It all happens so fast.
"Go!" my superiors yell as we pour onto the scene. "Go, go, GO!"
Running toward President Snow's mansion, I should be terrified, but I'm not. When the bombs went off, I slipped into that place in my mind where nothing matters except the patient. And there are many, many patients.
Of course, there are a lot of medics, too, and most of the wounded are already being treated. I scan the area for an unattended victim. My eyes find a girl, about six or seven years old, and I run for her. Upon reaching her, I analyze her injuries. Not too bad. She'll live.
However, it's obvious from her horrified cries that she's traumatized. Of course, I remind myself. She's from a different world. But whether she's from the Capitol or the districts, she's still only a little girl. I whip off my coat and throw it over her so that she can't see the blood; it's the least I can do. But now I really do have to get going; there are kids suffering all around me, kids who desperately need my attention.
I jump to my feet, turn around, and instantly collide with someone.
Without looking at the person, I automatically apologize and start to leave, but the person's hand shoots out and grabs my shoulder. A Peacekeeper! I whirl to shove my enemy away, but falter. It's not a Peacekeeper. Despite the strange clothing, it's not even a Capitol citizen. I am looking up into the face of my older sister.
"Katniss?" I say.
She opens her mouth to reply, but then we both sense something and look up. A horrible chill runs through me. The hovercraft is back. And as we watch, its doors slide open– more silver parachutes start to fall– not bombs, but still burning– so if one were to catch us–
Close to panic, I meet Katniss's gaze. Intense fear and blazing determination war in her eyes. She glances skyward once more, and gasps. I quickly follow her gaze; one of the parachutes is headed straight for me! It's too close; there's no time to dodge it. All I can do, I realize, is tell Katniss to run.
But before I've even opened my mouth, she leaps forward and tackles me, forcing me to the ground. It happens too quickly for me to protest. Despite being only a couple inches taller than me, Katniss presses her body down so that I'm pinned to the ground and shielded on all sides.
And then the parachute must have found its target, because my sister tenses up, and I hear a sound I will never forget: her scream of agony.
I feel the searing heat for just one moment before Katniss jumps up off of me. She is on fire, everything is on fire: her clothes, her hair, even her face! She is shrieking, her voice reaching a volume I have only heard once from her before: when Peeta nearly died in the Quarter Quell. I scream. What can I do? What can I do? I rummage through my kit. No water. No fire blanket.
My sister is burning alive, and I cannot save her.
Katniss has been running without direction, blazing on as she does so, and as I look back up at her, she falls to the ground and curls up in a fiery ball, her wails falling silent.
This can't be happening!
In my desperation, I throw myself over Katniss, extinguishing most of the flames. Their remainder, I pat away with my hands; there's enough adrenaline in my bloodstream that I don't feel the pain. I turn my sister so that she is lying on her back. Her hair has been burnt away, right down to her scalp, and every inch of her body looks like it has been roasted. In some areas, the skin has been rendered white and bloodless, indicating third-degree burns. This is not a good sign, not a good sign at all.
I ransack my medical kit one more time, searching for burn medicine– morphling–anything that will help. But before I've finished looking, Katniss's red and blistering hand slowly inches up and rests on my arm.
"Stop," she rasps.
I try to keep my tears from splashing onto her scorched skin. "I can't."
"Prim, stop," she repeats weakly.
She doesn't know what she's saying, right? She's delirious, right? My hand finds the burn medicine of its own accord, and I dab the mixture onto my sister's face, sobbing now, the tears falling where they may. But she doesn't wince. Instead, her fingers wrap around mine.
"Please stop," she murmurs, with finality and a great amount of difficulty. "No use."
"No, Katniss." Tears race each other down my cheeks. "No. You can't go."
She draws in a shuddering breath. "Prim..."
No.
Her voice is barely a whisper now. "Let go."
No.
The hand in mine tightens its grip once, and then falls limp.
NO!
Frozen in shock, I sit beside my sister's body.
And all around me, children die.