The Other Slip

Chapter 34

Divided into pairs, Peeta and I follow along in the crowd. Even though the mediocre makeup probably shields our identities, we keep our heads low with our hoods on. Among all of the colors, one sticks out to me. Lemon yellow. A girl, very young, in a lemon yellow coat. She keeps staring at me. Is it possible she recognizes me? My face is everywhere in the Capitol, and has been since the first games. She trips repeatedly, but doesn't cease to look at me. Until a bullet pierces through the yellow coat.

Peeta and I run and seek shelter, as we are so used to doing. My fight or flight reaction has ended in flight these past few times. The smell of leather is all around me, coming from the boots we are hiding behind.

-"Rebels..." Peeta half-asks, half-states in a harsh whisper.

-"They're on the roofs, shooting the peacekeepers," I say, "They wouldn't kill this many innocent civilians on purpose."

I feel my hand reaching for my bow by reflex, but Peeta stops me.

-"If we shoot they'll know it's us," he mutters, "Don't you want to get to Snow?"

He's right.

-"We need to go, and quick," I start to get up, "We'll go to the Presidential Estate, as desperate Capitol citizens looking for shelter."

-"How do we know the rebels won't shoot us?"

-"We don't. But they probably aren't aiming for us, so let's hope for the best."

He doesn't question this uncertain plan. We walk quickly, trying to be inconspicuous. A thick gray steam is released everywhere around us, blinding us. A pod, probably. I shoot blindly, aiming for what I think are white figures. The ground starts shaking violently, and I trip, falling straight on my chin. Peeta hoists me back up, saving me from the ground closing in on itself. I have no time to address the stinging on my chin, it's just a minor injury. I grip myself onto a pole, allowing myself a few seconds of rest.

-"Katniss, we need to keep going," Peeta says, panicked at the sight of Peacekeepers and soldiers everywhere. I can't move.

It's chaos. Dead bodies everywhere. Blood that isn't my own stains my ankles. Remains of the steam lingers in the air. A familiar silent ringing in my ear; my mind blocking out the world around me at the worst times. The air is empty next to me. It shouldn't be. This realization snaps me awake, I look for Peeta.

-"Peeta!" I shriek, once I see him being dragged by two Peacekeepers. I have revealed both of our identities, but they were probably already known. He has his nightlock pill. He will kill himself. I don't want that to happen. It is so unbelievably selfish of me, but I don't want him to die. I don't want him to be captured by the Capitol either, but if he was it wouldn't be the end. If he died it would be. It can't be the end. We are so close. The rebels are so close. So close to the end of the war, the end of the games, the end of the pain.

I am no longer undercover. I can't stay here. My legs betray me, running away from Peeta. But if this goes well, the Capitol won't have the chance to do anything to him. Snow is there, but something blocks me. A

huge pen of children, Capitol children. Whatever Snow tried to portray it as, his real intention is clear to me: they are a shield. They are blocking him from the rebels. I can't do anything while also trying to hide.

A bright red Capitol symbol flashes on the ship flying above the children, dropping the familiar parachutes i have seen many times before. Just as these kids have, they know what they contain: gifts. Supposedly. Because it really doesn't seem like a gift when some of them start exploding.