Chapter Nineteen – Finale

Tarky Ubodrown was strolling down a white-walled corridor of the Games Headquarters. He was carrying a screen with him, so he could keep an eye on the final showdown between the last four tributes on the rooftop of the last skyscraper.

In his wake, two Peacekeepers were frog-marching an elderly man that they had arrested in the mentors' hall. The man had a long grey beard and sported light-blue robes.

'In there, please,' Tarky told the Peacekeepers, indicating a door on the right. 'Keep the door locked. I'll be there shortly.'

The Peacekeepers obeyed and peeled off into the room, while Tarky continued to the Gamemakers' Room once more. He watched on his screen as Feral pushed Zoe straight off the tower and began fighting Metrus.

Tarky stepped into the Gamemakers Room, which was brimming with excitement. For them, forcing tributes to fight was never nearly as satisfying as watching them turn on each other unexpectedly.

'Keep Hamish alive,' boomed Tarky's commanding voice, and the room fell silent. 'This is serious, and if we play this wrong, President Snow will come down hard on us all.'

'What's wrong, boss?' asked one Gamemaker.

'Nothing that any of you will begin to understand,' spat Tarky. 'We need Hamish alive, so we can airlift him back here for questioning. Is that understood –?'

Tarky broke off. On screen, Hamish had emerged onto the rooftop, while Feral wrestled with Metrus, the pair of them moving closer and closer to the edge of the tower. One or two Gamemakers gabbled excitedly at the fight, and at the bravery of the District 12 tribute, but Tarky alone saw the significance of the narrow stick that Hamish was aiming at Feral.

Then Feral succeeded in tossing Metrus off the edge of the skyscraper and he plummeted into the crashed into the water as Zoe had done. One of the grinning Gamemakers triggered a cannon blast.

'Kill Feral,' Tarky bellowed. 'I don't care how. Kill Feral, then get Hamish out of there before it floods. NOW!'

Hamish's right arm was shaking as he pointed his wand at Feral. He had just watched this boy outmuscle a six-foot monster with his bare hands. Now Feral had spotted him, with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

'There you are, twelve,' Feral said casually. 'I was wondering where you'd got to.'

That sealed it for Hamish. His Imperius Curse had not worked, nor had it been necessary. Feral was already possessed: by himself.

'What are you doing?' Feral smirked, eying the wand in Hamish's hand. 'Going to poke my eyes out before you kill me?'

Feral gave a hollow laugh at his own joke. He looked quite mad.

'Would you rather I killed you, or the Gamemakers?' asked Hamish.

'The Gamemakers won't kill us,' said Feral dismissively. 'We're the last two standing, didn't you know? The whole point is that one of us finishes off the other.'

'They'll kill you if you try and kill me.'

'Why?'

'Because I've cheated,' Hamish told him. 'They'll want me to stay alive, so they can take me in for questioning, maybe torture me for good measure, and then edit all the replays to make it look as though I won fairly. So I'll ask again: would you rather be killed by me, or them?'

Feral hesitated, but then forced an evil grin. He started to move towards Hamish, who stood his ground.

'Nice try, twelve. You almost had me there. But –'

Just as Feral grabbed his shirt, Hamish gave a flick of his wand. With immediate effect, Feral was sent flying backwards and, with a yelp of shock and fear, disappeared over the edge of the rooftop.

At the same moment as the cannon boomed, a new sound emerged through the thunder and rain. That of an airship overhead, its whirring engines getting closer and closer.

Hamish had no energy left to escape, not even to through himself overboard, which was surely a better option than what he would soon be enduring in the Capitol.

So when the airship landed on the rain-washed rooftop, and the Peacekeepers surrounded him on all sides and took his wand, Hamish did not resist.