s no way I can get to Korse. It was a stupid idea. Stupid. Stupid...”
“Stop that.” Gerard grabbed one of Frank’s hands and gave it a little shake.
“We can still try, right?” Ray asked, looking at the gun he’d laid down beside him.
“That’s right,” said Gerard, trying to sound sure. “He’s still alive, and we’re still alive, and there’s no way I’m going to give up without trying to take him with me, not after everything he’s done.” He looked at Frank, trying to see if he was paying attention.
“I think there’s enough blood on my hands already, don’t you?” Frank asked. Gerard’s breath caught in his lungs, sharp and painful. He nearly choked on it. So much blood. Bert, and Mike, and Amanda, and Brendon, Jamia, and his parents, everyone else who had died in District 12, and pretty soon him, as well...
The television screen in the shop flickered to life, and they all froze for a moment, startled, before Frank said, “It’s okay, they’re programmed to turn on for special broadcasts just like in District 12.”
The report was about them. Of course it was; who else? They’d figured out that Walker was killed yesterday, and maybe they knew about the Dracs chasing them through the sewers, but they must not have known yet what the outcome was, because photographs were shown of all the rest of them. William. Bob. Gerard stared at him, but Frank looked away.
They warned Capitol citizens that if they saw any of the rebels, they should notify the authorities and not try to intervene themselves. Apparently, earlier in the day, a crowd of people had beaten to death a young man who looked like Gerard. They showed his photo too, and Gerard studied it closely, looking for the resemblance. There wasn’t much, he didn’t think. Not much to mean the difference between life and death, but enough. It was enough.
“There’s just as much blood on my hands,” he said to Frank. “If you’re responsible for them, aren’t I responsible for him?”
Frank shook his head, but Gerard didn’t listen. “They killed him because of me,” he said. “My fault.”
“You didn’t-”
“And neither did you.”
“It’s not the same, Gerard!”
Gerard shrugged. He moved to stand up before remembering that they had to keep out of sight. “What now? You going to hide down here until the rebels come through?”
Frank blinked at him. “And let President Hayman keep me from killing Korse? Fuck, no.”
“Alright then.”
***********
It had been a day since Frank and his unit had dropped off the radar. Alicia had made the mistake, when he hadn’t responded to any attempts to make contact, of saying to Vicky, “See? This is why I didn’t want you going to the Capitol. I’ve lost enough people already.”
“That’s my decision to make,” Vicky had snapped, and she hadn’t spoken to Alicia for several hours afterwards. She’d relented eventually, but Alicia thought it was more for pragmatic reasons than because Vicky had forgiven her.
Alicia hadn’t had much time to worry about Frank and the rest of them, or her argument with Vicky, because their plan to feed false information to the Capitol had gone ahead and since then, it had been a non-stop race to keep the different units in contact with one another and informed of the Peacekeeper’s movements. She was gratified to see it go so successfully.
The Capitol pulled most of the Peacekeepers from the rest of the city to protect the western edge they expected to be attacked, and the rebel soldiers advanced through the heavily booby-trapped eastern side. They were using small, simple remote-controlled robots that Bebe had designed. They were hastily made but they triggered even the traps which were shielded from gunfire, and that was all they needed.
The district was still mobilised for defence at any moment, but it was clear that that wasn’t going to be an issue. The Capitol was on the brink of falling. The rebels had moved through the streets and taken block after block, overwhelming the Peacekeepers in the end through sheer force of numbers. The Capitol. They should have been more cautious about making such bitter enemies of the districts.
As the fighting died down, Alicia was left without much to do besides try to contact Frank again and again. President Hayman had been furious when he deviated from the plan. She insisted it was because he was a danger to the other rebel’s movements, but Alicia didn’t really believe that. Frank and the people with him were smart enough to stay out of the way and not interfere, to get to where they needed to be. The president was angry because her plan hadn’t worked; the one where Gerard killed Frank and got him out of the way for her.
Alicia looked up when the door opened. It was Vicky, looking bored and irritated. She met Alicia’s gaze squarely, a slight frown on her face, but didn’t speak, coming to sit at Alicia’s side in silence.
“There’s no news,” said Alicia.
“Yeah, me either,” said Vicky. “Who would have thought war would be so fucking dull?” They watched a monitor playing a live feed of the main square of the Capitol. It was crowded, packed to the edges with terrified Capitol citizens who had fled their homes and were looking for a safe place. “Is that really all that’s left?” Vicky wondered, and Alicia gave a nod.
“We’ll have the president’s palace too, soon enough,” she said. “Within the day, it’ll all be over.”
“Who’s behind those barricades?” Vicky asked, pointing to where temporary fences had been erected and enclosed groups of children like a moat surrounding the palace.
“They’re kids,” Alicia said with a snort. “Capitol kids. They’re children, and Korse is using them as his fucking human shield. That’s how desperate they are; the only defence they have left is betting that we’re more merciful than they are.”
Vicky sat, entranced by the sight. “Are we?” she asked. Alicia didn’t answer.
**********
Mikey wondered what it would have been like to see the Capitol before all this happened. Back when it was a beautiful, glittering, magical city, the one that they saw on television. It was different, flying over it when it was all but abandoned, when parts of it were on fire and buildings were lying in ruins.
The transporter was flying straight to the heart of the Capitol, where the last of the fighting was taking place. Other groups of medics had been sent to other sites in the city throughout the fighting, but they were the last. The battle was supposed to end today.
Mikey looked at Linda, sitting in the seat beside him. She was sitting straight and stiff, gripping the seat tightly with both hands. Mikey might have thought she was nervous about flying - it was the first time for both of them - but he knew she was more worried about Frank. Neither of them had heard any news about him or Frank since they’d left District 13, and it wasn’t like that was unexpected - it had been made clear to both of them that keeping them informed of Frank and Gerard’s movements was not a priority - but the unknown was still a weight hanging over both of them.
The transporter landed in a small open area just south of the main square. It hadn’t always been open; a couple of buildings had been levelled and Mikey wondered if they’d done it just to provide a safe place for aircraft to land or if it was simply a fortunate coincidence. They left the transporter and Mikey followed the person in front of them as they were given brusque directions. Walk quickly, get a medikit from here, don’t stop, don’t be distracted, don’t deviate from the path. They walked quickly through the streets, the streets which had been made nominally safe by the presence of rebel soldiers. Mikey couldn’t help looking around him; he’d never really thought that he’d see the Capitol. And besides, somewhere in this city was Gerard. He was somewhere here, and Mikey couldn’t shake the thought that he was just around the next corner.
That changed, though, when they finally reached the main square. A soldier ahead of them held up one hand and directed them to stop. The square hadn’t been won yet; it was the last place in the Capitol where the rebels didn’t yet have power. The square and the palace behind it. Mikey looked through the masses of people and saw some kind of barrier through the crowd, children herded behind it. Sheltered there to keep them safe, he foolishly thought. Then the Capitol plane flew over.
It dropped things - little silver packages. Gifts. Mikey knew that; every year in the Hunger Games they sent little packages on parachutes just like that to the tributes who had sponsors. It was entirely possible that the Capitol was handing out emergency supplies to its citizens in this way. The children knew it too. They ripped the wrappings open, greedily tore into the packages and Mikey looked on for a few seconds of relative peace.
And then they exploded.
It was loud. The explosion was loud but the screams that followed were somehow even louder, in Mikey’s ears at least if not in fact. The soldier nearest them gave a wave and Mikey stumbled forwards, not even thinking, clutching his medikit and walking towards where the injured children were crying out. Linda was just ahead of him and he followed her as they made their way through the crush of people towards the work they’d come to do.
Suddenly, a hand closed around Mikey’s arm and pulled him aside.
He was startled and looked around, ready for a fight, heart beating hard, but when he saw who had grabbed him it nearly stopped. It was only at the last moment that he remembered to lower his voice.
“Gerard?”
He looked ridiculous, all dressed up in Capitol clothing. A bright green jacket with glittery glass cut to look like jewels stuck all over it. He was wearing a wig in a ridiculous shade of orange, and he’d even put make-up on, some kind of powder to darken his skin and eyeliner and lipstick to change the shape of his eyes and mouth slightly. Not enough to keep Mikey from recognising him, but Mikey was his brother. It seemed to have worked on everyone else.
“What the hell are you doing here, Mikey?” Gerard hissed. “It’s not safe!”
“No kidding!” Mikey snapped. He glanced back towards the barriers where the children were still crying out. Linda glanced back at him from far ahead, and Mikey waved her on. “I’m here to help. To work. Why are you here? Don’t you know they beat someone to death earlier today just because he looked like you?”
“I know.” Gerard looked scared but determined. “We need to end it now. What they’ve done-” He waved a hand at the scores of Capitol children that had been bombed by their own side, just to... what? As far as Mikey could tell, there wasn’t even anything they could hope to achieve by it. They’d just done it.
“I have to go,” said Mikey. “I’m needed over there. And you should get out of here.” He moved away from Gerard, forcing himself not to look back, knowing that if he paid too much attention to Gerard it might cause other people to notice him too. He made himself look ahead to Linda, already wrapping gauze around a child’s arm. He walked that way, although he knew that Gerard was following him, refusing to leave. It was infuriating.
That was when the second explosion happened.
******************
Gerard came close to a panic attack when he woke up. He was lying on a bed, surrounded by machines that were beeping and whirring, a harsh bright light shining down on him from the ceiling. He gasped and tried to stand up from the bed, but moving sent spikes of pain through his limbs. He kept going though, because there was something he needed to do. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, but it would come to him. He just had to keep moving.
He got up from the bed and made it halfway across the room, grimacing and wincing with every step, when the door slid open and someone stepped through it.
“Alicia?” Gerard asked, confused. “You’re not... here?”
Alicia gave him a withering look, but didn’t bother to comment. “You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet.”
“What’s going on? Where are we? Are we in danger?”
“The rebellion is over, Gerard. We won.”
Gerard made his way back on suddenly wobbly legs to sit on the edge of the bed. “We did?” He paused for a moment. “What happened? Where’s Mikey? And Frank, did you find him? And Ray?”
“They’re all fine,” Alicia said, but there was a faint tightness around her eyes that made Gerard nervous. “Mikey’s a bit knocked around from the explosion, like you were. He woke up this morning. Ray and Frank were there too, but not as close. They weren’t hurt.”
Gerard nodded. Everything Alicia was saying was good news, but she wasn’t acting as though it was good news. “There’s something else,” Gerard said, certain. Alicia winced slightly. “They weren’t hurt, maybe, but someone was.” She didn’t meet his gaze, and in a second, he had the answer. “Linda.” She jerked, and the air rushed from Gerard’s lungs. “Linda. Is she...”
“She was right in there when the bombs went off,” Alicia explained. “Right in the middle of it all. I’m sorry.”
“Is Frank...”
“He’s... handling it,” Alicia said, but there was too much she wasn’t saying in that sentence. Gerard tried to breathe and not imagine what Frank was going through right then, grieving for his mother while everyone else was celebrating.
“What the hell happened?” Gerard asked. “Why did Korse decide to drop bombs on Capitol children? What was it supposed to gain him?”
Alicia was quiet, and when Gerard looked at her, her face was drawn, lips pressed tightly together.
“What?” Gerard demanded. “Did he manage to get away somehow?”
“No, he’s in custody.”
“Why did he say he did it, then?”
“He hasn’t said why,” Alicia said.
Gerard watched her for another second, then shifted, startled. “You don’t think it was him at all!”
She looked away. “I didn’t say that-”
“But it’s true, isn’t it? So who would...” Gerard realised what the alternative was, if Korse hadn’t dropped those bombs, and the pain of it took his breath away. “It must have been Hayman. And she made it look like Capitol bombs - to destroy support for him? Or just to get past the barrier he’d made out of children?”
Alicia glared at him, and Gerard, too furious to think deeply on what it meant, said, “What should we do? We can’t let her get away with it!”
“And what would you like to do about it, Gerard?” Alicia asked, her tone mocking. “If she dropped those bombs just to convince everyone that Korse was evil enough to do it, what do you suppose she’ll do to someone spreading talk like that around? Saying that she murdered children? Trying to destabilise her power?”
Gerard listened unwillingly. “There has to be something...”
“We can wait. That’s all. We don’t have any proof. The whole idea sounds like a mad conspiracy theory, you know that, right? She’ll slip up eventually.”
“Yeah, by killing someone else, hurting someone else! We can’t just wait for her to take another life to prove how bad she is, we have to move now!”
“I’ve risked enough, Gerard!” Alicia snapped, her voice rising. He shrank back. “And so have you,” she added, softer. “We’ve done well. You and Frank and Mikey are safe, Vicky is getting better. I didn’t think we’d come out of it nearly so well. I just want... I just want. That. Just that.”
She sounded broken, and Gerard wanted to comfort her, reassure her that it was enough, they’d done enough and deserved to enjoy the respite they’d earned. He couldn’t, though. There was too much still to be done. But maybe he would have to manage it on his own.
*************
Gerard had still been asleep when Mikey woke up. He’d sat with him for a short while before going to see Frank, who hadn’t been hurt in the explosion but had accumulated enough injuries fighting his way through the Capitol that they’d brought him to the hospital anyway.
Mikey had gone to Frank’s ward with dread in his heart, not wanting to have to be the one to tell Frank that his mother was dead. He was selfishly relieved when he arrived and realised that Frank already knew. Knew because he’d been there as well, had seen his mother killed with his own eyes.
“It’s my fault,” Frank said, and although Mikey tried to convince him he was wrong, he wouldn’t listen.
They’d dropped the subject and were trying to find other topics to talk about when they heard someone approaching the room. Mikey recognised Gerard from the sound of his footsteps and sat up straighter. He poked his head through the door and looked in at them, his eyes huge and dark in his pale face. It was almost painful to look at him; when he’d left District 13 he’d just been beginning to recover from his stint in the Capitol, but all that progress was gone now.
“I’m sorry,” Gerard said, his voice choked.
Frank looked thoughtful, then shook his head. “Korse’s fault,” he said, and then, in a voice so drained of emotion it frightened Mikey, “I’m going to cut out his heart.”
For a second, it looked like Gerard was trying to make a decision about something. “Frank,” he said tentatively. “Why would Korse drop bombs on children from the Capitol, ones that he was using to shield the palace from the rebels?”
Frank looked at Gerard sharply, and he added, “Bombs that were made to detonate in two groups, so that the second would take the medics who came to tend the victims of the first?”
“Stop,” said Frank, and when Gerard made to continue, he snapped, “No! Shut up! It was Korse behind this! It was Korse, but we caught him and we’re going to kill him, so now it’s over!” He wouldn’t listen to anything else, and when Gerard tried to make him he struggled up from the bed and limped out of the room.
*************
Korse was to be executed. Publicly, so that everyone could see for themselves that he was dead.
Alicia had thought that the meeting would be about how to arrange the execution. Where it was going to be done, and when, and how. Frank insisted that he would be the one to do it. He wanted revenge, and it seemed the destruction wreaked on the Capitol hadn’t been enough for him.
But President Hayman had raised another matter before the discussion came around to the execution. At the beginning of the meeting, someone had raised a toast - that had been happening a lot - someone had toasted the end of the Hunger Games. And Hayman had said, “Not necessarily.”
It wasn’t justice that she was proposing, not even revenge. It was retribution, and Alicia couldn’t see it ending well. A new round of Hunger Games, taking the children of the Capitol citizens who had supported the old regime. It wouldn’t help Panem heal; it would just breed more resentment. In a few more generations, the Capitol would be the rebels, overthrowing the cruel districts. It couldn’t be allowed to happen.
“You can’t be serious about this idea,” Gerard said angrily. The look Hayman gave him made him recoil. She seemed furious that Gerard would even consider disagreeing with her. “This is what we were trying to stop! I won’t support it. I won’t have anything to do with it.”
“What do the rest of you think?” Hayman asked, looking across to the others gathered there. Vicky was there, along with Alicia, Frank, and Gerard. Bebe. The military strategists that Alicia had worked with back in 13. Travis McCoy. They wore expressions varying from discomfort to mild interest. “You’ve all suffered for the whims of the Capitol. Some of you have been made to play in their Games, for entertainment.” The president glanced back at Alicia and Vicky beside her. “All of you have lost people,” she added, letting her gaze move across the room. “Friends. Family.” Her eyes landed on Gerard and Frank, the latter of whom was looking at her with a strange light in his eyes. “I’ll put it to you all. We can vote on it. But I, for one, don’t want to see the sacrifices and suffering of the Capitol’s victims simply forgotten. Afterwards,” she added, as though an afterthought, “we can determine the manner of Korse’s execution.”
“My vote is no,” Gerard said fiercely.
“So is mine,” said Bebe, and a few of the others assembled added their voices. With each vote, the president’s face grew stiffer, angrier. Alicia watched until the president noticed her and smoothed her face into a more neutral expression. What is she thinking? Alicia wondered. Does she really crave blood so much? Or is it the power that she wants? Why else would she be so furious that the rest of them are going against her will? And what will she do next, if this endeavour fails?
“I vote yes,” Alicia said, just to see what would happen. Hayman stared at her, surprised but seemingly pleased. Vicky gave her a look, too, but Alicia glanced at her and Vicky said,
“So do I.”
Gerard looked disgusted, which might have bothered Alicia more if she hadn’t been occupied with wondering if the woman they’d put in power was any better than Korse. There were a few more yes votes to follow, and by the time everyone but Frank had made their choice, they were split evenly. The president looked almost gleeful, but her triumph faltered as she turned towards Frank, who seemed deep in thought.
“So many people died because of the Capitol,” Frank said. “They all deserve more. They deserve this - I vote yes.”
Gerard wrenched his arm away from Frank, mouth twisting in revulsion. He stormed out of the room, and Frank watched him go, looking lost. Alicia thought she almost felt badly for him. If she could still feel such things.
***************
Gerard hadn’t really wanted to go to the execution. He’d seen enough death, and he had no desire to ever see Korse again at all. He didn’t want to see Frank much, either, still too upset at the way he’d put his support behind the new Hunger Games. But Mikey had decided to go, and when Gerard had said he wouldn’t, Mikey had looked at him, that sad lost look he’d had on his face almost constantly since Linda had been killed. Gerard would do anything to keep Mikey from looking like that.
They’d built a new stage for this grim play, out in front of the palace where Korse had lived. Over the ground where a plane, a plane with Capitol markings, had dropped bombs on Capitol children. President Hayman wanted everyone to see every last trace of the Capitol’s power vanquished.
Frank had been dressed in some elaborate outfit. Not one of Patrick’s, but still, he looked good. Gerard had heard that Pete had been flown out from 13 to get Frank ready for this public appearance. Frank carried his bow, the showy one that Bebe had made, and he held an arrow. Korse was restrained at the other end of the stage. The two men looked at one another, glares so filled with hate and loathing that the air crackled with it.
Frank didn’t draw the moment out. Gerard glimpsed Hayman’s displeased face and thought that she must have wanted more of a show, but Frank was almost perfunctory in the way he nocked his arrow, drew, and aimed before letting it fly.
Gerard remembered when Frank had been younger. More innocent, but not completely so. Not in District 12. But he’d always had a core of kindness, of mercy, that had made Gerard fall in love with him. The Capitol had taken that away, too, because Frank didn’t let Korse die instantaneously, as he could have done. He didn’t shoot him in the heart; he missed, probably by no more than an inch, and Korse gasped and choked, blood slowly staining his lips and running down his chin as he drowned in his own blood. The Capitol had made Frank cruel.
And the Capitol had made Frank sly, because no one had noticed the second arrow that he’d tucked into his boot and quickly removed while everyone was watching Korse’s dying breaths. He didn’t miss a second time. He didn’t falter or hesitate, and the second arrow found President Hayman’s heart.
**************
Mikey wanted to speak for Frank at the trial, but Gerard wouldn’t let him. “We need to convince everyone that Frank didn’t know what he was doing, Mikey, not that Hayman was unhinged and deserved to die.”
Mikey glared balefully at his brother. “Someone should speak up for him,” he said, and Gerard rolled his eyes.
“I can’t, Mikey. After the stuff the Capitol filmed me saying, it wouldn’t help for me to come to Frank’s defence.”
Mikey scowled and shrugged. He didn’t care.
Frank wasn’t allowed to attend the trial. He’d been locked up in isolation ever since he’d killed the president, and apparently hadn’t even spoken to anyone. The trial was just a bunch of people talking about what should happen. Most of them had never even met Frank. It made Mikey furious. They were supposed to be better than this. They were supposed to be the good ones, and their victory was supposed to make things better. This, this farce of a trial, was Capitol bullshit.
Still, some Capitol head-doctor and a few other people argued convincingly that Frank’s actions were the result of post-traumatic stress and grief. The judgement eventually reached was that Frank would not be executed, but should return to District 12 and continue receiving psychiatric treatment. Mikey looked over at Gerard when he heard that, and Gerard responded with a smile and a nod. This was good news, the best they could have hoped for.
*************
Alicia wasn’t overjoyed to be given the task of watching Frank and making sure he didn’t assassinate anyone else, but it meant she would have something to do, and she had a feeling she would be in need of something to do.
It was just that she hadn’t really planned on returning to District 12, but that was where Frank was being sent. When she’d thought about what she might do, she’d imagined wandering around Panem, going to all the different districts where travel used to be restricted. Maybe having someone go with her.
She didn’t think Vicky would choose to follow her to District 12.
The railway had been sabotaged in several places during the fighting, so they flew back to 12 in a hovercraft. Large parts of the town had burned to the ground when it had been bombed, but the fine houses built for victors and their families to live in were far enough away from the town centre to have escaped damage. And no-one had ever lived there aside from Alicia, and Frank and Gerard and their families, which made them much more appealing than homes belonging to people they’d known who were now dead.
Other people were slowly returning to the district, too. Ray did. The mayor’s house was one of those which had been destroyed, and he ended up taking over an empty room in Frank’s enormous house. The victor’s houses became popular places to settle, being as large and comfortable and free of history as they were. There were always people around, and it got on Alicia’s nerves, although Frank seemed to like it so long as no-one bothered him.
Alicia was supposed to be keeping an eye Frank, but in reality she saw little of him. He spent a lot of time wandering around, walking through the woods and the remains of the town. Alicia wasn’t sure what he did exactly, but it kept him busy and she had no real desire to see him much. She just wished she had some other way to pass the time.
Being back in the house she’d occupied ever since winning her own Games was uncomfortable. The years she’d spent drinking herself into a stupor had kept her from noticing or caring how run down the place had become. She didn’t want to return to that, but it meant she couldn’t ignore the filthy floors and walls, the layer of dust across everything and the piles of garbage scattered everywhere. Every few days she resolved to jump in and clean the place up, turn it into somewhere nice to live like it had been when it was new. She never got very far, though, before her motivation ran out and she spent the rest of the day sitting and staring into space, wishing she could get her hands on a bottle of white liquor. Just one.
They’d set Frank up with appointments to talk to a psychiatrist, and they’d offered to do the same for Alicia. She’d never taken advantage of the opportunity, though. She’d handled her own problems her own way for long enough, and wasn’t about to change that now. The times when she saw Frank, she looked at him and wondered if it was helping him, making him better, happier, whole. She couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to ask.
It took months, but the damage caused by the war was slowly repaired. The rubble was cleared and new houses built. They started producing regular television again. Most of it was just news about the rebellion and the reconstruction. Frank and Gerard’s names were mentioned all the time, and Alicia heard her own frequently enough as well, along with other people she knew, or had known. Jon Walker, William Beckett, and the rest of the unit were remembered as heroes. News - gossip, really - about other rebel leaders was popular. Elizabeth Berg had settled in the Capitol. Gerard was there, too, meeting in person with the same psychiatrist who was treating Frank over the phone. No-one seemed to know where Vicky-T had gone, or what she was doing.
The railway line was fixed too, eventually. The first train to travel along it arrived in District 12 on a Thursday. Most of the town turned out to meet it, and Alicia figured that people must be desperate for entertainment. She didn’t bother to go, and neither did Frank. She’d decided that if she was never going to successfully make the inside of the house an appealing place to be, maybe she could grow a nice garden instead, and she was pulling weeds. It was difficult; she didn’t have gloves, or tools, and wasn’t sure how to tell the weeds apart from the other plants. After an hour or so the idea had lost its appeal and she went inside to wash her hands and possibly change into clean clothes, assuming she had some. And a knock came at the door.
People didn’t knock on her door. She wasn’t welcoming to visitors. Alicia considered ignoring it, but the person knocked again, louder and longer. She was preparing a scathing verbal assault when she yanked the door open and Vicky was on the other side.
Alicia blinked at her. It felt like several long minutes passed before Vicky said, “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” said Alicia, belatedly realising that she’d moved all the kitchen chairs into the hall a month earlier to clean the floor and never got around to putting them back, and she never went into the living room because she still hadn’t cleared out all the empty bottles. But she’d already said yes, so she stepped back and let Vicky come inside.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Gerard and Mikey wanted to come home, so I came with them.”
Alicia nodded, but decided after a second that that didn’t really answer her question. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you. It’s been months.”
“You could have called. I have a phone.”
“I don’t.”
“Well...” Alicia tried to think of a retort, but came up blank.
“And you never really said goodbye.”
“Well, I...” Alicia shrugged. “I’m sorry. That was cowardly of me.”
“Yeah, it was. And you never asked me to come with you.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to.”
Vicky rolled her eyes at that. “Stupid,” she snapped. Alicia recoiled, and Vicky took her wrist. “There’re not many people I spend time with by choice,” she said. “And there’re not many people I let get close. There’re not many people I’d bother to follow across the entire country. I wish I could hate you for making me do all those things for you, but it’s too late for that.”
Alicia realised her mouth was hanging open and quickly shut it. “I didn’t know.”
Vicky leaned in closer, her hands coming up to Alicia’s shoulders. “I’ve kissed plenty of people,” she said, quieter, “but none that I loved.”
“Nor have I,” said Alicia, almost breathless.
“So many things have changed,” said Vicky, sliding one hand across to rub Alicia’s jaw with her thumb. “And I think that should be one of them.”
******************
In District 12 they built a school out of logs and tar. They found a teacher, eventually. It was a long process to decide on one, but eventually even those who vehemently disagreed at first have to admit that the right choice was made.
In that little classroom, a girl grew tired of the problem she was trying to solve and raised her hand.
“Why do we have to be able to tell the difference between igneous and send-a-men-tary rocks?” she asked.
The answer to this question used to be, because one day you’ll probably be a miner, and knowing the difference could save your life. But it wasn’t anymore, and their teacher had a different answer.
He thought it over for a minute, biting down on one side of his lip with fingers twitching. “Because,” he said at last, and the other children looked up from their work too, knowing the signs of a good ramble when they saw them. “You have to know how to ask the right questions.”
You had to know how to ask the right questions. It was the only way to know for sure what was real, what was true, and what wasn’t. He was better at it now. Only rarely woke up in the night, heart pounding and afraid that his friends were his enemies. He’d learned the right questions, though, to make the panic stop, and Frank was always there to say “I love you” and “you’re safe” and “I won’t leave you”.
The children weren’t quite satisfied with his answer. A boy stuck his hand up and asked, “But what does that have to do with rocks, Uncle Gerard?”
Gerard hesitated, then picked up one of the sample rocks he’d brought to the classroom. “What is this?” he asked, and let the answers come and open up other questions. He kept going until he found a question they couldn’t answer, and said, “Well, then. How can we find out?”
“You could tell us,” said his nephew. He was a lot more used to Gerard than the rest of the children, and so always the first to make it clear when he was less than convinced.
“But what if I tell you wrong?” Gerard pointed out. “How would you know?”
“I’d check with my dad,” volunteered another girl. “He’d say if he thought you weren’t right.”
“He definitely would, Gracie,” Gerard allowed. “Let’s work out some more ways to find out what we want to know...”
One day the work of rebuilding Panem would pass to them. Gerard wanted to be sure that when it did, they’d know how to ask the right questions.
He’d always wanted to save lives.
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