Chapter 38: Know Your Enemy

The alliance sets off before the tide from the 10 PM wave has even receded.

They have quite a hike to the lightning tree, and only just under two hours to get there and rig their trap, so the group covers ground via a mix of power-walking and light jogging. Annie paces herself, but expends enough energy so that she doesn't lag behind; Finnick is constantly looking out for her. I have to say, the poor girl has done quite well, making it into the Final Eight and getting quite the kill in herself.

It's nearing 10:45 when the band of six finally emerges into the clearing where a tree with a truly massive trunk awaits them. Beetee studies the thing up and down – it looks as healthy as any of the other trees you might find in the woods beyond District 12. The plant clearly can't be natural, not with the amount of plasma its been hit with and yet it still looks alive and flourishing.

"Minimal to no charring. It's an impressive conductor. Let's get started." The group fans out around the trunk as the aging scientist kneels down gingerly at the base; I hope his knife wound won't impede him from what he has to do.

The rigging of the trap pretty much involves Beetee calling out orders and delegating tasks to the other five. Annie and Katniss are assigned to wound the coil of wire around and around the trunk of the tree – several times, Beetee cautions them. The unspooling of wire around such a massive trunk quickly becomes too big a task for only two young women – even with their experience of braiding each other's hair, since I suppose the objective isn't too far off, as I think back to the first day of the Games – and Johanna quickly joins them. Finnick and Peeta, meanwhile, stand guard, flanking Beetee as he takes final measurements. The older man licks his one finger and holds it up to the wind, testing the air currents, then busies himself back down by the tree's roots.

I'm surprised the Gamemakers have held back as much as they have, even with many of their mutts and traps pre-set and timed to go off at a certain hour. Even with their more remote presence built into the arena (that was probably by Plutarch's design), I find myself wondering why they haven't interfered beyond calling a halt to the scrimmage at the Cornucopia by literally spinning the structure. Maybe it's because the audience has been given plenty of death so far – two-thirds of a field of former Victors gone in two days has to be some kind of Games record. And maybe the Gamemakers are curious to see if Beetee's plan will actually work. They didn't interfere with him rigging an electrical trap in his first Games. They didn't interfere with Emrys Avery constructing fireball catapults in his arena nearly half a century ago. Gamemakers do allow for tributes to be creative in their own ideas of murder – provided those ideas aren't too clever or rebellious, and I think back to Haymitch's stunt with the forcefield in this moment. While that case is unique as it didn't help make him Victor, I know the Capitol and the Gamemakers didn't like it.

The Mentors' Bar has close to emptied out. Sometime over the course of the day, Abram left to take Ben out to the shops. I hope if – when – the plan goes off (for I know this is it. Beetee's electrical trap is a cover for somehow deactivating the arena) the last District 9 Victors will find a way to book nondescript passage out of the city. Most of the other Victors who have lost both their tributes are also gone: Emrys. Chevy. Bovina. Mags and Halibut are still at my side, though. Both Jules and Connor are watching their tributes. Cotton Rivers from 8 has eyes on Cecelia. And all four Careers are still huddled together, trying to find some way to warn Brutus of the alliance's scheme – the District 1 mentors and Boudicca could have left, but with Lupus still being a relatively new mentor, they are probably trying to guide him.

Back onscreen, Beetee shakily stands, using the base of the tree to support himself, and I find myself worrying for him. Did anyone think to hold onto that parachute of ointment sponsors sent him earlier? Everything over the past day has happened so fast, I didn't think to look.

"OK. I think that does it." Beetee looks to the sky, where dark clouds are gathering. In the near distance, probably one wedge over, a weird chittering can now be heard. It's 11:00 PM. One hour to go. "We don't have much time." There is still plenty of coil remaining in the spool, which he now passes over to the three girls. "You ladies take this down to the beach. Unspool it very carefully. When you get to the water, dump whatever is left into a water wedge, then head for the tallest tree in the 1 to 2 o'clock sector; we'll meet you there."

Almost immediately, objections are raised.

"I want to go with them as a guard," Peeta insists, shifting nervously from foot to foot and eyeing my goddaughter.

"No, no, I need at least two of you to stay here and protect me," Beetee pushes back. "You and Finnick have been handling that quite nicely."

"Yeah, but do you really need three people to unwind that thing?" Finnick points out, also wary as his gaze fixates on Annie.

"It's heavy," Johanna reminds them. "It'll take two of us to carry it, and besides, a third person could stand guard as the other two go."

"Precisely," Beetee nods to Johanna, pleased.

Annie winces. "I'm not in favor of this," she mumbles, her green eyes pleading with Finnick to protest again.

Katniss likes the plan even less, her grey eyes constantly darting over to Peeta.

"Look:" Beetee is quickly running out of patience. "You all agreed to keep me alive until midnight, correct?" A heavy silence, which Johanna breaks.

"It's his plan; we all agreed to it. Should there really be a problem?"

"Excellent question." Beetee's bespectacled eyes search Katniss.

My goddaughter gulps and backs down. "No," she says quietly. "There's no problem."

Peeta looks pained. "Katniss…."

She steps forward and cuts him off with a soft kiss. Drawing away tenderly, she holds his eyes. "I'll see you at midnight." There is certainty in her voice, as she makes the vow.

"All right, let's go!" Johanna barks.

The District 7 mentor takes it upon herself to stand guard, running parallel to the other girls and letting Katniss and Annie do the heavy lifting. The pair do a good job of unspooling the thing, and make great time.

The trio is nearly at the beach when there is a rustle in the trees.

"Stop! Stop!" Johanna hisses to them, and the girls halt. "What was that?"

Caesar interjects with commentary. "I am as excited as the rest of us about this plan, folks, but it seems our lovely ladies are about to hit a little… snag."

Right as he says this, the taut line of wire suddenly slackens. The girls gasp and look up. When the camera angle changes, I see Brutus, now devoid of most of his tribute uniform, peeking up from over a mound of boulders further up the incline.

Annie turns away from the intimidating sight of the last Career Victor too late. She only just starts to scream when –

WHACK! The hilt of Johanna's axe clocks my goddaughter in the back of the head. Katniss howls with pain as she crumples to the ground and then Johanna is on her. Katniss screams again, higher-pitched this time, and under the jumble of limbs, I see a river of blood.

Annie bravely leaps on top of Johanna, beating on the other woman's back with her fists. "Stop it! Jo, stop it!"

Growling, Johanna throws her off. Katniss is trying to sit up, but Johanna shoves her back into the dirt, bending low over her ear. "Stay down!"

The hot mic barely picks up the whisper.

Annie has leapt back to her feet. Up above, a perplexed Brutus – sensing blood and weakness – is clambering over the boulders and making his way down to the girls. Johanna and Annie look at each other, and the former nods.

"Take care of Lard-Ass!" she orders cryptically. Squeaking, Annie nods. Then she turns and runs for her life. Brutus takes the bait, and with a roar, he gives chase, not even bothering to check and see how Katniss fares.

Glancing furtively about, Johanna bends over my goddaughter, nods once, then takes off into the jungle. Her one fist is clenched, though I can't tell why.

Back at the Lightning Tree, the other men hear Brutus's bellow. Several hundred yards away, a weak and starving Cecelia hears it too.

Peeta frowns. "What was that?"

Then, there's a scream – female. Finnick's face is now as translucent as the full moon.

"ANNIE!" He springs like a deer out of the clearing, yelling Annie's name.

Watching his ally run away, Peeta panics. "KATNISS!" He too, takes flight, leaving poor Beetee in the lurch and with no one to guard him.

Not two minutes later, Annie appears back in the clearing, panting and calling for Finnick.

"Finnick! Finn –" She stops, seeing Beetee. "Beetee, where's Finnick?"

The older man doesn't answer her, and Annie goes pale; it is starting to dawn on her what she has just done. She has led Brutus right to them.

Or so she thinks. Annie is so fast, and the trees so thick, that my old mentor quickly loses sight of her. He is wandering aimlessly through the midnight to one o'clock sector further south.

Back even farther below him, Katniss is just coming to. Her right arm is saturated with her own blood and she staggers to her feet woozily. But she's alive. I don't know for how much longer, though, if she loses much more blood.

"Peeta…." she is whispering his name like it is some kind of rosary. "Peeta…." Her voice quickly raises to a shout. "PEETA!"

"KATNISS? WHERE ARE YOU?!"

It's a male's voice, but it isn't Peeta's. Grey eyes bulging, Katniss sinks back to her knees and takes cover under an outcropping. Seconds later, coming to pause just feet above her, Finnick peers into the darkness.

"Katniss? Johanna? Annie?" He whispers the names of each of the girls, cracking with emotion on the last one. He turns and flees back into the gloom.

I quickly come to understand what my goddaughter is thinking, and if it weren't for what we are attempting to do, if these Games were going to end any other way, she would be right: she has viewed Johanna's attacking her as a betrayal. A sign that the alliance is breaking.

And if that's so (which it isn't), she can therefore no longer trust Finnick. I want to curse. This is why I should have given her at least a clue, that all was not as it seems. Leaving her and my son ignorant of the plan may have lended to some good, quality, suspenseful television (my nerves are absolutely shot), Plutarch may have his reasons, but frankly, those reasons suck. If we don't do something soon, we'll have no tributes left to save.

When the coast seems clear, Katniss crawls out from her hiding place, and actually manages a passable, clumsy jog back up the hill. Just as it must have been for Annie, the slackened coil of wire actually serves as a pathway to find her way back to the Lightning Tree. I am reminded of a story Danny told me once, about a brave warrior fighting a monster in a labyrinth; he used a spool of golden thread - a gift from a beautiful princess - to mark his path and then find his way back out. It is probably sheer dumb luck, therefore, that Brutus didn't think to look down at his feet as he tried to pursue the mad girl from Four; he had a literal path guiding him back to prey, and he still got lost. I fight the urge to snicker.

Any smirk I might have sported is quickly gone in the next second, though. Just as Katniss gets back to the Lightning Tree, she watches as Beetee attacks Annie. Annie yelps and tries to nudge him off her.

"Beetee, have you gone crazy?"

Several tables over, the Career mentors are howling with laughter, as they watch a 50-something man still weak from a stab wound and a madwoman try to fight to the death. They're a pretty even match, thank the State, and with pathetic results, as Annie is clearly reluctant to battle her own ally. This, despite the fact that Annie could kill Beetee if she really wanted to; she did, after all, manage to kill Enobaria. My goddaughter is staring at the sight, open-mouthed, but does nothing to break it up.

"Give them both a body bag! YEAHHHHH!" Luster Lancaster cackles like a wet-behind-the-ears Peacekeeper cadet. He sounds drunk.

This is when things start to get scary. Annie trips on a tree root and when Beetee looks like he's going to fall forward with her, she shoves him – harder than she intended to. Beetee goes flying backwards – right into the forcefield.

There's a CRACKLE sound for the third time since the Games started and Beetee's body bounces off, sprawling in the grass. Landing hard on her back, Annie stares, horrified at what she has just done.

"BEETEE!"

Oddly, though, no cannon sounds. Clearly thinking back to the similar accident with Peeta, Katniss drifts over and reaches out a hand. Palm to Beetee's neck, she fingers for a pulse. She must find one, and indeed, though it's slight, the camera clearly picks up the rise and fall of Beetee's chest. He's been knocked out.

Nearby, Finnick hears Annie screaming Beetee's name and follows the sound back into the clearing. He pulls up short when he sees the fiasco, Katniss still kneeling over their older friend.

"What did you do?" he cries, causing Katniss to glance up. Finnick looks over to Annie, who sniffles and gives a shake of her head.

My goddaughter is now busy studying the sharp, pointy stick that Beetee used to attack Annie. It has part of the coil wrapped around it.

That's when I realize it. How Beetee intended to do it. How the plan was going to go off. And I also realize: his entire attack was faked. It would have looked strange to the Gamemakers, if the alliance really was breaking, for Annie to come back to the Lightning Tree, find Beetee, and both of them just stand there.

As she studies the pointy stick, I can see the pieces are clicking into place for Katniss too. Finnick takes a few steps forward; hearing him approach, Katniss whirls around, the stick hefted over her head like a javelin. Finnick stops dead.

"Katniss…. I'm not your enemy. Know your enemy."

My goddaughter falters, hesitating. Finnick tries again.

"Remember who the real enemy is."

Katniss's eyes widen with deeper understanding. I nearly want to applaud Finnick. I wish I'd told her something like that. The storm clouds rumble overhead; the clock on my table reads a few minutes to midnight. Katniss shrugs her bow off her shoulders and bends over the pointy stick, setting to work.

"KATNISS!" Several miles downhill, Peeta is still galloping through the woods, screaming his lover's name. "Katniss! Kat…." He sways to a stop in one clearing, taking in the broad and muscular shoulders. The man's back is to him.

"Lost your little toy…. eh, Mellark?" Brutus turns slowly, the moonlight catching on his feral, excited sneer.

Peeta gulps, but drops into a defensive stance, machete poised and at the ready. "Brutus."

"I gotta say, you know how to game the system. Cheat your way to the Crown last year, and this time, bullshit your way into the Final Eight," Brutus chuckles, taking one step to the side. My son mirrors him, and they circle each other like wolves. "You've had a longer road then you ever deserved, kid, but it ends here." My old mentor takes one look up at the angry sky. "Hope you're watching, little darling."

"Leave my mother out of this!" Peeta snaps sharply.

Brutus blinks at this – evidently, he didn't think my son knew what the old pet name means – and Peeta just laughs. "Oh, yeah, I know all about you. My mom's told me stories." There is something very chilling, very ugly, about the sound of my son's mirth, and I don't like it at all. The arena is getting to him. I don't want Plutarch to have to save Brutus's worthless skin, but I also don't want him and Peeta to fight and risk my old mentor killing my baby boy. Katniss is working as fast as she can, but can she move faster than it will take for these two men who mean so much to me – for very different reasons – to come to blows?

Brutus seems to have been caught flat-footed that Peeta is aware of who he is to me. "What has she told you?"

"You mentored her. You were her friend… once." Brutus now halts in his circling completely. Seemingly encouraged, Peeta lowers his machete just a fraction. "Look: I'm sorry that you lost Cato…."

Brutus growls and makes a threatening move towards my son and Peeta leaps back, lifting his blade. "…. but everyone's lost people, too, to these Games."

"You haven't!" Brutus bellows at him. "You got your life and the girl, Mellark! And you didn't deserve it! What have you lost?!"

"My innocence," Peeta states simply. It's an answer so obvious, and yet so profound, it nearly takes my breath away. "Haven't we all, those of us who managed to become Victor? Don't you see, Brutus? Aside from a dinky little Crown and a glory that's all fake, what do we really win? Who really wins these Games? I'll tell you – it's not you, or me, it's them." And he points at the sky, towards the Gamemakers invisible. Maybe even points the finger at the Capitol itself. The bar is now so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. My son continues:

"Before the Games last year, I told Katniss something and I've tried to live by it ever since. You wanna know what I said?"

Brutus doesn't answer, doesn't move. Perhaps he really wants to know.

"I said I wanted to be more than just a piece in their Games. Because being made to kill in an arena? – it takes away everything you are." He points at my mentor. "You might think it gives you something, Brutus – a rush, a purpose…. but it doesn't. It really doesn't. There has to be something more than just killing people."

There is a long, pregnant pause. On the other miniscreen on my table, Katniss is stringing her bow, pointing it at the sky. Finnick bounds forward.

"Katniss, get away from that tree!"

Leveling his spear, Brutus jeers at my boy. "Nice speech, kid. But do you think anyone who matters heard it?"

"I did."

The answer comes unexpectedly. Behind the men, a dirty and wild Cecelia Rheys holds one of her chakrams aloft. "Peeta – run!"

Brutus roars and lunges for my son. Cecelia yells something and moves to intercept him. "NO!" Peeta throws out the word as he moves in too, to protect Cecelia.

There is a plasmic roar, which drowns out Katniss's scream as she fires her arrow – now cloaked in the coil of wire – to the heavens.

The lightning strikes the tree. Katniss, Finnick, Annie and a still unconscious Beetee are all thrown back several yards. Fifty paces west of them, Johanna hears the noise and sprints towards it – I hope she will make it in time to help….

The earth in the arena quakes, flinging Peeta, Brutus and Cecelia all apart before they can sink their weapons into each other.

Then all the screens go black.

Luster Lancaster is frantically clicking the remote. "What the fuck...? - Get it back! Get the Games back!" he hollers. Lupus and Song Nuo quickly swarm him, trying to help.

"We're trying…"

I don't have the heart to tell him: show's over. Game Over.

All at once, the door to the bar crashes in and white-plated Peacekeepers swarm inside, guns blazing as they open fire.

I yelp and duck under my table as the sound of bullets whizz and ricochet over my head. What a really nasty way to go… I just hope Plutarch can get as many out as he can….

"MAYSIE! It's falling! Let's go!" Connor Murphy is at my side, tugging me, pointing towards an open back door. We run for it in a crouch, Connor throwing his weight behind Jules Elmer's wheelchair and pushing it towards the exit. Reaching the door, I wrench it open and take cover behind it as Jules' chair picks up speed. The eldest Victor is protesting all the way.

"No, leave me, boy – leave me!"

Across the room, a Peacekeeper sees us attempting to escape and levels his gun. Glancing over his shoulder, Jules sees it.

"Connor, DUCK!"

Connor ducks his head down behind the chair, curling himself into a ball as he starts ramming the chair towards the open door, watching his back.

But the Peacekeeper doesn't shoot at Connor's back. He was aiming for his head, except the bullet now whizzes harmlessly over Connor….

…. And pierces Jules through the temple. The elderly man slumps forward, a strangely peaceful smile on his face.

"NO!" Connor and I both scream. I dive for Connor, grab him and launch us both through the open door. With me no longer there to prop it open, the door starts to swing closed on a timer, and we barely make it through before it shuts. I hear another dull thud from the other side as Jules and his chair topple into the closed door, serving as a kind of barricade. It might buy us some time, as will the other Victors, who I saw bravely engaging the Peacekeepers in battle as a last stand.

"Come on!" Connor seizes my wrist and pulls me along down the flight of stairs, into the bowels of the building. "I know where to go!"

We hit the ground floor and burst outside into an alleyway.

"Keep your head down!" Connor orders. We run in a crouch to the end of the alley and emerge onto a main thoroughfare just outside the Games Headquarters.

Pandemonium reigns. Capitolites are all around us screaming, staggering, loping like wounded animals and calling for help.

Connor guides us both through the mass of people before we duck into a sidestreet. Hand-in-hand, we sprint towards Snow-knows-what, until we finally reach a tucked-away landing platform. A hovercraft, the ramp down, its rotors spinning fast, awaits us.

At the end of the ramp, a familiar face is calling to us with encouragement, waving us towards him.

"Come on!" Proximo, my old trainer, beckons.

I nearly fall into his arms in relief, sobbing. "Peeta? Katniss? Where are Peeta and Katniss?!"

"Plutarch and the rescue craft have gone ahead; they'll be all right! Now we need to go!" Proximo hustles Connor and I up the ramp. Inside the belly of the plane, Proximo hollers to the pilot. "Let's blow this popsicle stand!"

"Wait!" Connor cries. "Cotton!"

Behind us, Cotton Rivers is crouched on the landing platform, watching as a squadron of Peacekeepers enters the sidestreet and rushes for us. "Go!" She hollers. "I got them!"

Connor blinks back tears, but affirms to the pilot to take off. We lift into the air just ahead of the white-plated guards bursting onto the landing platform, speeding away as their little guns attempt to shoot us down.

Just before the place disappears from my sight – hopefully forever – I watch as Cotton lets out a rebel yell, raises a fistful of explosives to the sky, and presses the button.

KABOOM.

The landing platform and everyone on it goes up in flames.


It takes us many hours to reach District 13.

When we land, in a nondescript wasteland covered with smoke and ash, we are spirited underground to the district's facilities, where they have been living in frugal (and apparently drab) comfort for decades.

I turn to the officer in charge – a dark-skinned woman named Paylor originally from District 8 (she led the rebel forces there), and demand to be taken to the hangar bay.

"I need to know if the craft captained by Plutarch Heavensbee has arrived yet. I need to know my kids are safe."

Paylor acquiesces, and saying goodbye to Proximo, Connor and I are taken down to the hangar bay.

It is controlled chaos when we arrive there.

Plutarch's balding head is bobbing on down the gangway of his hovercraft when we get there. Several District 13 medics wheel a gurney past him down the ramp, on which Beetee is hooked up to oxygen. Behind them, a weary Finnick staggers off the plane, cradling Annie in his arms. Shouts follow the District 4 couple, and several guards wielding tazers and stun guns surround a bellowing and restrained Brutus, subdued in electro-chains – Capitol technology, I note, impressed. Hovering just beyond the imprisoned Career, Cecelia Rheys is worrying her bottom lip. My old mentor's gaze locks onto mine, and he glowers with pure hatred at me. I scowl right back. He should be grateful Plutarch resolved to get as many tributes out alive as he could, no matter what side they were on.

Last of all come Johanna and Katniss. The girls are hand-in-hand, Johanna speaking unusually tenderly to my goddaughter, who has a tourniquet bandage running up almost the entire length of her right arm. When Katniss sees me, she starts forward as if she wants to throw her arms around me, but then stops. A look of betrayal comes over her face, and she turns sadly away, allowing a nurse to attend to her.

Johanna has no such reservations about sprinting for Connor and leaping into his arms, the two friends holding each other and breaking down sobbing once Connor tells her about Jules. Leaving them be, I race over to Plutarch, even while I keep my worried eyes on Katniss. If something is bothering her, Peeta will calm her down. He's probably about to be dismissed off the plane any moment; maybe the doctors are still bandaging him up.

"Plutarch!" I hug him. "You did it!"

He grins, tired by smugly triumphant. "We sure did!"

"Peeta's being looked after?"

Plutarch's smile dips noticeably, and he suddenly finds it a struggle to look me in the eye. My own smile dims, as I search his face. Hot, angry, red…. I don't know how to describe what is boiling up inside me. "Plutarch?" I press warningly.

He finally dares to look me in the face. "A Capitol craft swooped in before we could get him. He was the last one. Cecelia had come to before him, and she dragged Brutus away; he was still knocked out. I'm sorry."

I can hardly believe my ears. He is 7 out of 8… and the one Victor he failed to get was my own son, who is probably just as important to the rebellion as Katniss is. My goddaughter will go crazy with worry and grief when she finds out, if she doesn't know already. Plutarch took enough time to extract a traitorous Career, but he couldn't move fast enough to get my son.

A howl like none I have ever uttered bubbles up from me, and my hand flies out. And Plutarch is yelping, covering his face, now marred by scratch marks from my nails. I can hear Connor and Johanna yelling, their arms containing me and lifting me and carrying me away. I thrash and kick and scream, and pretty soon, my wild eyes take in Proximo, joining in the attempt to calm me down.

But I cannot be comforted. My son – my youngest son – is a prisoner of the Capitol.

And once Snow finds out what his mother did, I don't know if I will ever get my child back this time.