Insurgent

Page 24

I stare across the Pit, where some Dauntless children chase each other up the path, hurling paintballs at the walls. One of them breaks and splatters the stone with yellow.
I think of what Tobias told me when we spent the night with the factionless, about the older Dauntless leaving the faction because they were no longer physically capable of staying in it. I think of Candor’s rhyming song, which calls us the cruelest faction.
“She can,” I say.
“Tris. She won’t even be able to move around.”
“Sure she will.” I look up at him. “She can get a wheelchair, and someone can push her up the paths in the Pit, and there’s an elevator in the building up there.” I point above our heads. “She doesn’t need to be able to walk to slide down the zip line or fire a gun.”
“She won’t want me to push her.” His voice cracks a little. “She won’t want me to lift her, or carry her.”
“She’ll have to get over it, then. Are you going to let her drop out of Dauntless for a stupid reason like not being able to walk?”
Zeke is quiet for a few seconds. His eyes shift over my face, and he squints, as if weighing and measuring me.
Then he turns and bends and wraps his arms around me. It’s been so long since someone hugged me that I stiffen. Then I relax, and let the gesture force warmth into my body, which is chilled by damp clothing.
“I’m gonna go shoot things,” he says as he pulls away. “Want to come?”
I shrug and chase him across the Pit floor. Bud hands each of us a paintball gun, and I load mine. Its weight, shape, and material are so different from a revolver that I have no trouble holding it.
“We’ve mostly got the Pit and the underground covered,” Bud says. “But you should tackle the Pire.”
“The Pire?”
Bud points up at the glass building above us. The sight pierces me like a needle. The last time I stood in this spot and stared up at this ceiling, I was on a mission to destroy the simulation. I was with my father.
Zeke is already on his way up the path. I force myself to follow him, one foot and then the other. It’s difficult to walk because it’s difficult to breathe, but somehow I manage. By the time I reach the stairs, the pressure on my chest is almost gone.
Once we’re in the Pire, Zeke lifts up his gun and aims at one of the cameras near the ceiling. He fires, and green paint sprays across one of the windows, missing the camera lens.
“Ooh,” I say, wincing. “Ouch.”
“Yeah? I’d like to see you do it perfectly the first time.”
“Would you?” I lift my own gun, propping it up on my left shoulder instead of my right. The gun feels unfamiliar in my left hand, but I can’t bear its weight with my right yet. Through the scope I find the camera, and then squint to stare at the lens. A voice whispers in my head. Inhale. Aim. Exhale. Fire. It takes me a few seconds to realize it’s Tobias’s voice, because he’s the one who taught me to shoot. I squeeze the trigger and the paintball hits the camera, spraying blue paint across the lens. “There. Now you have. With the wrong hand, too.”
Zeke mutters something under his breath that doesn’t sound pleasant.
“Hey!” shouts a cheerful voice. Marlene pokes her head above the glass floor. Paint is smeared across her forehead, giving her a purple eyebrow. With a wicked smile, she aims at Zeke, hitting his leg, and then at me. The paintball hits my arm, stinging.
Marlene laughs and ducks under the glass. Zeke and I look at each other, and then run after Marlene. She laughs as she sprints down the path, weaving through a crowd of kids. I shoot at her, and hit the wall instead. Marlene fires at a boy near the railing—Hector, Lynn’s little brother. He looks shocked at first, but then fires back, hitting the person next to Marlene.
Popping sounds fill the air as everyone in the Pit starts to fire at one another, young and old, the cameras momentarily forgotten. I charge down the path, surrounded by laughter and shouting. We cluster together to form teams, and then turn against one another.
By the time the fight dies down, my clothes are more paint-colored than black. I decide to keep the shirt to remind me why I chose Dauntless in the first place: not because they are perfect, but because they are alive. Because they are free.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SOMEONE RAIDS THE Dauntless kitchens and heats up the imperishables kept there, so we have a warm dinner that night. I sit at the same table I used to claim with Christina, Al, and Will. From the moment I sit down, I feel a lump in my throat. How is it that only half of us are left?
I feel responsible for that. My forgiveness could have saved Al, but I withheld it. My clear headedness could have spared Will, but I could not summon it.
Before I can sink too far into my guilt, Uriah drops his tray next to me. It is loaded with beef stew and chocolate cake. I stare at the cake pile.
“There was cake?” I say, looking at my own plate, which is more sensibly stocked than Uriah’s.
“Yeah, someone just brought it out. Found a couple boxes of the mix in the back and baked it,” he says. “You can have a few bites of mine.”
“A few bites? So you’re planning on eating that mountain of cake by yourself?”
“Yes.” He looks confused. “Why?”
“Never mind.”
Christina sits across the table, as far away from me as she can get. Zeke puts his tray down next to her. We are soon joined by Lynn, Hector, and Marlene. I see a flash of movement under the table, and see Marlene’s hand meet Uriah’s over his knee. Their fingers twist together. They are both clearly trying to look casual, but they sneak looks at each other.
To Marlene’s left, Lynn looks like she just tasted something sour. She shovels food into her mouth.
“Where’s the fire?” Uriah asks her. “You’re going to hurl if you keep eating that fast.”
Lynn scowls at him. “I’m going to hurl anyway, with you two making eyes at each other all the time.”
Uriah’s ears turn red. “What are you talking about?”
“I am not an idiot, and neither is anyone else. So why don’t you just make out with her and get it over with?”
Uriah looks stunned. Marlene, however, glares at Lynn, leans over, and kisses Uriah firmly on the mouth, her fingers sliding around his neck, under the collar of his shirt. I notice that all the peas have fallen off my fork, which was on its way to my mouth.
Lynn grabs her tray and storms away from the table.
“What was that all about?” says Zeke.
“Don’t ask me,” says Hector. “She’s always angry about something. I’ve stopped trying to keep track.”
Uriah’s and Marlene’s faces are still close together. And they are still smiling.
I force myself to stare at my plate. It is so strange to see two people you have known separately join together, though I have watched it happen before. I hear a squeak as Christina scratches her plate with her fork idly.
“Four!” Zeke calls out, beckoning. He looks relieved. “C’mere, there’s room.”
Tobias rests his hand on my good shoulder. A few of his knuckles are split, and the blood looks fresh. “Sorry, I can’t stay.”
He leans down and says, “Can I borrow you for a while?”
I get up, waving a good-bye to everyone at the table who is paying attention—which is just Zeke, really, because Christina and Hector are staring at their plates, and Uriah and Marlene are talking quietly. Tobias and I walk out of the cafeteria.
“Where are we going?”
“The train,” he says. “I have a meeting, and I want you there to help me read the situation.”
We walk up one of the paths that lines the Pit walls, toward the stairs that lead us to the Pire.
“Why do you need me to—”
“Because you’re better at it than I am.”
I don’t have a response to that. We ascend the stairs and cross the glass floor. On our way out, we walk through the dank room in which I faced my fear landscape. Judging by the syringe on the floor, someone has been there recently.
“Did you go through your fear landscape today?” I say.
“What makes you say that?” His dark eyes skirt mine. He pushes the front door open, and the summer air swims around me. There is no wind.
“Your knuckles are cut up and someone’s been using that room.”
“This is exactly what I mean. You’re far more perceptive than most.” He checks his watch. “They told me to catch the one leaving at 8:05. Come on.”
I feel a surge of hope. Maybe we won’t argue this time. Maybe things will finally get better between us.
We walk to the tracks. The last time we did this, he wanted to show me that the lights were on in the Erudite compound, wanted to tell me that Erudite was planning an attack on Abnegation. Now I get the sense we are about to meet with the factionless.
“Perceptive enough to know you’re evading the question,” I say.
He sighs. “Yes, I went through my fear landscape. I wanted to see if it had changed.”
“And it has. Hasn’t it?”
He brushes a stray hair away from his face and avoids my eyes. I didn’t know his hair was so thick—it was hard to tell when it was buzzed short, Abnegation hair, but now it’s two inches long and almost hangs over his forehead. It makes him look less threatening, more like the person I’ve come to know in private.
“Yes,” he says. “But the number is still the same.”
I hear the train horn blasting to my left, but the light fixed to the first car is not on. Instead it slides over the rails like some hidden, creeping thing.
“Fifth car back!” he shouts.
We both break into a sprint. I find the fifth car and grab the handle on the side with my left hand, pulling as hard as I can. I try to swing my legs inside, but they don’t quite make it; they are dangerously close to the wheels—I shriek, and scrape my knee against the floor as I yank myself inside.
Tobias gets in after me and crouches by my side. I clutch my knee and grit my teeth.
“Here, let me see,” he says. He pushes my jeans up my leg and over my knee. His fingers leave streaks of cold on my skin, invisible to the eye, and I think about wrapping his shirt around my fist and pulling him in to kiss me; I think about pressing myself against him, but I can’t, because all our secrets would keep a space between us.
My knee is red with blood. “It’s shallow. It’ll heal quickly,” he says.
I nod. The pain is already subsiding. He rolls my jeans so they will stay up. I lie back, staring at the ceiling.
“So is he still in your fear landscape?” I say.
It looks like someone lit a match behind his eyes. “Yes. But not in the same way.”
He told me, once, that his fear landscape hadn’t changed since he first went through it, during his initiation. So if it has, even in a small way, that’s something.
“You’re in it, though.” He frowns at his hands. “Instead of having to shoot that woman, like I used to, I have to watch you die. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
His hands shake. I try to think of something helpful to say. I’m not going to die—but I don’t know that. We live in a dangerous world, and I am not so attached to life that I will do anything to survive. I can’t reassure him.
He checks his watch. “They’ll be here any minute.”
I get up, and see Evelyn and Edward standing next to the tracks. They run before the train passes them, and jump in with almost as little trouble as Tobias. They must have been practicing.
Edward smirks at me. Today his eye patch has a big blue “X” stitched over it.
“Hello,” Evelyn says. She looks only at Tobias as she says it, like I’m not even there.
“Nice meeting location,” says Tobias. It is almost dark now, so I see only shadows of buildings against a dark blue sky, and a few glowing lights near the lake that must belong to Erudite headquarters.
The train takes a turn it doesn’t usually take—left, away from the glow of Erudite and into the abandoned part of the city. I can tell by the growing quiet in the car that it is slowing down.
“It seemed safest,” says Evelyn. “So you wanted to meet.”
“Yes. I’d like to discuss an alliance.”
“An alliance,” repeats Edward. “And who gave you the authority to do that?”
“He’s a Dauntless leader,” I say. “He has the authority.”
Edward raises his eyebrows, looking impressed. Evelyn’s eyes finally shift to me, but only for a second before she smiles at Tobias again.
“Interesting,” she says. “And is she also a Dauntless leader?”
“No,” he says. “She’s here to help me decide whether or not to trust you.”
Evelyn purses her lips. Part of me wants to thumb my nose at her and say, “Ha!” But I settle for a small smile.
“We will, of course, agree to an alliance . . . under a certain set of conditions,” Evelyn says. “A guaranteed—and equal—place in whatever government forms after Erudite is destroyed, and full control over Erudite data after the attack. Clearly—”
“What are you going to do with the Erudite data?” I interrupt her.
“Obviously we will destroy it. The only way to deprive the Erudite of power is to deprive them of knowledge.”
My first instinct is to tell her she’s a fool. But something stops me. Without the simulation technology, without the data they had about all the other factions, without their focus on technological advancement, the attack on Abnegation would not have happened. My parents would be alive.
Even if we manage to kill Jeanine, could the Erudite be trusted not to attack and control us again? I am not sure.
“What would we receive in return, under those terms?” Tobias says.