Mockingjay

under attack. We’re trying to get in aid wherever we can, but it’s not enough.” He stops a minute, distracted by something in his earpiece. I realize I haven’t heard Haymitch’s voice once, and fiddle with mine, wondering if it’s broken. “We’re to get to the airstrip. Immediately,” Boggs says, lifting me to my feet with one hand. “There’s a problem.”
    “What kind of problem?” asks Gale.
    “Incoming bombers,” says Boggs. He reaches behind my neck and yanks Cinna’s helmet up onto my head. “Let’s move!”
    Unsure of what’s going on, I take off running along the front of the warehouse, heading for the alley that leads to the airstrip. But I don’t sense any immediate threat. The sky’s an empty, cloudless blue. The street’s clear except for the people hauling the wounded to the hospital. There’s no enemy, no alarm. Then the sirens begin to wail. Within seconds, a low-flying V-shaped formation of Capitol hoverplanes appears above us, and the bombs begin to fall. I’m blown off my feet, into the front wall of the warehouse. There’s a searing pain just above the back of my right knee. Something has struck my back as well, but doesn’t seem to have penetrated my vest. I try to get up, but Boggs pushes me back down, shielding my body with his own. The ground ripples under me as bomb after bomb drops from the planes and detonates.
    It’s a horrifying sensation being pinned against the wall as the bombs rain down. What was that expression my father used for easy kills? Like shooting fish in a barrel. We are the fish, the street the barrel.
    “Katniss!” I’m startled by Haymitch’s voice in my ear.
    “What? Yes, what? I’m here!” I answer.
    “Listen to me. We can’t land during the bombing, but it’s imperative you’re not spotted,” he says.
    “So they don’t know I’m here?” I assumed, as usual, it was my presence that brought on punishment.
    “Intelligence thinks no. That this raid was already scheduled,” says Haymitch.
    Now Plutarch’s voice comes up, calm but forceful. The voice of a Head Gamemaker used to calling the shots under pressure. “There’s a light blue warehouse three down from you. It has a bunker in the far north corner. Can you get there?”
    “We’ll do our best,” says Boggs. Plutarch must be in everyone’s ear, because my bodyguards and crew are getting up. My eye instinctively searches for Gale and sees he’s on his feet, apparently unharmed.
    “You’ve got maybe forty-five seconds to the next wave,” says Plutarch.
    I give a grunt of pain as my right leg takes the weight of my body, but I keep moving. No time to examine the injury. Better not to look now, anyway. Fortunately, I have on shoes that Cinna designed. They grip the asphalt on contact and spring free of it on release. I’d be hopeless in that ill-fitting pair that 13 assigned to me. Boggs has the lead, but no one else passes me. Instead they match my pace, protecting my sides, my back. I force myself into a sprint as the seconds tick away. We pass the second gray warehouse and run along a dirt brown building. Up ahead, I see a faded blue facade. Home of the bunker. We have just reached another alley, need only to cross it to arrive at the door, when the next wave of bombs begins. I instinctively dive into the alley and roll toward the blue wall. This time it’s Gale who throws himself over me to provide one more layer of protection from the bombing. It seems to go on longer this time, but we are farther away.
    I shift onto my side and find myself looking directly into Gale’s eyes. For an instant the world recedes and there is just his flushed face, his pulse visible at his temple, his lips slightly parted as he tries to catch his breath.
    “You all right?” he asks, his words nearly drowned out by an explosion.
    “Yeah. I don’t think they’ve seen me,” I answer. “I mean, they’re not following us.”
    “No, they’ve targeted something else,” says Gale.
    “I know, but there’s nothing back there but —” The realization hits us at the same time.
    “The hospital.” Instantly, Gale’s up and shouting to the others. “They’re targeting the hospital!”
    “Not your problem,” says Plutarch firmly. “Get to the bunker.”
    “But there’s nothing there but the wounded!” I say.
    “Katniss.” I hear the warning note in Haymitch’s voice and know what’s coming. “Don’t you even think about — !” I yank the earpiece free and let