crushing debris and the flames didn't get them, the smoke did.
Gale's at my shoulder. The fact that he does nothing only confirms my suspicions. Miners don't abandon an accident until it's hopeless.
"Come on, Katniss. Haymitch says they can get a hovercraft in for us now," he tel s me. But I can't seem to move.
"Why would they do that? Why would they target people who were already dying?" I ask him.
"Scare others off. Prevent the wounded from seeking help," says Gale. "Those people you met, they were expendable. To Snow, anyway. If the Capitol wins, what wil it do with a bunch of damaged slaves?"
I remember al those years in the woods, listening to Gale rant against the Capitol. Me, not paying close attention. Wondering why he even bothered to dissect its motives. Why thinking like our enemy would ever matter. Clearly, it could have mattered today. When Gale questioned the existence of the hospital, he was not thinking of disease, but this. Because he never underestimates the cruelty of those we face.
I slowly turn my back to the hospital and find Cressida, flanked by the insects, standing a couple of yards in front of me. Her manner's unrattled. Cool even. "Katniss," she says, "President Snow just had them air the bombing live. Then he made an appearance to say that this was his way of sending a message to the rebels.
What about you? Would you like to tel the rebels anything?"
"Yes," I whisper. The red blinking light on one of the cameras catches my eye. I know I'm being recorded.
"Yes," I say more forceful y. Everyone is drawing away from me--Gale, Cressida, the insects--giving me the stage. But I stay focused on the red light. "I want to tel the rebels that I am alive. That I'm right here in District Eight, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital ful of unarmed men, women, and children. There wil be no survivors." The shock I've been feeling begins to give way to fury. "I want to tel people that if you think for one second the Capitol wil treat us fairly if there's a cease-fire, you're deluding yourself. Because you know who they are and what they do." My hands go out automatical y, as if to indicate the whole horror around me. " This is what they do! And we must fight back!"
I'm moving in toward the camera now, carried forward by my rage. "President Snow says he's sending us a message? Wel , I have one for him. You can torture us and bomb us and burn our districts to the ground, but do you see that?" One of the cameras fol ows as I point to the planes burning on the roof of the warehouse across from us. The Capitol seal on a wing glows clearly through the flames. "Fire is catching!" I am shouting now, determined that he wil not miss a word. "And if we burn, you burn with us!"
My last words hang in the air. I feel suspended in time. Held aloft in a cloud of heat that generates not from my surroundings, but from my own being.
"Cut!" Cressida's voice snaps me back to reality, extinguishes me. She gives me a nod of approval.
"That's a wrap."
8
Boggs appears and gets a firm lock on my arm, but I'm not planning on running now. I look over at the hospital--just in time to see the rest of the structure give way--and the fight goes out of me. Al those people, the hundreds of wounded, the relatives, the medics from 13, are no more. I turn back to Boggs, see the swel ing on his face left by Gale's boot. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure his nose is broken. His voice is more resigned than angry, though. "Back to the landing strip." I obediently take a step forward and wince as I become aware of the pain behind my right knee. The adrenaline rush that overrode the sensation has passed and my body parts join in a chorus of complaints. I'm banged up and bloody and someone seems to be hammering on my left temple from inside my skul . Boggs quickly examines my face, then scoops me up and jogs for the runway. Halfway there, I puke on his bul etproof vest. It's hard to tel because he's short of breath, but I think he
Gale's at my shoulder. The fact that he does nothing only confirms my suspicions. Miners don't abandon an accident until it's hopeless.
"Come on, Katniss. Haymitch says they can get a hovercraft in for us now," he tel s me. But I can't seem to move.
"Why would they do that? Why would they target people who were already dying?" I ask him.
"Scare others off. Prevent the wounded from seeking help," says Gale. "Those people you met, they were expendable. To Snow, anyway. If the Capitol wins, what wil it do with a bunch of damaged slaves?"
I remember al those years in the woods, listening to Gale rant against the Capitol. Me, not paying close attention. Wondering why he even bothered to dissect its motives. Why thinking like our enemy would ever matter. Clearly, it could have mattered today. When Gale questioned the existence of the hospital, he was not thinking of disease, but this. Because he never underestimates the cruelty of those we face.
I slowly turn my back to the hospital and find Cressida, flanked by the insects, standing a couple of yards in front of me. Her manner's unrattled. Cool even. "Katniss," she says, "President Snow just had them air the bombing live. Then he made an appearance to say that this was his way of sending a message to the rebels.
What about you? Would you like to tel the rebels anything?"
"Yes," I whisper. The red blinking light on one of the cameras catches my eye. I know I'm being recorded.
"Yes," I say more forceful y. Everyone is drawing away from me--Gale, Cressida, the insects--giving me the stage. But I stay focused on the red light. "I want to tel the rebels that I am alive. That I'm right here in District Eight, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital ful of unarmed men, women, and children. There wil be no survivors." The shock I've been feeling begins to give way to fury. "I want to tel people that if you think for one second the Capitol wil treat us fairly if there's a cease-fire, you're deluding yourself. Because you know who they are and what they do." My hands go out automatical y, as if to indicate the whole horror around me. " This is what they do! And we must fight back!"
I'm moving in toward the camera now, carried forward by my rage. "President Snow says he's sending us a message? Wel , I have one for him. You can torture us and bomb us and burn our districts to the ground, but do you see that?" One of the cameras fol ows as I point to the planes burning on the roof of the warehouse across from us. The Capitol seal on a wing glows clearly through the flames. "Fire is catching!" I am shouting now, determined that he wil not miss a word. "And if we burn, you burn with us!"
My last words hang in the air. I feel suspended in time. Held aloft in a cloud of heat that generates not from my surroundings, but from my own being.
"Cut!" Cressida's voice snaps me back to reality, extinguishes me. She gives me a nod of approval.
"That's a wrap."
8
Boggs appears and gets a firm lock on my arm, but I'm not planning on running now. I look over at the hospital--just in time to see the rest of the structure give way--and the fight goes out of me. Al those people, the hundreds of wounded, the relatives, the medics from 13, are no more. I turn back to Boggs, see the swel ing on his face left by Gale's boot. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure his nose is broken. His voice is more resigned than angry, though. "Back to the landing strip." I obediently take a step forward and wince as I become aware of the pain behind my right knee. The adrenaline rush that overrode the sensation has passed and my body parts join in a chorus of complaints. I'm banged up and bloody and someone seems to be hammering on my left temple from inside my skul . Boggs quickly examines my face, then scoops me up and jogs for the runway. Halfway there, I puke on his bul etproof vest. It's hard to tel because he's short of breath, but I think he
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