Chapter Fourteen
By the time the clock in the main square sounds once for quarter past seven, I'm already awkwardly perched on the back seat of a huge black car as it slowly moves away from the house where we're staying.
I hadn't answered the door when Opal knocked. I'd made my mind up not to get involved with anything that may or may not be going on between the people of power in this war, and I was certain I wasn't going to change it. But then about five minutes ago, I did. I decided that I couldn't walk away even though I thought I'd be too late.
As it turned out, I wasn't. I opened the door to find Opal still there, straight backed and immaculate, smirking as she told me that she knew I'd make the right choice eventually. I'm still not sure what the right choice is, but I'm happy enough that my decision was the only one I could live with. Or I would be happy if only I could get out of this car.
"Is something wrong, Commander Paylor?" asks Opal, casually leaning further back into the seat beside me.
"I'm fine," I reply, hoping I don't look as sick as I feel. "I've just never been in a car before."
Her expression in response to that is comical enough to distract me into feeling slightly less nauseous. I try not to laugh, but I can't help it, especially when she shakes her head in disbelief as she answers.
"Really? Don't people have cars in District Eight?"
"Not the poor ones, no."
"But you're not poor. You're a commander."
"A few months ago, I sorted cloth in a textile factory and slept on a sofa that had been in existence long before the Dark Days," I reply flatly, not seeing the point in lying. "Are you so sure you want to be bringing a pauper like me to be seeing your boss?"
"Miss Satin won't care about that. She always tells me that it's who you are that's important, not where you come from."
Satin de Montfort abruptly goes up in my estimation considerably as the car glides to a halt. Opal opens the door and holds it for me, and I narrow my eyes at her as I climb out.
"We're here?" I ask, and when she nods, I narrow my eyes even further. "We could have walked. Why bother with the car?"
"More people will see us if we're walking down the street, Commander Paylor," she replies evenly. "I know they'll see us anyway, but there's no need to draw attention to ourselves unless we have to. And the District Thirteen commanders who come to dinner always want to go in the car."
"What exactly am I doing here, Opal?" I ask as she pulls me along a garden path and into a house that's easily as big as the District Eight Justice Building.
"Wait here," she says, abandoning me in the entrance hall without answering my question.
I start to call after her, but she's already gone.
I stand there for what feels like hours, almost too afraid to move in case I dirty or break anything in the almost too-perfect space. Eventually, however, I give in and resort to my old habit of pacing around in circles. I think that's why I don't realise I'm not alone until I hear the voice coming from the stairway.
"Who are you?"
I stop pacing and follow the direction of the child's voice until I find a pair of massive blue eyes staring at me from between the posts of the staircase.
"My name's Flax," I reply tentatively. "Who are you? Are you going to come out so I can see you?"
"Mother says I have to stay upstairs," she says, but the eyes retreat anyway, and seconds later I'm looking down at a girl of about six, her beautiful face surrounded by a mass of mahogany curls. "Are you one of her friends?"
"I'm not sure yet," I reply eventually, telling her the truth because I'm somehow certain this child will know if I'm lying. "Possibly."
She thinks about that for a minute, looking at me appraisingly, and then seems to come to a decision as she sits down on the bottom step.
"I'm Victory," she says. "But you can call me Vic. Everyone else does."
I smile, only then remembering District One's fondness of elaborate, fanciful names. "I like your hairclip," I offer, thinking that she might not appreciate the same teasing that used to have Adie and Taffy racing around the room and laughing.
"It was Aunt Cashmere's," she says, suddenly more serious than any child her age should have to be. "She's not here anymore because President Snow sent her away and then the evil District Seven woman killed her. I wish she could come back but Daddy says that she can't. He says she and Uncle Gloss are with Aunt Sapphire now."
I had my suspicions as soon as I saw her, because the resemblance between little Victory and the mayoress is unmistakeable, but now I know for sure that I'm talking to Satin's daughter.
"That's why you're here, isn't it?" she continues. "Because you're going to punish President Snow for all the bad things he's done. Daddy says that's what Mother's doing. He says that the president won't leave the Capitol because he's scared of Mother."
"Not half as scared of me as you'll be if you don't go upstairs to bed, my girl," interrupts Satin as she crosses the hallway towards us.
"I was only talking."
"Gossiping," Satin corrects, glaring at her daughter with more love in her eyes than anger. "And you know what gossiping does."
"Gives other gossips a reason to talk about you," replies Victory solemnly, standing up but still not going upstairs.
"Precisely. Now go upstairs to bed. Commander Paylor didn't come here just to stand in the hall."
I watch them with fascination, feeling so out of place in this house that I'd actually quite like to tell Mayoress de Montfort that I'd like nothing better than to stand in the hall for a bit longer. However it's not to be, and after pushing Victory in the direction of the stairs and watching to make sure she's really done as she was told, Satin leads me further into the house and holds a massive wooden door open for me. It's polished so much that it shines, and I'm glad she's holding it because I wouldn't dare touch it.
"Thank you for accepting my invitation," she says after telling me to sit down at the table and then sitting down herself.
I try to do as she says without touching anything breakable or knocking anything to the floor. I might have admitted to Opal that I've never been in a car, but I'm certainly not telling Satin de Montfort that I've never sat at a dining table before.
"I don't mean to be rude," I say, returning her smile without really thinking about it. "But why did you invite me?"
"Won't you have something to eat first?" she replies, delicately and politely evasive. "My husband will be- Here right now," she continues, stopping mid-sentence and correcting herself as the same tall blond man I saw helping her down from the truck this morning walks in and closes the door behind himself. "Miracle, this is the Commander Paylor we've heard so much about."
"I'm honoured," the man says, bowing to me in that Capitolian style that also seems to be commonplace here.
I just smile, not knowing what else to do because I've no idea where to put myself. I don't know whether to gaze around at my surroundings in awestruck silence, demand to know exactly what they want with me, or simply laugh at the ridiculous names people in District One give to their poor, unsuspecting children. Although having said that, he isn't my type, but if Luce was here then she'd probably think Satin de Montfort's husband looks quite miraculous, so maybe I shouldn't judge.
"So," I say finally, carefully mimicking Satin as she puts her fork neatly down on her plate. "We've talked about the uprising in Eight and the formation of the rebel army, made small talk about the infrastructure of District One and eventually decided that the two of us aren't as different as we first thought. Now are you going to tell me why I'm here?"
She stares long and hard at me, her head tilted ever so slightly to one side as if she's thinking intently. It feels like a lifetime passes before she finally speaks.
"You're here because rumours reached me that you…may be of the opinion that the presidential succession is not as clear cut as certain others believe it to be."
"Rumours?" I reply evenly. I wasn't made to deal with things like this. Give me a gun and I can point it at the enemy, but this is a very different kind of battle and it isn't one I've ever fought in before. "What rumours?"
"Ones that tell me you know a dictator when you see one, no matter what disguise they wear."
"That's true enough. But I don't know what makes you think I trust you. How do I know you're not recording every word I say?"
"You don't. But I'm not. Think about it, Commander Paylor. You might not be used to the world outside your uncivilised little district, but you're not stupid."
"And I don't have to stay here to be insulted by the likes of you," I snap back, riled by the derision in her voice. "In fact, I should be getting back."
"Don't leave," interrupts Miracle, holding his hands out as if to stop me even though he moves no closer.
"I shouldn't have said what I said," says Satin, her expression even and steady as she offers me an apology that isn't quite an apology. "Please. Stay."
"If you want me to stay then you're going to have to start explaining," I reply, sitting back down slowly.
"I agreed to become the mayoress so that I could be in a position to do what I'm doing now. To let the rebels use this district as a launch pad into the Capitol. And that was a long time before the Quarter Quell. I have worked, as my sister did and so many others with her, to make sure that we lived to see the day President Snow was cast down so low that he'd never rise again. I didn't risk my life so a woman like Alma Coin can steamroller in and take over before we're even truly free."
"I didn't…I didn't know."
"I'd be incredibly worried if you did," she replies, the vaguest hint of a smile passing across her face. "I wouldn't have been a very good spy if everyone knew the truth."
"I suppose not," I say, but even so, now I do know the truth, I can't help thinking that I should probably be more shocked than I am. Maybe it's looking across at the photograph of Gloss and Cashmere on the sideboard. It reminds me that, despite the district she calls home, she and her family have been as wronged by the Capitol as me and mine.
"So that's why I asked you here," she continues. "I asked you here to ask if I can count on you if the time comes."
"And who will sit in the president's seat? You?"
"Not necessarily," she replies cautiously. She knows I'm suspicious. "District One's enough for me. It always has been."
"So who?"
"Not Alma Coin. As for the rest, I was kind of imagining we'd sort it out when the time comes. Perhaps you'd like to volunteer," she adds, smirking to tell me she already knows exactly what my response will be to that.
"I didn't want to be Commander Paylor," I snap, knowing I'm being predictable but saying what I'm thinking anyway. "I certainly don't want to be President Paylor. Besides, what do I know about politics? Nobody in their right mind would follow me."
"So the people of District Eight are all clinically insane then?" she retorts immediately. "Because some of them followed your orders and went halfway across Panem to a place that'd been little more than a legend to them until a few short weeks ago. And the rest that haven't gone to Thirteen are going to follow you all the way to the Capitol."
"I didn't ask them to."
"No, you didn't. But they did anyway. What does that tell you?"
"That if they're not insane then they're really bad judges of character?" I suggest, and Miracle laughs even if his wife doesn't.
"It's not funny, Miracle," she growls, slamming her glass down on the table so hard that the candle holders shake. "I refuse to believe Cashmere and Gloss died for nothing. But they will have if I do nothing. If I do nothing and the Capitol falls to Thirteen then we'll probably have to quite literally bend the knee to Coin. And I won't do it. I won't. I'll die first."
"I really don't think it will come to that," I interrupt hastily, hoping to remind them of my presence so they decide to continue what seems to be an ongoing debate long after I've gone. "We won't let it."
She takes a deep breath. "If this ends how I think it will then will you stand with me against Coin and Thirteen?"
I look across the table at her, thinking about all the times I've sat at that glass table in Command and doubted what President Coin's said, doubted if her attitude and her opinions are really what I want to hear coming from the person who clearly imagines herself sitting in Snow's office. In the end, the answer I give to Satin de Montfort comes surprisingly easily.
"I will."
"Then get some sleep, Commander Paylor," she says, smiling faintly. "If my spies are right about what they've heard then you'll be moving out tomorrow. We take the Capitol and then the show will really begin."
"May the odds be ever in your favour," I quip back before I have time to think about it and stop myself.
There's nothing faint about the wicked grin I get in return.
It's not until I see the clock in the entrance hall that I realise it's well after midnight. I hadn't thought I'd been away for so long, but I guess between trying not to get inescapably caught in some kind of web of intrigue I barely understand and trying not to use the wrong knife and fork at the dinner table, I must have lost track of time.
It takes me a minute to work out what's weird, but eventually I decide it's that all of the lights are still on, even the massive chandelier that hangs from the ceiling. They're all about saving resources in District Thirteen and we rarely had electricity in Eight in the first place, but here in One they have no such concerns. If Satin's house is anything to go by then where we're staying must be the equivalent of the servant's quarters, but it's still a hundred times more luxurious than anything I've ever seen before.
"Now I just have to sneak in without anyone waking up and realising I haven't been there," I whisper to myself as I slowly and carefully climb the stairs.
However as soon as I reach the first landing and turn to look up, I know that's not going to happen. Zib's sitting on the top step, staring straight at me with an expression somehow torn between amusement and concern.
"I'd have been a lot less worried about where you were if Cam wasn't standing behind me," she says, smirking slightly as she stands up and four or five more shadows appear behind her.
As I get closer, the shadows resolve into a group of very familiar figures. Cam, Cali, Lucan and Adaira. Although I'm shocked to see the woman who styles herself as my second-in-command because I hadn't seen her since we first arrived here, I'm even more surprised to see Johnson behind her, leaning casually against the wall as his eyes follow my every movement.
"What are you all doing out here?"
"We're waiting for you," replies Zib. "We're…curious to know what Mayoress de Montfort had to say."
"She invites all of the commanders to dinner," I answer cagily, glancing quickly but pointedly at Johnson, who has lived in Thirteen for far too long for me to call him one of us. "It's not unusual, Zib."
"I'm on your side, Paylor," says Johnson, as if he knows I'm holding back because of him. "I left my home when the Peacekeepers murdered my family. Because the alternative was killing as many of them as I could before they killed me."
"The alternative sounds like a plan to me," interrupts Zib, who, not unusually, is the only one of us who can find words as we take in yet another tale of the Capitol's cruelty.
"I know," he says, his harsh, commanding voice losing some of its strength in a way I haven't heard before. "I would have done just that. They deserved it after what they did and I was strong back then, stronger than I am now. I'd have taken a lot of them with me and I'd have died happy. But when I got back and saw them all dead, there was one missing. I found my grandson hiding under his mother's bed, so I picked him up and ran. All the way to Thirteen. I did what I did for him. Coin and the one who came before her were the lesser of two evils. I owe her nothing."
I watch him for a minute, wishing I had Satin de Montfort's ability to spot a liar from a mile away, and he watches me as well, his pale eyes giving nothing away.
"Nothing happened," I say eventually, knowing I can't risk it even though my instinct tells me that he wouldn't betray me. "Nothing that means anything if we don't take the Capitol. But she did say that she thinks we'll be moving out tomorrow. So I'd sleep while you have the chance."
They all nod in acceptance and turn away, some more reluctantly than others, and I sigh with relief. How can I tell them what's happening when I'm not convinced that I know myself?
"You'll have to tell us sooner or later, Flax," calls Adaira as she pauses halfway up the stairs to the next floor and looks back at me over her shoulder. "If it's what I think it is then you'll need us."
"I know," I reply. What other answer can I give her but the truth?
"So long as you do," she says, and before I know it, she's disappeared from sight and I hear the soft click of a door opening and closing.
"She's more loyal to you than you think."
I turn back to see Johnson standing in front of the door. The others have all gone back inside.
"You should've heard her shouting at her squad in drill training. 'Do you want to disgrace your district?', she used to scream. 'Do you want to let Commander Paylor down?'."
"I didn't know."
"You wouldn't. She's too proud to be subservient to anyone to their face."
"It's not about subservience. I don't want that from anyone. It's about winning the war and getting rid of Snow. And any other dictator who thinks they can control Panem."
His knowing smile tells me I've said too much, but I can't bring myself to regret it. Whatever happens, the Capitol is the enemy right now, and if everything changes after that then it will happen anyway so there's no point worrying.
"Which district did you run from?"
"Eleven," he replies, shaking his head at my raised eyebrows. "Just because I don't fit the stereotype, it doesn't mean I'm lying," he adds, reaching back and opening the door before I can reply.
There's nothing I can do but follow him inside.
I don't know how many hours pass as I lie in my bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the slow, steady breaths of the others as they sleep around me. I should be sleeping as well. I'll have to be awake if we're on our way into battle tomorrow, but as well as I know that, I still can't clear my head.
What if we take the Capitol? Will Satin and her mystery allies make a stand against Coin and District Thirteen? Will I join them? And then what if we don't win in the Capitol? Will I be strong enough to swallow the purple pills concealed in my uniform? Will I have chance to? Will I have to watch Cam and Zib and the others die beside me?
I shake my head to clear it at that last thought. We've been through so much that I can't bear to imagine losing now.
I turn around to try and go to sleep, but as I do, the mattress dips as someone sits down. I can't see their face in the almost-darkness, but there's only one person it could be.
"What is it, Zib?"
"I knew you'd be awake," she whispers, getting up, pulling the covers back and lying down beside me like she used to when we were still at school. "So tell me. There's no one else to hear now. What's the honourable lady mayoress up to?"
My first thought is to either lie or tell her nothing. However she knows me too well for me to be able to lie convincingly, and I can't stand not telling anyone anyway. Once I get started, it doesn't take me long to relay the whole of the evening's events to her. I've told her everything for my whole life, so it isn't anywhere near as difficult as I thought it would be. It probably isn't anywhere near as difficult as it should be.
"So Satin's working with Heavensbee? They're going to stand against Coin if she tries to take over?"
"Basically, yes," I whisper back in reply. We're so close that I barely have to speak aloud at all. "She asked me if I'd join them."
"The two of them against the whole of Thirteen? No wonder they're looking for extra allies."
"I doubt it's just them, Zib. Heavensbee's been part of the Capitolian resistance for years. He won't be on his own."
"Do you think he's working with your little friend from Command?"
"Which particular one?" I ask, rolling my eyes even though I know she can't see me. They love to tease me about my many meetings in Command and referring to influential people as 'Flax's little friends' is becoming almost as popular as 'President Paylor'.
"The Capitolian. The one who looks at everyone like they're dirt on the bottom of her shoes."
"Narissa," I reply, failing to keep the suspicion from my voice as I think of her. "Probably. She knows
Heavensbee well enough. And she was part of the rebellion attempt that failed."
"What did you say to her? Satin, I mean."
"Yes," I reply eventually, taking so long to answer that she kicks me. "I don't know why I said it but I did."
"You said it because you believe it was the right thing to do," she says, sounding more serious than I've heard her for a long time. "None of us want to live under Coin's rule, Flax. We'll all stand behind you."
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to stand in front of me sometimes?" I ask, only half teasing.
"Everyone would still see you," she replies, also sounding like she's only half joking. "The shadow cast by the great Commander Paylor can be seen from anywhere."
"Shut up," I snap, trying to push her off the edge of the bed and then stopping because she clings to me and I know the only thing I'll achieve is waking everyone else up.
"Go to sleep, Flax," she says, curling up by my side like she's done so many thousand times before when our lives were so different to what they are now.
Her familiar presence relaxes me, and soon I find it impossible to disobey her order.
"Why don't the Capitolians just blow the tunnels up?" asks the younger Soldier Edwards as we stare up at the mountainside several hours later.
"Because if they do then they'll cut themselves off even more. The tunnels are their security but they're also what could keep them trapped inside," I reply, once again thinking how terribly young he seems. "Let's go."
"Hold on a minute, Flax," says Zib, moving to stand by my side so I can't keep walking towards the tunnels. "Are you sure he hasn't got a point? If I'm going to die then I don't want my death to involve being crushed to death under a mountain."
"The path's clear," I reply, raising my voice so they can all hear me. "The fighting's on the other side, on the edge of the city. You've seen as much film footage as I have."
I see a lot of them nod in agreement, and Zib takes a step back. What I said is true. We've all seen the propos. We've all seen the battle for the tunnels that took place before we arrived. I try not to think about all the dead and wounded soldiers that the propos didn't show. I only know about the sheer number of them because of my position. The others don't know and I haven't told them. There are some things it's better not to know.
Shaking my head to clear my mind, I raise my arm and let it fall. It still shocks me when everyone obediently moves into line and starts forward at my command. I try not to let it show, even when squad after squad takes up their position behind me.
If there's a reason beyond duty that I lead them into the virtual darkness of the tunnel, it's so they can't see the uncertainty in my face as I go.
"What happens when we get there?" asks Lucan, deadly serious and not even allowing himself to glance at Zib.
"I don't know," I reply honestly. "But we're nearly there so we're about to find out."
I stare ahead at the ever expanding patch of light, squinting against the brightness when we eventually emerge from the tunnel into the bright sunshine.
"Welcome to the Capitol, Commander Paylor," calls a dry and very familiar voice, and I look across to see Dalton, standing at the head of his squad.
He's obviously waiting for his next orders just like I am, which is why he appears to be as surprised as me when a grey uniformed man approaches us and calls us to a meeting.
"We're not getting anywhere because the Capitol keeps sending its planes over every time we try. And they have their anti-aircraft guns so we can't retaliate," says the District Thirteen commander nearest to me as we walk to meet the small group gathered by the tunnel entrance.
I stare at him for a second, thinking about what he said. But then I shake my head as I slowly back away, gazing speculatively up at the foothills of the mountains.
"Commander Paylor," he growls, sounding thoroughly put out that I'm not really listening to what he's saying.
"Flax, what is it?" asks Dalton curiously.
I've spent so much time with him over the past few weeks that he can read my expression well enough. He knows I'm planning something.
"Were all those guns taken out of Eight like I said?"
"Yes. They're back in One. President Coin said we won't need them. She says the invasion should carry on as it for now. The command's just come through to launch another attack. But if you ask me," he adds once he's lowered his voice significantly. "I just think she doesn't want the city any more damaged than it has to be."
I take a sharp intake of breath that comes out as a loud hiss of disapproval before turning back to look at the soldiers who came with me from home.
"Baize!"
"Commander Paylor," he replies, saluting sharply and moving closer instantly.
"Take your squad back through the tunnel. Get as many soldiers as you need to bring our guns out here. I'm not going to stand here and let our people die because Alma Coin wants a palace to rule from."
"On whose authority?" stammers a different man from Thirteen, staring at me as if he can't quite believe this is happening. "Decisions like that have to go through the proper channels of authorisation and approval."
"On my authority," I reply flatly. "Because it's what's best for this army. We're not in Thirteen anymore, Commander…Hodge," I continue, surprised to find the words streaming easily from my lips now I've finally started to say what I've been thinking since a long time before I left One. "And that means there's going to be a new set of rules. Baize. Go. Now."
"Yes, Commander Paylor," he replies, grinning from ear to ear as he salutes once more and promptly turns away towards the tunnel with his squad behind him.
"Baize!" He turns back. "Do it discreetly. Or as discreetly as you can."
"Very impressive," says Cam, whispering in my ear as soon as the low buzz of noise has restarted all around us. "Now what?"
"We delay the attack. Baize gets the guns. Quietly so they don't realise what we're doing until the last minute. And next time our soldiers attack, the Peacekeepers will send out their planes, but this time we'll be ready for them."
"But they'll see us from the Capitol," interrupts Zib. "You remember the kit they used to have at the factories as well as I do, Flax. They knew what we were doing before we did."
"And I'm betting they have exactly the same cameras in the tunnels," I reply. "But I'm also betting that your boyfriend knows exactly where they all are. Don't you, Lucan?" I continue, raising my voice so he can hear me.
"He's not my boyfriend," hisses Zib under her breath.
"Whatever you say, Zibeline," I sing back, before abruptly schooling my expression and becoming serious again. We're in the middle of trying to invade the Capitol. This is no time for joking around. "Lucan, take Cali and Eliza back through and wipe out as many of their cameras as you can. The general patrol will have got rid of the obvious ones, but they won't know where to look for the rest. And we haven't got much chance if the Peacekeepers can see us all coming."
Lucan nods and the other two move to follow him. However before he goes, he stops and finally looks at Zib.
"Stay alive," he says to her. "If you don't then I'll kill you."
She shrugs her shoulders. "I won't die if you don't, District Two."
We watch them until they've vanished from sight, but then I realise I've only done half a job here. The District Thirteen commanders will be telling Coin what I've done even as I think about it, and then it will be all over in so many different ways.
"Flax. Flax, look."
Cam stops tugging my sleeve when I turn to face him, but his hand doesn't leave my arm as he gestures to the group of soldiers approaching.
"It's the right thing to do," I call, hoping I sound convincing. "Surely you can see that."
"We see it, Commander Paylor. As long as your people hurry up with the guns then we'll delay the attack until they get back and are set up. But we haven't got long. The longer we leave it, the longer the enemy have to prepare their own attack."
"I understand that, Commander. So do my rebels. They'll be here before dawn."
"Then you should get some rest. It'll be a busy day tomorrow."
I nod and force myself to return his salute, hoping that the amazement I feel at how they're going along with my plan doesn't show too obviously on my face. If it does then none of them say so, but it's only when I sink down onto the nearest bedroll a few minutes later that my breathing finally begins to return to normal.
The next thing I know, there's an insistent voice in my ear, calling for me to get up. It's a woman's voice, and she calls me Commander Paylor instead of Flax. Eliza. I sit up and she steps back, gazing down at me with tired eyes.
"Soldier Sheridan wants to know where you want the guns, Commander," she says quietly, almost as if she thinks the Capitolians will hear her if she speaks too loudly. "They just arrived back."
I stand up in response, all tiredness temporarily forgotten, and when she turns away and heads out across the camp, I follow immediately.
"We'll never be able to do this without the enemy seeing," says Baize, leaning against one of the tent posts in apparent exhaustion. "It's impossible."
"It doesn't matter if they see now," I reply, unable to stop myself from grinning up at him despite the solemnity of the situation and the reason we're here. "It was when you were in the tunnels that I didn't want them to see. In case they tried to fly out to intercept you. Now the guns are here, they'll either realise what they're up against and not send in the planes, or they won't and we'll shoot them all out of the sky. Either way, we win and they lose."
He stares at me for a second and then shakes his head slowly. "I don't know where you get this stuff from, Paylor. Really, I don't."
When I take a step forwards, a lot of the rebel soldiers surrounding our group move back with something I'd call awe on their faces if they were looking at anyone but me. I don't see what all the fuss is about. The whole idea seems pretty obvious to me. It was hardly the work of a genius.
"Go on then," I say, waving a hand at them. "Coin called for the attack, didn't she? She won't wait forever. And if you don't start now then President Snow will have died of old age by the time you get the guns in position."
A couple of hours later, I find myself in the familiar position of crouching down behind an anti-aircraft gun with Zib beside me. The order to attack came from Thirteen a few minutes ago, and it won't be long now before we find out if the Capitol are going to send the planes out again or not. I can't decide if I hope they don't because I've had enough of killing or if I hope they do because if we can shoot them out of the sky now then they won't be able to hurt us later.
"Here we go!" shouts Cam from the other side of the hill, and I turn to look in his direction even though I promised myself I wouldn't.
However my attention is soon drawn by the Capitolian planes as they drop their sight shields and begin to rain bombs down on the rebel soldiers surging into the city. I take aim and shoot, and when the wing of the plane I'd been targeting bursts into flames and the whole thing falls to the ground, it's suddenly just like being back in District Eight.
"Two!" calls Zib, grinning wildly at me as another hoverplane crashes down.
"I didn't know it was a competition!" I reply, firing another missile at a plane and missing because I wasn't concentrating.
"It's always been a competition," she says. "And I've always been winning!"
By the time both sides decide to call it a day, the rebel forces have control of the outskirts of the Capitol and the Peacekeepers have been driven further back than ever before. I walk slowly down the wide paved street that's now lined with rubble and the smouldering remains of hoverplanes, and I know my decision to bring in the guns is what helped us today. If I hadn't then it would have been the same story as last time, and the Capitolians would have flown in and taken us out just like before.
I didn't want to be a leader and I didn't want to kill, but as I look around, I eventually work out that what I'm feeling is pride. I made a difference today. A lot of people have lost their lives today, but if it hadn't been for my decision then many more rebels would have died.
As I arrive at the new camp, I hear the soldiers, even some of the Thirteens, cheering for Commander Paylor and District Eight. For once I can meet their eyes without embarrassment. We did something today, we made a difference, and maybe that will mean the war will be over quicker.
More than anything, all I really want is to see the fighting end.
So...as well as asking you what you think of the story so far, I have to ask - have you seen the movie yet? I have...