It's just a piece of paper that's seen better days.
My twitchy fingers obsessively folding and unfolding the note have given the thing a cloth-like quality. Despite it being feather light, the creased sheet weighs heavily in my pocket. It's not the kind of thing that people cling to by itself, so without the words written so carefully on its face, it would be worthless. The message from Peeta means more to me than anything else; it makes the grimy piece of paper invaluable. Sometimes, when I'm alone, I'll take it out and read his note again. And again. And again. It's like having a piece of my son with me again. I can almost hear his voice, reading the words that were one of his greatest talents.
… I just wanted you to know that I'm thankful for everything you've done…
… Please, don't hold yourself accountable for what's happened…
… Love always…
The phrases act like balm, soothing my wounds and easing my aching heart. Peeta who was thankful. Peeta who didn't blame me. Peeta who loved me. And it's not fair because this note is something I'll never be able to repay him for. Ever. It's kept me sane, kept me from shutting out the world.
Right now, it seems that the Gamemakers want to get Peeta as close to death as possible before pulling him back. If he dies early, it's almost like defeat for them. They want his suffering to go on for as long as possible. So, they slam him down at death's door every chance they get, but never let him stay there.
First comes the fog. The coils of white mist that blister upon impact.
Katniss is on watch when the fog hits. Clearly Gamemaker made, the swirls evoke the most awful sounds from their victims.
"Run!" Katniss screams at the slumbering others. "Run!"
Finnick immediately responds, hoisting Mags on his back and taking off. Peeta, on the other hand, is still so weak from dying. His brain doesn't seem to fully process the information until it's almost too late. If it weren't for Katniss, he'd have probably died. Again.
Honestly, how much more can he take? Can our family take? But Katniss has him now, urging him along just ahead of the poisonous gas. The littlest root trips him up and it's like he's still half asleep.
"What's wrong with him? Why can't he run normally?" my wife asks.
"I think it's just leftover fatigue from hitting the force field."
"So he's now disabled in both legs?" she frowns.
"No, I think he's just weak. Still recovering. He's wearing that prosthetic too. He never could quite control that."
As the fog closes in, an ominous wall rushing towards them, I half expect Katniss to run. To escape. Without Peeta inhibiting her, she'd be able to outrun this threat no problem. But she stays right next to my son, helping him over the vegetation and uneven ground. Her fingers lock around his. The action says, "look at us. You can't separate us. I'll stay by him no matter what you throw at us."
My son's artificial leg causes them real problems. Even with two good legs, Peeta would be stumbling from the after effects of the force field. But his prosthetic catches on everything and and it's a wonder that they're able to advance at all.
A new kind of admiration for her forms in my chest. Yesterday, with her response to his death, and now with her determination to stay beside him, Katniss has earned my respect. Here's yet another side of this enigmatic girl. Every time I think I understand her, something else happens. It's humbling, bewildering, and sometimes kind of annoying.
So, they stagger onward, the fog gaining more ground than they.
And the noises, oh the noises. Guttural, anguished, and stabbing. When a droplet finds skin, I can feel their agony through their cries. To hear a child, specifically your child, make noises that no human should ever emit breaks a person. Shreds the soul.
White, oozing blisters swell wherever the fog caresses them. I can see pus and liquid wriggling beneath the translucent bubbles of skin. My gag reflexes work hard to stay inactive.
But of course, it's not enough for the Gamemakers. Whatever chemicals are in that fog must target their nerves, too. Faces sag grotesquely, legs spasm and arms jump around like half-dying fish. It's something out of a horrific dream. And that means Katniss can no longer manage Peeta with her floppy-fish arms.
Finnick, realizing that Katniss and Peeta were having problems, hurries back to them. He hoists Peeta up, but Katniss is forced to carry Mags. She tries her best, but Katniss really isn't that much bigger than the old woman. Between the weight and the uneven terrain, it becomes too much for her. Both go crashing to the ground, the fog not far behind. Odair returns once again, but without the use of his arms. He can't carry both Mags and Peeta.
"Now this is a critical moment," Caesar Flickerman says dramatically. "Finnick Odair can only pick one to save. Will he save his district partner or is Peeta going to get the ride?"
Obviously, Finnick will pick Mags. She's like his family and district partners are always closers than other allies. So, the end is now for Peeta? It's getting to the point where I'm exhausted of thinking he's about to die.
But I'm wrong. What does happen is so fast, so irrational, that there's nothing anyone can do about it. The old woman kisses Finnick, then hobbles into the fog. Straight towards death, just like that. Her body convulses for a few moments before going still.
Finnick is screaming her name, crying. It's like he's adopted Katniss's method of half-craziness. But the fog is advancing, not caring that it just swallowed up a tribute, hungry for more.
Peeta is not functioning, so it's up to Katniss to pull Finnick together and force him to move forward. Right before the camera follows, we get a final, grainy shot of Mags' body. Peeling away in some places and bubbling in others. The camera cuts through the fog to give us full coverage of the disgusting corpse.
What a state the trio is in. They make it just slightly farther before they all collapse on each other. Unable to move. Unable to do anything, really, other than moan. So, will they all go like Mags now? The fog won't stop… or will it? Yes, it's condensing. It won't come any farther - they're out of range.
I lean back and close my eyes. This is going to be a long Quell I can tell. Here's death, oh wait never mind.
Apparently, water draws out the chemicals. The trio drags themselves down to the beach and slump by the water's edge. It's like a reverse effect. The water draws out the fog, along with more horrible sounds from Katniss and Peeta. Once they've purged themselves of poison, our tributes help Finnick, who's still unable to do it himself. In the end, they all strip down to their underclothes - their jumpsuits being so damaged it's not worth putting them back on - but they seem to be almost good as new. Shaken, obviously, and still in shock, but physically they seem to be recovering.
This only confirms my suspicion that the Gamemakers want to keep Katniss and Peeta, and probably Finnick, too, alive until the end. They want to make their deaths very memorable and for that, they must have full use of their arms, legs, and body. Minimal wounds, low damage until the final, bloody showdown of the century. Why else would there be such a convenient, abundant cure?
If the Gamemakers wanted a torturous ride, all they had to do was leave our tributes burned and blistered. They would've had a hard time fending off another attack in the state the fog left them in. But instead, the Gamemakers chose to have something as easily accessible as water draw out the poison they engineered. It was clearly planned out.
"Are they just going to wear their underclothes for the rest of the Games?" my wife asks, appalled.
That's what she's concerned about? "Probably. Why's that a big deal?"
"It's just weird. And even weirder because the boys are extremely muscular. It's almost an unfair advantage for them to gain sponsors."
"Yeah, er- okay." Seriously, of all things to worry about.
In the other locations of the arena, tributes are encountering similar terrors. But the odd thing is, nothing is ever happening at the same time. Maybe the media wants give the rebelling districts special coverage of every gruesome death and all the action as it happens, and so the Gamemakers have orders to spread out the attacks. For whatever reason, they wait until the previous horror has passed to begin a new one. A lightning storm. Giant insects that are no doubt mutts. A torrential downpour of blood.
The other interesting thing is that almost all of the victors seemed to have drifted towards a group. There are three main alliances: the generic Career pack with the tributes from One and Two - Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria, and Brutus. There's a group consisting of the Seven and Three tributes - Johanna, Blight, Wiress, and Beetee. And, of course, the one with the Twelve and Four victors - Katniss, Peeta and Finnick. There are others, scattered around the arena, but for the most part, the camera focuses on one of these three groups. Probably because they contain the crowd favorites.
After just an hour or two of semi-peace, Katniss, Finnick and Peeta run into more trouble. Mutts. Large animals with long fangs and hideous faces. Monkeys, I think. They congregate in the trees, on the branches, silently surrounding the group. There are just too many of them. No amount of strength can defeat them. When the fighting breaks out, it looks bad. No matter how many times they stab the things, more replace the orange-furred demons. And then the mutt launches itself at Peeta, ready to impale him with razor sharp fangs. The others won't get there in time. She, however, does. The female tribute from Six throws herself in front of him, absorbing the blow, the fur, and the teeth.
What the - did she just kill herself? On purpose? To save Peeta or for some other reason?
Caesar and Claudius don't quite know what to make of all these "self-sacrifices".
"Well, um, looks like the accidents tonight will cost the tributes greatly!" Claudius says unconvincingly.
"Yes, 'wrong place, wrong time' really comes into play here. Now, we do know that the victor from Six had a morphling addiction, so she may have been going through withdrawal and wasn't all right in the head, if you know what I mean."
Both men laugh, but it's clearly forced.
"Also, old minds tend to get a bit looney," Caesar continues. "The Four victor just fell prey to her senile weakness and forgot which way she was running!"
They can laugh and try to play it off as a whole big accident but they're not fooling anyone. They know, the districts know. For some reason, people keep committing suicide. There have been two instances tonight where a tribute has willingly embraced death.
I think back to the deaths. Two victors. Mags and the morphing.
Mags had just collapsed with Katniss. Finnick couldn't take her, too. He'd already been carrying Peeta who was carrying his trident. She'd kissed him, then run straight into the fog.
In the morphling's case, she'd just - appeared. Must have been lurking in the trees. The mutt jumped at Peeta and he was trying to get the sheath of arrows for Katniss. The morphling had just put herself in front of him.
These two women had sacrificed themselves tonight, but now I realize another thing. They both gave their lives… to save my son.
They died to save Peeta.