A Whole New Game: A Hunger Games Story

Chapter 24: Assurance

Athena

"Did you see that?" I ask aloud, unsure if anyone else had seen the fleeting image of silver in the sky before it had disappeared. Surely not a craft of the Rebellion's. Their's fly in a specific formation, eleven ships headed south and eleven north. I thought it was a one of our own fleet, but this craft brought up the rear of the armada headed north. No one could be behind us. Surely it could not have been...

"Hmm?" the man next to me asks, obviously not paying attention.

"Well I thought I saw-"

What did I see?

"Never mind. It must have been a trick of the light."

"Hmm, yes," he replies. We both are seated in the back of the craft, tucked into the shadows created by the dying sun visible out the window. There are others, but they all seem to know each other and engage in conversations. I decide to try the same.

I peer over at the man. He must be around his late forties, small flecks of grey blending with the golden military cut. He is bent over with his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together the way a tired old man might.

"How old are you?" he suddenly asks, turning to me in one swift motion.

"Sixteen, sir."

"Sixteen? A sixteen-year-old off to fight probably the bloodiest battle of the century. Bah!" he mutters in disbelief. He shakes his head, though he keeps his voice down. "Only sixteen and they let you join a war."

"With all due respect sir, I did pass the exam," I say defensively.

"No, that's not the point," he sighs. "I'm sure you passed, I just meant-"

He looks up at me for the first time, his expression changing suddenly to puzzled, as if really looking at me for the first time. "Haven't I seen you before?"

Other than on TV while trying not to be killed?

"No, I wouldn't think so. Maybe you saw me during lunch one day or in training," I lie, though I'm not sure why. I bury my mechanical arm, my giant walking signature, in the crevice between the seat and pray he has yet to see it.

"Yes, maybe. But you say you passed the exam? But if I may, ask how do you suppose that ten-year-old over there passed his?"

I look to where he is gesturing and become weak. A young boy sits, a bit too young to have been eligible for the reaping. He has a tooth missing from his excited grin. His borrowed uniform fits him much too loosely, while his gun sticks out precariously from his belt.

"I thought they said you had to be fifteen to be a soldier?" I ask horrified.

"Oh yes, because fifteen is so much better than ten! I'm sure they told you that, I'm sure they told your parents that you would have the best training 13 has to offer. Nothing dangerous, so he doesn't have to take the Exam. That's what all the little half-sizes are told. Mind you, 13 didn't intend for the little ones to fight, but as you know we lost a lot of good soldiers over the past few weeks. We have to get them from somewhere, don't we? Pah!" he scoffs.

My gaze stays fixated on the little boy.

The man continues on. "Coin is no better than President Snow when it comes down to it. Sure, Snow rounds up 24 kids every year to slaughter each other, and that's awful, but at least he is up front about it, right. Coin? She's sneaky. Uses inspirational speeches talking about 'Remembering the children' and then sends kids to the front lines for her noble 'Rebellion'."

"Aren't you for this? The Rebellion, I mean," I ask quietly.

"Well why wouldn't I be? Now I can send my children off on their deaths!" he retorts sarcastically. "How can I be for something like that?"