I seem to have a pattern right now, I'm really trying to break it. I'll try to have a new one set before the next chapter is posted, okay? Good.
There's a little bit of resolution in this chapter, but here is where it starts to get . . . hairy. So let's see how I do.
I don't own The Hunger Games. That should be obvious. I'm also human, so I've probably missed something. The mistakes are mine.
Enjoy!
Tempest
Dirt, smoke, wood and other pieces of shrapnel fly in every direction as Benedict attempts to navigate through the trees as they become denser. For a district that ships load after load of lumber to the Capitol daily, there are certainly enough trees left over to make a clear path nearly impossible to find. Our assailants are completely invisible. That doesn't mean they see us and we don't see them. The dispersal of the explosions and the fact that one goes off within feet of the truck each time tell me they're not attacks. They're land mines. Probably from District 3.
After the first ten or fifteen, the trees become too close for us to stay in the truck, and Johanna directs Benedict where to park for us to get out safely. This means we will have to leave most of our supplies in the truck, and we most definitely won't be able to come back for it. I haven't yet heard the beat of the blades of a hovercraft, but I feel it coming. We've made too much noise now. They'll find us for sure.
Everyone grabs a bag along with their individual packs, including the tents and sleeping bags that will provide us with some cover the next time we use them. The food and ammunition have to come, no questions asked, but a few things that are considered luxuries, like changes of clothes, extra weapons and partially filled cans of left-over food are left in the truck as we abandon it. Of course, none of us expect Benedict to overload the truck's power cells and purposefully make it blow up behind us, but no one offers any objection.
It's broad daylight, and we're too large a group to hide in the traditional way, so the first thing we determine is how we'll split up to avoid capture.
"I think the first thing we need to be certain on is that Katniss and Peeta shouldn't be together," Plutarch says as we all huddle around the large base of a tree offering very little protection from another explosion.
"Absolutely not," Peeta yells before he's shushed by Haymitch and Johanna.
"Not so loud, lover boy," she complains, using a nickname I still remember Cato calling him a year ago. "They could still be listening."
He presses his lips together in annoyance, looking at me and then Haymitch. "I'm not leaving Katniss," he says adamantly.
My eyes land on our prisoner, who is now barely awake.
"Peeta," I say, and he looks at me. "He's right."
He turns to me and scoots me away from everyone else, keeping his voice low. "I'm not leaving you," he says again. "It's not safe. What if we're captured?"
"Exactly," I say.
He shakes his head, and I reach for his arms, shaking him slightly. "If they catch us together, who will they tell? And what will he do to us?"
"But we're safer together," he agrees.
"No," I say shaking my head. "Not right now. And not with him around." I point to the guard, and Peeta looks at him. "I'll go with Haymitch, and when we get to the substation, we'll figure something out. I promise, Peeta."
Confusion spreads across his face slowly, but he knows I'm right. And he bows his head in admission. For a second, I wonder if he's feeling the way I did in 4 when he went with Benedict to clear out the control room. For however long he'd been gone, I almost hadn't been able to handle it. Only Finnick had been able to keep me from chasing after him.
"Finnick will keep me safe," I say, and his blond head perks up as he crouches next to Annie and Johanna. "And Benedict will keep you safe." I look at him, and he nods.
Still, Peeta hesitates, and I reach for his face, kissing him as completely as I can under the circumstances. His hands captures my wrists and keep me close. When I pull away, he follows me and presses his forehead to mine. Neither of us says anything. We're not given time as Haymitch collects me and then nods to Finnick.
Plutarch takes out his holo, pulling up a map of the area and highlighting the road as it leads into town, into the middle of District 7.
"The substation is to the south of the main town, in this group of trees," he says, pointing. "There might be guards there now, or there might not, but the safer route is through the trees around this old road."
"But won't it be guarded?" Benedict argues.
Plutarch looks at Johanna.
"It's been abandoned for as long as I can remember," she says with a pointed look at me. "Most of the guards don't even know it's there. The other road that leads into town is heavily guarded, but not with barbs."
"Then with what?" Peeta asks.
No one answers him for a minute until an un-wanted voice chimes in.
"Land mines," our prisoner says.
We all look at him, and Peeta moves to his side to yank him up. "Then that's the way you're going," he says, his teeth clenched.
Benedict's face pales slowly as he realizes which way he'll be walking, but before he can leave, Plutarch takes out a small object from his pocket.
"Take this," he says laying it in Benedict's hand. "It was Magnolia's. Her compass I gave her when I met her. It'll lead you toward the substation. Just go north about a mile, and we'll meet you there. The land mines won't be as abundant out here. Let Johanna lead you."
A nod is the only response Plutarch gets, and with that, we separate.
For only half a minute, Finnick and Annie are quiet, touching their foreheads and breathing deeply before he kisses her head and stands to leave her side. It isn't until we all separate with Beetee between Finnick and Haymitch that I realize what they're doing. The creases on his face come back slowly, but he looks at me and nods so I know it's okay.
But it's not. Not even a little.
Plutarch says there are eighty miles of forest between us and the substation, and walking, it will take us the rest of the day. I tell him it's best if he leads us because he has a map, and I walk so close to Finnick and Haymitch that our feet get caught up every few steps. I apologize, but I can't stop myself. I watch Peeta and the others until they're gone, hoping it's not the last time I see him.
The first river we come across has a rope tugged across it to make crossing a little easier even though the water at its deepest comes all the way up to my chest. Finnick and Haymitch have trouble holding onto Beetee, but we make it across before realizing that Haymitch lost his rifle. The first inclination isn't too steep, and we make it to the short summit within an hour of splitting our group. There's a valley between us and the next mountain range where the substation is housed, and without arguing, we start our descent into the thicker trees to get on our way.
Plutarch is able to change the settings on his holo to show him the land mines as they lay dispersed throughout the valley, and we weave our way through them fairly efficiently before he suddenly stops. We bump into him, and I'm about to complain when I look ahead to see what stopped him.
The old fence must be a hundred years old, an archaic symbol of the Capitol from before the districts were created. It's so tall that I can barely see the top of it, and it's rusted out considerably, indicating that it was once surrounded by water. I've never seen a fence this tall in my life.
"I'm not getting any energy readings off of it," Plutarch says after a minute. "Either's it's not electrified, or it's run by motion sensors and we haven't gotten close enough."
Thirty seconds pass before anyone says anything that might help.
"I know one way to tell," Finnick says, helping Haymitch set Beetee on the ground and searching the brush for a loose branch.
He finds one with no time passing, not bothering to ask Plutarch as he hurls the wood at the fence. It bounces off the fence harmlessly, but Finnick isn't finished, picking up another branch that's shorter and inching closer toward the fence alone.
Haymitch keeps me back while Finnick checks the ground, looking to his left and then his right as he lifts low branches out of his way and bends down blades of grass. Slowly, I realize he's checking for sensors and probably land mines, making it almost right up to the concrete foundation of the fence before he extends the stick in his hand to touch the links in front of him again. When nothing happens, he puts the stick down carefully and pulls out his trident as it hangs off his pack.
"Be careful of that," Beetee says suddenly. "Two metals touching like that when one of them has been standing in direct sunlight could make a spark, and the underbrush here is very dry. Probably hasn't rained here in weeks."
Finnick pauses long enough to look at me and then grips his trident a little tighter before he slowly extends it to test the fence one last time. With a careful but firm swing, Finnick slings his arm back and then slams the blades of his trident against the metal links of the fence.
Just like Beetee warned, a few sparks fly from the fence, but to everyone's relief, nothing happens. Finnick steps back to where we're waiting, hooking his trident back to his pack and nodding to Haymitch so they can help Beetee. But he points out one minor thing those of us still able to walk have forgotten.
"We barely got across the river," Beetee tells us. "My legs might be working to walk, but I can assure you I won't be able to climb that in my condition. I doubt any of us could."
Haymitch stands up straight, his patience diminishing. "So what do you suggest we do?" he asks. "I don't think any of us will fit through those links."
Beetee smiles in a way that tells me he knew something like this would happen, because he reaches into his side pocket and produces a surprisingly small but sturdy pair of wire cutters. I only know what they look like because I've seen tools to fix broken sections of the fence in 12 that's never buzzing with electricity.
"Is it really a good idea to leave behind evidence that we were here?" Finnick asks, not denying the validity of Beetee's suggestion but asking all the same. "Don't we need to be as invisible as possible?"
"It's ideal," Plutarch agrees, eyeing Haymitch and then me. "But Beetee's right. He can't climb. Not like this. And I don't want to diminish my capacity, but I don't think I could either. If we can cut the wire, and the wire's not live, let's do it. The more time we use talking about it, the less we have to keep going."
Finnick sucks in a deep breath and takes the wire cutters from Beetee, approaching the fence a second time and climbing onto the concrete foundation to make a hole in the fence. While he's doing that, I wander around in a circle, keeping an eye on our surroundings. My mind helplessly finds its way back to Peeta.
What is he doing? Is he safe? Have they been caught?
I won't know until I see him again, but I already have a sinking feeling that I might not see him after this. It's paranoia, I know, but I just started to figure out how I feel about Peeta. I can't lose him. Not now and not like this.
All I hear is snapping and grunting and wire groaning, and I don't hear the click of the pressure plate until Finnick yells from more than fifteen feet away.
"Katniss, don't move!"
I go ramrod straight, my muscles stiffening instantly as he jumps down from the concrete and makes his way to me. He approaches me slowly, peering around my foot and getting close enough to see what it is without touching me.
"What is it?" I ask — well, plead really.
"It's an animal trap," he tells me. "Jo told me about them. Out away from the guard towers, poachers lay down traps to catch a few bears every year to sell their pelt and meat."
I look down, finally seeing what I'm standing on and realizing that there are claws aimed at my leg, ready to clamp around my limb the instant I move. "So how do I get out of it?" I beg, clenching my fists and then unclenching them.
"Stay calm," he says like it's easy. "She showed me how to disarm them. Give me a minute while I find the screw holding it together."
My spine holds still like he's commanded, but my leg wants to move. My foot wants to shift, and Finnick wraps his hand around my leg to make me be still.
"I'm serious, Katniss," he says. His voice is firm, like a father scolding his child. Then he starts muttering.
That's when I hear the clicking.
"What's that?" I ask, looking back at Haymitch.
He shakes his head, confirming he's as clueless as I am.
About twenty seconds pass before Finnick curses under his breath and then loud enough for us to hear him.
"Fuck, the damn thing's on a timer," he says, rising to face me and taking my arms in his hands, prompting me to do the same thing. "Okay. In about ten seconds, the latch is going to release, and the claws are going to close. There will be less than a second's worth of a delay, and that's when we're going to get you off this. Okay?"
"That doesn't sound like a good idea," I say, shaking my head as I grasp onto him.
"It's okay," he says. "You'll be okay. I've got you, and I'm not going to let go. I promise. You trust me, don't you?"
"Yes," I say without pausing and watching him sigh relieved, but then I add, "That doesn't make this a good idea!"
"I swear I won't let anything happen to you," he says calmly, gripping my arms as the plate clicks one last time.
In the split second we have, he yanks me up and stumbles backward. The top of the claws barely miss my toe as I tumble with him, landing on top of him and slamming into the ground with a hard thud that vibrates through my torso and jars my spine. Finnick lets out a relieved laugh that shakes his chest, and while I'm just as relieved and grateful, I'm also mad at him.
"You could've gotten my leg ripped off," I shout at him, slapping his chest so hard that he flinches. His smile doesn't fade.
"You're welcome," he says teasingly.
I huff, gripping his shoulders and twisting my mouth in annoyance. "Thank you," I say tersely even though I don't mean to.
He sits up, and I latch onto him immediately.
"It's okay," he whispers, holding me securely. "You're okay. But we have to go."
I look up to see Haymitch and Plutarch waiting, and reluctantly, I allow them to help me up before Finnick rises. He strides back to the fence to resume his cutting, calling to me over his shoulder.
"Watch your step, okay? We might not be so lucky next time."
This time, I stand still while we wait.
The fence doesn't resist being pulled back from its shape, and Finnick gets a look over the edge of the concrete barrier.
"There's a bit of a drop over here," he says. "Be careful with your footing or you'll take a tumble for sure."
With his help, we all make it to the ground on the other side, and he follows us, a gaping hole in our wake that leaves no mystery as to what has gone through. If a guard sees it, they'll know people have been through it.
From there, we make good time, only stopping once to rest and get a drink of water. It's hot and humid, but there's a breeze, so it helps a little. We're all quiet, listening, I think, for explosions or commotion from the other group. I especially strain a little to hear for anything that might indicate something wrong, and I know Finnick does too. The sun falls down into the west steadily until it's behind the trees, and by then, we're again trekking through the mountains.
Finnick has again taken up one of Beetee's arms to help him, but every now and then, he glances over his shoulder at me. Every time he does, I nod, and then he nods. There is now an unspoken understanding between us, and I can't say I don't appreciate it. In fact, it makes me feel much better about the next leg of our journey, and the several after that until we reach our destination.
Despite Beetee needing help waking, we're moving fairly quickly, sliding down one slope and all spotting the substation as it gleams in the diminishing sunlight like a beacon against the inclination of the adjacent mountain.
"There it is," Plutarch says, relieved. He looks at his holo to make sure the path is clear, glancing back at us and nodding.
We don't question him, following quietly because no one wants to ask that one question that needs asking.
Where are the others?
If I have to estimate, though I can't be positive of this, the substation is maybe 200 feet away when Plutarch glances back at us, smiles and then gets blown twenty feet from an unexposed land mine that explodes and blows all of us back down the mountain.
Oh, no! Plutarch! Another cliffhanger! I'm sorry!
Also, what do you think about that scene with Finnick and Katniss at the fence? Like big brother, little sister, right?
I'm working through the end of this story, so we'll see if I can get through my writer's block.
Thanks to everyone reading, and everyone who's favorited and followed this story. A big special thanks to all my reviewers.
Later!
