I open my eyes and find myself lying on lime-green grass. It's a perfect day. There's no forest around me and the sky is blue and cloudless. Gentle waves of late afternoon sunshine bathe my skin, which is curiously absent of any of my previous wounds, and the breeze sweeps gently over the land. I can't be in the arena. It's too serene here, to peaceful. I sit up and almost flop back down at the sight of District One's public park. I'm back home.
I carefully stand up and notice my clothes are different. My shredded arena clothes have vanished and I'm now wearing a fine black suit. I look around for the usual people. Back home, the park bustled, full of potential tributes going for runs or sparring in their free time, retired citizens shooting the shit and people who simply liked the outdoors. On days like these, I used to take Striker here. I'd give him piggy-back rides and he'd plead with me to show him what I learned in training. I'd show him what I could and he'd do his best to imitate me despite his limitations. Strangely, the park is empty now. It was never empty on days like these. Only blizzards or thunderstorms kept people in and sometimes not even then. Tributes, desperate for an edge on the competition, would train through anything.
Everything is exactly the same. The same grass, the same well-trimmed oak trees dotting the pathway. Even the black metallic trash cans are the same. The only difference is everyone's gone. I sit back down on the grass and stare at my well-polished shoes, which I'm confident I've never owned. What the hell is going on? The last thing I remember was Katniss killing that mutt, but that doesn't explain why I'm back home. Did the games somehow end during the time I was unconscious? Did everybody else somehow die and I won the Hunger Games in my sleep? But then why am I here and not in a Capital hospital? What the hell happened to everyone?
I put my head in my hands, unable to make any sense of the situation and feeling nervous. Something about this doesn't feel right, like I'm not supposed to be here even though it looks like home. There's something off that I can't put my finger on. The sound of a kraa in front of me breaks my musings. I look up to see a raven sitting in front of me on the grass, looking like polished black marble. Its eyes are so dark they almost blend into the feathers, which shimmer with flecks of indigo and dark blue in the sunlight. Something about its eyes indicate intelligence and I can't look away, like those dark black orbs are seeping into my consciousness and drawing me in.
The raven breaks eye contact and takes off, flying about fifteen feet before stopping on the grass and looking back at me expectantly.
Follow
The raven doesn't say those words and I'm not sure if I heard them out loud or if I just heard it in my mind, like a thought. A thought that wasn't my own. I stand up slowly and begin to walk towards the raven, which takes off and begins to fly through the park and it flies quickly. I find myself breaking into a run just to keep up with it, passing many of my fondest memories as I run. The raven is taking me deeper, toward the center of the park where the Unification Fountain is, a giant ornate structure commemorating the end of the revolution and the ultimate victory of the Capital. The raven soars out of sight beneath a small grassy hill. Huffing and puffing, I stagger to the top and look down. The raven is perched on one of the fountain's statues, a heroic peacekeeper with his rifle shouldered and vigilant eyes staring off into the distance. The fountain is running as before, launching jets of water into the air in impressive arches. The lights have just come on as dusk creeps closer and I spot a solitary figure sitting on one of benches near the fountain.
A person! Oh thank god! Maybe they can tell me what the hell is going on. I walk down the hill, feeling the eyes of the raven on me as I do. Obviously this is where he wanted me to be, but I'm not sure why. The person, who I can now see is a girl, has her back to me. Something about that dark brown hair is familiar but I can't quite place it.
"Hello Marvel," she says without looking.
I freeze. I know that voice.
She turns to face me and I'm incapable of forming speech anymore. I know that face, that friendly smirk, those jade-green eyes. It's how I remembered her before the tracker jackers.
"Good to see you again," says Brooke.
I'm dazed, unable to move, think or do anything. I must be hallucinating again. Brooke is dead. I saw her body. I heard her cannon shot. She can't be here. She's back home in District Four, probably buried in a quiet graveyard.
"C'mon. Sit down. You look tired," Brooke says warmly, motioning to the space beside her on the bench.
I force myself to put one foot in front of the other and join her on the bench. I don't look at her, my gaze instead resting on my fidgeting hands.
"You look good," she says.
I turn towards her and take her in. Just like me, there's no trace of injury. No cuts, no bruises, no tracker jacker stings, not even a scratch on her. She's wearing a strapless black dress and looks like she did the night of the interviews, her face flawless.
"I could say the same thing to you," I answer, my mind drifting back to the tracker jacker attack, "A lot better than how I left you."
A sad smile comes onto her face. "Yeah, but it's not too hard to improve on that," she says with a derisive laugh.
"Is this really you?" I ask.
"Yeah, it's me," she says.
"But y-you're dead" I say incredulously.
"I know," she says like it's the most normal thing in the world.
An awful question comes to my mind. I don't want to ask because I don't want an answer, but I know I have to. I have to know.
"Am I dead?" I whisper.
She's quite for a moment, like there's some ambiguity to my question.
"Not quite," she says.
"Then what the hell is going on? Why am I here?" I snap.
If I'm not dead, then where am I and how am I talking to her?
"I can't tell you everything, but I can tell you that, although you're not dead, it may not stay that way," she says.
"What?" I ask, my voice quivering more than I'd like.
"Your fate is up to you. It's going to be decided here," she says.
"And where the fuck is here?" I ask.
"Don't you know your own home District?" she asks with a small laugh.
I let out a frustrated huff. "This isn't the real District One. This isn't my home," I say.
"Isn't everything exactly the same?" she asks.
"How would you know? You've never been to District One," I say.
"No, but I know what it looks like now. Since I…passed on, I know all kinds of things," she says.
"Like what?" I ask.
"Like I know your family is really concerned about you. They haven't left your living room, all huddled around that crappy TV of yours. Your father has his one good arm around your mother, who hasn't stopped crying since the wolves got ahold of you, and your brother can't even use his crutches without shaking right now," Brooke says, her eyes unblinking, almost like she's seeing it right in front of her.
I feel tears well up in my eyes as Brooke relays the information. This is really happening. There's no way Brooke could've known those things otherwise. My life is hanging in the balance and everyone I love is suffering because of it.
"You said my life is hanging in the balance, but that means I can survive, right?" I ask tentatively, gathering my composure.
"Yes, but you have to be careful," she says.
"Careful for what?" I ask.
"The man in black," she says.
"Who's the man in black?" I ask.
Brooke pauses before answering, measuring her words carefully. "He's the one who will decide your fate," she says.
"He decides if I live or die?" I ask.
Brooke shakes her head. "No. He wants you to die and he's going to try to kill you. You have to defeat him by morning if you want to live," Brooke says.
I shiver unexpectedly and look at the fountain. The raven is gone and the decorative purple lights have come on, bathing the fountain in their glow.
"He'll come after nightfall," Brooke says.
"What should I do?" I ask, fear burrowing deep into my chest just like it did when I saw the mutts' eyes glowing the darkness.
"Hurry to the Academy and arm yourself. From there, it's up to you," she says before getting up and beginning to walk away.
"Brooke?" I ask.
She turns back toward me. "Yeah?" she answers.
"If you're dead, why'd you come back here?" I ask.
Brooke smiles again, just like she did when we'd talk and mess with Lewis. "Because a friend needed my help," she says.
I smile back, but feel guilt drop into my stomach. Brooke's still being a friend to me, even after I forgot to save her.
"I'm sorry, Brooke," I say quietly, "I'm sorry I forgot to save you."
"It's okay. I never blamed you," she says with such sincerity that it makes my breath catch, "By the way, I'm glad you took my advice about allies."
At that, Brooke turns and strolls over the hill. I know I can't follow her. I'm not meant to. It's then that I notice the sun setting on the horizon, streaking the sky with shades of orange, pink and red. It's beautiful, but it means my time is limited and I've got to get moving.
The streets are deserted just like the park. All the familiar stores and houses now sit vacant as I run by. The sun is setting directly behind me, throwing the shadows after me as I make my way to the Academy. Brooke was right. Everything is exactly the same right down to the cracks in the sidewalk. I reach the doors of the Academy as the last rays of sunlight are slipping behind the horizon. I punch the security code in and hurry inside, slamming the door like a little kid hurrying to his bedroom at night.
Everything is just how it was the day I left. The racks of weapons, the obstacle course, the throwing ranges. Everything's the same. I almost expect to see Glimmer and all the others I trained with running around, but I don't. It's probably for the best Glimmer's ghost isn't around here. Something tells me she wouldn't be too excited about a reunion.
I track down some training clothes in the locker room and get out of my suit. I carefully select a spear from the rack and shove a few knives into my belt before heading to the door. I take a deep breath, forcing down my fear and dragging my courage forward. Quiet as a mouse, I open the door and step out. It's completely dark outside, minus the light from a few streetlamps and the moon. I clutch my spear and walk carefully, my eyes watching for the man in black. I never realized it before, maybe because I've never seen it empty, but District One is eerie at night. Our impressive buildings throw ominous shadows over the ground and catch every sound in the area, from the sound of my breathing to the scurrying of a rat.
I search the district, seconds turning to minutes and minutes turning to hours. Where is this guy? Brooke said he'd come for me at night, but I haven't seen anything. Shadows mix with other shadows and make everything indistinguishable, although I can't shake this gnawing feeling of being watched.
I stop at the edge of the public square, where we used to do our Reapings and viewings. Eighteen years. For eighteen years, I've been brought to this place to see ferocious kids throw themselves into the games, eager to bring glory to District One and themselves. Our motivations may've been different, but we were all similar. We were all unprepared for what we faced. Destroying dummies and lifting weights can't prepare you for the games. It can help and give you a fighting chance, but it doesn't prepare you. I suppose nothing could.
The moon's full overhead, casting its creepy light into the square. I can see my silhouette standing there, looking thinner and more vulnerable than I'd like. I'm about to get moving when I see it, a long black shadow stretching into the light with mine. I look up to see the man in black looking at me from across the square…at least I think it's looking at me. The man consists of a towering black shroud, lanky and swaying in the breeze like a kite. Its black robes hide its features, stretching all the way from the top of its head to the ground. I can't see its face either, hidden in the shadows of its hood. Still, I can feel its gaze on me, burning right through my body.
I ready my spear and glare back at the specter. No words are spoken. I'm not sure if it's even capable of speech, but I do know there's something awful about his presence, something I can feel in the air around him…something sinister. The square feels colder and looks darker with his mere presence. No errant sounds bounce off the buildings except the sound of my breathing.
Then, with some unspoken signal, we both move, charging toward each other like a pair of enraged bulls. I drive my spear forward, where I assume the specter's heart would be, only to hit air. My next two thrusts have the same result as my adversary slithers around each blow with unnaturally fluid grace. It waits until I miss again to make its move, driving a rapid fist into my stomach and another into my temple. The air's knocked out of me and my vision clouds. They felt like Cato's punches only more powerful. I'm suddenly seized by my shoulders and hurled across the square, crashing into the side of a shop.
My back aches and I try to refocus my vision as the man in black glides across the ground toward me. My spear is back in the middle of the square, behind the phantom. I attempt to dive by it, only to be caught in its iron grasp. A series of thunderous blows to my head dulls my senses. Blood drips down my face from what's probably a broken nose, long since gone numb. The specter hurls me onto the pavement and cracks my ribs with a vicious kick from beneath its robe. I begin to cough up blood as I try to prop myself up. Another kick sends me back to the ground, groaning in agony.
I feel myself get flipped onto my back as the specter drapes itself over me like a black curtain. Those rigid, immovable hands wrap around my throat and begin to squeeze. I claw at them, desperately trying to pry them off as I feel my eyes bulging and my tongue swelling. My head swims and I feel every cell in my brain screaming desperately for oxygen. The shadows close in around me, mixing with the robe of the man in black until it all becomes one. Somewhere I hear laughter. Is this death? This can't be it. I can't die. I promised I wouldn't.
I blink my eyes, trying to refocus on the grainy picture in front of me and remembering the promise I made to my brother. The man in black isn't clearly visible, shifting like the image on a bad TV. Still, I see the shroud and I know what to do. I yank one of the knives from my belt and drive it into the phantom's hands. It releases my throat immediately and I take a delicious gulp of air. For the first time, it makes a sound, a bellow of pain. I swing my leg up and smash my boot into its face, knocking it off me. I rise up, feeling stronger than I ever have been. The specter rights itself and delivers another punch, but this time I'm faster. I catch its hand mid-strike and delivering a bone-rattling punch of my own across the specter's face. It stumbles back and I hit it again and again and again. It makes a desperate swing that I slide under, driving my knife into its side. It lets out another furious, gasping scream of pain as it stumbles to the ground.
I pick my spear up off the ground as the man in black attempts to stand up and fight back. Gone are its gliding movements and fluid grace. It stumbles and hobbles now, unable to stay upright permanently and gasping in pain. It takes one more pathetic swing at me as I near it and I respond by ramming the butt of my spear into its temple. Strangely, my pain is completely gone now and I feel invincible, all-powerful. That last swing should've done a number on my ribs but I feel nothing. In fact, I actually feel better than before.
The specter lies on the ground, robes sprawled out and shape still indistinguishable. The awful atmosphere it possessed is gone now and I know dawn is coming. With a smile and without another thought, I drive my spear into its chest. No blood comes but it lets out an infernal, enraged scream as its very being seems to crack like fractured glass, light seeping out through the gaps. The screaming gets louder and louder as the light bursts out, overtaking all the darkness and sweeping it all away in a blinding flash.
I blink my eyes lazily and open them. They focus on Rue's smiling face looking down on me. We're in the forest, in the arena. I'm back.
"Katniss! He's awake!" Rue yells excitedly as my face stretches into a smile.
I'm back.
A/N: I'm going to be frank, I would completely understand if some of you hated this chapter. It's abstract, weird and I was extremely close to cutting it. However, I ultimately decided that I liked the differences and how it allowed Marvel to say goodbye to Brooke, so I left it in. To those of you wondering if all that was a dream, purgatory, a metaphoric struggle with death or something else entirely, I would just respond the same way Quentin Tarantino did when people asked him what was in the case in Pulp Fiction: It's whatever you want it to be.