Jabberjay [The Hunger Games]

Chapter Thirteen

    My heart sinks into the depths of the underworld as I jerk my head around, trying to see where Ripley and the rest of the Careers are. Against their blades, my rock does not even stand a chance. Is Malo with them? Is he assisting in luring me in so that they can murder me while I rest?

     "Can I be the one to do it? I haven't got to use my mace yet," Silica's uninviting voice speaks.

     Now that I am more alert, something feels off. My gaze turns upward, convinced that I heard her up in the trees. I am indulged in fear, terrified that I have be seen. Knowing that I heard them would probably be enough motive for them to change their strategy and end me now. I keep scouting the arena, but I am unable to see anything in any direction. Not even a single footstep indicates that they are close, nothing at all.

     A bird from above swoops down, passing me as it lets out a terrifyingly realistic voice of Lux, "Has anyone seen my knife?"

     Jabberjays. A genetically crafted mutt created by the Capitol to give themselves an upper hand in the Dark Days. They mimic what other songbirds do, but instead of melodies, they repeat conversations. These birds were sent in large numbers to rebel districts when uprisings were at a height. They would intake rebel discussion and then flock back to the Capitol with the information, spoiling the plans of future rebellion. However, eventually, the rebels caught onto the new species that hid in their trees. As a combative response, they had counterfeit conversations amongst each other causing the jabberjays to retreat back to the Capitol with misinformation. Over time the Capitol realized and stopped creating them, freeing the remainder of them into the forests to die off. They did, but not before they mated with mockingbirds to create a hybrid species: Mockingjays, that still fly around in the forests of Panem today.

     As dusk falls, I realize how much I share with Jabberjays. Created by the Capitol when I was raised into a barbaric district, trained to fit the mold they created. Volunteering and falling in line, doing what they programmed me to do. Now finally, I am awake, aware, and forest fires of rebellion burn inside of me. Jabberjays were something that the Capitol had control over at one time but eventually lost once freed of their grasp. I am the Jabberjay. And the Capitol, much like the original bird, has lost use for me and wants me dead.

     Exactly as I feared, the Careers realized that they do not need me to come out victorious. I am now on their hit list. It is difficult not to feel cheated, certainly by the group as a whole, but for some reason it is not surprising. I feel betrayed by Malo. Or does he even know this conversation happened? This conversation did happen though whether he heard it or not. Jabberjays repeat, they do not make up lies to spice up the Hunger Games. Or would they? The Gamemakers could have created a new mutation that mimics voices and not actual dialogue. Stop wishful thinking Carmen, your allies want you dead; I have to remind myself. Every television in Panem must have watched the look on my face when I heard the jabberjays for the first time. I have to give it to the Gamemakers, this twist will definitely stir the pot in the arena and I know back in District Two the citizens would eat this drama up.

     I replay the words from the jabberjays and am left thinking; Was I stupid to trust Malo? Did the Capitol watch the fear on my face as I silently prayed that he would not appear in the sky last night, all while he was plotting my death? Was it obvious to everybody else? My heart throbs in dread; beginning to grieve the person that I thought I knew. The kiss that engulfed me in flames of passion potentially lays extinguished in Malo's memory. The realization that this whole thing could just be a game to him has sent me into a whirlwind of emotions. I have not heard Malo's voice yet so there is a chance that he was not present for the conversation I overheard. That he would never do something like that to me. I lay in worry, waiting for the jabberjays to speak to me with hopes of clearing Malo's name, but they never do. Instead, this new wave of stress teams up with the wound in my head, conjuring up a splitting migraine.