Who: Finnick Odair
Killed by: President Snow's lizard-human mutts that bit off Finnick's head.
Where: in a tunnel on the way to Snow's mansion.
When: during the uprising.
Last moments (copied directly from Mockingjay. The book was written by Suzanne Collins on August 24, 2010.):
No mutt is good. All are meant to damage you. Some will take your life, like the monkeys. Others your reason, like the tracker jackers. However, the true atrocities, the most frightening, incorporate a perverse psychological twist designed to terrify the victim. The sight of the wolf mutts with the dead tributes' eyes. The sound of the jabberjays replicating Prim's tortured screams. The smell of Snow's roses mixed with the victims' blood. Carried across the sewer. Cutting through even this foulness. Making my heart run wild, my skin turn to ice, my lungs unable to suck air. It's as if Snow's breathing right in my face, telling me it's time to die.
The others are shouting at me, but I can't seem to respond. Strong arms lift me as I blast the head off a mutt whose claws have just grazed my ankle. I'm slammed into the ladder. Hands shoved against the rungs. Ordered to climb. My wooden, puppet limbs obey. Movement slowly brings me back to my senses. I detect one person above me. Pollux. Peeta and Cressida are below. We reach a platform. Switch to a second ladder. Rungs slick with sweat and mildew. At the next platform, my head has cleared and the reality of what's happened hits me. I begin frantically pulling people up off the ladder. Peeta. Cressida. That's it.
What have I done? What have I abandoned the other to? I'm scrambling back down the ladder when one of my boots kick someone.
"Climb!" Gale barks at me. I'm back up, hauling him in, peering through the gloom for more. "No." Gale turns my face to him and shakes his head. Uniform shredding. Gaping wound at the side of his neck.
There is a human cry from below. "Someone's still alive," I plead.
"No, Katniss. They're not coming," says Gale. "Only the mutts are.
Unable to accept it, I shine the light from Cressida's gun down the shaft. Far below, I can just make out Finnick, struggling to hang on as three mutts tear at him. As one yanks his head back to take a death bite, something bizarre happens. It's as if I'm Finnick, watching the images of my life flash by. The mast of a boat, a silver parachute, Mags laughing, a pink sky, Beetee's trident, Annie in her wedding dress, waves breaking over rocks. Then it's over.
I slide the Holo from my belt and choke out, "nightlock, nightlock, nightlock." Release it. Hunch against the wall with the others as the explosion rocks the platform and bits of mutt and human flesh shoot out of the pipe and shower us.
YOU ARE READING
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