Sparks Fly

Chapter 37

Time passes too quickly, the sun creeping menacingly beneath the tree line on what might very well be my final sunset with Peeta. The clouds are a vivid, rosy pink, stained with splashes of lavender against a cyan sky. And there, at the horizon, is a stunning streak of beautifully soft orange. It appears as if even the sky favors Peeta tonight.

I lay in his lap as he fiddles with my hair, and together we bask in the fading rays of sunlight – the same way we did on the rooftop of the Training Center. It's strange to think that was only a few nights ago.

My undershirt has gathered the slightest bit around my waist, revealing a sliver of my stomach. Peeta's attention is fixed to the display of colors in the sky, but the hand that's not tangled in my hair settles on my bare abdomen, where he begins to absentmindedly trace tiny drawings over my protruding belly. Tears prick my eyes at the sight, at what I'm taking away from him, but I blink them away before anyone can see.

I turn my head slightly and catch a glimpse of Finnick looking at us. We've been careful not to stray too far from the group, to not talk too quietly, lest the others become suspicious, but it's not a look of mistrust in those sea green eyes. No, it's something like... longing. Perhaps wondering if he'll ever know such peace with his Annie.

And my heart breaks at the sight. Because he never will. Because he too must die if Peeta is to survive.

The anthem begins, but there are no faces in the sky tonight. The audience will be restless, thirsting for blood. Beetee's trap holds enough promise, though, that the Gamemakers haven't sent in other attacks. Perhaps they are simply curious to see if it will work.

At what Finnick and I judge to be about nine, we leave our shell-strewn camp, cross to the twelve o'clock beach, and begin to quietly hike up to the lightning tree in the light of the moon. Our full stomachs make us more uncomfortable and breathless than we were on the morning's climb. I begin to regret those last dozen anchovies.

Beetee asks Finnick to assist him, and the rest of us stand guard. Before he even attaches any wire to the tree, Beetee unrolls yards and yards of the stuff. He has Finnick secure it tightly around a broken branch and lay it on the ground. Then they stand on either side of the tree, passing the spool back and forth as they wrap the wire around and around the trunk. At first it seems arbitrary, then I see a pattern, like an intricate maze, appearing in the moonlight on Beetee's side. I wonder if it makes any difference how the wire's placed, or if this is merely to add to the speculation of the audience. I bet most of them know as much about electricity as I do.

The work on the trunk's completed just as we hear the wave begin. I've never really worked out at what point in the ten o'clock hour it erupts. There must be some buildup, then the wave itself, then the aftermath of the flooding. But the sky tells me ten-thirty.

This is when Beetee reveals the rest of the plan. Since we move most swiftly through the trees, he wants Johanna and me to take the coil down through the jungle, unwinding the wire as we go. We are to lay it across the twelve o'clock beach and drop the metal spool, with whatever is left, deep into the water, making sure it sinks. Then run for the jungle. If we go now, right now, we should make it to safety.

"I want to go with them as a guard," Peeta says immediately. After the moment with the pearl, I know he's less willing than ever to let me out of his sight.

"You're too slow. Besides, I'll need you on this end. Katniss will guard," says Beetee. "There's no time to debate this. I'm sorry. If the girls are to get out of there alive, they need to move now." He hands the coil to Johanna.

I don't like the plan any more than Peeta does. How can I protect him at a distance? However... I hate to admit it, but Beetee's right. With his leg, Peeta is too slow to make it down the slope in time. Johanna and I are the fastest and most sure-footed on the jungle floor. I can't think of any alternative. And if I trust anyone here besides Peeta, it's Beetee.