I roll the pearl in my pocket and glance toward the stairwell door that leads from the roof to our old quarters. The initial plan had been to rappel down the outside walls of the Tribute Center, but I immediately shot that down.
"There's a forcefield. Even if it's down when we start, the power could come on at any minute and we'd all be dead," I state. I can feel Coin adjust her weight in her seat. She hates when I said anything of value.
"Let's head in. Katniss?" Boggs orders, and I take the lead. I am point on this leg of the mission. We'll be sneaking from the roof, in through the District 12 quarters, down the hall, and to the utility stairwell. We're not sure if the cameras there have been repaired or not, but hopefully the power stays out. I open the door and signal for the troops to follow me down the stairs. Their footfalls are silent. We land in the hallway outside the tribute rooms. I look at my door, what was my door. I remember lingering there with Peeta, after our picnic on the roof. Feeling his eyes trace my neck. Waiting and waiting until we crashed together and slammed back into my door. Unlike 13, his presence is profoundly real here.
"This way," I order, and we head down to the dining area and out the door. We exit into the corridor and walk slowly to the utility stairwell at the north end of the hall. I close my eyes and see Haymitch and I huddled in the stairs. I remember the horrifying realization.
"Snow killed my dad," I whisper.
"I know, sweetheart."
I push it aside. The stairs run along the wall, leaving a gaping open space in the middle of the well that goes all the way to the bottom floor. We each secure our grappling gear to the railing and leap over the side. We drop in a controlled descent, until our feet hit the floor.
"This is the training area," Finnick states. "We're looking for the door on the southeast side of the building." He takes the lead. "Let's go."
We move quickly behind Finnick, and sure enough, there is a door exactly where he remembered it. He twists the knob and it's locked.
"Masks on," Boggs says, and we each drop our gasmasks to our faces. Boggs attaches a device to the door, and it melts the metal lock away in a puff of pink smoke. When we executed this part of the plan in our dry run in 13, the smoke made us all choke. Boggs pushes the door open and exposes a long hallway. We shove the masks back up and stare down the stretch of empty space.
Everything from here on out is unknown.
"Weapons up," Boggs orders, his voice hushed. I mount my gun. The corridor is narrow, dark, and silent. We walk a hundred steps or so before it opens into a larger area. The walls are lined with shiny, metal cages, but they are all empty, doors ajar. My heart leaps to my throat. Snow's moved them. They're not here anymore. My eyes scan the room, my headlamp illuminating the cages, the walls. Nothing. Nothing. Wait…
"There!" I call out, and point to a large door on the back wall. It's not like the others. The door is massive, easily 8 or 9 feet tall. At the center is a giant wheel handle. It almost reminds me of the door to a vault. The others gather around. Gale eyes it warily, his trapper's mind at work. Finnick tries to turn the wheel but it is bolted shut.
"Hold on," Boggs says, and swings his bag around to his front. The others cover him as he opens the satchel and starts to dig through the supplies Beetee packed. The mastermind assumed at some point we'd reach an entrance we'd need to breach. We assess the contents.
A single-use blow torch.
"That's no good, we can't see the bolt," I say.
Pliers.
A lock-picking kit Gale has mastered in training.
Explosives. A last resort.
Boggs pulls out a small black box. "What's this?" he asks, holding it up. He opens the box and it holds a heavy, dull metal puck.
"Give me that," Gale says, and Boggs places it in his hands. Gale gently pulls it from box. He runs his fingers along the seam of the door, assessing where the bolt is. He flips the metal disc over and it slams into the door.
"It's a magnet," I utter, and Gale nods. He pulls forcefully toward the center of the door, and we hear metal screech. He's manually opening the bolt through the door. He groans in the effort, and Finnick jumps in beside him, putting his hands on top of Gale's.
"Pull!" he grits through his teeth.
Boggs and the young kid grab hold of the wheel handle and begin to wrench it to the left. It stays firmly in place, until suddenly Gale and Finnick give a large heave and the magnet slides nearly a foot. The wheel begins to spin, and the door opens.
While everywhere else in the Tribute Center has been drenched in darkness, the room behind the door is a blinding white. It's disorienting, and my eyes are full of water when a half dozen Peacekeepers charge through and jump our squad. I slam the butt of my gun into one man's larynx, and he collapses at my feet. I turn in time to see a Peacekeeper charge Boggs from behind, and I slam my boot into the back of his knee. I hear it crack and the Peacekeeper screams and falls to the floor.
"Disarm or kill them and move on!" Boggs yells out, and I take the weapons from the men at my feet.
"Stay down," I order, and they crawl away from me. I hear the pop of a silencer and look over to find a Peacekeeper dead at Gale's feet. He drags the body into the doorframe. A human doorstop. I swallow a mouthful of bile.
"Let's move," he says, and we follow Boggs into the white room, save the stoic-looking woman who guards the Peacekeepers. Having been submerged in dark for so long, it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the glaring light. This section is clearly run by a generator as the rest of the building is still without power. The white room is some kind of monitoring station. There are screens with cameras trained on individual cells. Only four are active. Four screens, four victors. My heart pounds in my chest. There's a door on the back wall, but it's locked. I spot a key card reader. I turn around and sprint out to the Peacekeepers.
"Who has access to the cells?" I bark to the wounded. I scan the men and try to assess if one has any kind of leadership insignia, but they all look the same to me. I raise my gun and point it at one of the soldiers. "You better start talking," I threaten as I loom over him. Even though I've gone through firearm training, the gun still feels foreign in my hand, but a bow would be impractical down here. The man takes off his helmet and a tuft of brown hair falls around his eyes. I swallow hard but don't blink. It's easier to forget they're human.
"Any of our cards work. We all have access," he submits, reaching to his side. He rips his card from his waist and offers it to me, hand trembling.
"Thanks," I say. Thanks?
I turn back to the room and swipe the key card over the reader. The light turns green and the door opens. We are immediately met with a putrid odor and we all cough and cover our faces. The smell of vomit and decay is pungent. The coppery scent of blood hangs heavy in the air. A few soldiers drop their masks again, but Finnick and I look at each other. They need to see our faces.
The room is circular, with cells lining the entire perimeter. Unlike the sterile metal cages we saw earlier, this place is damp and made of stone. A word forms in my head. Dungeon. In the center of the room is a sort of gallery-like area, with a metal table covered with instruments of torment. I immediately pull my eyes away. I cannot look there, or I'll lose it. My eyes scan the cells. Empty, empty, empty, until I find one occupied with an unrecognizable corpse, swollen with bloat and missing different body parts. I move on. Empty. Empty.
Pressing herself in the corner of the next cell is a red-headed woman. It's as if she's trying to disappear into the wall. "Annie," Finnick breathes, and she turns to us with eyes the color of the sea. "Annie!"
"Finnick?" she asks, her bottom lip trembling.
Finnick pulls at the cell bars, but they are locked. Boggs hands him a crowbar from the gallery, and Finnick begins wailing on the lock until it falls with a clunk to the floor. He throws the crowbar at his feet and rips the door open. He immediately scoops the frail girl into his arms, kicks the cell closed, and carries her out of the hellhole.
"Peeta!" I call out, but he doesn't reply.
"Katniss?" I hear from a cell across the room, and I dart over. I wrap my hands around the bars.
"Oh god, Johanna," I barely breathe. She's practically naked, save for a thin tank top and a soiled pair of panties. Her hair has been shorn from her head. She's skeletal, and the bottom of her cell is filled with a half a foot of water. Her skin is sagging. "Get her out of here!" I scream, and two of the soldiers come running. They break her cell open. Johanna tries to stand on her own but collapses into the water. They step inside and she screams and throws herself against the back wall. They immediately put their hands in the air and step out of the cell.
"Let's tranq her," one says.
"Wait!" I order, then turn to Johanna. "It's okay, it's okay," I repeat, and jump into the cell. I feel the water invade my shoes. "It's okay." Gale peers in the cell.
"You alright, Katniss?" he asks. I see Johanna's eyes spark in recognition. She's seen Gale on television. She knows he's my cousin.
"Help me with her," I plead, and he steps inside the cell.
"I got you," Gale says to Johanna, sliding his arm around her waist. "Just lean on me. I got you."
"Where's Peeta?" I ask, and Johanna's eyes look one cell over from hers.
"He hasn't woken up since they brought him back last night," she says. "He stopped moaning a few hours ago. I don't know what that means." I feel the horror creep up my skin and crawl all over my body. "Katniss… be careful." Her legs are too weak to step over the threshold of the cell, and Gale lifts her effortlessly into the air. She's like a ragdoll.
I walk toward the cell next to Johanna's. "Peeta?" I ask, my voice soft. My eyes come to focus on a dark figure. My heart physically aches when I recognize him. He lies crumpled in a pile on the floor. Boggs is immediately at my side. He slams into the lock with the crowbar, and the door groans as it gives in. I pull it open slowly and step inside. "Peeta," I breathe. Blood has pooled around his head on the floor, but it's sticky and cold. The wounds on his face have congealed somewhat. He's thin, he's desperately thin. His leg is missing, and it makes him look even more diminished. I take the smallest steps, like I'm approaching a wounded animal. Like I might somehow hurt him. "Peeta?" I ask again, but he doesn't move.
My feet stop. I feel Boggs behind me.
"Did I lose him?" I ask, my voice breaking. I don't dare touch him. I don't dare confirm the fear spreading cold to my limbs like ice in my veins.
"I don't know," he replies.
I drop to my knees and roll Peeta onto his back. I press my head to his chest. This is how we sleep, I think aimlessly. My mind is a confused mess of incoherent thoughts, but I hear his heart. I fall back on my feet and clasp my hand to my mouth. "He's alive. He's alive. He's alive," I mutter over and over again. "Help me! Help me carry him!"
Boggs orders another soldier into the cell, and the young kid drops to his knees and takes Peeta's arms while I grab his legs. He weighs nothing. He weighs nothing at all. My heart sinks. Boggs does a sweep to confirm the remaining cells are empty. We carry Peeta toward the door when he bellows out, "WAIT! I've got another one." It must be Enobaria. The footage shows her getting out alive. "Katniss, I need you!" Boggs hollers. I look at Peeta and up at the kid.
"Go, I got him," he says.
This feels wrong. Every step I take away from Peeta I hate myself, even though it's only a few feet we are parted at most. My eyes peer into the cell and I know why Boggs called me over. I see the tiny woman covering her face with her hands. It's not Enobaria.
"Effie," I utter.
"Are you sure?" Boggs asks. He's only seen her done up, face white, wig perched high on her head.
"Effie," I state clearer, and she lifts her eyes at me through her auburn hair.
"Open the door!" I order, and Boggs breaks it free. I rush into the cell and pull her from the floor. "Effie!" I cry out and feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. She stiffens in my arms. "Can you walk?" I ask, and she nods slowly. Boggs offers her a hand, and she smiles demurely.
"Finally, someone with manners," she says in a weak but clipped tone, and I smile.
I rush back to Peeta and we make our way out the way we came. Effie averts her eyes as we pass the wounded and dead Peacekeepers. Johanna spits on them. We attach our grappling gear and begin the ascent. We cut through corridors and climb until we've hit the roof. The hovercraft drops a rescue net, and we pile the survivors in first. Annie refuses to leave Finnick, and he cups her face.
"Trust me," he whispers, and she nods before sitting back into the net. I picture him as her mentor, in a district suite identical to ours. I picture them on the train together, their lives helplessly interwoven. "Trust me."
When the last of us enters the warbird, it takes off immediately.
"There's no one following us," Gale mutters, looking out at the sky.
"That's good, right?" I ask.
"That was too easy," Gale says to Boggs, who nods his head silently in agreement.
"There were guards," I argue.
"Six Peacekeepers? That's all Snow sent to defend the cells? Six Peacekeepers?" Gale says.
"Maybe they didn't know we were here. Between the power outage and the train derailment and Finnick's propo," I justify, but I know they are right. They keep discussing it, but as soon as we are out of Capitol airspace I tune them out. Annie buries her face in Finnick's neck, trying to shut out everything but him. Johanna has been wrapped in a blanket and sits silently on the bench with a blank stare on her face. Gale has him arm protectively wrapped around her. Effie rocks ever so slightly.
Peeta is lying on the floor of the hovercraft. I lift his head and slide a rolled up towel underneath it. His breaths are shallow, but present. Even. I push some of the hair out of his face.
"You're not going to die. I forbid it. Alright?" I whisper.
"They'll have a full medical crew in place when we land," Boggs tells me. I know this. It was part of the original plan.
I nod, but my eyes never leave Peeta's face. His cheeks are bony. Even after our Games, he's never been this thin. His hair is caked with dry blood. There isn't a part of him that isn't bruised or dirty. I lace my fingers with his. He's unconscious, and his hand lays lifelessly in mine. The part that haunts me the most is how cold he is. Peeta has always been fiery hot, but his skin feels like ice. I rub his fingers between mine.
"Stay with me," I whisper, but the air around me is cold and answerless.
