Сьюзен Коллинз - The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

“I still can’t believe he did it,” said Smiley.

Beanpole’s voice quavered. “I hope they don’t think we were all involved.”

“Bug and I are the only ones who’d be suspected of being rebel sympathizers, being from the districts,” said Smiley. “What are you worried about? You guys are Capitol.”

“So was Sejanus,” Beanpole reminded him.

“But not really, right? The way he always talked about District Two?” said Bug.

“No, not really,” agreed Coriolanus.

Coriolanus spent the evening on guard duty at the empty prison. He slept like the dead, which made sense since it was only a matter of hours before he joined them.

He went through the motions during morning drills and almost felt relief when, at the end of lunch, Commander Hoff’s aide appeared and requested that he follow him. Not as dramatic as the military police, but as they were trying to reinstate a sense of normalcy among the troops, it was the right way to proceed. Sure that he would be taken straight from the commander’s office to the prison, Coriolanus regretted not placing some bit of home in his pocket to hang on to in his last hours. His mother’s powder would’ve been the thing, something to soothe him while he waited for the rope.

While not grand, the commander’s office proved nicer than any other space he’d seen on base, and he sank into the leather seat across the desk from Hoff, grateful that he could receive his death sentence with a little class. Remember, you’re a Snow , he told himself. Let’s go out with some dignity.

The commander excused his aide, who left the office and closed the door behind him. Hoff leaned back in his chair and considered Coriolanus for a long moment. “Quite a week for you.”

“Yes, sir.” He wished the man would just get on with the interrogation. He was too tired to play some cat-and-mouse game.

“Quite a week,” repeated Hoff. “I understand you were a stellar student back in the Capitol.”

Coriolanus had no idea who he’d heard that from, and wondered if it could have been Sejanus. Not that it mattered. “That’s a generous assessment.”

The commander smiled. “And modest, too.”

Oh, just arrest me , thought Coriolanus. He didn’t need some long windup to what a disappointment he’d turned out to be.

“I’m told you were close friends with Sejanus Plinth,” said Hoff.

Ah, here we go , thought Coriolanus. Why not speed the thing along instead of dragging it out with denials? “We were more than friends. We were like brothers.”

Hoff gave him a sympathetic look. “Then all I can do is express the Capitol’s sincerest gratitude for your sacrifice.”

Wait. What? Coriolanus stared at him in confusion. “Sir?”

“Dr. Gaul received your message from the jabberjay,” Hoff reported. “She said sending it couldn’t have been an easy choice for you to make. Your loyalty to the Capitol came at a great personal cost.”

So, a reprieve. Apparently, the gun with his DNA had not yet surfaced. They viewed him as a conflicted Capitol hero. He adopted a suffering look, as befitted a man who grieved for his wayward friend. “Sejanus wasn’t bad, just . . . confused.”

“I agree. But conspiring with the enemy crosses a line we can’t afford to ignore, I’m afraid.” Hoff paused in thought. “Do you think he could’ve been mixed up in the murders?”

Coriolanus’s eyes widened, as if the idea had never crossed his mind. “The murders? You mean at the Hob?”

“The mayor’s daughter and . . .” The commander flipped through some papers, then he decided not to bother. “That other fellow.”

“Oh . . . I don’t think so. Do you think they’re connected?” asked Coriolanus, as if mystified.

“I don’t know. Don’t care much,” Hoff told him. “The young man was running with the rebels, and she was running with him. Whoever killed them probably saved me a lot of trouble up the road.”

“It doesn’t sound like Sejanus,” said Coriolanus. “He never wanted to hurt anyone. He wanted to be a medic.”

“Yes, that’s what your sergeant said,” Hoff agreed. “So he didn’t mention getting them guns?”

“Guns? Not that I know of. How would he get guns?” Coriolanus was beginning to enjoy himself a bit.

“Buy them on the black market? He’s from a rich family, I hear,” said Hoff. “Well, never mind. It’s likely to remain a mystery unless the weapons turn up. I’ve got Peacekeepers searching the Seam over the next few days. In the meantime, Dr. Gaul and I have decided to keep your help with Sejanus quiet for your safety. Don’t want the rebels targeting you, do we?”

“That’s what I would prefer anyway,” said Coriolanus. “It’s hard enough dealing with my decision privately.”

“I understand. But when the dust settles, remember you did a real service for your country. Try to put it behind you.” Then, as if as an afterthought, he added, “It’s my birthday today.”

“Yes, I helped unload some whiskey for the party,” said Coriolanus.

“Usually a good time. Try and enjoy yourself.” Hoff stood up and extended his hand.

Coriolanus rose and shook it. “I’ll do my best. And happy birthday, sir.”

The bunkmates greeted him with delight when he returned, ambushing him with questions about the commander’s calling him in.

“He knew Sejanus and I had a history together, and he just wanted to make sure I was all right,” Coriolanus told them.

The news improved everyone’s spirits, and the update to their afternoon schedule gave Coriolanus some satisfaction. Instead of shooting at targets, they were cleared to take out the jabberjays and mockingjays at the hanging tree. Their chorus following Sejanus’s final outcry had been the last straw.

Coriolanus felt giddy as he blasted the mockingjays off the branches, managing to kill three. Not so clever now, are you! he thought. Unfortunately, most of the birds flew out of range after a short while. But they’d be back. He’d be back, too, if he didn’t hang first.

In honor of the commander’s birthday, they all showered, then dressed in fresh fatigues before heading over to the mess hall. Cookie had laid out a surprisingly elegant meal, serving up steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, and fresh, not canned, peas. Each soldier got a big mug of beer, and Hoff was on hand to cut an enormous frosted cake. After dinner, they all assembled at the gymnasium, which had been decorated with banners and flags for the occasion. Whiskey flowed freely, and many impromptu toasts were made over the mic brought out for this purpose. But Coriolanus didn’t realize there would be entertainment until some of the soldiers started setting up chairs.

“Sure,” an officer told him. “We hired that band from the Hob. The commander gets a kick out of them.”

Lucy Gray. This would be his chance, probably his only chance, to see her again. He ran to the barrack, retrieved the box from Pluribus with the instrument strings and his scarf, and hurried back to the party. He could see that his bunkmates had saved a chair for him about halfway up, but he stood at the back of the audience. If an opportunity came, he didn’t want to make a scene getting out. The lights flickered off in the main part of the gym, leaving only the area by the mic illuminated, and the crowd grew quiet. All eyes were on the locker room, which had been hung with the blanket the Covey used in the Hob.

Maude Ivory scampered out in a buttercup yellow dress with a wide skirt and hopped up on a crate someone had set in front of the mic. “Hey there, everybody! Tonight is a special night, and you know why! It’s somebody’s birthday!”

The Peacekeepers broke into raucous applause. Maude Ivory began to sing the old, standby birthday song, and everyone joined in: