*Gale*

If we're being honest, Olivine Price and I have never gotten along. Sure, she's committed to the cause and attended our meetings. But other than, she brought nothing to the table other than snide commentary about District Two supremacy — to the point that even the other victors and former Peacekeepers found it tedious — or a general gung-ho rhetoric about storming the Capitol that gets everyone killed.

Still, the victor doesn't deserve to be hauled up to a stage like this while a Hand spokesman prattles on about how the end of the age of victors. To her credit though, Olivine shows no fear as to her predicament; if anything, despite the bruises marring her face, she remains as rigid as can be with an expression of pure defiance and anger directed at those around her. This is especially the case when Olympia Wilson and Cinnabar Anders are brought up.

At the last part, I do take a moment to internally mourn the Wilsons and Anders. I liked the older victors and had really hoped that they were able to escape; now I just hope that their kids are able to cope.

Suddenly a new arrival catches my attention. Like the rest of the Hand, the young man — he looks no older than Peeta or Katniss — striding forward is geared up in crimson armor. However, something about this youth seems a bit different than the rest of them. I'm not just talking about the gold trim on that armor that seems to confer some kind of elite status, or the deference the other Hand soldiers show. I'm also not talking about the right arm that's clearly prosthetic all the way up to his shoulder. Rather it's his general bearing and expression; one which holds a high level of professionalism and none of the haughtiness — if anything, he almost looks regretful — that characterizes his peers. Despite that, for some reason his presence actually seems to get even more hatred from Price — not to mention a bit of recognition — as well as dark murmurings from the normally listless crowd.

That's when I'm able to make out the symbol on his breastplate: a bisected Capitol seal that emanates three rays of gold from the break. That's when I recognize the meaning of that symbol; a symbol that has been the subject of various meetings ever since this past 's when cold tendrils unfurl in my stomach as I realize that I'm looking at a Redeemer for the first time; one of the people responsible for… for…

"Gale!"

Madge's hissed exclamation sends a jolt through me, and I look back to see that she recognizes as well what the person on the stage represents; despite that, she also looks at me with the sort of tight-lipped warning that tells me to let this pass for now.

I know she's right, and the logical part of my brain is screaming why that's so. Still…

Any possible thought is mentally beaten down by the sense of urgency at the task at hand. As I unfurl my fists to reveal bloody crescents in my palms, I keep focus on said sense of urgency. Because if I don't focus on something right now, I know that I will probably do something really stupid that gets everyone killed.

Even with that however, part of my attention still gets drawn back to the stage, and as we near the exit of the square, something happens to push all concerns away.

Because in one minute, the spokesman for the Hand is demanding that Price recant her prior position and accept the new rule; in the next, the latter launches herself at former with currently-unbound hands and a clear intent to kill. After tackling the spokesman, the victor gets up from the now twitching body with a triumphant expression and a bloody shiv held aloft.

"DEATH BEFORE DI—"

Price doesn't get to finish her sentence. What instead happens is that a light spear hurled by the Redeemer — there's some modification to his prosthesis that allows the arm to function as some sort of launcher — pierces through her skull before her body flops to the gorund.

And then the whole crowd goes berserk.

I suppose that it's expected that there would still be that undercurrent of resentment simmering beneath the broken husks. After all, that's what happened to the entire nation four years ago. Still, it takes me completely by surprise, and not in a good way.

"Okay, forget going steady, we need to get out of here RIGHT NOW!" I shout as one of our windows spiderwebs from a thrown rock.

As the vehicle lurches forward, I can see the crowd move as a wave towards the podium. While they do so, the Redeemer retreats back to a hovercraft and rallies the others to move to the train.

Even as they fire into the crowd, some unlucky soldiers don't manage to retreat fast enough. Let's just say that once they are seized armor doesn't offer quite enough protection to save them; because even though the crowd may be weak from starvation, having at least several people pulling on each limb tends to be fairly effective. I don't miss that many there are using that opportunity to sate their hunger as well.

Despite the wave of nausea that washes over me at the sight — the frenzied mass of people obscures a lot, as does the increasing distance we put between us and them, but it doesn't do enough for me to not tell what's happening — my sympathy for the Hand limited past the point of general horror of such a fate befalling anyone. The same can't be said for any unlucky Army soldier are also caught by the mob.

Some may think me hypocritical considering the fact that many of the Hand are barely reaping age while the lower limit for the Army is fourteen, with the bulk of the teenagers sixteen and above; however, age is a nonfactor for me. Those in the Hand joined for their zeal, and I've been witness to the way that zeal manifested into action; hell, I can still recall the sense of superiority they had here till the point where things went to shit. In contrast, it's clear that most of the soldiers — even many of those with a strong sense of devotion to the government — don't like what's going on around Two; many of them also have no choice in where they're posted in the first place. That's not getting into the horrific irony in terms of the simple fact that many of the solders' screams are Two-accented.

Of course, it's unlikely the mob gives a damn about that last part. If anything, they're probably attacking those from Two with even more viciousness — especially with them now having seized weaponry in their hands now — due to the perception of the latter being traitors. Though at this point, things are getting out of control enough that they are now indiscriminately attacking and destroying anything — by now, the only things nearby to destroy are original community structures and buildings — they can get their hands on; I wouldn't be surprised if many carrying out such acts of violence are the same who scoffed at the uprisings in the outer districts four years ago.

Because this is… this is…

Oh, fuck… this is a fucking uprising!

That realization causes another heavy blanket of dread to fall upon me. And it's not just from the unfolding devastation itself, as horrible as it is. It's from the knowledge as to what's going to come after.

Once we cross one of the main bridges — along with a whole bunch of people fleeing the violence, which remains content to stay on the north side of the river… for now — I issue an order: "Stop the car."

"What?" everyone else squawks in unison as they all stare at me in a wide-eyed manner; the kind which suggests that I've lost my mind. Granted, they may have a point at that last part, but if that's the case, they're a bit late to the game as my marbles have been gone for quite some time.

"Stop the car," I repeat. "We need to do something about this."

"We need to get out of North Gate," Madge states. "The whole city is going to tear itself apart."

"And how do you think Coin's going to react to this?"

Only a few seconds pass before my companions are able to process my question and realize the implications. When they do, it takes a far shorter amount of time for their expressions to be dominated by that of horror.

"All these people…"

I respond to Madge with a grim nod. "Which is why we need to get them out of here and fast."

"But how?" asks Onyx, who has rolled the vehicle to a stop but looks ready to continue accelerating right out of here… assuming he knows where an exit out of the city is.

"I'm trying to figure that out," I mutter while looking out the window… which is when I spot my opportunity. "Nevermind, I know how… and none of you will like it, but I need everyone to keep a cool head."

This announcement seems to arise a bit of suspicion in Madge as she narrows her eyes at me that suggests she thinks I'm about to do something really… really stupid. "Gale, what are you—"

Too late. Before anybody else can object, I swing open the door and holler out, "Over here, Soldier!"

Ignoring the subdued — since they could be a lot louder, I'm going to count this as them keeping it cool — squawks of dismay from my companions, I focus my attention to the soldier I've just hailed. She looks to be barely out of her teens — so do most of the other soldiers surrounding her and crossing the bridge; the fact that many of them look several steps away from a breakdown just further emphasizes their youth — yet the holo that she clutches close to her implies that she's in charge; considering the manner and frequency in which holos are given out, it actually implies that she's in charge of overseeing this whole community. Right now though, she merely looks to be overseeing a retreat back to base.

I must be obscured by the interior of the vehicle, because the soldiers show no sign of recognition when I call to them. Instead, they straighten up and head towards us with palpable relief as if I'm just another commander taking charge of the situation. Before long, the group gets close enough that I'm able to read the tag on the leader's uniform as "Cote"; I'm also able to notice that the holo's splattered and smeared with a recent coat of blood, which hints why someone so young is in charge of it… not to mention what happened to the chain of command here. That last part is a genuine pity as the commander in charge here was one of the reasonable ones from Seven; I was actually doing an evaluation the past year and, if things hadn't gone south so quickly, would have eventually approached him about the possibility of joining our movement.

Anyways, I'm not looking at my companions, but I can still tell that all of them are tensing up and reaching for their weapons; even Madge, who's learned to be quite proficient with a pistol. In response to that, I raise my hand in a way to tell them to keep calm but vigilant; because if things get bad enough that a firefight occurs, it's doubtful any of us will make it out alive.

Still, they have full grounds to be vigilant because by the time Cote's only a couple feet away, she and her fellow soldiers do recognize who I am; it's clear enough by the way they halt in their tracks with eyes widened and follow that up by raising their weapons.

While still hoping that everyone else keeps that cool head, I hold my hands up in a placating and submissive manner to show that I'm unarmed. "Easy there, Commander Cote. I don't mean any harm. I just need to talk to you."

"It's still 'Soldier Cote', Commander Hawthorne," she states while keeping a pistol trained on me with one hand; the other still clutches that holo hard enough to turn the knuckles white. "You can talk to us after we bring you in, sir."

Judging by her accent, the soldier's clearly from Thirteen, which could be tricky. However, that the she's still calling me by that honorific is something I'm taking as a good sign since it implies that I'm still recognized as an authority figure; a fugitive authority figure, but an authority figure nonetheless. That in turn implies that there's still a level of respect being held, which will make negotiation potentially easier.

"Fine, 'Soldier' it is," I calmly state. "Though I have no intention of being taken prisoner and wouldn't have flagged you down if that were so."

While the gun isn't lowered, I don't miss the smallest bit of hesitation tinged with curiosity creeping into Cote's expression. "Then why did you do so?" I also don't miss her unspoken follow-up: "You could have easily gone on your merry way without us noticing." Of course, I don't actually expect them to admit that out-loud.

"Because this is urgent, and I care what happens to the people here: soldier and civilian alive."

A flash of anger and disbelief flares out through that hesitation. "If you care so much, then why the charge of treason, sir?" she spits. "Traitors care for nothing but bringing chaos to undermine hard-earned order."

"Under that principle, you were helping a whole army of traitors in the last war," I counter.

That pulls her up short. "I'm no traitor."

"Really? Snow said a lot of the same things about maintaining order," I state. "That's not even getting into the First Rebellion; what Thirteen did then sounds a bit like treason towards the Capitol to me."

"This—this is different."

Cote's assertion earns a short humorless bark of laughter from me. "Yes, because the starvation of this district is a paragon of order. Look me in the eyes and tell me that those wasting away in the streets deserve their fate like these damn propos declare." To my satisfaction, the soldier's unable to formulate a proper response — I also see the other members of her unit shifting with discomfort, which is a good sign in itself — and so I press on: "I won't deny that I'm a traitor to Coin, but I want you to ask yourself if I've ever shown myself to not give a damn about the people of Two or those under my command. Ask yourself if I've given leeway to our enemies in the field. I want to ask yourself, as I'm sitting in front of you instead of making my escape, if you really think I'm a traitor to Panem."

By now, even though their guns still aren't lowered, my would-be captors are now completely flummoxed — I'm pretty sure my companions are as well; I know I am since oratory skills are still something I suck at despite Peeta's coaching — as Cote states, "You have one minute to explain what's so urgent, sir."

In response to that, I finally decide to get right to the point: "Have you heard what happened to Powder City?"

She must, because I can see the blood drain away from faces of everyone in front of me. "That… that was an industrial accident."

"Bullshit," I snap, "and I know you know it." Seriously, I've never heard anyone so uncertain.

"Even if it wasn't, something like that wouldn't happen here." Again, there's that uncertainty. "That was a well-armed and belligerent Peacekeeper stronghold. This is only—"

"—a 'civil disturbance'?" I can't resist snorting at the terminology; nobody actually wants to call things for what they are… especially since much of the gunfire right now is more than a bit sporadic and definitely not coming from the hands of soldiers. "If that's the case, why is the Hand withdrawing instead of cracking down on this 'disturbance'? Why aren't you getting any orders from Command to deal with the situation? Powder City was as out of the way as you can get and was dealt with directly by the Capitol; do you really think that Coin is just going to allow a mob to take control of a city that's actually situated right on the main line to her city?"

"I…"

"Look, we can debate all you want, but we're running out of time. You have two options: keep on believing the Capitol's drivel and try to take me in… or actually do your duty to the people you've been assigned to look after. I can't guarantee the second option will get you out alive, but I canguarantee that we'll all die if you choose the first one." Yeah, I know I'm probably being melodramatic, and for all I know, what I fear may not come true; however, this is one of those cases where it's better to err on the side of pessimism. Granted, I also know that I'm taking a major gamble when I hold my hands out to her to both symbolize the weighing of said options and leave myself open to being handcuffed. "The choice is yours. Besides, if I am wrong, I give my word that I will also allow myself to be taken in afterwards; it's not like I can easily flee right now."

The period in which it takes for Cote to come to a decision feels like an eternity; while probably only a couple minutes pass, every second is precious if we're to survive this fiasco. Finally, she takes a deep breath before motioning the ones behind her to stand down. "What… what do you have in mind, sir?"

I barely allow the soldier's query to be completed before asking, "How familiar are you with North Gate?"

"Pretty well, I think," she states. "Most of us were here since the Re—"

"That's all I need to hear." Yeah, I'm probably being a bit brusque right now, but again, time is of the essence. "I'm going to need your holo for the moment."

The fact that some semblance of order is being reestablished at least for this moment seems to be working its magic as Cote doesn't even hesitate to bring out the device, turn it on, and allow me to sync it with my own holo; unlike how things usually go we actually have to do the syncing manually with a cord due to the disabling of the wireless interface — in other words, disabling the ability to track me — in mine.

The moment the layout of the city and surrounding area shows up, I immediately begin marking spots throughout the map. "The western slope of Mount M is the initial objective; the summit is the primary one. If it's too far or all routes are blocked, then you go for the backup options." I follow up the highlighting of the destinations by tracing paths throughout the city itself. "You're going to be getting the inhabitants of this city there."

Cote's eyes become saucers at the implication of my demand. "How—"

"Go door-to-door and tell people that they are immediate danger and where to go. Explain why if you have to, but don't waste your time forcing people who don't want to leave; though I suggest some persuading if they have kids. Also tell them to spread the word to their neighbors."

"That's still tens of thousands of people!"

"Which is why I'm going to need everyone on board about this," I note while pointing at her communicator. "I know there are people stationed throughout the community. You relay the information the squad leaders to relay that to their soldiers. Use any vehicle you can spare for the very young and infirm."

"What about them?" she asks while tentatively motioning across the river, where the sounds of the growing fracas are now starting to be accompanied by thick plumes of smoke rising up into the clear midday sky. I wouldn't be surprised if at least several of those killed by that mob were close friends of hers.

"… Fuck 'em," I growl. If anything, the riot's more of a danger to the people here than a nuisance to the government. "And you have full right to defend yourself if need be. But I want you soldiers to focus on getting people out. The more you engage that mob, the more you're going to be bogged down. Is that clear?"

What is clear is that I seem to be asking a lot, but to her credit, Cote simply gives me a quick salute in assent. "Yes, Commander."

As I return the salute, I note, "Good. No matter what, I can't stress how important it is for everyone to get at least higher than a hundred feet from this elevation and avoid all low-lying areas. Also tell those at base to also clear out as fast possible. We're going to want all the vehicles to spare, and it's going to do nobody any good to be stuck besieged by the mob… which will cross the river."

The soldiers' faces pale ever so slightly at that last point, but if anything, Cote's way more composed than she was when we first started talking. "Anything else, sir?"

"If there is, I can't think of anything right now," I mutter while rubbing my temples. Seriously, it's nearly impossible to use my brain at all with the continuing racket, be it from the riot or the propo speakers. Seriously, even with all that's going on, said speakers are still blaring Coinist propaganda as if nothing's out of the ordinary. You'd think that someone would be using them to make a statement to call… for… order…

"Wait, Soldier!"

My exclamation causes Cote, who's already barking orders into her communicator and in the process of departing, to stop in midstride. "Sir?"

I point out towards the base: "Do you think you can grant me access?"

~oOo~

Fortunately, getting that access is easier than expected. Cote may not be officially a commander, but it's clear that her orders carry weight.

Because by the time I get into the base, I'm not only allowed entry without issue, the soldiers at the gate don't hesitate to salute me despite the wanted portraits right behind them. Not to mention that the base itself is already bustling with activity as all remaining soldiers rush out of the barracks, mobilize vehicles, and clear out the supply stations and armory. The ease in which everything has progressed so far is probably helped by the fact that any workers truly loyal to the regime already left in the Hand's transports when they made a pit stop there.

The departure of any loyalists also explains why there've been no changes in the content of the blared-out messages originating from the communications station. Of course, they left the regular soldiers and technicians to hold down the fort; in other words, the lackeys left everyone else to die.

In any case, right after I'm rushed into the studio, I don't waste any time — if things are as I fear, Coin may already be in the process of mobilizing a response — making a recording and letting it be something useful for once to play on loop over those speakers. I also waste no time in reiterating that those technicians and guards need to hightail it out themselves as there's nothing here for them to take care of at this point; even if the riot reaches and trashes the place, by that time the message should have gone long enough to sink in.

Upon getting everything taken care of, I tell Onyx the next stage; once the soldier affirms that he's okay with it — albeit with some hesitation when I make it clear as to what manner he's not going to be going at it alone — he begins wheeling me back to the vehicle. Though by the time we reach it, Madge's voice stops me:

"Where do you think you're going? The mountain is that way," she states while jabbing a thumb behind her. Indeed, this base is nestled right at the bottom of Mount M — named for the massive concrete "M" inexplicably installed halfway up; it's supposedly from pre-Cataclysm times — and even has a road, flight of stairs, and cable rail that goes straight to the summit; right now, many soldiers are ferrying those paths to ferry supplies up there.

"You all," I say while motioning to her and all but one of the soldiers who have served as my escorts and companions, "should go on ahead. Alvar and I need to head back into the street."

"What."

I'm undaunted by her incredulity; not to mention the soldiers' for that matter, though theirs is nonverbal. "This was my idea, so I need to oversee it," I assert.

"You also need to not fall into Coin's hands dead or alive," she counters before shuddering. "Especially not alive."

The thought of being captured alive is one that causes me to suppress a shudder of my own. "I don't intend to stay the whole way through, but we also need every vehicle we can spare. So I'm both going to make sure that things are progressing as planned and that Alvar is not going at this alone." Before anyone can say what I think they are going to say, I add, "The part about needing every vehicle to spare is exactly why you're not going to be able to ride along. If you want to accompany me, I'm not going to stop you, but it will have to be on foot."

Aand of course they step forward to help… "Fine. Just be prepared for the fact that you're going to have to climb that mountain on foot. You," I state while rounding on Madge, "will be going straight up there."

Despite me expecting her to continue objecting, the mayor's daughter instead issues a long resigned sigh, "Let me guess: you're about to give me your holo."

"Yes I am," I reply with a smirk as I hand over the device to her. "You already have full authentication. If—"

"—something is to happen to you… Yeah yeah, I know," Madge mutters while giving me a brief hug. "Just don't do anything overly stupid."

"You know me," I chirp at her retreating back before turning to the soldiers. "Alright, everyone, let's go."

When we leave the base, there's already a decent flow of people in the streets even though only a few minutes have passed since the new broadcast has hit the air. It also seems that even with my new idea, Cote's still powering ahead with the initial one as I can see soldiers and locals going door-to-door, as well as the former helping the weaker civilians along or even carrying them.

Before long though, that flow turns into a torrent; they may loathe the new government and all who represent it, but inhabitants of Two are excellent at following directions no matter where said directions come from. In contrast to my wartime recollections of Capitol refugees frequently having skewed priorities in terms of how they are dressed and what they have with them, the people of North Gate are clearly bundled and geared up the best as they can be — which, admittedly, isn't much for many of them; be it due to time constraints at the moment or scarcity up till now — for hardship.

Even with the increasing urge to order the vehicle to rush out as fast as possible, Onyx actually keeps things steady — I can't see the speedometer, but I'm pretty sure we're going no faster than five miles per hour — so as to allow those in front of us to move out of the way in ample time; not to mention the soldiers alongside us to trot at a even pace. Besides, the civilians are also good at moving in a relatively — key word as everybody is scared out of their minds; I… may have not minced words regarding the possible fate of this place — orderly pace; rapid but orderly. Not saying there aren't any issues, but things are largely progressing without a break in the flow or people swamping the vehicles. Anytime we stop, it's to allow young children on board; those instances are almost always accompanied by no small amount of wailing from the kids and assurances from the parents that they will be reunited. Still, even though the less-than-a-mile-long journey feels like it takes hours, the act of comforting the mass of scared kids clinging to me does serve as a way to comfort myself.

Eventually, our vehicle finally makes a turn east to reach the base of the slope, and I can see that many people are already in the process of trekking up.

As we roll to a stop, Onyx looks back at me to ask, "How far, sir?"

"All the way to the ridge," I order before looking at our smaller passengers. "Alright, hold on."

The mountainside is actually not that steep — probably around thirty degrees — and it's luckily free of trees or large boulders. That doesn't mean the trek straight up and over a thousand feet in elevation is going to be easy, and in this case — fortunately with a lack of anyone in front of us — my driver doesn't hesitate to slam on the accelerator.

It also turns out that, even with the lack of large obstacles, the ride isn't the slightest bit smooth either. Actually, the vehicle feels like it's about to shake itself apart… that is, whenever it doesn't feel like it's about to rear up on its hind wheels to flip end-over-end… and sometimes it feels like both.

"We're almost there… we're almost there…"

I mutter that mantra to the huddled kids, to white-knuckled Onyx, to myself… despite the fact that the ridge doesn't look any closer to us. It's tempting to stop at the fire road located halfway up and parallel to the ridge, but the temptation is resisted as we cross — okay, "crash through" is a more apt term — it.

Eventually though, we finally make it. For a moment, it feels like we're about to careen over the edge, but we do make it when Onyx makes a hard left and puts on the brakes in time. Even then, I don't allow my nerves time to settle before I tell him to just go north along the ridge road until we reach the summit, which is where the personnel from the base should be gathered.

As we putter along, I fish out the unit flag from the console and hold it aloft out the left window. Hopefully the people down below — by now, the mass of dark specks moving up the mountainside looks like a swarm of ants on a crust of bread; larger and faster blotches signify vehicles — will get the hint that they are all supposed to follow us. At the very least, they should reach and follow the fire road.

It's a slightly treacherous trek, but we finally reach our main destination, the summit of M Mountain. Here, pine trees carpet the whole area and provide a substantial amount of cover; probably no enough hide in if a hovercraft were to appear directly overhead, but hopefully enough to obscure a crowd from a distance.

We're not far into the woods before we reach and park the vehicle at the Army camp, which is already in the process of being set up and receiving the first trickle of refugees. After allowing the little ones to spill out, I haul myself out to find Madge waiting for us.

Upon getting the holo back, the only thing I can do now is sit in place as more people stream into the refuge and take out a pair of binoculars to watch the events unfolding down below.

As I predicated, instead of dispersing, the riot finds itself unsatisfied with causing chaos on the north side of the city and proceeds across the bridges to besiege the now-abandoned base; up till that point, the soldiers have been allowing refugees to flow in and flee up the path provided, only shutting everything down behind them at the very last moment. Before long they break past the barricades and take the place over to declare victory, complete with waving an old flag someone managed to scrounge up.

The whole time, none of them seem to pay any heed to my warnings. In fact, and to my anger, they proceed to block roads in the process of taking over the city, effectively trapping any remaining resident in. All because they think victory's assured.

But sure enough — probably close to two hours after the riot first started — the bombers finally appear.

It's almost anticlimactic in a way. One moment we're watching a city being torn apart; the next, seven hovercraft uncloak to circle above that city. It takes a while for the mob to notice the new arrivals, and when they do, gunfire and shouts are heard as they try to take potshots.

All the bombers do is drop their payload.

Though instead of explosions and flames, are that appear are pillows of white clouds. Clouds that sink down and go along the paths to dissipate into the air.

First the square is hit… then the base… then finally the remaining neighborhoods.

Within a minute the gunfire stops. By that time, I can see the distant forms crumple to the ground to vomit and writhe as twitches… then spasms overtake them. Some try to cover their faces, but that doesn't even buy them any time. Others realize what's about to happen, and they either flee into buildings in the hope of finding shelter or they finally take my advice to go up the mountain. I don't know what happens to those in the shelters, though I doubt much protection is given. What I do know is that it's too late to go for high ground now; that much is clear as the latecomers and stragglers suffer the same fate as everyone else left in the city.

After just a few minutes, streets and open spaces of North Gate are covered in still and silent bodies as the bombers circle like buzzards to check for stragglers. After an extremely tense fifteen minutes, the bombers turn back north and recloak.

Upon the bombers' disappearance, subdued cries emanate all around, and I look to over to see that as Cote and the other soldiers stare down at the city with horror and denial warring to take prominence on their faces.

After what we've just been witness to, I have no desire at all to rub it in the soldiers' faces; it'd not only be pointless but do a disservice to everyone. Instead, I issue a weary sigh and say, "We can't go back. There's could still be traces of the toxin left, and there's no telling if those bombers will be back."

"So what do we do, sir?" Cote asks.

"We rest for now, and then we go on the move. I already have a destination planned. It's going to be a long southeast trek on foot, but as long as this mild winter holds, we may be able to make it. Also I take it that all our hovercrafts are accounted for?" At my question, the soldier checks into her comm before replying in the affirmative, which causes me to respond with a, "Good. The young and infirm will ride on ahead with them."

With that plan stated and out of the way, all the soldiers available work to set up logistics, check for any injuries, and do a tally. To my dismay, it becomes increasingly clear that only a quarter — if that — of the population made it. But right now, there's really nothing that can be done but to comfort the survivors and possibly even reunite separated families.

And for now, I feel fatigue beginning to take prominence. So at Madge's insistence that she can take over the role of overseeing things, and as a couple unclaimed little ones curl up against me — I do hope at least some of their family made it — I finally allow myself to rest.

The rest is short-lived.

That's because I'm barely able to settle my eyes before a chorus of screams goes up. Screams that cause me to look up and my blood to freeze. Screams that herald the fact that Coin's bombers are indeed back… and headed in our direction.

Almost nobody here has any energy left to even try fleeing, and I doubt that we have enough anti-aircraft weaponry to down all our assailants. So all I do is hold the kids close to me, murmur a lullaby, and hope that Peeta fares better for everyone's sake.

Well… I tried.