When The Canary Sings

Nightlock, Nightlock, Nightlock.

First Person Point of View: Becca Blue: 

*

We all stop in the dark tunnels, slumping up against the walls. As the time went on in these tunnels, the feeling in my stomach only got worse. Now, my stomach is churning, and I might puke up all my stew from earlier.

They set up watch rotations, which I'm still not in, but Pollux volunteers to stay up all night. He can't sleep down here anyways because he worked down here for five years straight as an avox. Didn't see the sun once according to Castor, his brother.

I sit wedged between Finnick and Jackson. I told Jackson about my feelings earlier, and she just ignored me. Calling it paranoia. I told her that she didn't understand, and she just scoffed and threatened to discharge me if I kept this up. Apparently my words were "worrying others." I call bullshit because no one else heard them.

"Jackson, I'm serious." I say, "I can feel it—"

"In your bones? Yeah." She scoffed.

"Jackson, please—"

"Listen kid," she said, planting a hand on my shoulder. "You're nervy. I get it, just like the rest of us. But it's just nerves."

Yeah, right.

I keep drifting in and out of consciousness because I keep waking up only to be met with my churning stomach. The pounding of my heart works as some sick lullaby that just lulls me back to sleep.

When I wake up again, Finnick is practically slumped over himself, I panic and press my cold fingers to his neck, then breathe a sigh of relief when I can feel his pulse. "Shit." I whisper to myself. My stomach is churning, this time different from the others. My stomach lurches again, and I clamp my hand over my mouth.

I scramble to my feet and stumble across the sleeping team and down the tunnel in the direction we came. I pass a whispering katniss and Peeta that just give me weird looks. Quickly, I stumble down the hallway until I'm a good fifteen feet away from everyone, and that's when my body doubles over.

I open my mouth and retch onto the floor. One hand planted on the cold wall, and the other clutching my stomach. I try to be as quiet as I can, but everyone is so tired from the past few days, no one wakes up. Besides Katniss and Peeta, but they don't get up to check on me. I don't blame them.

I gasp for air, my throat raw and burning. I can taste bile, feel it clinging to the back of my mouth. The acidic sting is still there as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to steady my breathing. But the nausea doesn't quite go away. "Just nerves." I whisper to myself, spitting onto the floor to try and get the awful taste out of my throat.

"Katniss..."

My head turns around, is that Peeta? No. It's not. He's asleep, being soothed by Katniss. But Katniss didn't hear it yet.

I leave my chunk of vomit and walk towards the sound. "Katniss..." It hisses.

Slowly, I pull out my flare gun that Beetee gifted me. The one that explodes when launched. I aim it down the tunnel and pull the trigger. The flare gun launches, and in the tiny and dark tunnel, it illuminates everything.

As it shoots through the tunnel, it illuminates these figures, crawling on all fours. No faces, yet humanoid. I can't see much, but I can hear them. Their cover is blown. I hear the explosion, and then I hear a collective hiss, and animalistic screeching sounds.

Slowly, I back away, pulling out my net gun and firing it. "Move! Move! Move!" I yell, beginning to pick up my steps. By now, Katniss has heard them as well, and is urging the team to get up. I see Peeta jostling everyone too, maybe he was the one that heard it first. But I saw them. I know it wasn't him. "They're coming! Move!"