A Tale of a Boy and His Flower

Gone

There's no time for checking the Holo. We follow Pollux for about ten yards along the Transfer and go through a doorway. I'm aware of tile changing to concrete, of crawling through a tight, stinking pipe onto a ledge about a foot wide.

We're in the main sewer. A yard below, a poisonous brew of human waste, garbage, and chemical runoff bubbles by us. Parts of the surface are on fire, others emit evil-looking clouds of vapor. 

One look tells you that if you fall in, you're never coming out. Moving as quickly as we dare on the slippery ledge, we make our way to a narrow bridge and cross it. In an alcove at the far side, Pollux smacks a ladder with his hand and points up the shaft. This is it. Our way out. A quick glance at our party tells me something's off.

"Wait! Where are Jackson and Leeg 1?"

"They stayed at the Grinder to hold the mutts back," says Homes.

"What?" Katniss is lunging back for the bridge, willing to leave no one to those monsters, when he yanks her back."Don't waste their lives, Katniss. It's too late for them. Look!" Homes nods to the pipe, where the mutts are slithering onto the ledge.

"Stand back!" Gale shouts. With his explosive-tipped arrows, he rips the far side of the bridge from its foundation. The rest sinks into the bubbles, just as the mutts reach it. For the first time, I get a good look at them. A mix of human and lizard and who knows what else. White, tight reptilian skin smeared with gore, clawed hands and feet, their faces a mess of conflicting features.

Hissing, shrieking Katniss's name now, as their bodies contort in rage. Lashing out with tails and claws, taking huge chunks of one another or their own bodies with wide, lathered mouths, driven mad by their need to destroy her. Katniss's scent must be as evocative to them as theirs is to us. More so, because despite its toxicity, the mutts begin to throw themselves into the foul sewer.

No mutt is good. All are meant to damage you. Some take your life, like the monkeys. Others your reason, like the tracker jackers. However, the true atrocities, the most frightening, incorporate a perverse psychological twist designed to terrify the victim. The sight of the wolf mutts with the dead tributes' eyes. The sound of the jabberjays replicating loved ones tortured screams.

The smell of Snow's roses mixed with the victims' blood. Carried across the sewer. Cutting through even this foulness. Making my heart run wild, my skin turns to ice, my lungs are unable to suck air.

It's as if Snow's breathing right in my face, telling me it's time to die. 

More kept coming. I rolled out of the way to avoid getting hit by another. But it recovered quickly and crawled towards me with creepy speed. I held my axes up, slicing the sharp metal blades straight through it's neck. The head rolled off and it fell limp as I turned to the next assailant. I faired pretty well on my own considering their large, strong figures. 

When I found a moment of rest, I looked around for Finnick. I couldn't find him. Panic seized me. Suddenly I'm thrown in the water. I'm choking on it. I pushed against the mutt's face with all my strength to keep it away from biting me. But the razor sharp teeth came closer with every push. I couldn't slice it's head off without getting taken out as well. 

I see stars. 

I'm dizzy. 

I think I see my blood. 

Just as the mutt was about to rip my throat out, a sword was thrust into its head. I gasped for air as I resurfaced. Replacing the creature's face was Zach. 

He pulled me up to my feet and dragged me over to where Finnick needed help. Katniss and Peeta were being attacked the most; the mutts were constantly trying to keep them apart.