Flint and Steel

xxix

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE: HAYMITCH

After Maysilee had torched the dense shrubbery that lined the cliff and said her goodbye, Haymitch angrily started chucking rocks off the cliff.

He had kicked a couple of pebbles into the void below, and had been surprised to see them jump back up at him, landing where they had started. "What the?" Haymitch questioned what he had just witnessed. He squinted at the space in front of him. Past the cliff, the mountainous terrain ended. Was it his imagination, or was there a shimmer? Was this the end of the arena?

"Fuck", he wound up his arm, a rock the size of a tea cup gripped tightly in his fingers, "you." The rock sailed off into the abyss. Grinding his teeth, he picked up a slightly smaller rock by his boot. He hoped that a camera had picked up his words and that the gamemakers were hearing him.

The rock came hurtling back at him, right where his hand had released it.

Haymitch ripped loose a laugh. "You bastards!"

His laughter was cut short when he heard a scream. Instantly, he recognized it as Maysilee's voice. She had just said not to follow her, but she hadn't been in imminent danger then. Consequences be damned, if she needed help, he was going to find her. I'm coming for you.

Haymitch was too late. The aftermath was a blur. The hovercraft that lifted her out whirred over his shoulder but he barely noticed. The body that had been Maysilee Donner floated away to be processed and discarded like the cheap entertainment her life in the arena had been. Shock washed over him like the flood after a dam broke. His promise to Sage had been broken, utterly and irretrievably. For the first time since he had entered the arena, his goal was to get himself out of the Capitol. They had taken everything from him. But Haymitch knew he had the inner cruelty to kill every last tribute and win the whole game. The games had cost him his humanity, but they wouldn't cost him his life.

The face of the dying little girl he had mercy killed with Sage came back to him.

Maysilee's cannon went off. Boom.

He had to get moving. The hovercraft would have alerted the other tributes of a possible location. Haymitch stared at the spot in the fake sky where Maysilee's body had disappeared.

Half the day was spent already, and he used the last half to march back to the end of the arena and wander along the cliffs, careful to stay away from the edge and check for threats behind him every few paces. Just keep going, until this is all over, he told himself. Then, you'll wake up from this nightmare and be back with Fern and mother. Just keep going.

What he really needed was a drink.

The thought of a bottle of whiskey kept him going. Haymitch needed to forget, needed to drown out the thoughts that wouldn't stop haunting him.

The first thing he would do if he got back to twelve, he resolved, was stock the Victors Village with liquor. He would have his pick of the extravagant, enormous mansions that lined the streets of the empty neighborhood. Fern would like it there, with more space to run around than their cramped hovel that was always dusty back in the Seam. Haymitch fantasized about the golden whiskey bottles, Greasy Sae's special ginger moonshine, the glittery purple liquor Maysilee had introduced to him, and all the other drinks he would line his mansion with. He would buy a proper bar and open it up to whoever wanted to come around and share a drink with them at no expense.

The last of the water slid down his throat. Any day now, any hour now, Haymitch knew the game would end. I bet the others are running out of resources, too, he thought.

Feeling like he had covered enough ground to be safe, he sat down at the edge of the cliff. His legs dangled over in the free air, kicking like a small child. The wind nipped at his face, but he barely felt it. He had gone numb. The shimmer waved about six feet in front of his nose, bending with the wind. Squinting, he studied it. The shimmer reminded him of an opal, iridescent with flashes of blue, pink, purple, yellow ever so faintly.