Chapter 17

                                    

                                          
Betrayal. That's the first thing I feel when I realize the full implication of Gale's words.
I'm not the only one who reacts adversely as I watch his suggestion settle quietly around the room. You can see the reaction playing out on people's faces. The expressions range from pleasure to distress, from sorrow to satisfaction. Rage, even, at least from Lyme and me.
Losing someone you love to a cave-in or explosion is no rarity in Twelve, but at least there it's always an accident. What Gale means to do is manufacture the exact conditions in which our fathers were killed and subject thousands upon thousands of innocent lives to their fate.
"The majority of the workers are citizens from Two," says Beetee neutrally. "Their families too."
"So what?" says Gale. "We'll never be able to trust them again."
"They should at least have a chance to surrender," says Lyme.
"Well, that's a luxury we weren't given when they firebombed Twelve, but you're all so much cozier with the Capitol here," says Gale. By the look on Lyme's face, I think she might shoot him, or at least take a swing. She'd probably have the upper hand, too, with all her training. But her anger only seems to infuriate him and he yells, "We watched children burn to death and there was nothing we could do!"
"That doesn't make it okay to do it to someone else's," I say, trying to hold my voice level, even as I have to shove down the image his words conjure in my head. I can't condemn someone to the death he's suggesting. Maybe my near brush with parenthood has made me particularly sentimental, but I can't bear the idea of sentencing a whole slew of children to lose a parent as Gale and I did, nor stealing the lives of the children themselves as their parents watch on hopelessly. "Gale, the Nut's an old mine. It'd be like causing a massive coal mining accident." Surely the words are enough to make anyone from 12 think twice about the plan.
"But not so quick as the one that killed our fathers," he retorts. "Is that everyone's problem? That our enemies might have a few hours to reflect on the fact that they're dying, instead of just being blown to bits?"
Back in the old days, when we were nothing more than a couple of kids hunting outside of 12, Gale said things like this and worse. But then they were just words. Here, put into practice, they become deeds that can never be reversed.
"You don't know how those District Two people ended up in the Nut," I say, my voice growing louder in anger. "They may have been coerced. They may be held against their will. Some are our own spies. Will you kill them, too?"
"I would sacrifice a few, yes, to take out the rest of them," he replies. "And if I were a spy in there, I'd say, 'Bring on the avalanches!' "
I know he's telling the truth. That Gale would sacrifice his life in this way for the cause — no one doubts it. Perhaps we'd all do the same if we were the spies and given the choice. I guess I would. But it's a coldhearted decision to make for other people and those who love them.
"You said we had two choices," Boggs tells him. "To trap them or to flush them out. I say we try to avalanche the mountain but leave the train tunnel alone. People can escape into the square, where we'll be waiting for them."
"Heavily armed, I hope," says Gale. "You can be sure they'll be."
"Heavily armed. We'll take them prisoner," agrees Boggs.
"Let's bring Thirteen into the loop now," Beetee suggests. "Let President Coin weigh in."
"She'll want to block the tunnel," says Gale with conviction.
"Yes, most likely. But you know, Peeta did have a point in his propos. About the dangers of killing ourselves off. I've been playing with some numbers. Factoring in the casualties and the wounded and . . . I think it's at least worth a conversation," says Beetee.