Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Grieving - Rhea

Rhea

Kestral's family came from District Three, to start with. 

Depending on what kind of mood she was in when you asked, her mother was either a factory floor supervisor or what she called a drone, someone who worked on the production lines. The only thing I ever heard her say about her father was that he was a bastard and I didn't press the subject.

It was Kes' mother herself who told me the full story. Kes had been five minutes late to History of Panem so she'd been given kitchen duty. I'd been sent to tell her family that she wouldn't be at Recreation. Her mother had been working in the Laundry, the steam of hot water making her hair pop away from her head and adding folds to her skin.

"Just like her father, that one," she'd tutted, after handing me a pile of washing that needed to be hung up. It's like that in Thirteen; whatever you're doing, you've got to be doing something useful as well. I was surprised because the man who I knew to be Kes' father was always on time. There's not much to gossip about in Thirteen except who is late where and why and I was sure his name had never come up. Kes' mother had laughed and taken one of the pegs out of her mouth. "Oh, he's not her dad. Her dad's locked up somewhere, I lost track after the third time. Horrible man. Stealing from the workplace, obstructing Capitol progress, that I could cope with. Mind, Peacekeepers were onto us as soon as they got him for that. Didn't stop him lashing out, though, did it? Snow knows where we'd be if Eric hadn't come along with his big ideas. Took us out here, horrible journey it was too, Kes squawling the whole way. Thought we'd never get here. Off you trot, now, before they have you as late too."

She heaved the rest of the washing off me as a brisk voice snapped "Blackman Rhea! On your way, please!"

That was when I'd asked Kes about her father, at Evening Meal. She'd scowled at me and stabbed one of the generic meat slabs so viciously that the fork quivered.

And now she's dead.

It still doesn't make sense.

Liam groans and I push his hair out of his eyes automatically. The movement doesn't even register until I've finished it. His eyes flutter open and settle on me; he knows. I thought he was out of it the whole time - it's getting dark now but it feels like only minutes ago, still raw - but obviously not. This is obviously one of his lucid moments. They're getting fewer and far between, and with the crack of Kes' death still ringing around my mind, I'm almost envious.

I look out past the rain, into the trees. Nothing there. Nothing but trees and Capita nests hidden away, ready to spring out at us. Usually intelligence gets to Thirteen quickly, but we haven't even heard of the Capitas being a project, let alone a completed mutt. This will be worrying people back home; Capitol technology must be advancing quickly. If I was at home I might be bothered. But I'm here and Liam is hurt and Kes is dead. And Kes was only here because I couldn't think of anybody else, so does that make it my fault?

"Not...not anybody's fucking fault," Liam spits. I smile a little. He sounds almost like himself how I remember him from back home, the troublemaker with - but whisper it in case the high-ups are listening - a drinking problem and an attitude to match. I had to go and fetch him for the reaping and I thought he'd been in a mess then, his eyes wild, his skin shiny and reeking of alcohol. How he could have let himself slide into that state is still beyond me. The injury has knocked him flat. Keeping him comfortable is impossible now, but at least it's keeping him alive. I've already let Kes down. I won't let Liam down too.

Just like that, he slides back into his restlessness.

On his other side is Jakob, or, as I know him, Dachery Jakob. He must have been the Capitol's choice because I don't remember him and Liam knowing each other back home and he hasn't said a word to him at all. He's barely said anything, just keeps toying with his bracelet, hunched over in a ball with a face as white as paper.