Beetee doesn’t understand what I mean. Usually he would, but he’s not himself. I can’t bear to see him in this pain. So I simply sit. And sit. And hope the new information can spare us from the arena. That doesn’t mean we’re safe from the other victors, of course. I’ve got my knife out, ready to fight the second somebody comes into our territory.
We eat some breakfast while everything’s calm. I know we should leave. I just can’t bear to force Beetee into doing anything. His pain’s too great. Any strain might cause him to die. Besides, I reason, our hideout hasn’t been discovered, so we’re fine at the moment. We don’t have to move.
True to clockwork form, the lightning returns, then dies down again. I’m much more relaxed now that we’re in a safe zone once more. Safe from the arena, anyway. Victors could be creeping up on us as I sit.
“All right?” I ask Beetee.
“Okay,” he says faintly. “You’ve been amazing. Thanks for the help.” Each sentence takes effort, almost like it does for me. He sinks down onto the sand.
I’m ready to join him when a young woman’s voice calls, “Hey, Nuts! Volts! Get your butts over here.”
My heart’s pounding. Who could it be? I turn to find out.
Standing in the distance is Johanna Mason. She looks thrilled to see us. And by that, I mean she looks ready to kill. Somebody’s not happy. I half expect her to raise her axe at us. But she doesn’t.
I point to Beetee’s back. “But he…”
“Oh, he’s hurt?” Johanna sighs grudgingly. “Okay, I’m coming.” She makes her way over, her face coming into view.
“What’s this all about?” Beetee asks weakly. He still doesn’t look like he’s completely aware of everything.
“I’m taking you to Katniss Everdeen, because I heard she wanted to ally with you. I don’t know why she bothers. Nonetheless, I’ll respect her wishes.” Obviously, Johanna’s upset that she can’t chop us into pieces. Nuts and Volts? What lovely nicknames she has for us. Three guesses as to which one I am… I’m so sick of people thinking I’m crazy. After twenty years like this, though, it’s easy to believe them.
Johanna lifts Beetee up with one arm, and I take the other. He’s limp to the point where he starts falling every few seconds. I try to soothe him, but Johanna just yanks him back on his feet. The jungle awaits, hiding countless dangers. But if this is how we get to Katniss, then I can’t be afraid. She needs all the people she can have behind her. Who would’ve thought a teenage girl would make such an impact on our country? She caused twice the commotion of a normal victor, and for that, we owe her.
We step into a dense rain. At least, that’s what I think it is, until I see dots of red on my sleeves. Blood. I know I didn’t just get cut, so there’s only one possible answer: The arena is raining blood.
“Let’s get moving,” Johanna demands. She doesn’t even need to say it. With Beetee in tow, we trek through the chaos. It fills my suit, my ears, and eventually, my mouth. Ew.
All of a sudden, the blood rain stops. How odd. We’re on another stretch of sandy beach. Immediately, I spit out the blood and shake it from my ears. But there’s nothing I can do about my suit. It’s been dyed a deep red. How symbolic of the Games. Now that I feel somewhat better, I can see Katniss, Peeta, and Finnick Odair, the District 4 boy, sitting by the shore. They’re not drenched in blood, strangely. But they do have nasty scabs all over their skin. Where did those come from? They must have encountered another part of the arena, one that I haven’t been to.
Another part of the arena. When everything’s shaped in a circle, it must be a very specific part of the arena. Then I remember the bell tones, the way the Cornucopia is positioned in the center, and the fact that each obstacle we’ve been through didn’t last for more than an hour. This just confirms my suspicions even more. We’re standing in the middle of a life-sized clock!