A Tiny Spark

Chapter 2

Everyone professes their disbelief. But I remember how, last winter, Katniss encountered these women from District 8 who claimed that District 13 existed. I've no cause to doubt it, if more than one person says it's true. Better than wallowing in grief and going down a path of self-destruction. I know the consequences all too well.

Hope is my weapon.

"Yes, District Twelve," Boggs confirms. "We survive out of the Capitol's reach. It's a massive underground colony; and we're not totally cut off from Panem news. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. We've seen what's been happening through Thirteen's newsfeeds. I don't imagine you want to remain in the woods forever. There's plenty of room waiting for you in District Thirteen, where everyone does their part. We run a tight ship, I'll tell you up front. But you can trust us to be loyal allies."

He unzips his vest. Clipped to the inside, something golden twinkles. A circular pin with a very special bird inside.

"Dead or alive, I'm with the Mockingjay and what she represents. We understand what you're going through. Are you willing to join our crusade for justice?"

It starts with a single person, whistling Rue's mockingjay song. Others echo the melody and raise three fingers high. I add my own salute in honor of that innocent girl. She was my age. I can't ever forget it, or the way Katniss befriended her. If I had actually gone into the arena, I think Rue and I would've been allies, too, having so much in common.

But I also salute for Katniss. Peeta. Every fallen tribute and victor; every soul taken in the last seventy-five years.

I nearly joined them. My goodness, the idea chills me.

Boggs looks on with a proud stance. After we quiet down, he says, "Here's how this is gonna work: Our hovercrafts have limited space, so we have to run multiple trips. We'll start with the most severely-injured people. Thirty people to a hovercraft."

"Did you bring any medics?" Mom asks him.

The man from District 13 meets her eyes. "Marigold Everdeen, am I right?"

"Yes."

"We've got a whole crew," he replies. "I suggest you work here like you've been doing, and come on a later trip, if you don't mind. Some of the medics will stay behind to assist you. Let's not waste any more time. We're moving out!"

District 12's people continue arriving by the dozen, and yet we're still missing a lot of them. There should be thousands more. I think Snow's wish came true.

I think our population has been nearly wiped out of existence.

Other representatives from District 13 exit the hovercar to brief all the newcomers on what's happening, while I tend to more wounds. Their medics haul away our critical patients; and loved ones follow them inside the hovercar. As promised, Mom and I are joined by a few trained nurses that Boggs recruited. They bring quality medical equipment. Food and water, too- what a relief.

"Thank you so much," I tell Boggs before he leaves.

He nods, turning his mouth into a lopsided grin. "Don't mention it. We owed your district. Your family, in particular. Now we're even. Keep up the hard work, Miss Everdeen."

I never mentioned my name. Was it really that easy to figure out? Must be what happens when your sister ignites a nation-wide rebellion.

Everybody waves the hovercar goodbye as it ascends, the symbol of hope we never anticipated. Boggs said to expect them again in five hours or so. But there are many friends I haven't seen yet. It's all I can think about.

"Where are they," I mutter anxiously.

Finally, two figures I've been waiting for emerge. Gale is somewhat burnt, but otherwise unscathed. He carries a bleeding girl in his arms; a yellow-haired girl, close to Katniss' age. Madge Undersee.

"Prim… you're alive," she mumbles. "Thank God. My parents… didn't make it…"

Oh, no. How many others must die before Snow's heart softens? He's completely forgotten what being a human is like. So what if he didn't create the Hunger Games? He won't end them, not as long as he breathes. And the lengths he's gone to preserve 'order' just… infuriates me.

Yup. I can't deny the anger that scorches my thoughts lately.

But I've got to stay in nurse mode. Gale lays Madge down at my table, and I see the full extent of her injuries. She's embedded with shards. Removing them could be risky.

"You're losing a lot of blood, Madge. Don't talk," I say, wrapping tourniquets around her arms and legs.

I check Madge's pulse. It dwindles by the second. The next logical step is to relieve her pain and prevent infection, so I prepare two needles; one is full of morphling; the other has antibiotics.

Touching her forehead, I whisper, "I'm sorry about your folks. Now, if we're gonna take the glass out, you need some medicine, okay? Here comes the first shot."

She doesn't respond to the injection's sting; rather, I watch her go unconscious. It's better that she's not awake during the procedure.

"Willow?" I call out after I administer the antibiotics.

The woman in question, a District 13 medic, rushes over. Willow is probably around twenty years old. Her flaming orange hair reminds me of my sister's old Capitol nickname. The Girl on Fire.

"You're lucky I don't have patients at the moment," she mutters.

"I know," I answer sheepishly. "Please help my friend. Can you tell how deeply she's been injured?"

I let Willow inspect the damage. In a moment, she says, "It's pretty bad. You'd better let me take care of this. Hand me an IV kit."

Without ceremony, Willow assembles the IV. Then she begins extracting the pieces from Madge's body. I stitch her up afterwards. But in my heart, I know it's not enough. If Boggs had waited just a few minutes longer…

"What else can we do? There has to be something!" I demand.

"We could give her a blood transfusion. Do you know her blood type?" Willow asks.

"The Peacekeepers know," I reply bitterly. "They pricked our fingers at the reaping, so it must be in their records. But obviously, we don't have them."

"I apologize if I've seemed rude. You're only, what, twelve?"

"Fourteen."

She looks surprised, and I can't blame her; my wiry appearance takes off at least two or three years from my true age.

"Well, that's young for a girl with your medical knowledge," she insists. "I've been working at the hospital wing since I was your age. Good job today."

"It was my dad- and my mom- they both taught me."

"Your dad would be proud."

I glance back at Mom. "She told you, then?"

"Yeah. You two should join our hospital staff when you arrive in Thirteen. I could train you, even."

"I'd love that," I answer gratefully.

As the hours pass, Madge's condition doesn't improve. All I can do is hold onto her dainty hands and think of her mockingjay pin. The one Katniss wore in her last minutes. Everything about the mockingjay is rebellion; never allowing others to define your boundaries.

Yeah. That was my sister. And it's me, too, I realize. In her place, I would've absolutely fought to convince my final opponent that the Capitol didn't need a victor. Shove it in their greedy faces.

I'm the one who should be dead, not Katniss. The thought's always looming over me. Death has always surrounded me. Us. My friend, who lies dying on a table.

"Madge?" I whisper. As I expected, she says nothing. But I tell her, "Do you want to hear a song?"

Then- a gentle tug on my pinkie finger. Madge's own pinkie is locked with mine. I think it's her way of replying, yes. She may not have more than another minute to live.

So without hesitation, I begin singing a tune Katniss loved, the one she sang for Rue:

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow..."

But Madge has loosened her grip. When I check her pulse... I know. She's already gone.