Dead in the Water | An Odesta Fanfic

Chapter Thirty

Warning: Mentions of suicide

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Everyone in District 4 knew Mags Flanagan's name. Not because she was the district's oldest victor or because she had won the eleventh Hunger Games. They knew Mags for her smile and for her quiet nods as she passed by on the street. They knew her because she was always at the door of anyone who needed a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. Everyone knew Mags Flanagan for her warm chocolate chip cookies and the way she took care of people's problems before they even realized they needed help.

It was no surprise that she took in Annie Cresta without a word.

Annie was grateful, even if she didn't quite know how to show it. Mags's house, with its buttery yellow paint and the smell of freshly baked food always drifting through the hallways, seemed to be the only place the Capitol's spies couldn't touch. Perhaps Mags had just been there so long that she blended into District 4 like another wave on the ocean. Perhaps she had become such a steady presence in the district that the Capitol hardly noticed she was there at all.

Whatever the reason, the shadowy figures and the murmuring in the walls seemed to avoid the house. They were the only ones that did, however. Mags's door was open to anyone who needed her, and there was always a steady stream of visitors dodging in and out of the house. A mother who needed help feeding her five children. A man who had been injured down at the docks. A few kids showing her the shells they had found down by the beach. Finnick was a frequent guest, although he didn't do much besides sit at the kitchen table and watch as Mags moved around the kitchen.

When she could help it, Annie avoided the visitors. She stayed upstairs, drawing the curtains and locking the doors, as she watched the endless propaganda and newscasts streaming on the television, searching for clues. Mags didn't try to disturb her. She only came upstairs to drop off meals and turn out the lights at night, and only spoke to encourage Annie to eat more and to get some sleep. Some days, she would frown and look at the scratched red skin on Annie's arm where the tracker was. Mags would pull a set of bandages out of a cupboard somewhere and bind up Annie's arm, until the next time Annie pulled it off and tried to dig away the tracker again.

So the weeks went by in the Flanagan house, one slow day blurring into the next. Annie might not have noticed that time was passing at all, if not for the growing stack of notebooks at her bedside. They were full of her frantic notes, scrawled down onto the page as she listened to the TV. Anything might be helpful, so Annie wrote down everything.

There were frequent reports about a new skyscraper going up by the president's mansion and a delay in its construction. Why was it delayed? Were they holding Kai there? A weather report mentioned the dangers of flooding in District 4. Was it a reference to the games? Caesar Flickerman laughed over a joke with one of his guests – "It was right under our noses the whole time!"

Right under her nose. Annie was close. She could feel it. All of the pieces were falling into place around her. She was just one more breakthrough away from solving it all, and figuring out where they were holding Kai. Every night before she went to bed, Annie combed through her stack of notebooks, circling the words that jumped out at her.

On one of the rare days Annie found herself downstairs and away from the television, she was sitting at the kitchen table, paging through her latest notebook. Mags had left the kitchen in a hurry, with bowls and silverware still scattered across the room. Word had reached her of a baby being born down in the Dunes, and she had rushed off to help at a moment's notice, promising to be home by dinner.

There was a rattling at the back door, but Annie had locked it to keep out the constant visitors for Mags and the Capitol spies that were always looking for Annie. It didn't work. Bay must have had a spare key. There was a click of the lock and he opened the door.