Сьюзен Коллинз - The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

“Tomorrow at dawn,” he confirmed. He thrust the box into her hands. “From Pluribus. Except the scarf — that’s from me. I better run before someone realizes I’m gone and gets suspicious.” He pulled her in for a passionate kiss. “It’s just us again.”

“Just us,” she said, her face shining with joy.

Coriolanus flew out of the locker room with wings on his heels.

Let us greet with a song of hope each day,

Though the moments be cloudy or fair

.

He was not just going to live; he was going to live with her, as they had that day at the lake. He thought of the taste of the fresh fish, the sweet air, and the freedom to act however he wanted, as nature had intended. To answer to no one. To truly be rid of the world’s oppressive expectations forever.

Let us trust in tomorrow always

To keep us, one and all, in its care.

He made it back to the gymnasium and slipped into his place in time to join in the last chorus.

Keep on the sunny side, always the sunny side,

Keep on the sunny side of life.

It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way

If we keep on the sunny side of life.

Yessir, keep on the sunny side of life.

Coriolanus’s mind was in a whirl. Lucy Gray rejoined the Covey for one of those harmonious things with unintelligible words, and he tuned them out as he tried to ride the curve life had just thrown him. He and Lucy Gray, running away into the wilderness. Madness. But then again, why not? It was the only lifeline in his reach, and he meant to grasp it and hold on tightly. Tomorrow was Sunday, so he had the day off. He’d leave as early as possible. Grab breakfast, possibly his last meal in civilization, when the mess opened at six, then hit the road. His bunkmates would be sleeping off the whiskey. He would have to sneak off the base. . . . The fence! He hoped Spruce had had good information about the weak spot behind the generator. And then he’d make his way to Lucy Gray and run as fast and as far as he could.

But wait. Should he go to her house? With the Covey all there? And possibly the mayor? Or did she mean to meet in the Meadow? He was mulling it over when the number ended and she slid back up on her stool with her guitar.

“I almost forgot. I promised to sing this for one of you,” she said. And there it was again, ever so casually, her hand on her pocket. She began the song she’d been working on when he’d come up behind her in the Meadow.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where they strung up a man they say murdered three?

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

The hanging tree. Her old meeting spot with Billy Taupe. That’s where she wanted him to meet her.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where the dead man called out for his love to flee?

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

He would have preferred not to meet up at her old lover’s rendez-vous spot, but it was certainly much safer than meeting at her house. Who would be there on a Sunday morning? Anyway, Billy Taupe was no longer a concern. She took another breath. She must have written more. . . .

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free?

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

Who did she mean? Billy Taupe telling her to come there so they’d be free? Her telling him tonight that they’d be free?

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree?

Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Now he got it. The song, the speaker in the song, was Billy Taupe, and he was singing it to Lucy Gray. He’d witnessed Arlo’s death, heard the birds call out his last words, begged Lucy Gray to run away to freedom with him, and when she’d rejected him, he’d wanted her to hang with him rather than get to live without him. Coriolanus hoped this was the final Billy Taupe song. What else could be said, really? Not that it mattered. This might be his song, but she was singing it to Coriolanus. Snow lands on top.

The Covey performed a few more numbers, then Lucy Gray said, “Well, as my daddy used to say, you have to go to bed with the birds if you want to greet them at dawn. Thanks for having us tonight. And how about one more round of wishes for Commander Hoff!” The whole drunken gymnasium slurred out one more “Happy Birthday” chorus for the commander.

The Covey took their final bow and exited the stage. Coriolanus waited in the back to help Bug get Beanpole back to the barrack. Before they knew it, it was lights-out and they had to climb into bed in the dark. His bunkmates lost consciousness almost immediately, but he lay awake, going over the escape plan in his head. It didn’t require much. Just him, the clothes on his back, a couple of mementos in his pockets, and a lot of luck.

Coriolanus rose at dawn, dressed in fresh fatigues, and tucked a couple of clean changes of underclothes and socks into his pockets. He chose three photos of his family, the circle of his mother’s powder, and his father’s compass, and hid them among his clothes as well. Last, he made the most convincing form of himself he could with his pillow and blanket and arranged the sheet over it. As his bunkmates snored on, he gave the room one final look and wondered if he would miss them.

He joined a handful of early risers for a breakfast of bread pudding, which seemed a positive omen for the trip, as it was Lucy Gray’s favorite. He wished he could take her some, but his pockets were full to bursting, and they didn’t have napkins in the mess. Draining his cup of apple juice, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, dropped off his tray for the dish washers, and headed outside, planning to make a beeline for the generator.

As he stepped into the sunlight, a pair of guards descended on him. Armed guards, not aides. “Private Snow,” said one. “You’re wanted in the commander’s office.”

A jolt of adrenaline shot through him. His blood pounded in his temples. This couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t be coming to arrest him just when he was on the verge of freedom. Of a new life with Lucy Gray. His eyes darted to the generator, about a hundred yards from the mess hall. Even with his recent training, he’d never make it. He never would. I just need five more minutes , he pleaded with the universe. Even two will do. The universe ignored him.

Flanked by the guards, he drew back his shoulders and marched straight to the commander’s office, prepared to face his doom. As he entered, Commander Hoff rose from his desk, snapped to attention, and gave him a salute. “Private Snow,” he said. “Let me be the first to congratulate you. You leave for officers’ school tomorrow.”

Coriolanus stood stunned as the guards slapped him on the back, laughing. “I — I —”

“You’re the youngest person ever to pass the test.” The commander beamed. “Ordinarily, we’d train you here, but your scores recommend you for an elite program in District Two. We’ll be sorry to see you go.”

Oh, how he wished he could go! To District Two, which was not really that far from his home in the Capitol. To officers’ school, elite officers’ school, where he could distinguish himself and find a way back to a life worth living. This might be an even better road to power than the University had offered. But there was still a murder weapon with his name on it out there. His DNA would condemn him, just as it had on the handkerchief. Sadly, tragically, it was too dangerous to stay. It hurt to play along.