I stare at the black screen, trying to piece together what just happened. It's a pointless exercise—I already know. I watched it, after all. But my mind won't let me accept it.
Less than an hour ago Katniss was fine. Alive. A player in this year's Games. Once again. Thanks to the Quarter Quell twist calling for this year's tributes to be taken from the pool of past victors. But she was fine. Part of a group of allies. It's only day three—surely too soon for betrayals. And they had a plan. Less than an hour ago, she was helping enact that plan, laying wire with the girl, Johanna.
But that stupid cow betrayed her anyway.
As soon as they agree to separate, I know it's wrong. A sick feeling consumes me when Katniss takes Peeta's face in her hands, saying, "Don't worry. I'll see you at midnight." When she kisses him before leaving. I wonder if it's just the familiar jealousy I get watching Katniss and Peeta together that's twisting me up inside. But no. It feels too wrong. More than envy, however bitter.
The sick feeling grows when Katniss takes off with the girl. She keeps guard while Johanna lays wire. Katniss decides they should switch, since laying wire is much harder work. Wanting to help Johanna. As thanks, Johanna knocks Katniss out with the coil. Knocks her out good too, seeing how Katniss hardly stirs when Johanna unsheathes a knife. When she begins digging into Katniss' flesh. There's blood. Too much blood. Long, breathless moments as Katniss lays there and I fear Johanna has slit her throat. There's just so much blood.
Johanna creeps off, leaving Katniss to bleed out. Others come, nudging Katniss' unmoving body with the tip of their shoe, declaring her as good as dead. My heart stops. I let out a low, guttural groan. Almost a growl. Every muscle in my body tenses. Katniss can't be dead—but look, she's not! After they leave, Katniss gets up. Disoriented, but alive. I breathe again. My heart resumes beating at a frantic, erratic pace. My muscles don't relax, though. How could they?
Katniss rises. She stumbles up the path she'd come down earlier, ducking into a thicket of vines at the sound of someone approaching. It's the handsome one from District 4, the one who saved Peeta from the brink of death. Finnick, I think. He whispers for Katniss, but she stays put. That's it, I think. Trust no one.
The cameras cut to Peeta, struggling with someone. It's hard to make out what's happening in the dark. A flash of a knife. A glint of copper wire, spooled on the ground. Then Peeta running clumsily through the jungle, calling Katniss' name. He stumbles, gets up. Stumbles once more.
Why did they trust these people? Katniss and Peeta understood these Games weren't going to be like last year. The Capitol certainly wasn't going to let themselves be upstaged by anything as silly as a handful of berries. Not this time. And Katniss knew the Capitol had it out for her. Didn't she tell me just months ago the President himself threatened her? Threatened me? They knew the dangers. So why did they separate? Peeta, why did you let her leave? You're supposed to be protecting her!
The screen now features another group of tributes fighting. Arms flail wildly. Grunting. Someone cries out. A spray of blood arcs upward, glistening in the moonlight so artfully, you'd think it was staged by the Gamemakers. But they wouldn't waste those kind of theatrics on this time of night. A body tumbles forward, something protruding from his chest. The others flee.
Seconds later, a cannon booms. One dead tribute, a victor no longer. The camera lingers on the scene until a hovercraft appears, lifting a man's lifeless body into its bowels. Day three, yet only seven tributes remain.
What is happening! My mind races.Those still awake in Panem are getting quite a show tonight.
Katniss is on screen again, back at the tree where the confused plan began. She cries out for Peeta softly. A soft moan is her reply. "Beetee!" she cries. She rushes to an unconscious body and I'm actually relieved to see it's not Peeta.
Instead, it's the middle-aged man who thought up the plan. Using the water in the center of the arena built like a clock and the lightning that strikes during the midnight hour to electrocute those tributes who weren't allied with them. The ones out for blood. What went wrong?
The camera flashes to another part of the arena, near where the jungle ends and the beach begins. With so much going on, the Gamemakers are finding it difficult to keep up it seems—moments after this fight appears on the screen, the two women collapse, one to her knees, another her back. A man lays off to the side, his body positioned awkwardly. Painfully. It looks like Johanna and the two who declared Katniss as good as dead. Good, I think. I hope they're all dead. Bastards.
Cut to Peeta, still lost in the jungle. Still yelling for Katniss. Then back to Katniss, now crouched beneath the tree. Her bow is lifted, an arrow strung, pointed at two tributes who've run up on the path below her. I can make out one...Finnick again.
Another cannon booms. Another dead tribute. Six victors remain. This thing'll be done by morning, at this rate. I'm sure the Gamemakers will find some way to slow this all down. The bloodthirsty Capitol couldn't possibly be satisfied with just three days of Hunger Games.
Although the camera is still on Katniss, Peeta can be heard yelling her name. He must be close. I'm not sure if it's Peeta's voice that makes her do it, but she's lowered her bow although the two others remain just below. She picks up a knife tangled with Beetee's copper wire. Confusion flickers across her face, then understanding. What? What is it?
She removes the wire from the knife. Inexplicably, she begins to wind it around her arrow, just above the feathers. She secures it with a knot. Katniss, what are you doing?
She rises, her face wearing a familiar look of concentration. I know that look—it's the look that says: I am going to shoot you now, and I will not miss.
Yes, I think. Do it. But she turns away from the others, facing...what, exactly? Is someone there? If only I could understand what is happening. I let out another growl of frustration. Katniss lifts her bow to the night sky and lets the arrow fly. It soars through the air, tendrils of copper sailing behind it. And then it's gone. Vanished into nothingness.
"Gale...?" My mother says sleepily. I've woken her, with my animal groans no doubt. "You're still watching? You should try to sleep. You've got work in—"
Suddenly, our television illuminates the entire room as the arena explodes in a brilliant flash of blue. My mother gasps.
"What's happening? What was that?"
Trees erupt into dancing flames. Orange, yellow, a strange bluish-green. The earth ruptures, angrily spewing dirt and leaves and copper wire into the air. And Katniss. She flies up and back, hitting the ground with a sick, heavy thud. I hiss audibly. I faintly register my mother's hand now gripping my arm, fingernails digging in. I may even be bleeding, but I am too lightheaded from lack of breath to tell. I struggle to resume breathing as we watch, my mother and I, waiting for Katniss to get up. Please, Katniss, get up.
She doesn't.
Instead, a hovercraft appears above her. My heart in a vice, squeezed tight.
Please, Katniss. Please get up. Please. I plead with her, willing her to get up. The hovercraft's metal claw drops. I lurch toward the television. No. No, Katniss, no. Get up. Get up dammit! Please? Please? Please...?
The claw lifts Katniss' limp body into the belly of the hovercraft. The doors close shut. Then it is gone. With Katniss. Gone. For good. Catnip. My Katniss. Gone...
Why didn't I leave when she wanted to? What is wrong with me? She'd be safe now. She'd be here now. She'd be okay. Oh Katniss. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, Katniss. I'm sorry. I should've left when you asked. I'm so sorry. I love you...
Hot tears spill from my eyes. I slump down on the small sofa, dragging my mother with me, who still clings to my side. She's sobbing. My mind goes blank. All I know is the hollow sound of blood pulsing through my veins. The searing pain of my heart breaking.
And then, everything goes black. The television screen. The dim light in the hall. The faint light outside. Everything. Black. But electricity hasn't been cut for months, I think. Why now? Because of Katniss?
We sit in the darkness, listening. Other than our ragged breathing, there is only silence. Throughout the whole of the Seam. Maybe even all of District 12. Only silence. And that dark screen.
An eerie calm washes over me, in the midst of my grief and pain. The hairs on my body stand on end. This is the feeling I get in the woods when a predatory animal prowls nearby. And I know. Something is coming. We're not safe here.
Moments later, a rumble from deep within the earth rocks the Seam. In an instant, I'm on my feet.
"We have to go. Now." I yank my mother up forcefully.
"Gale, what is it? What's happening?"
"I don't know, but we have to go. Get dressed. The children..." I rush into the room where Vick and Rory lie, shaking them roughly from their stupor. "Get up. Get your boots on. We have to go."
"What is it?" Vick asks, groggy with sleep.
"Just get your boots on, now!" I bark. I'm about to reach Posy's bed as another rumble shakes the house, knocking me to the ground. This is no mine explosion. The sound of breaking glass rings out from the kitchen.
"What was that?" Rory asks, scared but alert now.
"Never mind, just do as your brother says." My mother has sprung into action, throwing the boys their boots, jackets before hastily putting on her own. "Get your boots on. Hurry."
I snatch up Posy from the bed, covering her with a blanket. She still sleeps, head resting against my shoulder. We tumble out the front door, into the streets of the Seam. Along with our bewildered neighbors, who stand huddled in a daze. We stare in the direction of the town square, where the peak of the Justice Building is visible above rooftops. Or used to be.
In its place is a high spiral of orange flame and black smoke that blots out the night sky. A gust of wind blows the thick smoke in the direction of the mines, revealing what approaches from above. A dozen armed hovercraft bearing the Capitol seal.