Chapter 9

I went to bed that night with a heavy heart. I was trapped in the Capitol for an indefinite amount of time with no way to warn Prim or District 12 of the impending wave of zombies that could potentially drown the nation. My mind kept turning over the image of a hapless Peacekeeper approaching a dead mutt, thinking it was just a wandering citizen. How did it kill him? By ripping out his throat? Maybe by devouring him alive while his shrieks alerted the other guards?

I rolled over on my expansive and decadently soft Capitol bed, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. 2:46 AM. Obviously I wasn't going to be getting any sleep that night. Would I ever sleep again without rotting, snapping faces floating through my mind?

I tossed back my covers with a frustrated sigh and stalked to my window. The mountains were barely visible in the weak moonlight and over the skyline of the city. Below me in the streets of the Capitol, a handful of brightly dressed citizens stumbled about, obviously drunk. Snorting in disgust, I walked out of my room. It felt stifling indoors so I headed again for the stairwell. Emerging onto the roof, I inhaled deeply, reveling in the wind playing through my hair.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

I looked quickly toward the voice and found Peeta perched on the ledge of the building, his false leg stretched out in front of him. Shaking my head, I sat down across from him.

"This just all feels wrong," he murmured, staring past me into the city lights. "I should hate Seneca Crane for his part in the Games but I can't help but feel sorry for him. We've been through so much because of him and 22 children ended up eaten by mutts which I couldn't even have come up with in my most messed up of dreams. Still, he doesn't deserve to die with everyone thinking he's a traitor."

"I'm glad he'll die," I retorted. "He should be subjected to everything he put his tributes through. I would give almost anything to see him try to fight one of those zombies with his bare hands. Or put through that ridiculous maze filled with those mechanical slugs. Or-"

"Yeah I get it," Peeta interjected. "You hate him because he dreams up ridiculous deaths for mass amounts of children every year. But that's his normal, Katniss. He sees that as normal as you would sneaking out into the woods to hunt; as I would kneading dough for the morning's bread. Who are we to fault him for living his life? Would you fault the District scientists for creating the zombies? Would you fault District gravediggers for selling the dead to those scientists to make some extra money to feed their families?"

"Wait, how do you know that the bodies were sold?" I asked, confused.

"I recognized one of them," Peeta said quietly, pain filling his eyes. "One of my friends from school died about a month before the Games. He was the one that bit my leg in the arena. I hesitated when I saw him. It…surprised me. It explained, too, how the Gravedigger in 12 was able to afford 2 loaves of fresh bread every day."

"Oh Peeta," I gasped.

"You said you wanted to forget that any of this happened," he continued, unaware of my interruption. "I want to never forget. I don't want to forget meeting people that not only thought that the Hunger Games were normal but actually derived real enjoyment from it. I don't want to forget that there are other Districts out there that are in as dire conditions as 12 is. I don't want to forget you."

He shifted his eyes to look into mine.

"You were what motivated me to get out of the arena alive, Katniss. You may not want to believe that you felt something while we were holed up in that shack together but I saw it. I hope someday you can, too."

I frowned and a memory pushed its way into my mind.

"Peeta! I have your medicine. Peeta?"

I was startled to see Peeta hunched against the back wall of the dusty shed, his face ashen grey and his breathing shallow.

"No! No, don't do this, Peeta! Not when I can finally help you!"

I dropped the pack from the Feast quickly to the ground and pulled out the small syringe. It was filled with a clear, blue-tinged liquid. I flicked the plastic cover off the needle and plunged it into Peeta's leg. I needed him to be alive. I needed to pay him back for the bread and my opportunity had finally come. A life for a life.

Several long minutes passed without improvement. His fever spiked. I needed water. He would dehydrate before the medicine could take effect. I realized with a sinking in my stomach that he had knocked over the remainder of the water bottle Haymitch sent before the feast. The pill had put him into a restless sleep, providing me with an opportunity to go to the Feast without interference from him. In case he woke thirsty, I had put the bottle within arm's length before leaving.

Cursing at my helplessness, I tried to lay out my options in my racing head. I had lost most of my supplies at the Cornucopia while wrestling Clove. I didn't know of any untainted water in this area. The closest clean well was over an hour's walk away. By then, the mutts or Cato could have found Peeta or he could have succumbed to his fever.

An idea suddenly clicked in my mind. Haymitch said to play up the lovers' story. I would milk those sponsors for all they were worth so we could both survive this. I returned to Peeta and laid a gentle hand on his slick and dangerously hot forehead.

"Peeta, can you hear me? Please come back to me. Don't leave me alone. I need you. Please?"

I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his chapped lips. My first kiss. Sold to the Sponsors who would delight in my victory as much as my death. I smiled against him as I heard a metallic thud outside the shed.

Cautiously, I cracked open the door and scanned the area. The canister had landed within arm's reach this time and I eagerly brought it inside. Cracking it open, I found 3 bottles of water and a thermos full of rich lamb stew.

Perfect. They had bought the act. I quickly opened one of the bottles and sprinkled a few drops into Peeta's mouth. He had no reaction to the water and sweat continued to pour out of him.

'This isn't working,' I thought. 'This isn't what I do best. Prim-'

No. I would not bring Prim into the arena in any way at all, even by thinking of her. What would my mother do? I had often seen her put strips of wet cloth on sick people's heads to bring down fever. Tearing through the bottom of my t-shirt with an arrowhead, I carefully wet the strip and laid it against Peeta's forehead.

Laying the back of my hand against his cheek a few minutes later, it seemed that his fever was coming down. I dripped a few more drops of water into his mouth and he sputtered a bit before cracking his eyes open.

"Oh thank goodness, Peeta!"

I laid a soft kiss on his lips in relief, my stomach fluttering oddly when he gave me a weak smile.

"Am I dead?"

Laughing slightly, I hushed him and got him to drink some more water before he fell asleep again. Shortly after sunset, his fever finally broke and he was able to take a few sips of the stew.

"You should eat too," he urged me, pushing the thermos away from him.

"I'm not the one who almost died," I reminded him, passing him a water bottle.

"Yes but you're the one who risked your life for me, despite my dying wishes," he said, raising his eyebrows. "You still owe me for that."

"Oh yeah?" I teased. "Will this pay back my debt?"

I pressed my lips against his again, sighing in relief that they no longer burned against my skin.

"That's a good start," he grinned when I pulled back.

We had spent the rest of that night sipping water and sharing childhood stories as the color returned to Peeta's face. By morning, he was almost 100% again, or so he said. If his leg was still bad enough to warrant amputation, it must have been excruciating running from the hoard of mutts. Despite my best efforts, my respect for Peeta rose.

He was right. I did feel something that night as we got to know each other better. I mostly participated to keep up appearances for the Sponsors though, or so I told myself. By morning, we had received more water, a fruit basket, a wedge of cheese, and a loaf of what Peeta declared was his favorite variety of bread.

"Do you think we'll ever get home?" I asked quietly.

"I'll get you there, Katniss," Peeta promised solemnly. "No matter what it takes."

I smiled at him, not believing his words. Poor, mild Peeta was still trying to impress me. Unbidden, Gale's face floated into the back of my mind, his grin teasing and confident. I shook my head. Now was not the time to worry about any of this.

We sat quietly the rest of the night, lost in our own thoughts. As the sky was beginning to lighten, the roof door opened quietly.

"I thought I might find you two up here."

Beaming, Cinna walked toward us with a breakfast tray loaded with toast, eggs, sausages, juice, and sweet fried dough.

"I hope you guys had a good night's sleep because President Snow intends on providing the Capitol citizens with some entertainment while the railroads are still blocked," he said, a little too loudly. "He's invited you to view highlights from past Games with Caesar and commentate them. You'll be dressed and on your way in a few hours."

He set down the tray on the ledge behind me. I caught a glimpse of his face as he passed me. His eyes were exhausted and lined with shadows. It looked as if he had spent the entire night worrying.

"The cameras are watching and listening," he whispered quickly. "There are rumors of infected citizens and Peacekeepers. Be careful and watch what you say. "

He straightened and smoothed out his shirt.

"So Portia and I will meet you in your rooms to get you ready for cameras," he continued as if nothing was awry. "I think you'll like the dress I've designed for you, Katniss. See you in an hour or so."

He gave me a meaningful stare before retreating out the door.

"What-?" Peeta began.

I put a finger on his lips and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"We're being watched. Act natural. Something's wrong."

Shaking my head to prevent him from asking more questions, I picked up the tray and put it between us. We picked at the food while watching the sun rise above the mountains. Squinting, I could just make out a section of mountain that looked depleted. Was that where they had caused the avalanche?

We finished eating quickly and silently descended the stairs. I walked into my room and found Cinna standing by the window, staring down into the streets.

"Hey," I greeted, closing the door. "So what do you have for me?"

Smiling, he silently gestured to the bed. Across it, a grey, streamline dress was laid out. It was incredibly simple, loose, and comfortable looking.

"Are you sure?" I asked him.

"You're going to be sitting on that couch for a long time," he replied, helping me out of my sleepwear. "I want you to be as comfortable as humanly possible."

He helped me undress and slipped the knee-length dress over my head. Its material was silky soft and moved easily. The skirt was full enough for me to run in and the bodice was loose. It was nothing like the gown he had made for me at my initial interview with Caesar. That dress was fire; this dress was ash.

"I love it," I said, smiling into the mirror.

He led me to the seating area and gestured for me to sit.

"So I thought it would be a good idea for us to have a little chat," he said distractedly, checking his watch constantly. "The day seems ripe for a good recap of the Games so far. The people are going to enjoy it entirely."

He kept rambling on and I grew increasingly concerned.

"I don't know if you've ever worn organza before but I've had-"

He suddenly cut himself off and stared into an upper corner of the room. Nodding his head, he hit the timer button on his watch.

"Camera's off. Katniss, we've only got a few minutes so listen closely and no interruptions. The zombies have spread much more quickly than anyone could have predicted. Crane was executed quietly last night instead of publicly today like we had thought. Snow forgot to instruct the Peacekeepers to make sure it was a headshot. He reanimated and infected almost everyone in the building he was kept. It's only a matter of time before this gets out of hand. We're getting you and Peeta out of here to safety. After dinner, meet Haymitch and me on the roof. Pack everything you would like but make it light. If you get the chance, let Peeta know. If not, convince him."

His watch suddenly beeped rhythmically and he cut off.

"So now that you know how to properly care for the dress during your interview, let's get you fully prepped."

Stunned, I detachedly watched the prep team flounce through the door and apply makeup and hair product until I was declared "camera ready!"

I was quiet and tense the ride to the Caesar's studio and noted, with little surprise, that Peacekeepers swarmed the place. Peeta tried to initiate conversation several times in the elevator and car but I brushed him off distractedly.

I finally got my opportunity when we were left alone in the waiting room backstage. Two Peacekeepers were left to guard us outside our door so I spoke in a hushed tone.

"Peeta, the zombies have reached the Capitol," I said, still stunned at the situation.

"How?"

"I'm guessing some of them got past or around the avalanche," I speculated. "Cinna also said that Seneca Crane bit a bunch of Peacekeepers when they killed him last night."

"Last night?" he asked, befuddled. "I thought Haymitch said…"

"So did I but apparently he came back, like Rue and Cato did," I said, clenching my jaw at the memory of Rue's hungry face. "Cinna said that we're getting out of the Capitol tonight. When you get back to the Training Center after this is over, pack everything you want to take with you."

"Where are they taking us?" he asked.

"Well, I assumed District 12," I replied. "Where else would we go?"

Shaking his head, Peeta leaned forward and placed his head into his hands, elbows on his knees.

"This is surreal," he muttered. "What if this takes over the entire country?"

"As long as I can get home, we can protect our people from them," I said confidently. "We survived it in the arena; we can survive it out of it."

Smiling, Peeta nodded at me and took my hand. We sat silently until a producer in a lime green wig came to get us onto the stage. Caesar was his usual exuberant self and quickly launched into the highlights. Halfway through the third year's highlights, I heard shouting behind the stage. Leaning backward away from the speakers, I tried to make out what they were saying.

"…bitten. Why didn't you say something you idiot…"

"Well that was certainly a good year!" Caesar announced at the end of the video reel. "Those tigers really added a certain level of da-"

He was cut off abruptly by gunshots directly behind us. A man in a bloodied Peacekeeper uniform suddenly fell through the curtains, tearing them down and revealing a gang of angry Peacekeepers, one of whom still held his gun. I jumped to my feet and rapidly backed away from the dead man, Peeta putting himself in front of me.

Everybody in the studio was frozen in place and stared down at the dead Peacekeeper, the hole torn through his a cheek oozing blood onto the stage floor. His white jacket had been torn at the shoulder to reveal a bruised and bloody bite. I edged backward again. He had been bitten. He was infected.