None of us slept a wink last night. Though we all pretend otherwise, the dark circles under our eyes are a dead giveaway. Somewhere, miles and miles away, there's a deadly nest hanging over my son's head and a girl waiting to drop it on him.
We barely bother with breakfast. Since both my older sons finished school, they now work in the bakery with me. On a normal day, we should be preparing today's goods, but it's still early enough to spend a little time watching the Games. So, we all end up gathered around the television set. The sun's just rising when we see Katniss climb towards the nest. She looks remarkably better - whatever was in that parachute did no favors to the Careers. In the daylight, the nest is definitely recognizable. The gray, papery surface of the nest hums with life. There's a moment's hesitation, and then she begins to work away at a groove she must have made the night before. The Careers and my son are completely oblivious to the danger above them.
As if in slow motion, the nest begins to fall. Katniss watches it, clinging to the tree. Already lumps are swelling up on her cheek and neck from stings she must have received already. The nest bursts open on the ground, and the insects swarm out in angry hoards. The air is rent with screams as the tributes on the ground try to orient themselves. Peeta and a few others drop everything and begin to run back the way they'd come yesterday.
"Good boy," my wife says. "Get the hell out of there." It's the first time I've heard her really praise him in a long time.
"The lake's that way," our oldest son says. His face is knitted with concern. He's probably remembering the time back when he was seven when he'd disrupted a wasp nest outside. Not tracker jackers, but he still came home covered in stings. These look about ten times worse.
The camera splits and on one side of the screen we see Katniss, stumbling about in the woods, and on the other my son and the Careers. Or what's left of them. Two girls didn't follow. I think it's safe to assume they won't make it.
Katniss finds her own little pool while elsewhere, my son trips into the lake. He splashes his face clumsily, trying to soak his stings that are now the size of plums.
"He better not go under," his brother says. "He looks like he might pass out. If the venom doesn't kill him, he'll drown."
The boy tribute from Two, Cato they've been calling him, is motioning back towards the woods.
Peeta holds up his hands. "My - my knife," he pants, blinking hard. "I left -"
"Take this spear -" Cato thrusts one of his weapons at my son. "I've got the sword."
Peeta shakes off the dizziness he must be feeling and stumbles back towards the tree with the others. I glance over to the other half of the screen and see that Katniss is leaning over the girl from One. At least, I think that's who it is. Her blonde hair is the only thing recognizable. The rest of her is bloated and distorted from the stings.
"She wants the bow," I murmur. "If she gets that weapon, she'll be unstoppable."
"How would you know?" my wife asks sharply. Right. She doesn't know I buy the squirrels from her.
"That's just what I've heard." I turn my attention back to the screen.
"Well, it looks like she's got them."
Katniss, though tipsily swaying back and forth, is now on her feet. She shoulders the weapons just as Peeta crashes through the underbrush.
My son swears loudly. "She's going to shoot him."
But Katniss seems to be struggling, unable to string the bow. Peeta looks at her, shocked.
"What are you still doing here?" he hisses. He uses the spear to move her to her feet. "Get up! Get up!" he keeps saying.
Behind them, I hear feet and know that Cato is only seconds away. They'll both be dead now.
"Run!" Peeta shouts and shoves the teetering Katniss away from him. "Run!"
Cato arrives now. It takes only a moment for him to understand what's happened. That Peeta's betrayed them. If he weren't stung, both of the Twelve tributes would have been killed by now. It's the venom that's slowing his brain down. Still, his sword is drawn, and it pauses in the air for only half a second.
Somehow, Peeta's advice reached Katniss. She crashes through the trees. We can still see her progress on the right side of the screen, but all of my attention is on Cato and Peeta.
The sword whistles through the air, cutting right through my son's leg. He gives out such a cry of pain that my heart twists. His hand goes to the wound and comes away dripping in blood. Cato lifts the sword again, but Peeta blocks it with his spear shaft. It splinters, sending pieces flying into the woods. Now weaponless, with veins full of venom, Peeta's only defense is his strength. He tackles Cato and the two wrestle on the ground. Cato's still slashing with the sword, and although his slices are haphazard, Peeta's still on the end of quite a few.
Then Cato rolls over and crawls a little ways away to the tree line. His body begins to convulse as the venom finally overcomes him. He retches, his back turned to Peeta.
My son doesn't seem to be capable of walking, but somehow, sensing this might be the only time to break away, he uses a tree to haul himself to his feet. He stuffs a bit of his jacket into his mouth to keep himself from crying out, then hobbles off.
Cato doesn't seem to notice or he doesn't care. He's shaking now, his muscles twitching. Then he rights himself and staggers off back in the direction of the camp. The opposite direction of Peeta, thank heaven.
My son's barely gone a hundred meters when he sinks to the ground. Judging by his pallor, he'll blackout soon. Still, he doggedly inches forward on all fours until his comes to a patch of underbrush. Just ahead of him is a river.
Unable to go further, both from the pain in his leg and the venom, he slumps to the ground.