21.

Mercedes Silk had been planning this for years. Before she was crowned a victor, before she started drinking, before she pitched the idea for the metro to the Capitol. She'd had notebooks upon notebooks filled with maps she'd drawn up of the city and the country. To anyone looking at them they seemed like nonsense. Just lines. They weren't labeled, there were no shapes. Just lines. All of the information that could get her shot or tortured, or worse, her family shot and tortured, wasn't there. She'd thought about that, really thought about it. It had been the only thing holding her back in the beginning. But the more she thought about it, killing them would serve the Capitol no purpose. She would be long gone and would have no way of knowing what was being done to them. Glover was a pragmatic political animal. She approached hurting people as a very 'waste not, want not' kind of thing. As soon as she realized this, Mercedes went full speed ahead with her plan.

She considered several different routes from the Capitol. She looked over train schedules, compared the times of how long it took them to take each tribute to the Capitol. She looked through history books and archives and found old maps of what used to be North America. She tried to find where she could go that would take her as far away from Panem as possible. If she went through Districts 4, 5, 10, 11, 8 or 12, she would find herself along the coast. Boxed in, she felt, between Panem and the ocean. Trappd. But if she were to go through Districts 7, 9 or 6, up north…there was so much distance between herself and Panem. She could feel herself breathing easier just thinking about it. Whatever was there, whatever was waiting for her, assuming it was savages, raiders, or whatever else, she didn't care. That was naive, she knew that even then, but she didn't care. Once she started dreaming about a life outside, she couldn't stop.

So she planned. She sketched. She mapped. She timed. She failed. She threw things across the room. She burned the papers. She drank. She gave up. She took a break, a step back. Then she started all over again. Weeks, months, years, it all went by so slowly. Then suddenly, at the tail end, it felt like it was happening at lightning speed. She still couldn't fully believe that she'd managed to pull it off. Building secret tunnels under the Capitol, under the Arena, and having them build secret tunnels outside of the Capitol that go under Districts 1 and 7. She had nightmares all throughout the process of being taken from her home and dragged to prison. Inspired by those nightmares, she put in a fail-safe, which would cause the tunnels behind her to collapse as she went. No one would be able to follow her if they tried. If they did, they would be trapped or killed. She tried not to lose any sleep over that. Every time she started to think about it she thought of Dublin's face and the faces of his family, and she suddenly didn't mind any Capitol blood on her hands.

She hadn't planned on taking the tributes with her at first. It started last year after she lost two more. She never went back for any of the funeral ceremonies, not that the Capitol provided a body to bury. The tributes were always thrown away like garbage and the people in the districts were told to do whatever traditions they did to honor their dead. Mercedes had her own tradition of getting blackout drunk in her apartment instead of a bar. When she woke up, her head pounding, she got right to work on a new plan. The same explosives that she was going to rig in the tunnels, she put underneath the floor of the Arena. They were enough to destroy the floor, but not enough to horribly injure anyone in there. Plus, she'd figured out a way to rig it so that the collapse would knock out the cameras in that spot.

Then there were the trackers. Oh, the trackers. That had been a hard one. The only way to get those out would be to surgically remove them. She'd talked to doctors who injected and removed them annually and learned all about the process. She also learned that there was a way to jam the trackers' signals. She'd hooked up a small black device to the top of the train car that did exactly that. As long as the tributes stayed in that car, they were ghosts.

"Don't move," Mercedes said firmly, holding up her hand as they all attempted to take steps forward. "We don't have much time. Not if we want to do this safely. Stay inside, all of you. They can't track you as long as you're in there."

They'd all been so distracted by the sight of her that none of them had noticed the large duffel bag that she was holding at her side with her other hand.

"What is that?" Emmer asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

"Medical kit. I've gotta get those trackers out and I've gotta get em' out fast."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Xandra demanded. "Is this some kind of test? Are we—"

"You're not in the Arena," Mercedes said quickly, trying not to get too annoyed with her. There just wasn't any time to waste. "You're not in the Capitol. You're not even in Panem anymore. I'll explain more as soon as those trackers are out, but I need to act fast. Because the second those trackers are out, the games are over for you. The Capitol won't be able to find you, or at the very least they're going to have a very, very hard time doing it."

"Don't come any closer." Nona held the tip of her sword at Mercedes threateningly. "Don't move."

Mercedes narrowed her eyes at her in annoyance. "Really, Girl? You're really doing this now?

"I mean, can you blame her?" Wicker asked. "Usually if something seems too good to be true, it probably is, and this is way too good. Are you trying to tell me that we're free? That we're all free? Just like that? We're the lucky lottery winners and you're here to save us just because it's the right thing to do?"

"What about that guy from Seven?" Emmer asked. "Heron, I think his name is. I never saw his face in the sky."

Mercedes looked at him regretfully, guilt suddenly gnawing at her insides. "I couldn't get him out. "He wasn't in the right spot. I'm sorry about that."

"Mercedes," Alba said softly, pushing to the front of the group. "I don't understand. You never gave me any indication that you were planning this."

"Yeah, because I didn't want to get executed. I don't know if you know this about the process of escaping oppressive regimes, but the regime doesn't like it and uses any means necessary to make sure that it doesn't happen. And if they catch the person plotting, they sometimes rip out teeth with pliers or break hands and feet with mallets. Maybe even burn them in places you wouldn't even think about not wanting to be burned as opposed to all the obvious places—"

"We get it," Xandra said.

"Oh do you? Do you get it, One? Do you understand that I took a gigantic risk not only getting myself out of the country, but getting the eight of you out as well? That I saved every single one of your lives, am still in the process of saving every single one of your lives, and I still haven't gotten a thank you. As a matter of fact, I'm trying to save your lives right now and you are making it as difficult as possible—seriously Two, are you still pointing that sword at me? Put it away."

"Put it away," Marrow encouraged Nona softly. She slowly and reluctantly lowered her weapon.

"Thank you," Mercedes nodded. "Alright. Listen, I have crates of food, water and medicine that I have been collecting. It's enough to last for maybe a couple months and it's all in packs. But none of that is going to matter if we don't get those damn trackers out of your damn arms right damn now. So—" Mercedes raised the medical bag up once again. "Who's first?"

Much to everyone's surprise, Latia's hand shot up. The others all turned to look at her. But she looked forward intently. "My parents dedicated their lives—actually gave their lives to see the world outside. I want to do what they never could and never will. And besides, I want this thing out of me. The second it's out, we're no longer sacrificial lambs. Now tell me that doesn't sound good."

No one could disagree. They parted, allowing Mercedes to walk past them and sit on the bench on the left end of the train car. Mercedes had been practicing this on human and animal cadavers for a year. Cut after cut after cut until it was as close to perfect as she could get it. She hadn't even told Isley that she did this. He probably would have insisted that she see a counselor again, and that hadn't done her any good the first time. No, Mercedes found that she was at her sanest when she was doing something. Pulling this plan off had often felt like the only thing keeping her from bathing in hooch.

She cut out Latia's tracker and tossed it on the ground, then proceeded to disinfect the wound and wrap it up. She watched Latia clench her fist and flex her fingers as she stared in both disbelief and wonder at her wrapping. The proof that she was finally free. She slowly stood up and walked past the other tributes—former tributes. She stood on the edge of the open train car door, breathing heavily, suddenly unwilling to take that first step.

"Latia—" Wicker began softly.

"Just," she cut him off, shutting her eyes. "Give me a minute. This is kind of a…This is important."

They all stood there for a few more moments. Mercedes didn't try to stress to them how pressed for time they were. She had a feeling that Latia would be the example that they would follow if she was happy with the results. Mercedes suddenly found herself holding her breath along with the other kids.

Latia slowly took one step forward, her foot hitting the grass. She let out a deep exhale and brought her other foot together with the first one. She threw her head back, allowing the tears to fall freely. Then she started laughing. She raised her hands above her head and cried out victoriously. Suddenly moved, everyone else started crying and laughing right along with her.

Maybe it was all the noise, or maybe he sensed that it was just time, but right at that moment, Patch slowly blinked his eyes open and started coughing. He looked around, surprised that everyone was looking at him, unsure of his surroundings.

"Hey," he said hoarsely. "What happened? Where are we?"

"We're free," Marrow said through joyful tears. "We're all gonna be free. Mercedes, do him next. Please do him next."

Marrow gently put Patch on his feet, allowing Patch to lean on him to keep himself steady. He clearly didn't recognize the woman, but she smiled at him anyway.

"Hi Patch," Mercedes said. "Welcome back. And welcome to the Wilds."