Everyone is quiet.
I don't know what I was thinking would happen – maybe that there would be a frenzied shouting of orders or an ongoing discussion of the progression of this mission – but all I know is that I'm surprised how calm everyone seems right now.
The soldiers on our hovercraft sit straight-backed and silent, staring directly ahead. If I didn't know any better, I'd suspect that Gale was born one of them. His dark uniform, short hair and unnerving stoicism make him absolutely indistinguishable from the others.
My camera crew is the only portion of our squad that differs from the rest and that's only because they each carry a piece of film equipment in their laps in place of a weapon. I think them insane to walk blindly into District 4 with no way of defending themselves, especially since they are all born Capitolites, but Haymitch told me that they're too invested in the bigger picture to care. I couldn't tell if he was trying to hint at something or not. I catch myself staring at the woman named Cressida's bald, tattooed head before I return my gaze to my hands and focus on what I'm supposed to do.
Coin was very clear in our meetings so there isn't much thinking that I actually have to do during this whole ordeal. I follow orders. That's it. I follow the squad down to the basement of the District 4 Justice Building, where Annie Cresta is detained, and then we get out. I actually think my presence may be more troublesome than beneficial but I know Coin is insisting on having material for her propaganda films and no one questions her except Haymitch.
I glance quickly at the two massive soldiers on either side of me. Boggs I know already but the other – Jackson – I just met a few days ago. Together they will flank me as I follow the others – they're my own human wall.
My job is to hold my weapon, look serious, and do absolutely nothing else. I am not supposed to fire my weapon unless it's absolutely necessary. I am not supposed to speak or move unless directed to do so. I am not supposed to divert from the plan. Time passes tremendously slow as I think this over.
There are no windows in the belly of the hovercraft, only a large metal door, so I can feel – not see – when we touch down in 4. I swallow audibly and release a deep breath.
It's going to be fine, I tell myself. It will be fine.
But I can't help the way that my hands start to shake or the way my heart begins to pound in my chest. The Games have turned me into something of a skittish animal and being thrust into unstable territory only exacerbates my nerves. I grip my bow and force myself to believe what I so confidently told Peeta a few hours ago because it's useless at this point to let myself think differently. It will only distract me if I dwell on the bad.
Everything will be fine.
Boggs taps my shoulder. Wordlessly, I adjust my quiver and stand. I look straight ahead and suck up all the fear and panic I feel bubbling just underneath my skin. I don't have time to be scared, and my stomach turns inside out when I remember I told myself the same exact thing during my Hunger Games.
Just as the doors of the hovercraft begin to open, I feel someone move next to me. Gale searches my face, brows turned down.
"You okay?" he mouths.
I pause only slightly before nodding back. It's the most we've spoken since I confronted him during training a few days ago.
The door of the hovercraft lifts up completely, giving way to the night air, and my muscles lock briefly before I force myself to calm down again. Detaching myself from the current situation is not as difficult as I thought it would be, probably because the ability to do so became a part of me so many years ago. That gritty, quiet resolve is still there; I just guess it only shows itself during life or death situations.
Taking a deep breath, I wash every thought from my mind and focus solely on the mission at hand. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins and, for some reason I cannot explain, it's strangely calming.
I feel almost lethargic as my legs move robotically beneath me, carrying me after the soldiers from 13 almost as if by themselves. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Cressida's camera blinking.
I swallow heavily, trying to forget that if I die, it will be documented for everyone to see.
It was the same with the Hunger Games.
I lock that thought away. I lock them all away except for a few.
I do this and I can go back to Prim.
I breathe deeply.
I do this and I can go back to Peeta.
We march down the ramp of the hovercraft and onto the sandy ground of District 4. It's extremely dark but nothing can mask the desolation that lays in heaps around me. I try not to let my eyes stray from the path our squad carves through the night because I know that if I connect any humanity to this mess I will tumble over of the carefully constructed wall I've built around myself. It's impossible, though, not to notice how different the place looks compared to just under a year ago when I was here on the Victory Tour.
In the distance I can see smoke seeping from what must have been a series of buildings. When Coin told us District 4 had fallen, this is not what I expected. I don't let myself wonder where the people are because I don't want to know the answer.
My feet make crunching sounds as I step over glass and metal debris. Every now and then I'll get a whiff of salty air, making me wonder if mine and Peeta's beach hasn't been completely destroyed.
I desperately hope it hasn't.
The closer we get to the Justice Building, the more congested our path becomes. I still can't see much because of the tightly packed group of soldiers that surround me but I can hear. Sporadically I'll make out a quiet cry or a cough and it eats at me that I can't go and help anyone else – that I'm forced to stay in this tight, black mob of secret rescuers. It makes me feel like a coward and it makes me feel like a failure for a multitude of reasons I can't completely explain.
When we reach the Justice Building my heart sinks to my knees.
Half of the building has been completely blown away and the back part of the structure is still burning, the flames lighting up the otherwise opaque sky. We pause only momentarily before Boggs motions at us with two pointed fingers to head down a series of crumbling steps. I think this might have been a staircase before the building was half blown to bits.
I pick my way through the rubble and follow everyone down into the basement of the building, trying to ignore the way Cressida's camera blinks relentlessly to my right.
The air is cool and damp in the basement and when someone turns on one of the headlights attached to their helmet my eyes hasten to adjust to the brightness. I squint into the now-bright hallway and notice immediately that the basement is tiny and Annie Cresta is nowhere to be found.
I might be sick.
I look to Boggs again for direction but he instructs two soldiers – a man named Mitchell and Gale – to head towards a door at the end of the hallway. They move forward slowly and Gale raises his gun, pointing it at the door, while his bow and quiver hang over his back, forgotten.
Gale pauses, counting under his breath, before he opens the door, which immediately falls off its hinges and onto the floor.
A wail.
The two of them rush into the room while the rest of us wait at the foot of the staircase. I itch to run after them, because hearing Annie's tortured scream has reminded me of why I'm here in the first place, but Boggs holds his arm out in front of me, blocking my way.
Stick to the plan, Everdeen. You're a nuisance enough as it is.
Seconds later Mitchell appears, the girl I recognize as Annie Cresta in tow. Her long, dark hair covers her face as she sobs into her hands. She wears only a thin, white nightgown that's covered in dirt and blood. Her bare feet are scratched and dirty and she almost trips on a large piece of concrete that had apparently fallen from the ceiling.
She looks a far cry from the picture they showed us back in 13.
I don't know her at all but it takes everything in me to not run to her – to not offer some sort of comfort – because I promised Finnick this one thing. I'd feel almost better if she were next to me instead of Mitchell, as strange as it is. She's older than I am but in this moment she looks so young and completely helpless.
Annie shrieks when Mitchell leads her forward.
"Mags!" she cries, repeating the word over and over. I wonder what she's trying to say but try not to think too much of it. I know she's not right in the head so I write off her non-English word as some sort of distressed exclamation. As I shift on my feet, physically preventing myself from running toward Annie, the building shakes above us and tiny pieces of the concrete ceiling trickle down onto our shoulders.
"Weapons tight!" Boggs shouts as larger and larger pieces of concrete fall from the ceiling. "Back to craft. I repeat, back to craft."
I'm being shoved up the stairs before I know it and out of the corner of my eye I see Mitchell scoop Annie up in his arms and hurry towards the staircase after us. My heart beats aggressively against my ribs and I choke back the feelings of pure terror that threaten to suffocate me.
The sound of rocks smashing against one another fills my ears and suddenly all I can see is the avalanche during the Quarter Quell. It doesn't matter that I wasn't actually there because the feelings of clear, unfiltered fear and dread that had consumed me while I watched the thing were so unbearable that I might as well have been. I stumble and Cressida is the one who takes hold of my arm, hoisting me back up and pushing me forward.
Our carefully constructed plan erupts into chaos and all that matters now is that we get back to the hovercraft. I stall, looking for Annie, because she needs to come with me. I hear Boggs shouting orders into his earpiece behind me and I try to look back again but trip on a piece of some destroyed building. I land on my knees and the sharp pain I register in my palm is forgotten immediately when Boggs lifts me up again and shoves me forward.
"Just get to the craft, Everdeen. Don't worry about the rest.," he insists.
I bite back my retort and listen because it's my one job on this damn trip. The sound of air whooshes through my ears as I focus on the hovercraft in the distance.
Just get back, I think as Annie continues to sob in back of me. Just get back and you'll be able to go home to Prim and Peeta. Just listen to the orders.
My legs drag heavily as I push myself forward and once my feet hit the metal of the hovercraft ramp I stagger to the side and lean against one of the benches, breathing deeply. Annie is immediately taken to the corner to be treated for her wounds and I try to push past Mitchell to get to her but fail. I want to surge forward – to shove Mitchell aside and make sure she's all right – but I'm paralyzed on the hovercraft floor because suddenly this scenario is all too familiar.
I'm back on the hovercraft that picked Peeta and me up from the arena after our Games and they won't let me see him. Mitchell is trying to quiet Annie but he isn't succeeding. I call out to her weakly, fighting back an anguished sob, because she reminds me of everything sad and scary about the world we live in.
I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to fight this battle.
I want to go home.
I was wrong in thinking I could do this. I don't care if we have Annie and the mission was a success. I can barely handle myself right now as I swim in upsetting memories. I'm too broken to be the poster child for a rebel cause. I can't even hear this girl's cries without breaking down myself. Her screams might as well be mine.
I'm far too overwhelmed.
I feel a tear snake it's way down my cheek and wipe it away before Cressida can catch me. She's filming the rest of the crew as they amble up the ramp. Taking a few deep breaths, I study the black-clad men and women of our squad as they enter the belly of the hovercraft. Some of them are bleeding, some are completely untouched.
I search their faces with an intensity that makes my head hurt.
I do it twice, three times and again after that before my blood turns to lead.
Gale isn't here.
On shaky legs, I stand.
"Where is Gale?" I shout, on the verge of sounding hysterical. "Where is Soldier Hawthorne?" I correct myself, panicked.
I look wildly around the hovercraft, hoping in vain that somehow I just happened to miss him during the confusion. But as the last of the soldiers trickles in, bloodied and broken, my hope is lost. This can't be happening.
"Soldier Everdeen, we need to return to 13. We were given strict orders," the pilot, who's name I've forgotten, explains. I shake my head, racking my brain for when we could have possibly been separated. I feel nauseous, realizing that I had been so focused on just completing the mission correctly, and returning to 13, that I had not been paying attention to anyone else. To my best friend.
"No," I choke out, staggering toward the door. "We can't leave him behind!"
The pilot turns his back on me and begins pressing a series of buttons before Boggs steps forward and addresses me.
"Soldier Hawthorne agreed to these terms when he agreed to become a part of this mission," he explains. I turn around and stare daggers at the man. My panic and fury are making my vision blurry.
"What terms? To be abandoned? He's probably hurt or…" my voice trails when I think about just how injured Gale might be, wherever he is. He could by lying in a ditch, bleeding out. He could be knocked unconscious and crushed by the collapsed building.
He could be dead.
I grip my bow and start again towards the hovercraft door, which is miraculously still open. I can hear bullets firing in the distance and my stomach rolls around in my gut because that can only mean one thing: the Capitol soldiers have arrived. I don't care, though. I'm just over the threshold when I feel someone grip my arm tightly. I turn on my heel and am met with a furious-looking Boggs. For a man who is typically so calm and collected, seeing him so clearly livid is startling.
"Soldier Everdeen, sit down," he states. It's an order, obviously. Again, I don't care.
"I can't leave him," I shoot back. I will not. Not again.
"We're at war. This is what happens," Boggs explains, the anger disappearing from his eyes and voice. Maybe he's trying to reason with me. He should know better at this point.
"No."
"Turn that camera off," Boggs snarls at Cressida, gripping my arm so tightly that I think I might lose feeling in my fingers. I begin to panic in the same way I think a small animal might panic if it's cornered – searching for an escape but ready to lash out if need be. "Don't make me use this," Boggs says lowly, before pulling a syringe out of a strategically placed pocket. My panic doubles – making my vision spotty.
After my experience leaving District 12, and then after Peeta's episode in 13, I think I'd recognize a tranquilizer anywhere. Although I can't say I'd trusted anyone in District 13 to begin with, I can't help but feel betrayed. Did they expect me to have a mental breakdown on this mission? Were they so confident that I would become troublesome that they made my escort carry a tranquilizer?
I act before I think.
Twisting out of Boggs grasp, I reach over my back and pull an arrow out of my quiver. It's strung and pointing directly at Boggs' chest before anyone can react. I'm actually a little surprised when he backs away as I expected he would have just lunged forward and stuck me with the needle in seconds.
I can't waste anymore time, though. Gale is hurt, or worse, and I need to get to him. I'd abandoned him the moment I was Reaped while he stuck by my side this whole time. I need to get to him and make this better. I need to fix whatever we were. I can't believe I've been so selfish.
"Don't be stupid," Boggs says, palms raised.
I readjust my aim and let the arrow fly. I turn around quickly, not even bothering to watch as my arrow grazes Boggs' thigh. It wasn't meant to be a deadly hit – just one to distract – and I know it's done its job when I'm not met with any resistance as I fly off the hovercraft and into the Distract 4 night. I sprint through the maze of buildings and the only sound is that of the pounding of blood rushing in my ears.
After 10 minutes of running, I duck behind a concrete wall and catch my breath, listening to the soft firing of bullets in the distance. I know that everyone thinks I am crazy. Stupid, even. I've accepted that a long time ago and I've believed them. But I know deep, deep down that this is one of the smartest decisions I've ever made.
My mind flits to Peeta, who is surely with Prim, both of them waiting anxiously for my return. What happens if I don't make it back?
With dizzying speed, I'm shuttled back to our heated argument the night I volunteered for this mission – of my description of my behavior when I thought Peeta had been taken from me for good.
"If you leave and don't come back, that's what I'll be like. Why would you want that for me?"
A lump forms quickly in my throat and I struggle to swallow it down again. He'll have to understand that I couldn't leave my friend. How could I have made it back to him and left Gale alone? The girl who would have done that is not the same girl that Peeta loves, I know that for sure.
Peeta fell for Brave Katniss. He fell for Strong Katniss. He fell for Loyal Katniss. The same Katniss that was Gale Hawthorne's best friend.
And right now I need to save my best friend.
I'm about to move forward again when I hear heavy breathing and fast footfalls coming towards me from around the corner. I raise my bow and plant my feet, ready to sink my arrow into the eye of whoever turns the corner. I was careful to zig-zag my way through the ruins so they couldn't find me easily - if they tried to at all, that is.
I'm thrown for a loop, though, when I see Cressida, her bald head shining eerily in the moonlight. She stops short when she sees me, gasping in shock at my aggressive pose.
"Why did you follow me?" I ask, lowering my weapon slightly. "Are you insane?" I hiss. She's an easy target and I know that she'll only slow me down. I don't have much time.
Cressida leans forward, hands on knees as she catches her breath. She coughs a little before she reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a portable video camera.
"Are you?" she asks, ignoring my question and checking to see if her camera works.
I don't have to think twice for my answer.
"Yes."
"They're sending someone after you, you know," Cressida explains as we crawl through the night, retracing our path from hovercraft to Justice Building. "They were arguing about it when I left."
It's easier to see when there aren't so many people around me but what I'm looking at is not pretty. The main square in District 4 has been all but destroyed. In the distance I can see the ocean water but I turn away quickly, not wanting to distract myself with memories. I need to get to Gale, and get him back to the hovercraft.
"Well I'll shoot them," I reply to Cressida, voice detached and cold.
That shuts her up and we focus on finding our way back to the Justice Building, tracing our prior path thoroughly and searching for signs of Gale. It's easy to blend in with our charred surroundings given our state of dress but the constant blinking of Cressida's camera has me fearing she'll give us away. The bullets I heard in the distance don't sound close but it still doesn't give us much time to find Gale and then get back to the hovercraft without getting caught. The thought makes me want to vomit.
When we reach the Justice Building I assess the damage with my heart in my throat. The staircase that leads down to the basement hasn't caved in yet but I know from the way the ceiling was crumbling that we don't have much time before it collapses in on itself completely.
To her credit, Cressida follows right behind me as I navigate my way down the stairs. I relax my bow when we make it to the bottom, my injured hand singing in relief. I had forgotten I split it open.
"Gale," I shout, uncaring how my voice reverberates off the walls of the semi-destroyed basement. At first I don't hear anything, and my panic beings to build heavily in my gut, closing my throat in on itself. I pick my way deeper into the basement and call his name again.
"The ceilings gonna cave."
The sound is no more than a murmur and my head swivels on my neck as I try to locate where he is in the room. Once my eyes have fully adjusted to the dark, I see him.
Gale is lying where the door to the room that held Annie once was. He's half covered in pieces of concrete and his pants are stained red below the knee.
"Oh my god," I whisper, running to him as quickly as this small, cluttered space will allow.
"There was another woman," Gale croaks once I kneel next to him and I rip my eyes away from his bloody leg to look at his face. His voice is so low it's almost as if he's speaking to himself. "I heard her right before the mine exploded. I thought…she's…"
I know from the way that Gale's face hardens that this other woman did not make it. He stayed back to find her, which is obvious, given his current state. In my haste getting back to the hovercraft, I didn't even here the mine explode.
"Are there any others in here?" I ask, trying to look around him and into the cavernous hole that was once a room.
"No," he says quietly, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments. "No."
I grit my teeth and nod, focusing my attention once again on Gale's leg. We need to get out of here. Fast.
"I didn't know if you'd come," he mutters, wincing as I pull back his shredded pant leg to assess the damage. Gale's words slice through me and my hands fall limply by his knee. The truth is, I almost didn't. I almost forgot about him when not once has he forgotten about me. But now that I'm here, I won't leave without him.
"Have I changed that much?" I ask him, because I don't know what else to say. It's a question for both of us, I realize.
Gale turns away from me, swallowing thickly.
"I was just hoping you wouldn't come, I guess."
I can't have this discussion with him right now, but it's not my inability to confront the past that's preventing me from doing so. I need to get Gale out of here before the Capital reaches the Justice Building and, more importantly, before the Justice Building collapses on top of us.
"What happened?" I ask, changing the subject and trying not to let the sight Gale's bloody calf send me running. "You said – "
"A land mine from above exploded when we were leaving," he explains again, gritting his teeth as I continue to inspect his wound. "And that woman was too close. I tried, Katniss, but it was too late."
I glance up and meet his eyes, realizing this is the first time that Gale has been confronted with death face to face. Sure, we've seen it take away miners and the hungry in District 12, but this type of violent death is different.
"I know, Gale," I tell him, holding onto his gaze. For a moment we just stare at one another and I hope that he can understand that I understand. For once, I get it. "Believe me," I continue on in a whisper before returning my attention to his wound, trying not to throw up at the sight of it. "I know."
There's shrapnel that's embedded itself in the skin of his calf. He was lucky – he wasn't too close, where the shrapnel might have hit bone, but it's shredded the leg a fair amount. Frowning, I realize I don't have any medical supplies with me so Gale is going to have to walk all the way back to the hovercraft on an injured leg.
"Do you think they'll leave us here?" I ask Cressida, not taking my eyes away from Gale's calf. They do not have my trust, these soldiers from 13, but I can't help but hope that they won't abandon us before the Capitol soldiers find us. I know Cressida said they were sending someone after me, but what does that mean anymore? I don't believe anyone's promises here. I think the only reason I even trust Cressida to give me a straight answer is because she followed me back into the unknown.
The insane trust the insane, I guess.
"And return back to District 13 without the Mockingjay?" Cressida asks with a sardonic laugh. "No way."
I nod, all the while cursing the skin-tight uniform they forced me to wear because I have nothing to cover Gale's wound with. I glance quickly over Gale's form and notice that there's nothing on him that could work either. Cressida doesn't even have a camera strap that I could use to tie off Gale's leg with.
I sit back on my haunches with a resigned sigh, taking note of how a few more pieces of concrete fall from the corner of the room.
We need to hurry.
"You're going to have to try and walk, Gale," I tell him. "I'm sorry. You can lean on me. Use me like a crutch, okay?"
I lean forward and grip him under the arm but Gale shoves me away before I can get a proper hold on him.
"Just go now. I won't make it – they'll just shoot me down anyway," he says angrily, unmoved by my completely shocked expression.
"No they won't," I argue back. "I'll shoot them first."
"If you're holding me up? How?" he asks. I'm about to tell him that he can hold on to Cressida when he runs his fists over his eyes in a defeated gesture. "You weren't supposed to stray from the plan, Katniss."
"I know," I snap, motioning for Cressida to come closer. If she's here she may as well be of some use.
"Why?" Gale asks quietly and for a second I'm taken aback. I guess it's not too obvious anymore, given how vastly I've changed, but I don't tell him that. But is it so hard to believe that I wouldn't help my friend? That I've changed that drastically?
The look in his eyes only confirms what I've been thinking and it makes me furious – at him but mostly at myself. He's being so stubborn and he's completely unwilling to see things from my point of view. He should just know but then I realize he doesn't because Gale and I are more or less the same exact person: sometimes we don't see things for what they are.
"Because you don't just leave your hunting partner when they're in trouble," I tell him, the anger in my voice disappearing with each word.
Gale thinks I owe him – I can see it in the way he looks at me. It's the same look he would get when Mayor Undersee would overpay for our strawberries: annoyance and frustration tinged with expertly hidden gratitude. I also know this because it's the exact way I would feel if I were him.
I do owe him, though. I owe him more than I could possibly pay back but that's not the reason I'm here right now. Owing has nothing to do with this anymore.
"If something happens because of me," Gale breathes, wincing as he readjusts himself on the floor, "who is going to explain that to your mother and Prim?"
I freeze and my stomach drops to my toes.
"Who is going to explain that to Peeta, Katniss?"
I want to slap him for bringing them up. I want to sock him in the eye and scratch at his face because they are the only people who have the ability to make me selfish enough to save myself. I can't think about leaving Prim.
I absolutely refuse to think about leaving Peeta because, knowing how he feels, the thought fills me with such grief that I grow light-headed.
No. Not now.
"What if I left you here and had to explain that to your mother?" I argue back, because I have no answers to the question he posed me. "And Rory and Vick and Posy?" I list, getting angrier as each second passes because he is wasting time. "And Madge," I add, fighting off tears.
I'll turn the tables on him, for a change.
Gale and I lock eyes. My shoulders are rigid and my jaw is set so tightly it's become painful. This is a battle of wills that I absolutely refuse to lose. All at once, Gale's expression deflates and his grip on the railing he's been sitting under loosens.
In any other situation I might crack a smile at his surrender but not right now. We have a long walk until we're safe.
Cressida, for once, puts away her video camera and helps me lift Gale to a standing position. Together, we help him hobble up the steps and out into the District 4 night air. The crack and pop of bullets being fired seems closer than before but I swallow my fear and grip Gale's side tighter, fighting against his body weight to hold him upright. He's no complainer, that's for sure, but that only makes his strangled gasps of pain that much more unbearable to hear.
When we're halfway to the hovercraft Gale's knees buckle, forcing the three of us to the ground.
"Up!" I whisper harshly, panic eating away at my resolve because it's almost as if I can feel this dark night closing in on us with each passing second. The firing of bullets has died down but that fact has only really filled me with a potent dread.
"Gale," I whisper, "please."
He moans a little, gritting his teeth against what is sure to be an unbearable pain in his leg. Cressida readjusts her weight and just as I'm about to beg Gale once more to get back up, Cressida half laughs, half sighs in relief.
"They're here," she says, pulling at Gale's arm. I turn around to see two of the soldiers from 13 whose names I don't recall hustling forward. When they reach us, they grab Gale swiftly under the arms and haul him to a standing position. They're much better at carrying him than Cressida and I were so we follow behind, keeping an eye out for the Capitol soldiers I know must be lurking around the corner.
My suspicions are confirmed when we reach the ramp of the hovercraft.
It's the sound I register before the pain: a loud cracking snap – like that of a whip – and then I'm on the ground.
My stomach burns and I gasp for air, struggling to catch my breath after the hit that knocked me to the floor. Someone lifts me up and pulls me more firmly onto the hovercraft before I have time to understand what has happened.
I've been shot, but my costume – the stupid one with the thick vest – has protected me. I peer down and see the bullet wedged in the fabric of my uniform and I slump against the wall, where someone has propped me up. The initial pain subsides rather quickly but I know I will have a dark bruise as a souvenir tomorrow. The hovercraft door closes with a resounding thud and everything is quiet, once again.
I struggle to my feet, ignoring the dull, aching pain in my abdomen, and move towards where Gale has been placed on a makeshift cot in the corner. The one paramedic they provided us with is staring at Gale's battered leg in frustration.
"There aren't enough bandages for the extent of this injury," he explains. "We needed them for the Cresta girl. And then for the soldiers injured in the explosion."
I stare at him, not comprehending. Did they really not prepare for anything like this? Were they really so willing to leave potentially injured soldiers behind that they didn't properly prepare for terrible injuries?
Gale gasps out in pain as someone ties a tourniquet around his lower leg.
"How long until we make it back to 13?" I ask, concerned.
"A few hours," replies one of the soldiers.
That's not enough, I think.
That's not enough time to save Gale's leg. Once a tourniquet is tied, there is only a brief window until the tissue dies from blood lose. The reason I know this is two-fold. I've seen this happen a handful of times with miners in District 12 when they finally made it to our home in the Seam after a terrible accident.
And I've seen this happen with Peeta in the Hunger Games.
"What's the closest District that 13 has control over?" I shout at no one in particular. Gale loosing his leg is one thing, but I have no idea what kind of shrapnel has wedged itself in his skin and in the hours it takes to get back to 13, Gale could get very sick, very fast. All the soldiers stare at me in what I categorize as something similar to terrified awe. Everyone knows what the orders were: return to 13.
When I don't get an answer, I string an arrow and point it at the first person I see, which happens to be Mitchell.
"Put your weapon down, Soldier."
A shiver runs down my spine as I feel something hard and cold placed at the back of my neck. It leaves me paralyzed and absolutely rigid with fear. I know without looking that it's a gun because of the way the machine clicks as the safety is removed.
My limbs lock and a million thoughts run through my mind at once as my heart beats furiously against my ribcage. Internally I am screaming at myself.
Fix this. Fix this. Fix this.
I will not die like this. In fact, I refuse to die like this. Not when I made a promise to bring Annie back to Finnick. Not when I told Prim I would return. And not when I told Peeta that everything would be alright.
I am a lot of things, but a liar is not one of them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cressida filming, her mouth hanging open in disgusted shock. I see my chance and I run with it.
"Tell me," I whisper, pausing so that my next words are clear and strong despite the fact that I am actually so very frightened. I have no idea who is pressing the gun into the back of my head right now. My immediate thought would have been Boggs but I recognize that this is not his voice. "Are you going to shoot one of the Mockingjays? How exactly do you plan on explaining that to President Coin? And the entire country?"
I swallow, not even bothering to filter my words. I don't know if what I'll say makes sense but I'm too riled to care at this point. I'm not the one who is good with words. I just need to get Gale to where they can fix him.
"I want you to touch down in the closest stable District so that this soldier can get the treatment he needs and deserves because this is what we are fighting for," I continue, making sure to make my words clear and strong.
"We are fighting for control of our lives. For longer lives. For lives not lived in fear. This soldier risked his life fighting for that. I'm risking my life fighting for that and you point a gun to my head?"
My voice rises at this last bit when I am unable to control just how absolutely livid this thought makes me. That these soldiers were prepared to drug me if I misbehaved. That President Coin would encourage me to go on this mission with the expectation that I would some how fail.
"I refuse to sit by and watch as my friend deteriorates due to a treatable condition just because you won't disobey the rules," I continue. "He could die without the proper treatment. If you refuse us, you're no better than the Capital," I say quietly, but firmly. "You're no better than Snow."
I have nothing left to say; there is nothing left for me to give. It's the longest I've spoken in my life. I feel the gun fall from it's place against my neck but I don't dare turn around. I still can't breathe.
"For God's sake, just take us to District 8."
I turn my head at the voice and see that Boggs is the one who has spoken. He's leaning against the wall of the hovercraft, his injured leg wrapped and extended in front of him.
"Now," he adds to the pilot, who has been watching this scenario unfold with his hands firmly planted on the controllers. He'd been waffling about which direction to go in - I hadn't realized we were already in the air. "Consider that an order. And Jackson? Hand over your weapon, you won't be needing it from now on."
I wobble on my legs – which feel more like jelly than anything else – watching as Jackson is apprehended by his fellow soldiers and made to sit as far away from me as possible. He was supposed to be the one protecting me. The adrenaline that had been surging through my veins for the better half of the night evaporates, leaving me utterly exhausted.
Annie Cresta sits in the corner, dazed and frightened but otherwise fine. Rubbing my abdomen, where the bullet remains embedded in my vest, I make my way towards where Gale lies on his makeshift cot.
When I sit, I inspect the few bandages that the paramedic has managed to provide, grimacing at the way they're already drenching in red. I have no idea if we'll make it to District 8 in time for Gale's leg to be saved.
All I can do is hope.
"There you are, Catnip," Gale whispers. I twist my head to look at him. He's smiling and when I frown, he laughs. I think it may be the pain that's made him delirious (or the blood lose) as I see no humor in the current situation.
"What?" I ask, confused.
"You sounded like Catnip again," he whispers, closing his eyes. "Just then."
Catnip. Old Katniss. Tough, ballsy Katniss who stood behind a cause. I didn't know she existed, still. I've been so scared and tired. I'd forgotten about the big picture. I'm quiet for a moment, thinking about all that's happened in these past few months. I'm nearly crushed by the weight of it all.
"I never wanted any of this," I whisper painfully. The 'this' I'm referring to encompasses so many different things.
I wish I were back in District 12. I don't want to be here, where I'm scared that any minute some soldier may pull their weapon on me. Where I'm so easily thrown back into memories of the Games. Where violence is constant and expected. I wish Gale wasn't hurt and I wasn't on this hovercraft, watching him tremble with pain. I wish I were under the covers and in Peeta's arms because that is the only place in the world I feel safe anymore.
Worse, I don't know what my complete disregard for the rules may have gotten us into.
I expect Gale to argue back – to say that this is for the best and that it's what we've wanted all along – so I'm surprised when he doesn't. In fact, he says nothing at all and it's only when we've been in the air, flying safely away from District 4 and towards District 8 for over twenty minutes, that he finally speaks.
"No one did. But it's almost over. Then it's worth it."
A/N: Thank you for your patience with this! And for tolerating typos and such (I'm awfully tired).
For all the follows/favorites/reviews – thank you! Katniss may be a complete basket case but she does prove herself when it's needed. Curious to see how you all think this change will affect the rest of the rebellion and how certain people in Thirteen will react... Let me know what you think in a review? :)
Again, real life is the worst so please continue to be beautiful, wonderful, patient readers!