CHAPTER 27

PART I

"Mr. Mellark? Peeta? Can you open your eyes?"

The voice seemed to come from far away, and had an odd, echoing quality to it. I was suddenly aware that my head hurt. That was an understatement. My head was literally throbbing with agony, and it was all I could do to force my eyes open.

The first thing I saw was an incredibly bright light shining down into my eyes. I groaned and tried to raise my hands to shield my face from the glare, but I couldn't move them for some reason. After a moment, I gave up and turned away from the blinding light, snapping my eyes shut at the same time.

"I'm sorry," the voice said. Through my eyelids, I could sense the glare lessen considerably. "It should be okay now. I've dimmed the lights."

Cautiously, I turned my head towards the voice and slowly opened my eyes once more. A somewhat familiar face swam into view – a kind-faced older man, bald except for a fringe of white hair circling his head. I could make out a few tattoos on his bald scalp, as well as piercings in both ears, that marked him as a Capitol citizen. I squinted up at him and tried to speak, only to hear my voice sound like a very rusty gate hinge.

The man glanced past me. "Give Mr. Mellark a little water," he ordered, and a new figure appeared next to me a moment later, holding a water glass and straw. I could see that this person was a woman of indeterminate age, who, from her piercings, tattooing, and unnatural hair color must also be a Capitolite. The woman guided the straw to my lips, and I drank thirstily, only now realizing just how parched I was. The woman only allowed me a few swallows, however, and abruptly pulled the straw from my mouth, causing a little water to dribble from my lips and run out of the corner of my mouth.

"Mr. Mellark," the man said, "you probably don't remember me. My name is Wellgood. I'm a physician on staff here at Victor's Mercy Hospital. You've suffered a nasty concussion, a couple of broken ribs, and flash burns. Do you remember what happened?"

I blinked, and then gasped, as the memory of the exploding hovercraft flooded back into my brain. "Katniss?" I managed to croak. "Katniss Everdeen?"

"She's alive," Wellgood said.

Relief flooded through me at his words, and I tried to sit up, only to be overcome by a wave of nausea at my sudden movements. It was all I could do to turn my head before vomiting up the water that I just drank. Strong, firm hands pushed me back down, and the woman that had given me water immediately set to work to clean up the mess that I had just made. Once again, I tried to move my hands, and once again, I failed.

"We had to restrain your hands," Wellgood explained, somewhat apologetically. "You were in a near-coma for two days, and twice you tried to pull out your IV's." He smiled ruefully and rubbed a black-and-blue spot on his cheek. "You're quite a strong young man. Now, if you promise that you won't try to get out of bed again, I'll order the restraints removed. Deal?"

"I want to see Katniss," I muttered stubbornly.

"She's in Intensive Care," Wellgood explained. "Specifically, the Burn Unit. Mr. Mellark, she was burned rather badly. My associate, Dr. Nivosus, has been assigned as her physician. She's a burn specialist, so Miss Everdeen is getting the best care that she could possibly receive."

I stared up at Wellgood, trying to wrap my mind around his words. Victor's Mercy was arguably the best hospital in the Capitol and had the most advanced medical technology available. "She'll be okay, right?" I heard myself ask.

"We're doing everything that we possibly can," Wellgood replied after a moment's hesitation.

"I would like to see her." I tried to sound forceful, but in my weakened condition, it sounded more like a plea.

"Get some rest," Wellgood said before he turned to leave. As he reached the door he stopped, turned around, and addressed the woman that had given me water. "Nurse, when you have a free moment, remove Mr. Mellark's restraints." Wellgood then glanced over at me. "That's conditional," he said sternly. "If you don't listen to me, or any of the nurses or technicians, they go back on. Understand?"

I nodded. Wellgood paused, looked like he was about to say something else, and then abruptly left my room. The nurse silently removed my restraints. The only time she spoke was to ask me if I wanted more water, which of course I did. As I drank, I wondered why Wellgood was so reluctant to give me a straight answer to my earlier question about whether Katniss would be okay.

It was only later that I remembered that I didn't think to ask if Johanna, or any of the passengers and crew on the hovercraft, was okay – or even still alive.

I was still stewing about the information blackout on Katniss's condition when a visitor arrived to see me.

"Colonel Boggs," I said as District Thirteen's Acting President entered my room. "You look worse than I feel."

Boggs settled into a chair next to my bed. "How are they treating you, Peeta?" he asked softly.

Boggs really did look bad. There were bags under his eyes, and he looked drawn and haggard. "I'm okay," I replied. "That is, until I try to sit up too quickly. Then, the room spins until I lay back down. And don't even ask me if it hurts when I cough."

"I spoke to Dr. Wellgood earlier," Boggs said. "He said that you will probably be able to be discharged first thing in the morning."

"And what about Katniss?" I asked pointedly.

Boggs looked uncomfortable. "Colonel, no one's telling me anything here," I pressed. "I know she was burned in the crash. But that's it. Nothing else."

"It wasn't a simple crash," Boggs said. "The hovercraft was targeted. The hovercraft was deliberately shot down."

In my mind's eye, I could picture the scene perfectly – including the lavender-colored beam of light that struck the hovercraft. "It was an energy weapon," Boggs continued. "Hidden in a streetlight, of all places. Minister Blackstone and Praetor Antonius think that it was part of the network of traps that Snow – Coriolanus Snow, that is – ordered placed throughout the Capitol."

"I saw it hit," I muttered. "I saw it hit and I saw the hovercraft crash." I clenched my fists. "Who did it?" I asked angrily, tears welling up in my eyes. "Who did it?"

"We're working on that now," Boggs replied lamely. "Blackstone thinks that all these weapons – 'pods,' he called them – were to be controlled from Gamemaker Central, but he also assured me that Gamemaker Central has been under complete lock-down since his forces took control of the Capitol. No one has been allowed to enter, and Antonius assured me that his Peacekeepers cleared the building thoroughly."

"Not thoroughly enough," I muttered savagely.

"There's another possibility," Boggs said. "A slim one. The attack may not have been an attack at all. The system may have malfunctioned. A 'glitch,' Beetee would have called it." He shook his head. "I don't believe it for an instant."

"'May have malfunctioned?'" I echoed. "Have you asked Beetee?"

"Peeta," Boggs said slowly, after a moment's hesitation, "Beetee Latier is dead."

I gazed up at Boggs, stunned by this revelation. "Everyone on board the incoming hovercraft was killed," Boggs continued haltingly. "Beetee, Annie Cresta, Fulvia Cardew, Effie Trinket, and two of my finest Lieutenants – Jackson and Potter."

I felt numb. Gentle Beetee – dead. He was easily the smartest man I had ever met, yet he possessed a sense of humor that always managed to bring a smile to my face. Annie Cresta – she and Finnick had been through so much and had been the kindest person I had ever met. Fulvia – I know how much Plutarch had depended on her. Lieutenant Darius Potter – the first Peacekeeper to take up arms against the Capitol and fight for the Rebellion during the Reaping Day Uprising – killed when peace seemed finally at hand. Jackson – she and I had our differences, but I trusted her with my life. And Effie Trinket - who had, through Katniss and, to a lesser extent, me – finally learned to look at district people as people, instead of pieces to be played in the Hunger Games. I squeezed my eyes shut as the tears rolled unashamedly down my face.

"Are you sure?" I managed to choke out.

"There's – not much left," Boggs replied softly. "Eventually, we'll be able to identify individual remains through DNA analysis. They were all on the manifest that was transmitted just before they took off, though."

"How about –" I couldn't find the words to ask the obvious question. How about Finnick, and Plutarch, and Enobaria – and Haymitch? How are they all taking this?

Boggs understood me perfectly. "Not well," he replied simply.

"Anyone else?" I managed to whisper.

"Only one," Boggs said after a moment. "Johanna Mason."

Johanna. Despite our differences, she had become, aside from Katniss, the person in my life that I trusted the most – not to mention, my best friend. "She didn't deserve this," I muttered, half in grief, half in anger.

"No," Boggs said. "No, she didn't." I could see the pain in his eyes as he spoke. "None of them did. Not here. Not now." His voice took on a far-away quality as he continued. "She was tough, Peeta. A fighter. She held on to her life as long as she could."

"She survived the crash?" I asked softly

Boggs nodded somberly. "For a day." He paused for a moment. "It's probably better that she didn't survive. The doctors had to remove both of her legs and her right arm. Somehow, I don't think that she would have adjusted to prostheses as well as you did."

I recalled my early struggles with adapting to my new life with an artificial limb. "No," I said slowly, "she wouldn't have been able to adjust." I gazed up at Boggs. "Now, tell me about Katniss. Have you – seen her?"

Boggs didn't reply right away. "I need to know," I pleaded. "Please."

Boggs sighed heavily. "Yes," he admitted. "I've seen her."

"And?" I asked impatiently.

Boggs shook his head again. "Peeta, by rights she should be…like Johanna Mason. She coded twice – once at the scene, and once in the trauma center. It's a miracle that she's still alive."

I turned towards the window. It was a clear, sunny day outside. "So," I said bitterly, "she's lucky to be alive. Is that supposed to somehow comfort me?"

"I spoke with her doctor," Boggs said. "Dr. Nivosus has had a lot of experience in rehabilitating burn patients. She thinks – thinks, mind you – that they will be able to repair the damage done to her skin so that scarring will be minimal, or even virtually nonexistent."

"I want to see her," I said stubbornly.

"Peeta," Boggs said gently as he laid one large hand on my shoulder, "Katniss is covered head-to-toe in bandages. She's in isolation to minimize the chance of infection. And, she's in a medically-induced coma. If she were awake, she would be in so much pain from her burns and other injuries that she wouldn't even be aware that you were there."

I wanted to continue to argue to be allowed to see Katniss, but the communicuff that Boggs was wearing began to buzz insistently. Boggs glanced down at the incoming message, an annoyed look on his face. He read the message quickly and, as I watched, his look of annoyance was replaced by a somber expression. "I have to go," he murmured as he slowly rose to his feet. "Something has come up."

I was suddenly gripped with dread, certain that the message had been about Katniss. "What's wrong?" I managed to ask.

Boggs hesitated before replying. "It's Coriolanus Snow," he finally said. "He died. Ten minutes ago."

I stared up at Boggs in stunned silence. Coriolanus Snow had been personally responsible for more misery in Panem than any other man or woman, living or dead, ever had. The news of his death should have filled me with elation that such a monster was finally gone. Instead, I felt sorrow – not for him, but for his granddaughter, Andromeda. "Do you know if Meda was with him when he died?" I asked softly.

Boggs shook his head. "She's not here. After the hovercraft crash, I ordered all incoming flights grounded and rail transports halted in place until I was reasonably certain that there was no danger of any other attacks. Her train was stopped in District Five until just a few hours ago. It should be here sometime tonight."

I nodded and watched as Boggs turned and left without another word. Poor Meda, I said to myself. You never had a chance to say goodbye.

PART II

Praetor Antonius knocked twice on the open door and glanced into the small office, where a solitary man was examining a PADD. The man did not appear pleased at whatever was displayed on the PADD. "Excuse me, President Boggs," Antonius said when his knock was not acknowledged. "I was told that you wanted to see me?"

Boggs glanced up, nodded, and waved Antonius into the office. "I do indeed, Praetor. Please shut the door behind you."

Antonius shut the door carefully before he turned to face Boggs. "I'm sure that the staff here in the Palace would be able to find you a more – fitting – office," Antonius said as he gestured around the room. "I believe that this one was originally assigned to a senior member of the transportation staff."

"It's on the ground floor, near the main entrance," Boggs replied. "It serves its purpose." He gestured towards the single chair in front of his desk. "Besides, I didn't ask you to come here to discuss office assignments. Please, sit."

"How may I be of service to you, sir?" Antonius asked politely as he lowered himself into the chair.

"By giving Major Festuca and his troops access to Gamemaker Central," Boggs replied bluntly. "Imagine my surprise when he informed me that he was not allowed access by the Peacekeepers guarding the facility – after I had assigned him the task of searching the premises himself."

"Brigadier Valerius has been assigned that responsibility, President Boggs," Antonius replied. "He assured me that Gamemaker Central was one of the first facilities that had been secured following our coup."

"And what steps did Brigadier Valerius take to secure Gamemaker Central?" Boggs asked.

"The same as any other facility that fell under our control," Antonius replied, a trifle impatiently. "Peacekeepers conducted a thorough, top-to-bottom search, and then sealed the building. The doors were locked, and every entrance has been under twenty-four-hour guard."

"So, to the best of your knowledge, no one has been in or out of Gamemaker Central since the coup?" Boggs asked.

Antonius narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious of the questions that Boggs was asking. "To the best of my knowledge, no one has been in or out of Gamemaker Central," he replied carefully.

"Praetor, it's almost certain that our hovercraft was deliberately targeted," Boggs said. "The only facility capable of such control is Gamemaker Central." Boggs passed the PADD across the desk to Antonius. "Please read this report."

Antonius took the PADD and began to read. As he did so, his face paled slightly, and his jaw clenched in anger. After a few minutes, he glanced up and spoke. "Where did you obtain this information?" he asked softly, as he handed the PADD back to Boggs.

"Plutarch Heavensbee," Boggs replied, as he took the PADD and set it on the desk. "He's quite distraught over Fulvia Cardew's death, as you can well imagine, so I didn't ask him to give his report to me personally. However, he was quite detailed as to the existence and location of the secret entrance to Gamemaker Central."

"President Boggs," Antonius said formally, "On behalf of Minister Blackstone, I wish to apologize. I will see to it that every Peacekeeper, guarding every facility in the Capitol, is given instruction to cooperate fully with your occupation forces."

"Gamemaker Central will do for now, Praetor," Boggs said dryly.

"Of course," Antonius said, and then added, "I assume that your people have already tried this secret entrance?"

Boggs sighed heavily. "Yes. It was locked, and, considering that three minutes ago you didn't even know it existed, I doubt if your Peacekeepers have an extra key."

Antonius stood. "If there's nothing else, President Boggs, I will personally see to it that your soldiers – and my Peacekeepers – immediately conduct another complete search of Gamemaker Central."

"I will inform Major Festuca," Boggs said. Antonius nodded and turned to leave. "Praetor?" Boggs added suddenly. "There were only two people that had knowledge of this secret entrance. Plutarch Heavensbee, in his capacity as Deputy Head Gamemaker – and Seneca Crane."

Antonius nodded tightly. "We'll find him, sir," he promised.

"I'm sure you will, Praetor," Boggs said. "Just remember, please try to capture him alive. We would like him to stand trial."

"I'll do my best," Antonius replied, and, without another word, left the office.

Less than two hours later, both Praetor Antonius and Major Festuca were standing in front of President Boggs. Also present was Plutarch Heavensbee, looking haggard, determined – and angry.

Boggs looked up from Festuca's hastily scribbled after-action report. "Well," he said irritably, "I guess this confirms that Seneca Crane is holed up in Gamemaker Central."

"We had a techie with us from District Three, Colonel," Festuca explained. "She thinks that there's a set of secondary locks at Gamemaker Central. Locks that can only be controlled from the inside."

"Magnetic locks," Plutarch Heavensbee said. "They were installed as secondary security before the Third Quarter Quell." He turned to Boggs. "I apologize, Mr. President. I should have remembered them sooner."

"Apologies are unnecessary, Mr. Heavensbee," Boggs said. "We all understand that you've got other things on your mind right now."

"You don't understand," Heavensbee continued. "If Seneca is in there – and I believe that he is - he's now aware that we're trying to breach Gamemaker Central. If he's the one responsible for the attack on the hovercraft –" Heavensbee's voice caught slightly at the mention of the hovercraft "- then there's no telling what he may do next. If he re-activates all of the remaining pods…"

Boggs nodded. "Praetor," he said, turned towards Antonius, "how were the pods to be triggered?"

"To the best of my knowledge," Antonius replied, "the pods could be command-activated, such as what apparently happened to your hovercraft – but they were designed to be triggered through motion sensors. The thought at the time was that if President Snow – Marcellus Snow, that is – declared a unilateral, twenty-four-hour-a-day curfew, then the only people at risk from the pod traps would be Rebel forces. This would result in casualties and confusion among the Rebels, while the Capitol citizens would be comparatively safe – if they didn't break curfew."

Boggs nodded thoughtfully, and then pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Sergeant Leeg," he said when his orderly answered, "please have General Beck and Commander Pullman join me. And Minister Blackstone, as well."

"Right away, sir," Leeg replied crisply.

"What are you thinkin', Colonel?" Festuca asked.

"I have an idea," Boggs said. He then turned towards Plutarch. "Mr. Heavensbee," he began, and then hesitated. "Plutarch. You don't need to be here. I understand if –"

"I'll stay," Plutarch stated flatly. "I want that son-of-a-bitch."

"Very well, then," Boggs said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards just a bit. "Your advice is welcome."

At that moment, the intercom buzzed. "Sir," Leeg's voice announced crisply, "they're here."

"Send them in," Boggs ordered. A moment later, the door opened, and General Beck, Commander Pullman, and Minister Blackstone entered the small office.

Boggs began to speak as soon as the door shut behind the trio. "We've all but confirmed that the attack on our hovercraft originated from Gamemaker Central," he said. "We have reason to believe that Seneca Crane, the former Head Gamemaker, is occupying Gamemaker Central and has effectively sealed himself in. If that's true, Crane now controls hundreds of pods – booby-traps that were placed throughout the Capitol at President Snow's orders."

"Murderous bastard," Beck muttered.

Boggs ignored General Beck. "I have an idea. We cut power and render the pods inoperable."

Plutarch shook his head. "No good. Gamemaker Central has its own internal power supply. If the grid loses power, by accident or design, the back-ups kick in automatically and are capable of powering the entire facility at full capacity for two days."

"Then we bomb the building into rubble," Beck said savagely.

Plutarch turned towards Beck. "General, Gamemaker Central is hardened, and the main control facilities are underground. Bombs would have little effect."

"I propose something different," Boggs explained. "The pods all require power – electricity – to operate. So, we cut power – to the Capitol. If Crane has access to the pod controls, they will be useless without power."

Commander Pullman nodded. "It just might work," she murmured.

"What about vital public services?" Blackstone asked. "Hospitals, emergency medical services, food distribution centers? They all need power. And then there's a good chance that the Loyalists will use such a blackout to resume their exodus from the Capitol once again."

"Fuck them," Beck growled. "Let 'em starve, freeze, or bleed to death for all I care. And no one will make a run for out-of-town if they know that they'll be shot on sight!"

"Nobody is shooting anyone," Boggs declared firmly, as he cast a withering glance at Beck. "General, what we don't need are a million pissed-off Capitolites wanting revenge against the Rebellion because we let someone's mother die from lack of medical attention."

"It won't come to that," Antonius said. "Hospitals and vital government services have their own power generation equipment for use in emergencies. Gamemaker Central is not the only facility with such capability."

"Fine," Beck said impatiently. "We cut the power, so these pods are useless. That still leaves the problem of Seneca Crane holed up in Gamemaker Central for at least two more days. What are you suggesting, Boggs? That we just wait him out?"

"That's no good," Plutarch said. "There's other assets that Seneca could utilize. Deadly assets."

Blackstone's face drained of color as Plutarch Heavensbee's words sunk in. "Mutts," he muttered.

"Exactly," Plutarch replied grimly. "Gamemakers have their own geneticists, who are always busy creating new and lethal terrors for each Hunger Games. The worst of these nightmares are secured in a special holding facility in Gamemaker Central itself. It would be a simple matter for Seneca Crane to release these monstrosities from the safety of the main control room onto the Capitol at large."

"What, exactly, would we be up against?" Commander Pullman asked softly.

"Remember the wolf-mutts from Katniss's Games?" Plutarch asked. "Or the snake-mutt from Peeta's Quarter Quell? Those are just two examples of what could be released into the Capitol streets by Seneca Crane."

"There's a new mutt," Antonius murmured. "One that Marcellus Snow was going to use for Minister Blackstone's televised execution. It – it defies description. Suffice to say that a single example of this new mutt could, without a doubt, kill dozens before we were able to stop it. And there's no telling how many were constructed."

"Plutarch, do you think that Seneca Crane would release these mutts onto the Capitol?" Boggs asked.

"Without a second thought," Plutarch replied firmly.

"What if we wait him out?" Pullman asked. "Declare a city-wide shelter-in-place curfew? He would release these mutts into streets patrolled by well-armed Rebel troops, and non-combatants would be safe from –"

"Seneca Crane is not Head Gamemaker for nothing, Commander," Plutarch interrupted. "He knows how to program mutts. If he programmed them to avoid contact with armed troops and to stay off the streets, well, then, they would invade any available structures – including homes and apartment complexes. And they would not even be slowed down by locked doors."

"You make it sound like we don't have a lot of options, Heavensbee," General Beck grumbled.

"We have exactly one option, General," Plutarch stated firmly. "The emergency power supply for Gamemaker Central must be taken offline at the same time that the power grids to the Capitol are shut down."

"What good will that do?" Boggs asked. "He'll still be in Gamemaker Central."

"If he loses power, he'll know that we're on to him," Plutarch explained. "That means, he'll have two days to program the mutts any way he chooses before releasing those mutts on the Capitol. But, if he loses both primary and back-up power at the same time, or nearly so –"

"He won't have time to react," Boggs finished thoughtfully. "And he won't have control of the mutts."

"Exactly," Plutarch said with a nod. "There's only one problem. As near as I can recall, the back-up power supply for Gamemaker Central is only accessible by a maintenance corridor inside the building itself."

"And we can't get inside the building," Beck said in disgust. "Some plan!"

"There's a way to get to maintenance from outside the building," Plutarch said. "Through the building's air conditioning system. Once inside, your soldiers would use the air conditioning ducts to navigate to the maintenance corridor. From there, it should be a simple matter to find and disable the emergency generator."

Boggs sighed. "Okay. This sounds like our only option." He turned to face Minister Blackstone. "We'll need detailed schematics of Gamemaker Central, Minister."

"You'll have them," Blackstone replied firmly.

"Until then," Boggs said, "we very quietly issue a city-wide shelter-in-place curfew, on the chance that Crane decides to re-activate the pods." Once the murmurs of assent subsided, Boggs added, "Okay. Let's get to work."

It was only after everyone had left that Boggs realized that General Lucius Beck had not tried to argue with his order. If the situation wasn't so immediately urgent, Boggs would have probably allowed himself a smile of satisfaction.

That would have to wait.

PART III

I gazed through the window at the bandage-wrapped figure that laid, supine, on a hospital bed. Tubes seemed to be stuck into every appendage – arms, legs, even the groin. Most were attached to bags or bottles hung over the bed – except for the one snaking from the groin. That one led to a bag suspended under the bed and was half-filled with a yellowish liquid. There was not one centimeter of exposed skin anywhere, but I knew exactly who occupied that hospital bed.

Katniss Everdeen.

I pressed my fingers against the glass. It was the closest that I could get to her. In my mind, I replayed our last conversation over and over. I had asked Katniss to marry me, and she had said yes. The emotions that I was feeling at that moment were almost too much to bear, and I had to fight to keep them from surfacing. Will I ever be able to touch you again? I said to myself. Will I even be able to talk to you again?

I became aware of soft footsteps approaching me from behind, but I didn't take my attention away from Katniss. "I don't care who you are," I muttered, "but I'm not leaving."

"I'm not asking you to," a feminine voice replied gently. Surprised, I glanced to my left, where the voice had come from. The unnatural hair color, along with the piercings and tattooing, marked this woman as a Capitolite. Her white coat identified her as someone affiliated with Victor's Mercy Medical Center, and she looked vaguely familiar.

"You probably don't remember me," she said as I turned my attention back to Katniss. "My name is Nivosus. I'm a doctor on staff here."

I did remember her. Along with Dr. Wellgood, they had been my doctors following my victory in the Third Quarter Quell. I remembered that Wellgood had mentioned a Dr. Nivosus as being Katniss's primary physician. "I do remember," I heard myself say.

"It was after the Third Quarter Quell," Nivosus said. "I must say, you were a mess. I'm happy to see that you recovered from that – and from your other, more recent, injuries."

"I'll be okay," I muttered impatiently. "What about her?" I asked as I gestured towards the bandage-wrapped figure on the hospital bed. "Why is she in a plastic tent?"

"Oxygen therapy," Nivosus explained. "She's in a pure oxygen environment. It aids the healing process."

"And is she?" I asked. "Healing, I mean?"

Nivosus hesitated for a moment before replying. "Peeta," she said slowly, "we're doing the best that we can. But, you must understand, that her injuries were extensive. Certain therapies that we would normally use are not effective in her case. So, we must rely on other, slower methods."

I turned towards Nivosus as her words sunk home. "Does that mean –" I began.

Nivosus shook her head emphatically. "No. Katniss has a long road ahead of her, but she will recover – physically, anyway. Eventually, you won't even be able to tell that she was ever burned. What she'll need help with is her mental recovery."

"What are you saying?" I asked. "Katniss survived the Hunger Games. She survived a war, Doctor! She has nightmares just about every night, the same as me. Are you saying that this will make her worse?"

"Possibly," Nivosus replied. "No, make that probably. On the outside, Katniss won't have a single mark, not so much as a single scar. Her hair will grow back." Nivosus smiled slightly. "She'll even be able to wear her famous braid. But inside – Peeta, she will need a lot of patience and support. People with her kind of injuries – they struggle with self-image, self-esteem. And you need to be on hand to give that to her."

I stared at Katniss through the glass. "I'll do anything for her," I whispered.

Nivosus patted my arm. "I thought you might say that. She's a lucky girl to have you."

I'm the lucky one, I said to myself as I gazed at Katniss's bandaged body.

PART IV

Seneca Crane stared angrily at the bank of holographic displays. Each pod was accompanied by a holographic camera, and each camera broadcast the same scene – empty streets, without so much as a stray dog to break up the monotony. As Seneca viewed each scene, he was forced to admit to himself that he may have miscalculated. He had fully expected the streets to be flooded with Rebel scum following the destruction of the inbound hovercraft. Instead, his actions seemed to have had the opposite effect. The streets were virtually empty.

Seneca ran his fingers lightly over the pod controls. He had no illusions about his future, and fully expected to die soon. Dammit! He so very much wanted – no, needed – to make the Rebel scum and their traitorous collaborators pay. The hovercraft was a decent down payment, but he wanted so much more. He wanted to see - and feel - their fear when they activated a pod trap and knew that their demise was only seconds away. And even that satisfaction was being denied him.

However, Seneca was an intelligent man, and more than capable of thinking "outside the box." As Head Gamemaker he had, on many occasions during the four Hunger Games that he had orchestrated, been required to devise on-the-spot solutions to unforeseen circumstances. Well, the Rebels weren't acting the way that he had predicted, which qualified as an "unforeseen circumstance." Pods all over the Capitol lay dormant, unpowered and unused – useless without victims coming close enough to trigger them. What Seneca needed was something mobile – something that he could control and direct. Seneca smiled unpleasantly as the solution burst into his brain.

He turned away from the pod controls and turned his attention to another part of the console. If the Rebels and their traitorous comrades won't go within range of the pods, then I'll just have to send terror into their very laps, he said to himself. He tapped a control and the holographic image of a clawed, fanged terror materialized over the schematic of the Capitol. He smiled again and began to enter a new set of commands into the mutt's control unit. You won't come to me, he thought, so I'll just have to come to you.

Seneca Crane couldn't wait to make his enemies pay.

PART V

Effie Trinket was alive.

There had been a last-minute change in travel plans. When Effie had discovered that Andromeda Snow and Sperantia Blackstone were traveling to the Capitol without benefit of a suitable chaperone, she had taken it upon her own authority to change her travel arrangements. She had been confident that the Rebel delegation would be advised of the change of itinerary and be provided with a revised passenger manifest.

No one was sure why we hadn't been informed that Effie had been on the train instead of the hovercraft – but the point was moot. Her unexpected presence on the train had been the first real piece of good news in days. And Haymitch, of course, was ecstatic. I happened to have been with him when he got the news, and I can say with certainty that was the first time I had ever seen Haymitch Abernathy cry.

Of course, not everyone on that train was happy. Andromeda Snow had to deal with having a father in custody and under heavy guard, and a deceased grandfather that she never got the opportunity to say goodbye to.

I went searching for Andromeda as soon as I heard that the train had arrived, but I discovered that she, along with Sperantia Blackstone, Effie, and the others, had been taken immediately from the train station to "undisclosed locations" – for security reasons.

That may have stopped a typical District Thirteen soldier from digging any further. It wouldn't stop me. Andromeda Snow was my friend, and I figured that she would need a lot of support. So, I started my search in the only logical place – the Presidential Palace.

I didn't find Andromeda there, and Boggs wasn't available. What I did find was Major Silenus Festuca.

My running into Festuca was completely accidental. He was hurrying through the Palace, obviously preoccupied with something. I passed him in a hallway, outside the office that Boggs was using, after I had been brushed off by one of the Leeg sisters. He was carrying a long cardboard tube and brushed by me without even a glance in my direction.

What the hell, I thought. It's worth a try. "Major?" I called out after Festuca hurried past me.

Festuca stopped and turned, an annoyed look on his face that disappeared when he saw me. "Young Mellark," he said with a crooked smile. "Peeta! When did they kick you outta your sick bed?"

"This morning," I replied. "I heard that the train from Nine has arrived. Do you know where they took the passengers?"

Festuca shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "I ain't got a clue. Helluva thing, though, Effie Trinket bein' on that train. I heard Abernathy got pretty emotional."

"He did," I confirmed. "I was with him when he got the news."

Festuca's communicuff chimed, and he glanced at it quickly. "Listen, I've got somethin' goin' on right now," he said apologetically. "I'm meetin' with Heavensbee and a Peacekeeper Brigadier. It's – hell, boy, you ain't no Loyalist spy. It's about Seneca Crane."

My eyes narrowed at the mention of Crane's name. "What about him?" I asked tightly.

Festuca tapped the cardboard tube. "We're gonna root him outta Gamemaker Central."

"I want to help," I said flatly. When Festuca hesitated, I added, "Goat Man, please. I feel useless. Katniss is…"

My voice trailed off. Festuca gazed at me thoughtfully. "Ain't no one's called me 'Goat Man' in – well, a long time," he murmured. Then, he added firmly, "You know anything about mutts?"

The question surprised me, but I replied smoothly, "Yeah. I've seen a couple – up close."

Festuca gestured for me to follow him. "Come on. You've just been appointed 'special consultant.'"

As I hurried after Festuca, I couldn't help but wonder what mutts have to do with catching Seneca Crane.

PART VI

"Brigadier Valerius," Festuca said formally, "this is Peeta Mellark."

I shook hands with a senior Peacekeeper officer. His uniform was ornate, and he carried himself with the same confidence that I've seen come from Boggs. This man was a professional soldier, and, until recently, an enemy.

"Peeta Mellark," Valerius said as he gripped my hand. "The Victor. It's a pleasure to meet you at last. You made me a tidy sum after the Third Quarter Quell."

"What Brigadier Valerius means, Peeta," Plutarch Heavensbee chimed in dryly, "is that he bet on you."

"I figured," I replied coldly. "I hope I was able to keep you entertained, Brigadier."

The tension in the room rose noticeably, and Festuca moved quickly, stepping between Valerius and me. "You already know Plutarch," Festuca said hastily.

"I meant no offense," Valerius said sincerely. "I was impressed by your toughness."

Valerius didn't strike me as a man that would offer false flattery. He was a career Peacekeeper – a soldier, like Boggs. I sensed in him a very Boggs-like no-nonsense attitude. I realized that Valerius was telling me the truth – he bet on me because he had been impressed by me, and not because it was the "Capitol" thing to do.

Festuca glanced at us both and visibly relaxed. "All right," he said, "Let's get to work." Festuca opened his cardboard tube and glanced at me. I wondered if was having second thoughts about bringing me along. "These are the original blueprints for Gamemaker Central."

"Aren't these available on computer?" Valerius asked.

"They are," Plutarch admitted, as he spread the blueprints out on a large conference table. "But searching computers for information is traceable. This may be old-fashioned, but these blueprints were stored in the Palace archives – and no one will know that we're even examining them – including Seneca, if he was monitoring the digital archives."

"Could he do that from Gamemaker Central?" Valerius asked.

"Possibly," Plutarch said. "The computers there are very powerful and sophisticated. It's best that we don't take the chance."

"Excuse me," I said softly. "Exactly what kind of plan are you working on?"

Festuca and Plutarch quickly brought me up-to-speed on what they intended to do. While they talked, I examined the blueprints. I had no idea what, exactly, I was looking for, but at least it gave the appearance that I was following along. When they finished talking, I had only two questions for them. "Who is doing this, and why aren't they here right now?"

At that moment, the door opened, and Boggs walked in. He hesitated for just a moment when he saw me and shot a questioning look at Festuca. "He knows mutts," Festuca said with a shrug. "I thought he may be useful."

It was obvious that Boggs didn't buy this explanation, but he didn't object to my presence. Instead, he turned towards me. "Welcome to Operation Blackout," he said. "And, to answer your questions, Major Zander should, at this very moment, be rappelling down to the roof of Gamemaker Central. She will be conducting the raid, and there simply wasn't enough time to allow her to study the schematics in-depth. Plutarch will guide her to where she needs to go."

I glanced over at Plutarch, who was talking quietly into a communicuff. As he spoke, he flashed a quick thumbs-up. "Zander's on the roof."

"You do know how to read these blueprints, right?" Boggs asked.

Plutarch looked irritated. "Of course," he muttered. He reached over and pushed a button on a nearby metallic box, and the soft hiss of static emanated from a grill on the front of the box. "Zander, do you copy?" he asked as he spoke into the communicuff.

"Roger."

"There's an access panel located near the southwest corner of the roof. It's located behind three ventilation ducts," Plutarch said.

"Stand by."

As we waited, I turned towards Boggs with a question. "Why did you send Zander?"

"She's well trained with the use of weapons, explosives, and hand-to-hand combat," Boggs explained. "Plus, she's small enough to work her way through the air conditioning ducts."

I nodded. Zander was only slightly larger than Katniss – and that brought a sharp pang deep down inside. We'll get him, Katniss, I said to myself.

"Okay," Zander's voice said. "I'm at the panel."

"It's secured by four wing-nuts," Plutarch said. "Once you remove them, the panel will lift right off."

"Copy," Zander said. A moment later, she added, "it's off."

Plutarch exhaled audibly. "All right," he said. "Once you're in the duct, there will be filters to your left and right. Before you enter the duct, make sure that those three vent ducts are directly behind you, otherwise you'll get disoriented. You'll be removing the filter to your left. It's held in place by some metal clips. Let me know when you've removed the filter."

"Copy." Two minutes passed before we heard her voice again. "Filter is off." Zander paused. "Looks like a tight fit, even for me."

"Proceed down the duct until you reach a spot where that duct intersects with another," Plutarch said softly, ignoring her last comment. "Once there, you'll want to turn right. Follow that duct past three access panels. When you reach the fourth panel, stop and let me know."

"Copy."

I glanced over at Plutarch. "What happens at that fourth panel?" I asked.

"That panel is directly over the maintenance corridor," Plutarch replied. "Once Zander removes it, she can drop down into the corridor. From there, the generator room is just a minute or so away."

"And then she blows the generator?" I asked.

"Once there, she places the charges, and waits," Boggs said. "We have to time the demolition of the generator with us cutting the power to the rest of the Capitol." Boggs looked over at Valerius. "Are the power workers ready?"

I could now see that Valerius was wearing his own communicuff. He glanced once at the commicuff display and nodded. "They're ready to cut every grid in the city on my command."

Boggs turned back towards me. "Once we cut external power, Zander will activate the timer on the charges. The generators will kick in automatically, according to Plutarch –" Plutarch looked up from his commicuff and nodded once "- and the timers are on a ten-second delay. Zander will start the timer, exit the generator room, and will get as far away as possible before the charges blow."

"Will ten seconds be enough?" I asked.

Boggs looked grim. "It'll have to be. We don't want Seneca Crane to have enough time to recover from the unexpected power hiccup to release any mutts."

"What if Zander can't get far enough away?" I didn't care for Major Zander personally, but I respected her. She was a tough, courageous soldier.

"Peeta, the charges aren't very large, and the door and walls of the generator room will absorb much of the blast," Boggs explained. "There's a risk, but we've minimized it as much as possible."

At that moment, the radio crackled. "I'm at the panel," Zander announced.

Plutarch looked at Boggs, who nodded. "Let's do it."

As Plutarch directed Zander, Boggs directed his attention to me. "If a mutt escapes, what can we expect?"

I could see Evie Applewhite, the twelve-year-old Tribute from District Nine, in my mind's eye, being crushed to death by the mutt-snake during the Quarter Quell, and I said one word.

"Death."

Seneca Crane awoke with a jerk from his fitful sleep. He had barely slept since taking refuge in Gamemaker Central, and then only in short naps at his console. He groaned, rubbed his face with his hands, and swallowed some water before he turned his attention to his console once more.

The streets of the Capitol were still quiet and almost entirely deserted. Seneca smiled grimly. Let them cower in their buildings, he said to himself. My mutts will root you out no matter where you hide. Seneca switched the view to the cameras covering the exits of Gamemaker Central and smiled again at the Rebel soldiers poised outside each portal. You wouldn't be so eager to enter if you knew what will be waiting for you on the other side of those very doors, he thought.

Re-programming the mutts took time, but, to Seneca, it was time well spent. Now, all that remained was to disengage the mechanical and magnetic locks on the mutt cages. Seneca wanted to channel the mutts through the same secret entrance that he used to gain access to Gamemaker Central. Only Seneca could unlock this entrance, so the Rebels on guard there could only keep this portal under surveillance. Timing would be critical if Seneca was to succeed. He had to first unlock the mechanical locks on the mutt cages before retreating to the security of his control console, where he would then disengage the magnetic locks. The mutts would then follow the path of least resistance to Seneca's secret entrance. Seneca would time the unlocking of that entrance with the arrival of the mutts. He wanted to give the Rebel scum no time to react to the sudden appearance of Seneca's re-programmed mutts.

The first step in unlocking the mutt cages required the physical insertion of a key into each cage lock, and Seneca was the only one available to perform that task. He hurried out of the command center and headed for the area of Gamemaker Central known as "The Zoo" – the area where the mutts were kept caged. On the way, he checked three times to ensure that he had brought the cage keys with him. He was exhausted and not thinking very clearly and didn't want to waste time backtracking to the command center for something as avoidable as forgotten keys.

The Zoo was located on a single wide corridor, unremarkable except for the heavy steel doors spaced at regular intervals down its length. Seneca Crane paused before the first door and examined the softly glowing panel set in its middle. On the panel were two numbers: 76-1. Mutt number one for the Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games. Seneca didn't hesitate. He took a deep breath and carefully inserted the key into the lock.

"The charge is set," Zander's voice announced.

Boggs glanced at Plutarch, who nodded, and Valerius, who gave a quick thumbs-up. "Let's do it," he said tersely.

"On my mark, set the timer, Zander," Plutarch said. "Three…two…one…mark."

"Kill the power," Valerius barked into his communicuff as soon as Plutarch said "mark."

In the Palace, the lights flickered once and then died. The only illumination that we now had was courtesy of two battery-operated lanterns. I heard Plutarch say, "Roger" into his communicuff, and realized that Zander must have set the timer on the charges. I was surprised that the Palace didn't have its own internal power generation. I guess that it wasn't considered to be a "vital public building" – or else Snow had been so confident that the power would never be interrupted here that he didn't consider an emergency power source to be necessary.

"Now what?" I asked.

"We wait for Zander's all-clear," Plutarch replied. "We'll force entry into Gamemaker Central once we know –"

"Detonation." The single word crackling over the speaker silenced Plutarch.

He didn't stay silent for long. "Status report."

"I'm okay," Zander said, a bit breathlessly. "Going to night-vision and starting my sweep."

"Copy," Plutarch said. "Proceed to the end of the corridor. You'll find a doorway marked 'Stairway B.' You'll be descending to the Command Level. Report back once you're there."

"Aren't any of these doors locked?" I asked in surprise.

Plutarch shook his head. "No need. Gamemaker Central is a secure facility. Only sensitive areas are under lock and key."

Festuca chimed in. "Our forces report that the magnetic locks on the doors have disengaged. We can enter anytime."

Boggs nodded. "Once Zander gives us the all-clear. Then –"

"Zander here." We all glanced at the speaker. Zander couldn't possibly have reached the Command Level yet.

"Go ahead," Plutarch said.

"I hear something," Zander said, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

"What do you hear?" Plutarch asked.

A long pause followed by a single word. "Screaming."

Seneca Crane had just unlocked the first mutt cage when the overhead lights flickered, and then steadied. At the end of the corridor, the emergency lights glowed, and Seneca smiled slightly. The Rebels cut the power, he said to himself. No matter. The back-ups seem to be working perfectly. Seneca hurried to the next cage. Idiots. This facility can operate at full power on our back-ups for two days. Plenty of time for me to –

At that moment, there was a muffled thump that seemed to come from above. The lights flickered again and then suddenly winked out, leaving only the emergency light to illuminate The Zoo. Seneca froze, the key already inside the second lock, and heard the unmistakable sound of the magnetic locks unlocking each cage in the corridor. Fear gripped his insides and he cast a panicked look back at the cage door marked "76-1," before yanking the key free from the second door.

Key in hand, Seneca spun around in time to see the cage door slowly swing open, and could, for the first time, hear the mutt's ragged breathing as it pushed the door open. For an instant, Seneca wondered how this mutt knew how to open a door, and almost laughed aloud when he remembered that he himself had programmed this mutt – as well as all the rest – to open doors in search of prey.

That was enough for Seneca. He dropped the key to the floor with a clatter, spun around, and with adrenaline giving him running speed that he never knew he had, sprinted for the exit at the end of the corridor.

He never made more than a dozen steps when a heavy body slammed into him from behind and knocked him sprawling to the corridor floor. Seneca screamed as the mutt leaped on him from behind. A single clawed foot, reptilian in appearance, landed next to his head, and Seneca screamed again and tried to scramble forward on his hands and knees – only to be grabbed roughly and flipped onto his back.

White-hot pain shot through Seneca Crane as the mutt's clawed fingers stabbed into his shoulders, back, and upper chest, and he could only stare, wide-eyed, as the mutt snarled, placed a foot on Seneca's stomach, and ripped its claws across his abdomen.

Seneca managed a final, gurgling scream as pain such as he had never felt burst from his belly. The last thing that he saw, before his vision dimmed and life ebbed from his body, was the mutt's snout dip down and, with another snarl, raise back up, with a mouthful of Seneca's intestines clutched in its fanged jaws.

PART VII

It was fortunate that only one mutt had escaped from The Zoo. Otherwise, the death toll would have been much higher.

Major Zander had been lucky. The mutt-lizard had stayed true to its programming. As soon as it had finished killing Seneca Crane, it headed straight for the secret entrance that Seneca had used to gain access to Gamemaker Central. Zander had been armed with only a pistol. Had the mutt decided to go after her, that pistol may have delayed her death by a few seconds. As it turned out, the mutt instead burst through Seneca's secret entrance and tore into the waiting Rebel soldiers there like a scythe cutting through tesserae grain. It managed to kill six before finally succumbing to its wounds.

I later heard that the mutt-lizard had been shot almost two hundred times before it died. All Zander's pistol would have done was piss it off.

As soon as Gamemaker Central was secured, I accompanied Boggs, Valerius, Plutarch, and Silenus Festuca to inspect the facility. We found Zander outside, shaken but unhurt. Inside, soldiers – both Rebel and Peacekeeper – had finished their security sweep, and Plutarch immediately headed for the command center. There, he put his Gamemaker knowledge to good use and locked out every console, effectively preventing anyone else from re-activating the pods.

While Plutarch worked, the rest of us went to view the dead mutt, and the just-as-dead Seneca Crane. The mutt was imposing – some three meters long, from the tip of its snout to the tip of its tail, and was frightening, even in death. Its mouth was frozen in a snarl, its fangs and claws stained with the blood of its victims.

Seneca, on the other hand, just looked pathetic. His face was frozen in terror, his mouth gaping open in a silent scream, and his abdomen was flayed open from chest to groin. The scent of his blood was thick in the air, and we had to walk carefully around his body so as not to slip on a floor made slick with Seneca's blood and internal organs. The sight was horrifying, and I could tell that it was affecting the three hardened soldiers that I was with.

All I felt was a kind of grim satisfaction.

After a few moments, Boggs gestured to a nearby Rebel officer. "Has the scene been photographed?" he asked.

The young officer nodded. "Yes, President Boggs."

"In that case," Boggs continued, "I want this cleaned up, and I want this body cremated as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir." The officer paused for a moment. "President Boggs, what do you want me to do with the ashes?"

"Dispose of them," Boggs ordered. "Quietly. Dump them in the sewer, take them outside the city and scatter them in the mountains – I don't care. Just get rid of them. I don't want Seneca Crane to become some sort of obscene martyr, and if we give him any sort of civilized burial, his grave will become some sort of Loyalist shrine. Just let me know when it's done."

"Yes, sir," the officer said.

We left the officer to carry out his orders. As we emerged into the sunshine, I turned to Boggs and asked the question that had been nagging me since I heard him give his orders regarding Seneca Crane. "What about Snow?" I asked.

"What about him?" Boggs practically snapped.

"Everyone in the Capitol knows that he's dead," I continued. "If you bury him anywhere near the Capitol, his followers will find out."

Boggs sighed. "I know this, Peeta. And Snow would be the ultimate martyr. In death, he would inspire Loyalists for years."

"There's something else," I added. "Andromeda."

"I haven't forgotten about her," Boggs said, his voice heavy. "For her sake, I'll need to allow her whatever she needs to say her goodbyes to him."

"And then?" I asked.

"And then," Boggs replied slowly, "we very quietly dispose of Snow's body."

I didn't envy Boggs' job one bit.

With Seneca Crane neutralized, we could resume the task of ending the war and starting the peace.

Power was restored almost as soon as Gamemaker Central was captured and secured. Trains were streaming in on a regular basis, and hovercraft flew in and out of the Capitol. There was even a bit of news that, under normal circumstances, would have cheered me up. Cassius Hammersmith had been caught just outside the Capitol, crudely disguised as a Capitol woman. According to the report from the soldiers that caught him, he was sobbing uncontrollably and begging for his life, thinking that he was going to be executed on the spot.

Of course, he wasn't killed. Boggs wanted as many of Snow's cronies to stand trial as possible. As far as I was concerned, however, a trial would be a waste of time. Cassius Hammersmith was the first to rape Katniss. If it was up to me, I would see to it that he would pay for what he had done.

Aside from daily visits to Victor's Mercy to see Katniss, I was left pretty much to myself. My presence here had always been more about show than substance. The leadership on both sides were involved with not only making the peace, but with keeping the new Panem running. I literally had nothing to do.

To keep busy, I puttered around in the Presidential Palace kitchen. I hadn't been able to do any real baking for over a year and welcomed the distraction. My handiwork was much appreciated by the soldiers, Peacekeepers, and staff at the Palace. Food was still in short supply everywhere in the Capitol, but the Palace certainly didn't lack for baking supplies.

It was while I was baking a fresh supply of cheese buns that I had an unexpected visitor by the name of Andromeda Snow.

I was busy transferring a batch of cheese buns from their pan to a cooling rack when Andromeda entered the kitchen.

Andromeda stopped and looked around the kitchen, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. "Grandpa and I would come in here when I was little," she said, her voice sounding very far away. "On cold winter mornings, he would make me cinnamon toast." She opened her eyes. "He didn't have your skills, Peeta. Cinnamon toast was as creative as he got."

I slowly wiped my hands on a towel. "I'm sorry for your loss, Meda," I finally said.

Her eyes met mine. "Are you?" she asked. "Are you really sorry?"

I didn't respond right away. Was I really sorry? Wasn't the whole idea of the Rebellion to remove Coriolanus Snow from power – by whatever means necessary? "I know how close you were to him," I finally said. "I know how much he meant to you."

"He wasn't a monster," Andromeda said. "He did bad things. Horrible things, even. But you never saw the side of him that I did. You never saw how kind he could be."

"You were the only person he allowed himself to be human to," I said. I didn't mean to sound unkind, but I failed.

Andromeda said nothing for several long moments. "I said goodbye to him today." Tears welled up in her eyes. "My father is in prison. My mother won't speak to me. Grandpa is dead. I have no one now."

"That's not true," I whispered. "You have me. You have Speri. You have July, and Prim, and –"

I wanted to say Katniss, but her name stuck in my throat. Instead, I wrapped my arms around Andromeda and pulled her close to me. That was all it took for her. Andromeda Snow and I stood in that ornate kitchen, and I held her while she sobbed quietly into the front of my apron.

After a few minutes, when her shoulders stopped shaking, I wordlessly handed her a clean towel. She muttered an embarrassed "Thank you," dabbed at her eyes, and wiped her nose. When she was finished, she handed the towel back to me with another murmured word of thanks, and then rose up on tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek.

"For being a good friend," she explained softly, and then added, "I forgot to ask about Katniss. How is she?"

"Doing better," I replied. "Improving a little more each day."

"I need to go see her." Andromeda wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "It's just…"

Her voice trailed off. "I know," I said gently. "She's been in a medically-induced coma. Prim and her mother are with her now."

"I see," Andromeda said. There were a few moments of awkward silence before she added, "How is Prim holding up?"

I shrugged. "As well as you could expect. She's strong." I could feel the despair that would well up inside me every time I thought too much about Katniss threaten to spill out, and I quickly changed the subject. "How's Speri?"

"Happy to be back with her parents," Andromeda replied. "I'm glad things worked out for her. She –"

Andromeda never got to finish her thought. A Rebel soldier burst into the kitchen, holding a cordless telephone receiver. "I'm sorry, Victor Mellark," he said breathlessly. "I was told not to disturb you when you were in the kitchen, but Victor Abernathy is on the phone and insisted that he speak with you."

"It's all right," I assured him as I reached for the phone. "Haymitch can interrupt anytime."

The soldier simply nodded, handed the phone to me, and beat a hasty retreat. "Hello, Haymitch," I said, holding the phone to my ear.

"You were given a communicuff for a reason, boy," Haymitch growled. "But it ain't much good unless you're wearin' it!"

"I'm baking," I explained. "I don't wear it when I'm baking. What is it?"

"Oh, nothin' much," Haymitch drawled. "I just though you might wanna know that Katniss is awake – and she's been askin' for you."