Before
My brother told me about it first. As a warning, I think. Letting me know.
'It'll be your job to look after Rya afterwards' he whispered to me, as we lay next to each other, Kaleb on one side of me, him on the other.
'Why're you doing it Mick?' I whispered back. At the start, his death sentence was an act of anger. Arrogance and anger towards the Capitol. A rash thought that lead to action, bringing Kaleb along with him.
'Nika, my life is worth less than the lives that could be saved after we win' he said, turning over, ending the conversation.
And afterwards, lying on the mattress, I was angry. Mick's life shouldn't be wasted like that. Or Kaleb's. Or any one of those other 400.
'Stupid' I whispered to myself. 'So stupid'
And as I got angrier and angrier at Mick, his stupid plan to have a stupid death, I realised something.
Mick was going to die tomorrow night.
So that the dam can explode.
So that the Capitol is weakened.
He is going to die of something that is only one step in the thousands you need to complete to defeat the Capitol. A step in thousands.
And I realised that he believed.
He believed that after the dam was gone, the other steps would be completed, while he sits in his grave, still and silent. He believes that the population of Panem have the courage and wisdom to die for stupid reasons. Have the courage to die in thousands.
Because that's the only way to defeat the Capitol.
'Mick!' I say in his ear.
'Mick!'
'What?'
'I'm coming too.'
During
It started with footsteps.
Thousands upon thousands of footsteps, trying to be quiet, yet making the sound to compete with a thunderstorm.
'Go back Nika' Mick grumbled.
'Go back to Rya' Kaleb said.
I stick a fist into a pocket and lift my chin up.
'If I go home, the Capitol will never be defeated'
Mick and Kaleb look at each other.
'You're going to die Nika' they said.
'So are you' I say.
I am going to die. Those simple words circle in my head, over and over. When I was a child, Death was confusing. Something to fear, yet so distant I didn't bother worrying. When mother died, Death became the look on dad's face. Angry and sad and scared and so mean. It became the stick he would hit me with. Harder and harder until I could bare it no more. As I grew, I realised that it is not dying to be scared about. You feel nothing after death. No pain, no heartbreak. Some could say that you don't feel love, or friendship, or happiness. But when we live in a would which has no love, no happiness, then what is there to miss? Starving for food? Watching the Capitol's TV?
I am ready to die tonight. I am not scared. I am not frightened. I am ready.
As we walk, they see us. Perched up high in the dam, around it, next to it. Peacekeepers. Ready with their guns. We start to run.
The first wave is meant to take down. The biggest wave. Make a path for those with the explosives. The first wave are the ones who will die tonight. No questions asked.
The second wave is the strongest. Smallest, but strongest. Boxes of explosives, ready to activate in seconds. They will not survive either. Unless you are lucky.
The third wave are the lucky ones. Around half will survive, but they are still needed. When the back-up Peacekeepers start to arrive, they will block the path. If you survive the Peacekeeper's bullets, you survive the mission.
I'm in the third wave.
Kaleb and Mick's idea. But all I'm thinking about as the Peacekeeper I tackled down begins to still, is Rya. And it's Rya I'm thinking about when everything explodes.
After
After is silent.
Silence and death.
And as I think about it, only one thought swims in my brain as I slip in and out of consciousness.
No-one should be ready to shoot.
Not even Peacekeepers.
No-one should be ready to kill.
Not even Tributes.
No-one should be ready to die.
Not even Nika King.
And I'm thinking…
Who says we were ready?
Who says we were ready to shoot?
To kill?
To die?
The Capitol did.