Chapter Text
Just as Linden had predicted, the Hunger Games soon drew to a close. The mandatory viewing of the final showdown invited itself into the Masons' living room during the early hours of Saturday evening. Still grounded, and therefore surrounded by her actively disinterested family members, Johanna attempted to emulate her previous approach to the Games by picking up her library book and reading.
At first, the presenters’ attempts to capture the audience’s attention with cringeworthy jokes alliterations lost out to the fantastical tale in Johanna’s hands.
However, when the real action began to flicker over the screen, Johanna’s bookmark was soon nestled between well-worn pages as the show captured her full attention. It seemed Linden's infectious enthusiasm for The Games was still affecting Johanna, despite the distance between them.
Just as Johanna had suspected, based on things she’d learned from Linden over the past year, the Gamemakers had driven each of the four remaining tributes from their hiding places. A fire had begun to rage through the woods, forcing the District Six girl to run for her life. The sand had steadily heated up, too, eventually becoming so hot that the District Eight boy had to flee towards the safety of the grassy area in the centre. And in the rocks, increasingly large reptiles were emerging from the ground, nipping at the ankles of the District Two and Three girls with the aim of driving them inwards and towards each other.
The District Six girl and District Eight boy arrived at the cornucopia within seconds of each other. Both were in bad shape; the girl was coughing out smoke, and the boy was tending to burns, blisters and patches of melted shoes on his feet. After a few agonising seconds wherein the tributes were too caught up in their own injuries to notice anything else, the girl finally saw the boy, and began staggering over to him. The approaching coughing soon caught his attention, and he didn’t hesitate to begin limping towards her, too.
They fought a determined, but ultimately dull, fight, plagued by the effects of injuries and starvation. Meanwhile, the screen split into three sections, to show the other tributes in addition to the fight.
The District Two girl hadn’t quite succumbed to the direction the reptiles had been herding her. A replay showed her scrabbling through her bag while she limped along high rocks, her legs bleeding from bites and scratches. She had produced a net, shaken it out, and then thrown it onto the ground, trapping many of the larger reptiles for a precious few seconds. She didn’t hesitate to run as fast as she could, using long, pained strides over the rocks, and even taking a few steps on the net, crushing some of the creatures with her dusty shoes, and sustaining a few more bites. Dutifully knowing it was time for the final showdown, the girl made her way to the centre of the arena, securing her place at the final event.
The District Three girl, however, hadn’t moved so quickly. Perhaps she hadn’t realised the Gamemakers were trying to force the tributes towards each other; towards the middle of the arena; towards the end of The Games. Instead of fleeing, she had climbed to the top of the tallest nearby rock, and held her ground by slashing at the creatures with a machete to keep them at bay.
While Johanna had been primarily watching the reptiles, the exhausted, injured tributes had continued their desperate fight. Neither seemed to have the energy to land a fatal blow – until, suddenly, the District Eight tribute did.
Johanna couldn't help flinching at the scene. She didn't like watching it. But she also couldn't tear her eyes away.
The second the District Six girl's cannon rang out, the reptiles increased their efforts. The District Two girl had just made it out of the rocks, but still, dozens of creatures tangled themselves in the grass trying to follow her. Deep in the rocky terrain, uninhibited by greenery, the reptiles swarmed. The first ones to emerge had only been a few inches long, but some of them were almost as big as the tributes, now. They began to scrabble over each other in their desperation to climb higher, towards the tribute at the summit. There were so many of them now, Johanna couldn’t even see any of the rocks surrounding the tribute. Then, she could no longer see the tribute’s slashing, bloodied blade. And then, she could no longer see the tribute.
When the girl’s canon boomed, the wriggling mass of creatures began to scurry away, returning to whatever crevices from where they had come.
Their rapid departure revealed a shocking corpse.
The girl’s eyes were red and bulging, shot with blood. Every visible inch of her seemed to be littered with scratches and bites, all significantly more severe than the marks left by the first few small reptiles. Many were swollen, working to distort her features into a disturbing approximation of the pleasant features she’d had just seconds ago. Some of the largest, deepest puncture wounds were leaking a dark, sticky substance that Johanna didn’t even recognise as blood, until she convinced herself there was nothing else it could be.
The reptiles – some of the larger ones, at least – must have injected some kind of poison into the girl.
Somehow, this death seemed less just than the others. The girl had survived the arena, the hunger and the other tributes, just as the other finalists had. So, shouldn’t she have also been allowed the opportunity to fight for her life at the end? It wasn’t fair at all that she had been targeted by these creatures, practically out of nowhere, right at the last minute.
Nothing about the Hunger Games was fair, really. Johanna knew that. But this part felt especially unfair.
Still staring into the grotesque eyes of the dead tribute, Johanna suddenly understood why she felt so strongly about this particular injustice.
In a roundabout way, it was a little bit personal.
A year ago, Johanna had told her mother that preparing for the games helps her to feel as though she has more power and control over her life - particularly with respect to the reapings. And it was true: having a plan for the reaping, and practicing various useful skills has helped her to cope with the lingering fear that her name could be chosen. However, if Johanna was ever reaped, then what use would all her plans and preparation be against the sudden appearance of tribute-hunting venomous reptiles? How could she possibly have power and control over whatever unpredictable creatures the caption had been developing?
With another sudden wave of clarity, Johanna realised: that was the point.
The Games existed to keep people scared of the capitol; that was no secret. Reapings, victory tours and mandatory viewings were all there to remind people to stay scared. Again, there wasn’t any pretence that this wasn't part of their purpose. However, the downside of mandatory viewings, and even additional optional viewing, was that people could learn from what they saw. They could develop plans, and tactics, and perhaps tip the odds in their favour.
They could feel like they had some power and control.
And the capitol didn’t want people to feel that way.
So, to remind the children of Panem that they are powerless against the Capitol, the smart, prepared girl from District Three who had made it all the way to the final day, had to die.
The Gamemakers had needed to demonstrate their power, control and resources, and that poor girl was their unfortunate target. The other tributes probably didn't even realise how lucky they were to have avoided the same fate. Did they even know what Johanna had just discovered? Did they know the Gamemakers could probably kill every tribute in there, with the push of a button?
And it wasn't just the Gamemakers and the arena. The Hunger Games were just a small scale demonstration of the country. The captiol had the means to destroy all the districts, just like they had destroyed District Thirteen.
The only thing stopping them was their dependence upon the land and people of the districts. They needed food and resources from the districts, and they needed people to farm, and harvest and manufacture.
It was almost as if Johanna could hear all the puzzle pieces clicking into place, as she drew the most complex sociological conclusions her fifteen year old mind had ever considered.
As she polished up her thoughts and contemplated her new understanding of the society in which she lived, she began wanting to share the thoughts with someone. But where should she start? How could she launch into a topic of such magnitude – especially when every member of her family was currently pointedly looking at their books and projects, intent on avoiding the horrors on screen.
Johanna would need time, she realised, to figure out how to articulate it all. And ideally, she would find a way to bring up the subject without too many references to the showdown – which was heating up again.
Still buzzing with the excitement of her newfound knowledge, Johanna returned her full attention to the screen, ready to watch the final few minutes of The 69 th Hunger Games.
The tribute from Eight was bloody, beaten, and barely able to stand on his burned feet. By comparison, the District Two girl was in far better shape. This time, the District Eight boy didn’t try to meet his opponent half way. He waited, trying to conserve as much energy as possible, as the District Two girl jogged towards him on scratched up legs.
Not wanting to wait until they were within touching distance, the girl launched a knife at the boy from a few metres away. He managed to dodge it relatively easily, by falling to the floor. However, his injuries impeded his recovery, and he wasn’t able to get up before the girl’s final knife flew between two of his ribs.
When she reached him moments later, she didn't toy with him. It felt uncharacteristic, given how she had behaved for her many other kills. Perhaps she was in more pain than she was letting on. Perhaps she had also been poisoned by some of the creatures, and knew she needed to hurry. Whatever the reason, the girl used a single, smooth motion to pull the knife from the District Eight boy’s chest, then drag it deep through his throat. Blood spilled from him fast, and she was almost immediately announced as the victor of the 69th Hunger Games.
She barely reacted to the announcement. In relief, she slumped to the side of the dead boy, her breathing laboured, and her skin grey.
The contrast between the still, muted scene from the arena and the colourful, celebratory atmosphere in the studio was jarring.
“It’s over for another year,” Arthur reassured the family, preparing to turn off the show as soon as possible.
Johanna was glad to her father's relief. However, she didn’t share in it. As the TV turned to black, and the room fell silent, Johanna was filled with sadness that she hadn’t been able to watch and discuss the show with Linden.
When Arthur returned from reading Jay’s bedtime story, Johanna chose her moment.
“Can I talk to you all about something?” she began, addressing her parents and Justin.
“Of course, Jo,” Juniper smiled, with mild concern.
“You know how The Games and the reapings and stuff are to remind us all of the capitol’s power?”
Juniper looked to Justin, and wasn’t surprised by her perceptive son’s solemn nod.
“Yes…” Arthur encouraged, intrigued.
“I guess today I really understood it for the first time,” Johanna tried her best to explain.
“How so?” Arthur prompted.
“Well, they say tributes are selected at random to fight hunger and each other until there’s a winner,” Johanna summarised, “But today, with those animals…” Johanna trailed off for a moment, gauging her family’s response.
“What animals?” Justin asked, genuinely unaware of the events that had played in the room with him.
“I think they were some kind of poisonous creatures. They appeared basically out of nowhere at the end,” Johanna summarised for her brother, “And killed one of the final tributes.”
“Go on, Johanna,” said Juniper, clearly not wanting any more of the grisly details.
“Well, it made me realise: she wasn’t killed by dehydration, or a fight, or any of the other ways most of the tributes die. She was killed by the creatures, who were put in there by the Gamemakers.”
“ Everyone was put in there by the Gamemakers,” Justin pointed out, “That’s kind of their job.”
Johanna was enjoying Justin’s recent forays into pedantism and sarcasm, and flashed him a smile.
“I know , but my point is, they kind of pretend the tributes have some control over how they do in the arena. Like, if they hide, and eat the right berries, and fight well enough, then they can win. But that’s not really true. They can only win if the Gamemakers let them win. The Gamemakers can set them on fire or release savage animals whenever they like!”
“They can, yes,” Arthur’s brow was furrowed, trying to work out what his daughter was going to say.
“And it’s to remind us, again, that the capitol has all the power. They’re in control.”
“Yes, they are,” Arthur exchanged a momentary glance with his wife, so subtle his children didn’t catch it.
“They could do the same thing to all of us that they do to the tributes,” Johanna continued, satisfied everyone was following, “Like they did to District Thirteen.”
“Yes,” Juniper nodded, reaching out to give Justin’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “They have the power to do that. But they won’t.”
“Yeah," Johanna agreed, "Because they need us." Her pride was beginning to pull her lips into a smile. “For lumber, and food, and stuff.”
“That’s right,” Arthur’s smile looked fake this time, and Johanna’s disappointment hurt.
There was a short pause, while Johanna tried to understand where she had gone wrong. Then, Justin’s quiet, quizzical voice filled the room.
“But if they need us for all their stuff, then how much power do they really have?”
The effect of his words was instantaneous on his parents. They both jolted as if they’d heard a gunshot, their eyes wide, and their sudden alertness scaring their children.
“What?” Justin squeaked.
“Justin, sweetie,” Juniper took her son’s hand, “I know you were just asking a question, but you mustn’t ever speak like that. It’s dangerous.”
“Why?”
Arthur and Juniper shared another look, as if telepathically communicating how to answer their child’s question.
“Because they do have all the power, Justin. They depend on us, but we depend on them, too. We supply their lumber and paper, but they supply us with food, clothes, coal. And even aside from that, you've seen examples of their weapons, in The Hunger Games. They could wipe out any district, any time they want to. And that means we need to make sure we never give them a reason to do so. Do you understand?” Juniper was speaking with deliberate patience, but there was an undeniable urgency in her voice, too.
“I think so,” Justin mumbled, his eyes growing shiny.
“To put it another way,” Arthur added, softly, “What you just said is technically rebellion.”
Justin and Johanna both gasped at the word,and Justin's tears began to fall.
“I didn’t mean to!” he cried, panicked.
“I didn’t, either!” Johanna insisted, feeling almost as scared as her brother.
“We know,” Juniper assured her children, pulling first Justin and then Johanna into a hug.
“I didn’t explain myself properly,” Johanna desperately tried to make her family understand, “I was trying to say the opposite of the rebellion thing! What I meant was, even though planning for The Hunger Games makes me feel in control, I’m not really in control at all – because the Capitol could release creatures or whatever, whenever they want to! I wasn’t trying to say anything rebellious!”
“We know,” Arthur said again, moving over to envelop them all in his arms.
“You won’t tell anyone?” Justin pleased, still crying.
“Of course not,” Juniper dried his cheek, “We know it was just a mistake.”
“It's just our job to make sure you know you can’t ever say things like that,” Arthur told his children.
“I know,” Johanna insisted, as Justin fervently promised, “I won’t!”
Johanna was almost in disbelief at how easily her words had been misconstrued into rebellious talk. She wasn't a rebel! She was still a few days into her first ever time being grounded! She took comfort in the arms of her parents for a long time, while she vowed to herself to be more careful with her words.