The First Victor

Chapter Two

 "Ugggh," Rye groans, rubbing his eyes. I sit straight up, dizzy from the movement and still so, so tired. Graham and Emmet are awake, but they're completely still, looking horrified. Mom's sudden banging at the door and yelling have disturbed them. They were more affected by the war. It was terrifying for all of us, but they were so young they couldn't fully understand what was happening. Emmet's the youngest, he's just six, and Graham's only a year older. Ever since we experienced our first bombing, they associate every loud sound with terror. It was easier for me and Rye to not panic, mostly because our little brothers needed us. But even we can still be easily startled.

I go to them, holding their hands and speaking calmly, telling them everything is alright, it was only mom. I get them up and dressed in their best clothes (which still aren't too great), repeating what she said about a mandatory gathering. I hardly have time to wonder what it's for, but I assume we're finally getting put back to work. The town center is a half hour walk from our little village. Only a small gathering of houses stand here, with a market in the middle. One road leads out of town that is constantly guarded by Peacekeepers. Transport vehicles come to the end of the path to pick us up for work. They're large enough to hold twenty of us at once, if you really cram together.

As we leave the house I spot the other families making their way to the path, asking each other what they think this is about. The thought of it being a trap crosses my mind. Gather everyone in the same place and blow us all up. I wouldn't put it past the Capitol. I decide it's no use trying to figure it out. We'll know all too soon what's going on.

It's another swelteringly hot day. The sun hasn't even reached its peak, it's only about ten in the morning. I wipe the sweat building under my hairline and at the back of my neck. I walk between Graham and Emmet, holding each of their hands, and mom walks a few feet ahead with Rye, guiding our way. The kids haven't been into town much, the most they see of it is in passing on their way to the school.

It's not much to look at, of course. Our shoddy little village has been broken and rebuilt so many times almost none of the original architecture remains. The houses remind me of an old quilt, made from a hundred different patterns, the colors faded, stitched back together again and again. The town center is quite the same, along with the other small villages speckled around the city. There are some solitary houses on vast farms deep into District 9, but I'm not sure what kinds of people live in them, if any do at all.

We pass multiple Peacekeepers during our walk. It's typical for their presence to be heavy, but never like this. It's like they're expecting us to rebel right here, right now, pull out firearms and start shooting. It's crazy unsettling. Is this because of our defeat, or is this because of whatever is happening at the gathering? My anxiety grows as we get closer. I'm glad for my hands to be occupied as I have an annoying tendency to pick at my fingernails when I get nervous. It's very telling, and I don't want the boys to worry.

Finally the growing group of people comes into view, we're almost there. My eyes widen at the sight of the Peacekeepers. A few hundred stand guard around the edges of the people, at least fifty of them are lined up in staggered rows in front of the Justice Building. Mayor Sprout stands front and center, adjusting a microphone stand and fiddling with the wires. He, too, seems troubled by the army in his city. We walk until we're part of the crowd, where soon multiple thousands of people will be, waiting for the impromptu meeting to start.

The sun only gets hotter the longer we stand here, no shade nor wind available. I glance around to see the state of everyone, sweating, faces red, some on the verge of passing out. Graham and Emmet are sitting on the ground, dirtying their "good" pants, trying to find shade in the shadows of others. A few people have actually lined up to give them good cover. Me and Rye start fanning them with our hands, it's not much but it's all we can do.