Chapter Eight: Burning Through What We Should Have Had

When we reach the Lightning tree, we split up into groups, dividing up the work. Finnick and Beetee head for the tree, finnick guarding and Beetee examining. I attempt to tap a tree for water with my good arm after Peeta shows me how. And Johanna hunts nearby, gathering nuts and spearing rats.

Johanna, Peeta, and I meet up and start a fire. We cook the few rats that Johanna's managed to kill and roast the nuts she got. Beetee is still messing around with the tree and finnick guards him faithfully. At one point, Beetee rips off a sliver of the bark and tosses it in the direction of the forcefield. It bounces off and hits the ground, glowing. After several minutes it returns to its normal color.

"Well that explains a lot." Beetee says, talking more to himself than the rest of us. He then turns back to the tree and continues to examine it.

A little while later we hear the sound of clicks coming from the sector adjacent to us. Everyone stops and listens intently to the odd noise that signals it is 11 o'clock.

"It's not mechanical." Beetee says.

"It sounds like insects, maybe beetles or something close." I say.

"Something with pincers." Finnick adds.

The sound intensifies as though listening to our conversation. It seems excited by the close proximity of living flesh. I shiver at the thought of the gamemakers designing a bug that could strip us down to the bone. Tearing through our flesh and devouring us. It makes me sick just thinking of it.

"We should move." Johanna suggests. "We only have an hour until the lightning starts."

We nod and begin to pack up camp. Shouldering our equipment and snuffing the fire. We do not go far though, just to the blood rain section. Here we have another picnic of sorts, eating nuts and rats from the jungle. At Beetee's request I use my good arm and awkwardly climb a nearby tree. I watch as the lightning strikes, signaling that it's noon. It's dazzling, even from this distance. The tree glows a hot bluish-white color as it's hit. I shimmy down the tree and report my findings to Beetee, who absorbs the information with a grin.

We take a circuitous route back to the ten o'clock beach. On the walk, somehow Johanna and me end up in the back and we watch, trying not to snicker as the fur ball pounces like a rabbit after Peeta, even coming out onto the sand. He shoos it a little, throwing nuts into the forest, but it always comes back after retrieving them. In the end, before enduring the sixteenth time it tries to climb up his legs, Peeta lets it sit on his shoulder as he walks. Everyone gets a kick out of it.

The sand is smooth and damp, swept clean by the recent wave once we reach our destination. Beetee essentially gives us the afternoon off while he works with the wire. Since it's his weapon and the rest of us have to defer to his knowledge entirely, there's the odd feeling of being let out of school early.

At first we take turns having naps in the shadowy edge of the jungle, but by late afternoon everyone is awake and restless. We decide, since this might be out last chance for seafood, to make a sort of feast of it. Under Finnick's guidance we spear fish and gather shellfish, even dive for oysters. I like this part best, not because I have a great appetite for oysters. I only ever tasted them once, in the Capitol, and I couldn't get around the sliminess. But it's lovely, deep down under the water, like being in a different world. The water's clear, and schools of bright-hued fish and strange sea flowers decorate the sand floor.

Peeta's just pried open an oyster when I hear him give a laugh. It seems to be coming often today, and I can't help but try to commit it to memory.

"Hey, look at this!" He holds up a glistening, perfect pearl about the size of a pea. "You know, if you put enough pressure on a coal it turns to pearls," he says earnestly to Finnick.

"No, it doesn't," says Finnick, dismissively. But I crack up, remembering that's how clueless Effie Ticket presented us to the people of the Capitol last year, before anyone knew us. As coal pressed into pearls by our weighty existence. Beauty that arose out of pain.

Peeta rinses the pearl off in the water and hands it to me. "For you." I hold it out on my palm and examine its iridescent surface in the sunlight. Yes, I will keep it. For the few remaining hours of life I will keep it close. This last gift from Peeta. The only one I can really accept. Perhaps it will give my strength in the final moments.

"Thanks," I say, closing my fist around it. I look coolly into the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent, the person who would keep me alive at his own expense. And I promise myself I will defeat his plan.

Just as we're about to eat, a parachute appears bearing two supplements to our meal. A small pot of spicy red sauce and yet another round of rolls from District 3. Finnick, of course, immediately counts them. "Twenty-four," he says, then adds, almost confused, "Again."

I wrinkle my nose in confusion and Peeta notices, "We've been getting rolls from our sponsors lately. We've got thirty two including the ones from last time." He whispers to me.

"Why is that confusing then?" I whisper in reply, noting Finnick's earlier tone.

Peeta just shrugs and turns back to the rolls. The salty fish flesh, the succulent shellfish. Even the oysters seem tasty, vastly improved by the sauce. We gorge ourselves until no one can hold another bite, and even then there are leftovers. They won't keep, though, so we toss all the remaining food back into the water so the Careers won't get it when we leave. No on bothers about the shells, the waves should clear those away.

There's nothing to do now but wait. Peeta and I sit at the edge of the water, hand in hand, watching the setting sun lower in the pink sky. I reach my hand into my belt and touch the smooth surface of the pearl. I rub my fingers over it, appreciating the comfort of the small object. I hope that it will make it back to district twelve. Surely my Mother and Prim will know to return it back to Peeta before burying my body.

….

Beetee asks Finnick to assist him, and the rest of us stand guard. Before he even attaches any wire to the tree, Beetee unrolls yards and yards of the stuff. He has Finnick secure it tightly around a broken branch and lay it on the ground. Then they stand on either side of the tree, passing the spool back and forth as they wrap the wire around and around the trunk.

At first it seems arbitrary, then I see a pattern, like an intricate maze, appearing in the moonlight on Beetee's side. I wonder if it makes any difference how the wire's placed, or if this is merely to add to the speculation of the audience. I bet most of them know as much about electricity as I do.

The work on the trunk's completed just as we hear the wave begin. I've never really worked out at what point in the ten o'clock hour it erupts. There is build up, then the wave itself, a multiple of them, and of course, the aftermath of the flooding. But the sky tells me ten-thirty.

This is when Beetee reveals the rest of the plan. Since we move most swiftly through the trees, he wants Johanna and me to take the coil down through the jungle, unwinding the wire as we go. We are to lay it across the twelve o'clock beach and drop the metal spool, with whatever is left, deep into the water, making sure it sinks. Then run for the jungle. If we go now, right now, we should make it to safety.

"I want to go with them as a guard," Peeta says immediately. After the moment with the pearl, I know he's less willing than ever to let me out of his sight.

"You're too slow. Besides, I'll need you on this end. Katniss will guard with her good arm, she'll still be threatening to them even though she's injured," says Beetee. "There's no time to debate this. I'm sorry. If the girls are to get out of there alive, they need to move now." He hands the coil to Johanna.

I don't like the plan any more than Peeta does. How can I protect him at a distance? But Beetee's right. With his leg, Peeta is too slow to make it down the slope in time. Johanna and I are the fastest and most sure-footed on the jungle floor. At the second, I know I can't think of any alternative ideas, and for a minute, I'm sure of the fact that if I trust anyone here besides Peeta, it's Beetee. Then I don't.

Call it a gut feeling. Or, maybe, I'm just paranoid. I was fully prepared to accept this, until I felt woozy in my stomach. Shifting my eyes to the ground, I don't let anyone of the alliance see my sudden doubt.

"It's okay," I tell Peeta, despite my feeling. "We'll just drop the coil and come straight back up."

"Not into the lightning zone," Beetee reminds me. "Head for the tree in the one-to-two-o'clock sector. If you find you're running out of time, move over one more. Don't even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage."

Like earlier, I take Peeta's face in my hands. My words say one thing, but my eyes boring into his, say something else entirely. "Don't worry." I want you to leave, don't stay here without me. "I'll see you at midnight." Meet me somewhere safe. I give him a kiss, because he's hiding his bewilderment terribly, and when I pull back further, I see the curt nod of his head. I let go, and turn to Johanna. "Ready?"

"Why not?" says Johanna with a shrug. She's clearly no happier about being teamed up than I am. But we're all caught in Beetee's trap, no matter that I've just conveyed to Peeta now was the time to run. "You guard, I'll unwind. We can trade off later."

Without further discussion, we head down the slope. In fact there's very little discussion between us at all. We move at a pretty good clip, one manning the coil, the other keeping watch. For a second, I'm worried about Peeta. How will he do it? Will he be able to slip away unnoticed? Is he going to wait awhile, until the lightning strikes? About halfway down, we hear the clicking beginning to rise, indicating it's after eleven.

"Better hurry," Johanna says. "I want to put a lot of distance between me and that water before the lightning hits. Just in case Volts miscalculated something."

"I'll take the coil for a while," I say. It's harder work laying out the wire than guarding, and she's had a long turn.

"Here," Johanna says, passing me the coil.

Both of our hands are still on the metal cylinder when there's a slight vibration. Suddenly the thin golden wire from above springs down at us, bunching in tangled loops and curls around our wrists. Then the severed end snakes up to our feet.

It only takes a second to register this rapid turn of events. Johanna and I look at each other, but neither of us has to say it. Someone not far above us has cut the wire. And they will be on us at any moment.

My hand frees itself from the wire and has just closed on hilt of my knife when the metal cylinder smashes into the side of my head. The next thing I know, I'm lying on my back in the vines, a terrible pain in my left temple. Something's wrong with my eyes. My vision blurs in and out of focus as I strain to make the two moons floating up in the sky into one. Fear encases my throat, irrationally brought on by the thought of the tracker jacker venom effecting me. It's hard to breathe, and I realize Johanna's sitting on my chest, pinning me at the shoulder with her knees.

There's a stab in my right forearm, the bad one. I try to jerk away but I'm still too incapacitated. Johanna's digging something, I guess the point of her knife, into my flesh, twisting it around. Gagging ensues as I think about the pain of the spear in my shoulder just a few days ago. There's an excruciating ripping sensation and warmth runs down my wrist, filling my palm. She swipes down my arm and coats half my face with my blood.

"Stay down!" she hisses. Her weight leaves my body and I'm alone.

Stay down? I think. What? What is happening? My eyes shut, blocking out the inconsistent world, as I try to make sense of my situation.

Footsteps coming. They're so loud, for a minute I'm elated, prone to thinking heavy steps like that, not trying to conceal their whereabouts, are Peeta's. That hope was squashed, when I realize it's two pairs, and I hear Brutus' voice. "She's good as dead! Come on, Enobaria!" Feet moving into the night.

Am I? I drift in and out of consciousness looking for an answer. Am I as good as dead? I'm in no position to make an argument to the contrary. In fact, rational thinking is a struggle. This much I know. Johanna attacked me. Smashed that cylinder into my head. Cut my arm, probably doing irreparable damage to veins and arteries, and then Brutus and Enobaria showed up before she had time to finish me off.

Without a trace of panic, I note, that the alliance is over. Finnick and Johanna must have had an agreement to turn on us tonight. I knew we should have left this morning. I don't know where Beetee stands, but I get a slight spark of lightness knowing I've already told Peeta to run.

Peeta! My eyes fly open in full blown panic now. Would he have left in time? Or was he waiting up by the tree, holding out from escaping for the plan. Standing off guard and unaware to the alliance break. Maybe Finnick has even killed him already.

No," I whisper. That wire was cut from a short distance away, by the Careers, not anyone at the base of the lightning tree. Finnick and Beetee and Peeta–they all can't know what's going on down here. They can only be wondering what has happened, why the wire has gone slack or maybe even sprung back to the tree. This, in itself, can't be a signal to kill, can it? Surely this was just Johanna deciding the time had come to break with us. Kill me. Escape from the Careers. Then bring Finnick into the fight as soon as possible.

I don't know. I don't know. I only know that I must get back to Peeta and keep him alive. With effort, I close my eyes to clear the scene, and when I open them again, there are the tree tops, vines intertwined like peoples hands. Over the downy mess of leafs, the darkening sky, no longer pink but tinged silver from the moon.

Sitting up is nearly impossible, and then using every ounce of my will I drag myself up the side of a tree to my feet. It's lucky I have something to hold on to because the jungle's tilting back and forth. With the familiar gagging feel heavy in my throat, I lean forward and vomit up the seafood feast, heaving until there can't possibly be an oyster left in my body. Trembling and slick with sweat, I asses my physical condition.

As I lift up my damaged arm, blood sprays me in the face and the world makes another alarming shift. The jungle is transformed, the colors deeper, the lights hazier. Greens and dark blues dancing in the shadows, silvers and hidden burgundies of the nature whirling around me. My mouth is swollen as summer fruit, and I cling to the tree until things steady a little.

Then I take a few careful steps to a neighboring tree, pull off some moss, and without examining the wound further, tightly bandaging my arm. Better, definitely better not to see it. Then I allow my hand to tentatively touch my head wound. There's a huge lump but not too much blood. Obviously I've got some internal damage, but I don't seem in danger of bleeding to death, at least not through my head.

I dry my hands on moss and get a shaky grip on my bow with my damaged left arm. Secure the notch of an arrow to the string. Make my feet move up the slope.

Peeta. My dying wish. My promise: To keep him alive. My heart lifts a bit when I realize he must be alive because no cannon has fired. Maybe Johanna was acting alone, knowing Finnick would side with her once her intentions were clear. Maybe he did run the moment I was gone. Although, that might be true, I know I can't hope for the best and lye back down. I think of how Finnick looked to Johanna for confirmation before he'd agree to help set Beetee's trap. There's a much deeper alliance based on years of friendship and who knew what else. Therefore, if Johanna has turned on me, I should no longer trust Finnick.

I reach this conclusion only seconds before I hear someone running down the slope toward me. Neither Peeta nor Beetee could move at this pace. I duck behind a curtain of vines, concealing myself just in time. Finnick flies by me, his skin shadowy with medicine, leaping through the undergrowth like a deer. He soon reaches the sight of my attack, must see the blood. "Johanna! Katniss!" he calls. I stay put until he goes in the direction Johanna and the Careers took.

Trying to keep the world straight, I move at the fastest pace my feet will allow. My head throbs with the rapid beat of my heart. The insects, possibly excited by the smell of blood, have increased their clicking until it's a continuous roar in my ears. No, wait. Maybe my ears are actually ringing from the hit. Until the insects shut up, it will be impossible to tell. But when the insects go silent, the lightning will start. I have to move faster. I have to get to Peeta.

The boom of a cannon pulls me up short. Flinching unbalances me. I fall flat on my back, losing hold of my bow, gasping in twin shock and pain. Someone has died. I know that with everyone running around armed and scared right now, it could be anybody. But whoever it is, I believe the death will trigger a kind of free-for-all out here in the night. People will kill first and wonder about their motives later.

I try to force my arms to push me back up, but my wrists wobble like water and slip out from under me the moment I try to use them. Twisting and turning around desperately, something snags at my face, starts to wrap around me. Tangling around my neck and arms. A net! This must be one of Finnick's fancy nets, positioned to trap me, and he must be nearby, trident in hand.

I have to close my eyes. Sights are hurling past me. Trees blurring into the vines, leafs morphing into splotches of green, and the moon, now a streak of white in the stars, no longer circular.

"Peeta!" I call out, searching for a any sign of my boy with the bread.

A soft moan issues in answer and I whip around to find a figure lying higher up on the ground. "Beetee!" I exclaim. I hurry and kneel beside him. The moan must have been involuntary. He's not conscious, although I can see no wound except a gash below the crook of his elbow. I grab a nearby handful of moss and clumsily wrap it while I try to rouse him. "Beetee! Beetee, what's going on? Who cut you, Beetee?" I shake him in a way you should never shake an injured person, but I don't know what else to do and get answers.

As I'm interrogating the useless man, I look down to see in Beetee's bloodied fist he's holding a blade, one I know Peeta had been carrying earlier. It's wrapped loosely in wire.

I'm more focused on the sight of Beetee and what he's done with the knife. Perplexed, I stand and lift the wire, confirming it's attached back at the tree. It takes me a moment to remember the second much shorter strand that Beetee wound around a branch and left on the ground before he even began his design on the tree. I'd thought it had some electrical significance, had been set aside to be used later. But it never was, because there's probably a good twenty, twenty-five yards here.

I squint hard up at the hill and realize we're only a few paces from the force field. There's the telltale square, high up and to my right, just as it was this morning. What did Beetee do? Did he actually try to drive the knife into the force field? And what's the deal with the wire? Was this his backup plan? If electrifying the water failed, did he mean to send the lightning bolt's energy into the force field? What would that do, anyway? Nothing? A great deal? Fry us all? The force field must mostly be energy, too, I guess. The one in the Training Center was invisible. This one seems to somehow mirror the jungle. But I've seen it falter when my arrow hit. The real world lies right behind it.

"Katniss!" Peeta's voice breaks through my thoughts. What is he doing? He must've figured out that everyone is hunting us.

I can't protect him. I can't move fast or far and my shooting abilities are questionable at best. I do the one thing I can to draw the attacker away from him and over to me. "Peeta!" I scream out. Yes, I will draw all the enemies within the vicinity towards me. Me, and the lightning tree which will soon become a weapon in and of itself. I will protect my boy with the bread.

My bow and arrow lift into position, my right arm shaking with exertion. If I can take them out before Peeta has to fight, will he survive? Will we make it out of here before the lightning burns us to a crisp? Or can I get him to go, inexplicably, and I'll have the enemies here, using the tree in of itself as a weapon?

"Katniss!" Peeta's voice rings out again. But I don't answer. He's far from me. "Katniss!" Peeta howls in distress. I silently say good-bye to my boy with the bread, my one time lover, and my best friend.

Beetee still breathes faintly beside me. He will die with me. As will, possibly, my other ally. My little ally, with his blue eyes just like Peeta's. Johanna and Enobaria will die. Peeta is alive. Two cannons have sounded. Brutus, Chaff. The only two we have yet to see. That will leave Peeta with only one tribute to kill. And that is the very best I can do. One enemy.

Enemy. Enemy. The word is tugging at a recent memory. Pulling it into the present. The look on Haymitch's face. "Katniss, when you're in the arena..." The scowl, the misgiving. "What?" I hear my own voice tighten as I bristle at some unspoken accusation. "You just remember who the enemy is," Haymitch says. "That's all."

Why would I need reminding? I have always known who the enemy is. Who starves and tortures and kills us in the arena. Who will soon kill everyone I love.

My bow drops as his meaning registers. Yes, I know who the enemy is. And it's not Enobaria or Joanna or Finnick.

I finally see Beetee's knife with clear eyes. My shaking hands slide the wire from the hilt, wind it around the arrow just above the feathers, and secure it with a knot picked up in training.

I rise, turning to the force field, fully revealing myself but no longer caring. Only caring about where I should direct my tip, where Beetee would have driven his knife if he'd been able to choose. My bow tilts up at the wavering square, the flaw, the...what did he call it that day? The chink in the armor. I let the arrow fly, see it hit its mark and vanish, pulling the thread of gold behind it.

My hair stands on end and the lightning strikes the tree.

A flash of white runs up the wire, and for just a moment, the dome bursts into a dazzling blue light. I'm thrown backwards to the ground, body useless, paralyzed, eye frozen wide, as feathery bits of matter rain down on me. I can't reach Peeta. I can't even reach my pearl. But I have something in reach, some last piece of love, comfort. My injured arm strains and I grasp my middle, right over the place where my son would be. Then for what seems like the billionth time, the world ceases to exist.