Catching Fire

him. “Wiress is fine. She’s coming, too.”
    But still Beetee struggles. “Wire,” he insists.
    “Oh, I know what he wants,” says Johanna impatiently. She crosses the beach and picks up the cylinder we took from his belt when we were bathing him. It’s coated in a thick layer of congealed blood. “This worthless thing. It’s some kind of wire or something. That’s how he got cut. Running up to the Cornucopia to get this. I don’t know what kind of weapon it’s supposed to be. I guess you could pull off a piece and use it as a garrote or something. But really, can you imagine Beetee garroting somebody?”
    “He won his Games with wire. Setting up that electrical trap,” says Peeta. “It’s the best weapon he could have.”
    There’s something odd about Johanna not putting this together. Something that doesn’t quite ring true. Suspicious. “Seems like you’d have figured that out,” I say. “Since you nicknamed him Volts and all.”
    Johanna’s eyes narrow at me dangerously. “Yeah, that was really stupid of me, wasn’t it?” she says. “I guess I must have been distracted by keeping your little friends alive. While you were . . . what, again? Getting Mags killed off?”
    My fingers tighten on the knife handle at my belt.
    “Go ahead. Try it. I don’t care if you are knocked up, I’ll rip your throat out,” says Johanna.
    I know I can’t kill her right now. But it’s just a matter of time with Johanna and me. Before one of us offs the other.
    “Maybe we all had better be careful where we step,” says Finnick, shooting me a look. He takes the coil and sets it on Beetee’s chest. “There’s your wire, Volts. Watch where you plug it.”
    Peeta picks up the now-unresisting Beetee. “Where to?”
    “I’d like to go to the Cornucopia and watch. Just to make sure we’re right about the clock,” says Finnick. It seems as good a plan as any. Besides, I wouldn’t mind the chance of going over the weapons again. And there are six of us now. Even if you count Beetee and Wiress out, we’ve got four good fighters. It’s so different from where I was last year at this point, doing everything on my own. Yes, it’s great to have allies as long as you can ignore the thought that you’ll have to kill them.
    Beetee and Wiress will probably find some way to die on their own. If we have to run from something, how far would they get? Johanna, frankly, I could easily kill if it came down to protecting Peeta. Or maybe even just to shut her up. What I really need is for someone to take out Finnick for me, since I don’t think I can do it personally. Not after all he’s done for Peeta. I think about maneuvering him into some kind of encounter with the Careers. It’s cold, I know. But what are my options? Now that we know about the clock, he probably won’t die in the jungle, so someone’s going to have to kill him in battle.
    Because this is so repellent to think about, my mind frantically tries to change topics. But the only thing that distracts me from my current situation is fantasizing about killing President Snow. Not very pretty daydreams for a seventeen-year-old girl, I guess, but very satisfying.
    We walk down the nearest sand strip, approaching the Cornucopia with care, just in case the Careers are concealed there. I doubt they are, because we’ve been on the beach for hours and there’s been no sign of life. The area’s abandoned, as I expected. Only the big golden horn and the picked-over pile of weapons remain.
    When Peeta lays Beetee in the bit of shade the Cornucopia provides, he calls out to Wiress. She crouches beside him and he puts the coil of wire in her hands. “Clean it, will you?” he asks.
    Wiress nods and scampers over to the water’s edge, where she dunks the coil in the water. She starts quietly singing some funny little song, about a mouse running up a clock. It must be for children, but it seems to make her happy.
    “Oh, not the song again,” says Johanna, rolling her eyes. “That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking.”
    Suddenly Wiress stands up very straight and points to the jungle. “Two,” she says.
    I follow her finger to where the wall of fog has just begun to seep out onto the beach. “Yes, look, Wiress is right. It’s two o’clock and the fog has started.”
    “Like clockwork,” says Peeta. “You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress.”
    Wiress smiles and goes back to singing and dunking her coil. “Oh, she’s more