Prim
Head racing, heart pumping, adrenaline fueling my aching body up the slope: I can see it. The tree stands there, its thick rubbery trunk wedged into the ground, spiny branches poking out like spikes some thirty feet in the air, waiting for me. There's nothing of obvious relief waiting there to save us, but with the water rushing in at us at an unimaginable speed I haven't the time to think about that.
Finnick is a few feet ahead of me, able to speed up with his trident and other gear long abandoned by the beach. I will admit that with the weight of my vest gone I feel lighter, capable, but that in no way makes up for the ocean's lighting speed. It eats the land at an alarming pace of five feet per second, but I can almost swear it's been speeding up.
Rory sprints beside me, breathing heavily, his hair matted by sweat. I would take his hand, a source of comfort in what could be our very last moments together, but I fear it would only slow us down. He glances at me, and in his eyes I see Gale. From the way he stares into my own eyes I know he sees Katniss. We are the product of our older siblings' will to survive, their endless days of putting their lives on the line. Without them we would be nothing, just bones shoveled deeply into the ground, with countless others' piled on top.
That's the way it goes in the Seam when there's no one left to scrape for a funeral. But instead we are here and alive- fighting to live, but alive nonetheless. In the last few years I've come to realize that we no longer wish to be like Gale and Katniss- we are them.
Under their guidance, showered with their love, we have developed into everything they are. I may not look like Katniss, but there's no question that she lives within me. My older sister who, had she not been incapacitated by fear, would've volunteered for me last year without a moment's hesitation. I may not be good with a bow, but when I needed her talent the most, it was there to save my life. I am her. And if I do not live to see tomorrow, I know I will survive in her.
Rory may not be an expert at setting snares, but his talent with a bow surpasses Gale's by far. It saved my life in the beginning. He has the will, the grim determination of his older brother, and if he too is lost within this arena than Gale will stick true to the memory of him.
My fingers stretch, desperately trying to connect with the tree, as though merely touching it will end all of this for good. I've barely even brushed it when the arena explodes into pieces, sending us all spiraling to the ground and blinding us with a brilliant flash of white light.
The water comes rushing up to meet the tree, and I grasp the air fiercely for Rory's hand. But he's gone. Grief stabs my chest as I realize I should've just stopped running and taken his hand before it was too late. Now we will all die without the last moment of goodbye.
I feel my eyes fluttering closed as the cool ocean pounds me into the forest floor, but I take comfort in the sweet serenity of the water, allowing myself to imagine a place far, far, far better than this.
Johanna
I was wrong, when I said I wanted to give up. I don't want to die, not yet, not like this. Not trapped beneath tons and tons of water, my lungs crushed by the sheer weight of it all. There are better ways to go, peaceful ways.
After the death of my family I thought it would be best for all if I just offed myself, but every time I ever really came close something stopped me. I know now, what it was that always made me put down the knife, or the rope, or the gun, or the axe.
It was the need to love again. Really and truly love, if only for a moment, before I erased myself permanently. And once I met Henry, I realized it was possible. That even though my little brother was gone, he could still live on through something else. Someone else.
I can't die without seeing Henry, who I unfairly dragged in here, reunite with his parents again. So I climb. Taking his small hand in my own, I haul us onto the slippery branches of a nearby tree and force my limbs to work, bringing us slowly to the sky.
The real sky, not the gaudy pink one. I can hear the hum of hovercrafts overhead and know the Capital has come to get us. Torture us. Kill us. Make us pay for defying them, blowing up their arena, daring to attempt living. That is, until I see. The logo of a District Thirteen hovercraft, printed in bold letters overhead.
I force Henry's limp body over a tree branch, waving frantically at them. My arms begin to hurt, dragged down and sore, but I keep going, desperate to make them see me. Finally, they do, and a metal claw extends slowly down, plucking us from the foliage and encasing us in steel. Holding the little boy's motionless form against my torso, I breathe a hesitant sigh of momentary reassurance.
Below us, the water begins to rise.
Electra
They missed, missed by a fraction of an inch. Uncle Beetee is safely hidden within the claw's teeth, but me? They missed.
His hands grasp both of mine with all the strength he possesses as the claw retracts slowly to the hovercraft, but we both know it won't be enough. Neither of us is sturdily built, and there's hardly an ounce of muscle on me. I've been a string bean my entire life and so has he. It won't be enough.
I think of my mother, his sister, buried deeply beneath the ground. He's told me countless times that I look like her. Is that what he sees now, as we dangle further and further into the sky? I can see the panic in his beady brown eyes as he struggles to keep a hold on me. But I'm slipping. I'm slipping and we both know it, at least somewhere inside, however deep it is.
My dad's face flits into view, and I think of how terrified he must be right now, watching me hang hundreds of feet above a tsunami. At least the wave has broken, I think bitterly. What was once one giant wall of seawater has now been reduced to an ocean, spreading out over the entire arena.
At least my death won't be painful. Taking one last look at Uncle Beetee, I struggle to say it, choking on the wind tossing us around. His fingers are sweaty and slipping, really slipping. "I love you." He doesn't have time to say it back, because it's then that I choose to let go, sucking in a giant breath of air.
The air smells ripe with death as I plummet, and somewhere I can distantly hear myself screaming. But I haven't the time to wallow in the misery of it all, because the water is rapidly gaining on me as I writhe in the air, and I slam into it. There's the loud snap of bones breaking as the ocean catches me with a concrete surface. Then, everything goes black.
And my cannon sounds before I can even begin to sink.
Clove
I can't breathe, but somehow I'm alive, plucked from the water with Cato at my side by a giant metal claw. He's entangled in a separate one, but we're both slowly making out way to a hovercraft overhead. We're going to live. We're going to be okay.
I think of Ginger and almost smile. Almost.
Cashmere
I never even saw it coming. One moment I was walking to the lighting tree, setting a steady but progressive pace, the next enveloped beneath a massive wave. It crested onto me and suddenly my lungs were being compressed, shrinking in on themselves. It was impossible to think, to swim, to even bother trying to live.
So I didn't. And within seconds I was gone.
Finnick
This wasn't the original plan, that's for sure. But, clutching tightly to the metal teeth of the claw I'm encased in, I know it will have to work. There's nothing we can do now except ride it how and hope desperately that something can be salvaged from all of this.
Killing Claudius was a bad move on Coin's part, for now Snow knows that war has been officially declared, but it did give them a chance to warn us about the tsunami, detonate the arena, and send hovercrafts in. I can only hope Prim is in one of them, safe and sound like she's supposed to be.
A loss like that would severely detriment the war effort, because without the Mockingjay alive there would be nothing left to rally the districts with. Sure, there's Rue, but it's just not the same. She wasn't the one that defied everything, killed Foxface to win the games, and made change happen for everyone.
That was Prim. And without Prim the whole cause will have gone to Hell. It's a detached way of thinking, but at this moment it's the best I can do. Prim is the beacon of hope for all those hoping to rebel against the Capital and seek a new, improved way of life.
She has to be there, has to show people that death is a chance you have to take when fighting for something you desperately need. That is she can defy the odds again and again: so can we.
Without her, everything is lost.
We need Primrose Everdeen.
Prim
There is nothing. No light. Just darkness. It's almost comforting. After a year of fighting for something I never really wanted in the first place, it's all over.
I can feel it radiating through my bones, all the relief I feel at giving up. The pain and heartache has all been abandoned, especially now that I've left behind the will to live.
I can only hope Rory has survived, improbable as it seems.
Still, more surprising things have happened. There really is only one variable left to figure out. If I'm dying, trapped beneath the massive tsunami, why am I still thinking clearly? Shouldn't my lungs be crushed, my thoughts cluttered, my head pounding?
Why, why, why do I feel so… okay?
I'm supposed to be dead. Aren't I?
A/N: This wasn't the best chapter ever, and for that I sincerely apologize. However, it is the last one. Well, almost. I will be posting the end of this story sometime in the next few days. I am unsure I when I will begin the next part, because I really need to take a break from this story. Thanks for all the support! Please review and give me your suggestions on what you think should happen!
-Knifethrower11