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"Run Katniss! You have to get out of here!" Peeta screams, his frantic voice powering my legs. I'm not running though, I'm swimming. But I can't swim on my own, and I can't see Peeta, I couldn't see him to begin with. There are hands dragging me down, like seaweed tangling my legs up, making escape impossible. I make it to the island safely but as soon as I'm up on my feet again I see them coming in from the sides, and there are so many…
The walking dead, zombies as they used to call them in ancient America, are stalking us everywhere. What was supposed to have been a reunion of the winning tributes has turned into a deadly mixture of the games and a twisted fight for sanity. They were past tributes, avoxes, and dead family and friends. Prim…she was one of them; I just hadn't seen her yet. I was sure to come across Rue as well. They were made the same way the mutts were, their bodies real, dragged from their graves and sparked with the light of evil.
I have a weapon suddenly, and I aim for their heads, their brain the only source of a true defeat. All I knew was that they must all be dead. One by one, they dropped, but more were coming out of the trees.
Then we're behind a house…like transportation had suddenly become synchronized with my battle. And there are people I'd come to know over the years, chosen at random. Why were they here..? Perhaps they'd been stolen by the capitol to participate. I recognized Joshua, Roberto, Emilie, Christofer, and Tatum; all from District 12. They were not dead, that much was sure, but they were still gone…
Propped up against wooden fences and the porch of an abandoned home, sharing any weapons or food they had scavenged. Peeta was asleep in the dirt a few feet away, his head turned away and his hands laid upon his chest.
This was no different from the games. Sad faces and prayers. No one had said a prayer in ages, it was thought to be foolish, and pray to a god that was thought to not have existed long ago. But some still hung on to that thought, still believed in a higher power.
"There's only one way we'll ever get out," Christofer murmurs, staring at the ground, refusing to blink. Long delicate blond hair pushed away and stained with blood, his baby face and posture saddening. He was a child of fourteen, only beginning to discover.
"How?" I cough, wiping dirt covered hands across my face to expel the tears from my eyes.
"Death." He finally closes his eyes and buries his head in his arms.
I then turn and use the weapon in my hand to point to Peeta, and pull the trigger.
I jump, the sound scaring myself, and I realize what I'd done. I held the dying boy in my arms the same way I held Rue, his pleading eyes tearing up and blue orbs blurred.
"I'm so sorry," I cry, stroking his face, his hair.
"I love you," he whispers, closing his eyes. I lean down to kiss him and he returns the kiss until his lips slow, and cease.
"His lips stopped moving," I whisper to the rest of them, who had not moved an inch. Then the dead flooded into the area, and we were all up in an instant.
One had my arm in its own, its teeth around my skin. It started to bite. My weapon was gone, and I had nothing to defend myself with. Thinking on reflex, I yanked my arm away and ripped the shirt I was wearing. It was a small bite, barely broken the skin. But was it enough to change me? Having nothing else, I shoved my fingers into her eye sockets, damaging the brain, and she dropped. My fingers were dripping with goo and there was bile in the back of my throat, but left and right, I went for their eyes. Chris took notice and did the same, my method working. It had to work, for Peeta.
"Peeta…"I woke up sobbing, rolling to my side and desperately hoping it was early enough and Peeta had not left for the bakery yet. He was there, and he was warm as I clung to his chest, sobbing hysterically over and over again, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"
All he could do was hold me back, stroking my back, repeating that it was okay and just a dream.
"I love you," I tell him, as if I could assure myself more that I could never kill Peeta. "I love you," I repeat, kissing his face, realizing it's still dark in the room and he was fast asleep when I'd woken him. "I'm sorry," I cried again for a couple different things.
"Katniss it's okay, I love you, more than anything. Why do you keep apologizing?" he asks in a soothing voice, fingers stroking my face and making me look at him. My god he is so beautiful, like my own personal savior. What had really gotten me about my dream wasn't that all of the deceased people in our lives were killing us, but that I had killed Peeta. He was all I had, and to kill him would be like killing myself.
"I'll explain in the morning," I whisper into his lips.
Peeta held me until the crying stopped, and I had fallen cried myself into unconsciousness. But when I woke again he was looking at the ceiling, thinking. That's when I knew that he had never went back to sleep.
Peeta and I were talking quietly, on another train. It's been nearly two years since the last time we were both on a train and the experience was nerve-wracking. Since when were these trains so empty? I had assumed that Effie would at least be here as an escort, or Haymitch, considering all tributes were required to be there.
Yesterday morning Peeta had stayed home from the bakery because it was the weekend. After my dream he decided to be with me as much as possible, making an exception only to run a single errand. He returned home at noon, gone only an hour, and with him he brought our Saturday mail.
There had been an invitation from President Cory, a man we'd democratically elected to make a difference like the Americans used to. A political movement to become a democracy was mainly Peeta's idea, and with the help of the capitol and many other leaders who disagreed with Snow, we made it happen. Or at least, we're in the process of it.
"We've been invited to a reunion, it's in the capitol and all surviving tributes are required to come for a special dinner," Peeta reads, handing the letter to me as he finishes.
"I don't wanna go," I say quietly, setting the letter on the counter without reading it.
"It's mandatory, we have to go," Peeta apologizes, putting food away that he had picked up from the market. I help him and we start packing the refrigerator. Too much food…
"Do you think we should give some of this away?" I ask him, charity on my mind.
"Katniss, Panem is thriving better than it has in centuries. Nobody starves anymore." He closes the refrigerator. "If people needed it, we would've helped by now, you know that."
Back on the train, it took me a few moments to realize we were quiet and our conversation had ended. My thoughts drifted back to my dream.
"I know it's disturbing, but with Snow dead there's no way your dream could've come true," Peeta assures, taking my hand and interlocking our fingers while gesturing for me to scoot over so that he could sit in the loveseat with me.
"Still," I retort, rather weakly. He takes my hand and moves it across his lips, smiling softly at me. He moves his nose to my neck and sighs, knowing that I would giggle.
"That tickles!"I push a laughing Peeta away, his eyes smug. "What..?"
Then he's attacking me, tickling my sides and pinning my legs down with his as he attempted to murder me in the chair. I was sprawled out, laughing so hard I feared my lungs would burst. The only way I could get him to stop was by putting my hands in his hair and crushing his lips against mine. It worked, and he became calm, his hands rubbing my sides instead of poking me to death. His lips moved softly and the entire atmosphere shifted.
I pushed him away and stood up, he looked at me questioningly.
"At least I know how to get you to stop," I teased, and he just groaned, putting his head in his arms.
"Damn it sweetheart, why do you continue to have this affect on me?" he muttered. I kneeled beside him, stroking his hair.
"I wanna try something," I say, and he looks up at me.
"What?" he asks, sitting up normally and fixing his hair.
"I'll tell you later, I don't wanna try it here." He nods and kisses me softly, hugging me afterwards.
"I love you," we both say at the same time.
"Wonderful!" Cory exclaims, taking his seat after shaking hands with everybody at the table.
"Of course Haymitch will be missed, wherever he is," he adds, quieter. Oh, this man and his funny capitol accent. He had a point, Haymitch was missing. He was probably drunk somewhere.
Glancing around the table, I took in the sight of past winners whom I had not met during the Quarter Quell. I was surprised to see that President Cory was younger than I had assumed. Probably in his mid-thirties, and odd looking indeed, though not unattractive. He had piercing green eyes, and long silky chocolate hair that extended barely past his jaw. He was the only capitol man that I had ever met who did not style his face with a beard or facial hair. Odd looking for the capitol, but for District 12…
Peeta and I were next to each other near the end of the table, the last seat supposedly reserved for Haymitch, but was empty. The only empty seat seeing as there was no substitute for him. Annie had substituted for Finnick; she must've gotten someone to watch the child. I had been meaning to speak to her, meet this child that the entire district and capitol has gone completely googly-eyes over.
I expected this dinner to be long, but it was over within the hour. And instead of serving any particular purpose, Cory insisted it was so that he may gather our input on the games and shape Panem into something better than we'd ever seen before.
"What made you wanna try this?" Peeta asks around my lips.
"You; the way you made me feel when we made love, I want you to feel that way too." I was already kissing down his stomach, nervous.
"Oh, Katniss, you don't have to-," he starts, and shush him.
"I want to. Unless you're uncomfortable with it," I tell him.
"Not at all. I just don't want you to bite me," he teases. I laugh too, but I know he has a valid point. I could hurt him. But this was just something we're going to have to trust ourselves with sooner or later.
"I love you Peeta," I whisper for probably the millionth time today. He sits up and pulls me into his strong arms, running his hands up my back underneath my shirt and whispering the same exact words to me too. This kiss was passionate, and his tongue entered my mouth smoothly. Now this was relatively new, but not at all unenjoyable. It's amazing all of the stuff we had yet to try and discover.
