Hunger Games: The Second Quarter Quell - The Story of Haymitch Abernathy

Chapter 7: Let the 50th Hunger Games Begin

Haymitch was awoken into a pitch-black room at a time he could not decide was morning or night, but was jolted to awareness as Euphemia's peering face entered his limited, sleep-foggy vision, sitting up with a start. 

He noticed Quince, who was dressing himself in only a robe behind Euphemia, and then Mathilde, who stepped toward him, handing him a robe too. It was thin and white and clearly very temporary.

'Don't worry. The rest of your dressing will be in the catacombs,' Mathilde explained, referring to an area which Haymitch did not recognise.

'The catacombs?' he echoed in confusion, which both Mathilde and Euphemia ignored. 

He and Quince were both directed to the roof, with no apparent sign of the girls, as a large, sleek-black hovercraft appeared over them, and a young male whom Haymitch did not recognise caught the ladder which fell from it, gesturing for him to climb. 

The trip seemed awfully long, though as soon as his body clung to the rungs, the thing contracted, zipping him into the hovercraft in moments. Instead of being released as he entered, however, he remained glued with some kind of current force to the ladder like a fly in a spider's web until a woman dressed in a white lab coat approached him, holding what looked like an impressively large syringe.

'What the hell's that?' he blurted immediately, glancing warily as the lady moved closer.

'Just your tracker,' she murmured, and he felt a jab of pain as she inserted the thing into his forearm. 

As the ladder finally released him, he was followed by Quince Everly, who also received his tracker, and then Connell Silvanus, and the other Capitol mentor, whom he recalled as Barley Vickers, with Mathilde backing up the large group. 

Euphemia had apparently decided to travel with the female tributes, which, after last night's incident, didn't surprise Haymitch so much. 

As soon as Mathilde was released from the odd ladder, another young man appeared, directing the five of them into a large room with a stretching window where a gorgeous breakfast had been lain out.

'Who are these boys? They're the same ones who served us our meals this week. Do they have slaves in the Capitol?' Haymitch whispered in confusion to Connell, who pursed his lips.

'Avoxes. We're not really supposed to mention it, but they're sort of like traitors to the Capitol. They get their tongue cut out and have to serve rich people for the rest of their lives. Not sure which is worse,' Connell joked, but Haymitch was clueless as to how someone could laugh at such a thing. 

He'd known the Capitol was cruel, but this cruel? 

Although today's breakfast housed more bread pudding than ever, Haymitch could hardly force down a bite. 

A heavyweight, sickening feeling had begun to sink into his stomach, and he glanced several times throughout the meal at Quince, who appeared to be feeling the same. 

He'd seen the boy in a whole new light after last night, and had since extensively wondered if the whole 'charming pretty-boy Quince' persona had been a fragile outer shell from the start. Maybe, in all actuality, Quince Everly was just as worried about being vulnerable to people as Haymitch was. 

Maybe they were more similar than he had originally thought.

After a couple of minutes of barely-eating, Quince pushed back his chair with a scrape, leaving the table with a start, to which Haymitch gratefully followed, eager to escape the silent sense of doom that hovered over them all.