Глава 21. The Dauntless gathered in the Pit are rowdy and overly boisterous

The Dauntless gathered in the Pit are rowdy and overly boisterous. Their hoots and hollers can be heard all the way down the hall where Tris and I stand. " You haven't really met the Dauntless until you sit through a celebration with us." I say.

" Oh, I bet, " she says lightheartedly, although I detect the hint of a quiver in her voice.

" It'll be fine. You'll be fine, " I assure.

She smiles a quick, nervous smile – a fleeting smile. It flashes its presence on her features for a moment, lingering not a second too long before disappearing. If you weren't looking for it, you would have missed it completely.

" Come on, " I plant a kiss on the top of her head; her hair smells like synthetic lilac. " In you go."

X X X

The shrill feedback from the microphone cuts through the endless chatter, drowning out Zeke mid-sentence as he pauses momentarily before diving into his story again – grand, animated arm gestures and all.

Eric climbs atop one of the tables and taps the microphone, patiently waiting for the crowd to settle down, which takes several minutes considering some people are so intoxicated that they don't notice the tapping until someone nudges them.

" We aren't big on speeches here. Eloquence is for Erudite, " he says, which is ironic because Erudite was his former faction. " So I'm going to keep this short. It's a new year, and we have a new pack of initiates. And a slightly smaller pack of new members. We offer them our congratulations."

At this, the crowd erupts into a deafening cheer. Hundreds of fists pound the tabletops. I join in, too. The room vibrates with the excitement radiating off of every single body in the room. This is one of the reasons I love this faction – the energy and chaos that lives inside every single one of us feeds into the walls, making the entire room come to life.

" We believe in bravery. We believe in taking action. We believe in freedom from fear and in acquiring the skills to force the bad out of our world so that the good can prosper and thrive. If you also believe in those things, we welcome you." Eric almost has to shout the last few words because the crowd has begun to holler and pound their fists again. I can't imagine what my father, or any member of Abnegation would say if they witnessed our boisterous behaviour.

" Tomorrow, in their first act as members, our top ten initiates will choose their professions, in the order of how they are ranked, " Eric says. " The rankings, I know, are what everyone is really waiting for. They are determined by a combination of three scores—the first, from the combat stage of training; the second, from the simulation stage; and the third, from the final examination, the fear landscape. The rankings will appear on the screen behind me."

On cue, the screen behind Eric lights up. Two years ago, my name and picture filled the spot beside the number one. This year, Tris's name has taken over that spot. A surge of pride overtakes me; I jump out of my seat and look for Tris in the crowd.

" I'm gonna…" I gesture toward the group of initiates who are clumped together in a huddle, shouting congratulations to each other and exchanging cheerful hugs.

Shauna waves me away with her hand, and I take off toward Tris, pushing and shoving my way through the sea of bodies that slow me down like molasses. I tap her on her shoulder when I finally reach her. " You think giving you a hug would give away too much? " I say.

" You know, " she says. " I really don't care."

Her rises up on her tip toes and presses her lips to mine. My mind is whirling, whirling, whirling. Despite the fact that we are under scrutiny by everyone around us, I can't bring myself to pull away. I'm drawn to her like the opposites of a magnet. I trace my fingers across her collarbones, up her neck, along her jaw line, and cup her face in my hands, pulling her even closer to me. It feels like we can never be close enough. Just then, she pulls away unexpectedly with a stunned expression.

" Tris? " I say, earnestly hoping that I haven't pushed her past her comfort zone.

" Not now, " she says. " Later, okay? "

I nod before slipping quietly back into the crowd, hoping whatever she has to tell me won't be terrible news.

X X X

Late that night, after the excitement of the banquet has died down, I sneak out of my room to find Tris. The silvery light of the moon penetrates through the glass ceiling and pools onto the floor of the Pit leaving an iridescent puddle that almost seems to ripple in the dark. For a brief moment, I become so absorbed by the strange draw of the light that I linger at the edge of dark and light, basking in the magnetic pull of the moonlight, toying with the idea that plunging into the pool of light will take me to a new place, a new time.

Voices, low and rumbling, cut through the silence, snapping me out of my reverie. I quickly duck into a nearby hallway and melt into the shadows, hoping the darkness will conceal me adequately. Max and Eric stroll into view half a breath later, their eyes glinting rapaciously in the dark.

" How long? " Eric says. His voice, although quiet, reverberates in the cavernous space of the Pit.

" Any minute now, " Max says. " You should get going; Cass is waiting at the tracks."

Eric leaves without another word, and I watch his straggly figure stalk up the stairs that lead to the glass ceiling. As the sound of Eric's footsteps fade, a ghostly hush falls onto the Pit and I retreat even farther into the shadows. Max stands in the center of the room, as still as a statue, save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. No more than five minutes later, the eerie silence is broken by the distant clacking of hundreds of feet marching on the stone floor. I linger just long enough to see a slow smile – slow as molasses – stretch across Max's face before quietly slipping into a dark hallway deserted from years of disuse.

And then I wait.

X X X

A wave of people flood the hallway. I can tell something is wrong before I even lay eyes on them; their rhythmic footsteps are too rehearsed, too controlled. Soon after, the hallway, which had been empty no more than two minutes ago, swarms with Dauntless pressed shoulder to shoulder, droning and glass-eyed.

" What's going on? " I hiss, tugging on the arm of a passerby. He doesn't answer me, doesn't even look at me.

It's like they are awake but they're not conscious of their actions or surroundings, as if someone had hollowed out their brain and reprogrammed their wires to turn the entire faction into zombies. My fingers claw at an itch on my neck, and that's when I feel it – the injection site. I should have suspected it when Max first started injecting people with the serum. It's not for safety precautions – we have never cared much for safety precautions. Transmitters were injected into our bodies, not some inane tracking device. This is how Erudite is getting us to fight.

A head of chin-length brown hair bobs into view and I recognize her immediately. Shauna.

" Hey, " I grapple for her arm, my fingernails digging into her flesh, leaving her skin embedded with puckering, falcate prints. " Shauna, hey – stop."

But like the rest of the Dauntless, she doesn't stop. Despair bubbles up inside me as I look on hopelessly at the bodies marching toward the Pit. It crosses my mind that I should run to the dormitories to warn Tris, but then I realize she probably came to the same conclusion a long time ago, during the ceremony. She just never had a chance to tell me.

This is a perfect strategy to weed out the Divergent, which means I need to blend in with the rest of the Dauntless sleepwalkers if I want to avoid detection. I smooth out my shirt, retie my shoelaces, and slip out of the shadows to march on with the rest of my faction.

It is a lot harder than it looks to mimic a bunch of people whose actions you can't fully anticipate. As I wait by the train tracks, I keep my eyes trained on the city lights that spill out in the distance, trying to ignore the weight of the gun that is tucked into my holster. The cars of the idle train fill up quickly, each piling with rows of Dauntless soldiers marching unwillingly into a war that has nothing to do with us. A boy a few years older than me offers me a hand, his movements stiff and robotic, and pulls me into a car that is half full. I turn around and offer my hand to the next person in line, who, whether you believe it or not, just so happens to be Tris. She climbs into the car a little awkwardly, her actions lacking the rigidity that accompanies every other person under the influence of the simulation serum.

She is awake.

I am thrilled, elated, ecstatic – but I don't dare show it on my face out of fear that someone will notice my momentary slip.

We line up shoulder to shoulder. Only when enough people have situated themselves in front of me do I dare to move my fingers. Carefully, with the barest of movement, I nuzzle her hand with mine, and as our fingers interlock, I swear I could almost hear a gentle click, like gears shifting into place.

The train speeds along the outskirts of the city, past the Amity orchards, the abandoned piles of rubble and several areas where the factionless dwell before coming to a stop before the rows of gray houses that I had grown so custom to when I was younger. Right before we jump off of the train, I turn my head ever so slightly to look at Tris. " Run, " I urge.

" My family, " she says.

That's right. Her parents are here and she needs to make sure they remain unharmed. Her concern for them almost makes me feel guilty at my lack of concern for my family. I don't know whether or not I should feel horrified at my genuine disregard of my father's safety.

The last time I walked these streets had been two years ago, and the streets had been lit by sunlight, not moonlight. I never knew I'd have the chance to set foot in this neighbourhood again, and I wish I'd never been granted this chance because I can't stand the thought of abandoning this place a second time. Being here, it brings back waves of nostalgia, which is inappropriate to an exponential degree because we are here to wage war on an innocent faction, not to recall childhood memories.

" This is insane, " says an all too familiar voice. I know without looking that if I were to turn my head a little to the left, I would find Eric hovering uncomfortably close to Tris. I dig my fingernails into my palm to keep myself from lashing out unexpectedly – from obliterating any remaining semblance of normality in my life by revealing my Divergence to the one person who would personally see to my demise. Even so, with so much at stake, I trace the outline of the gun gripped tightly in my hand, the metal warm and clammy from my unrelenting clutch, itching for me to bring upon the destruction that it so badly craves.

" They really can't see us? Or hear us? " a female voice, which I deduce to belong to Cass, asks.

" Oh, they can see and hear. They just aren't processing what they see and hear the same way, " Eric says smugly, as if manipulating an entire faction to carry out ruthless slaughter is something to be proud of. " They receive commands from our computers in the transmitters we injected them with and carry them out seamlessly."

If I attack now, it would almost be too easy to overtake him; he would never expect it. But can I truly bring myself to look him in the eyes and shoot him?

I can't.

Just then, he turns his attention to me, as if my thoughts have alerted him of my presence.

" Now, this is a happy sight, " he sneers, leaning uncomfortably close to my face. His exhales tickle my cheek, sends my heart into overdrive, and it takes everything in me to remain composed. " The legendary Four. No one's going to remember that I came in second now, are they? No one's going to ask me, 'What was it like to train with the guy who has only four fears? '"

Eric shifts his arm and presses the cold barrel of his gun against my temple. Inside my chest, my heart hammers a mile a minute, beating so loud that it's all I can hear. Instinct screams for me to bat his hand away, to protect myself, but I push all of those thoughts away and focus on the lock of pale blonde hair that swings in and out of my periphery. " Think anyone would notice if he accidentally got shot? " Eric says, putting an unnecessary amount of emphasis on the word accidentally, as if anyone watching would believe this constitutes as anything close an accidental slip of his finger.

" Go ahead, " Cass says, sounding as bored as she looks. It amazes me that, with the chaos ensuing before our eyes, she is able to respond in such a mild manner as if she is oblivious to the bodies that scatter the streets like autumn leaves. " He's nothing now."

" Too bad you didn't just take Max up on his offer, Four. Well, too bad for you, anyway, " Eric says so quietly that his voice is almost drowned out by the click of the bullet as it slides into the chamber.

I force a swallow past the lump in my throat, past the bruised, fickle beast that is my heart and down to the knot that is my stomach. He wouldn't do it.

He wouldn't.

He wouldn't.

But even as I think the words, the better part of me, the sensible, rational side reminds me that this is Eric, and he definitely would not hesitate to pull the trigger if given the chance. I brace myself for the chance to retaliate, and –

Tris whirls around before I even have time to register what is happening. She holds the cold metal lip of her gun unwaveringly against Eric's forehead. " Get your gun away from his head, " she snaps.

Eric stiffens, losing whatever shreds of confidence he had the moment his faç ade of dominance over us faltered. Cass's nonchalant expression melts off her face, no doubt caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events. All the while, I try very hard to keep my eyes from darting to Tris because I'm quite certain that no one will be able to overlook any abnormal movements that are a sure indication of my Divergence.

" You won't shoot me, " Eric scoffs.

" Interesting theory, " Tris says, but even I know she is bluffing. It is ironic that in a war waged by the Erudite against the Abnegation, you would find the Dauntless pointing their guns at each other – Dauntless who just so happens to originate from Abnegation and Erudite. Even more satirical is the fact that it is Eric who initiated the act – the very person who reiterates to everyone the importance of faction before blood. In the end, even the promise of unity amongst our own faction cannot erase the bitter blood that runs through our cores. I suppose what the other factions say about us is true – that we really are brutish and unyielding, even when it comes to our own.

The resounding bang of a gunshot makes me jump ever so slightly. Eric lets out a bloodcurdling howl; looks like Tris wasn't bluffing after all. The moment his gun leaves my temple, I twist around and fire blindly in the direction that I desperately hope had been Cass's leg. Before I have a chance to see whether or not the bullet found its target, Tris tugs on my hand and away we run toward an alleyway that extends from the deserted street like a battered, weather-worn extremity.

Around me, the pounding of hasty footsteps reverberate off the concrete, drumming out an uneven rhythm on the cracked and broken street, so confusing that I can't tell the thumping of my own footsteps from my pursuers. A booming crack slices through the air, and for one befuddled moment, I mistake the sound for lightning. It is not until Tris crumples to the ground do I realize it wasn't lightning; it was a gunshot that has buried a bullet in Tris's shoulder. I drop to her side instantly, using my body as a shield to shelter her in case they decide to fire again.

Better me than her.

" Run! " she pleads.

I take one look at her – pale blonde hair a tangled mess, crimson dotting her cheeks and now the back of her shirt – and say quietly, confidently, " No." As I help her up, Dauntless soldiers surround us in an inescapable circle, pointing the mouths of their ugly metal guns at Tris and I.

I see red. It is a red redder than the blood that stains my finger tips – a red bolder than blood, richer than blood. It manifests within me at the sight of all those who had the nerve to call the Dauntless compound their home.

Faction before blood, they say.

How did a faction so pure – a faction that sought to eradicate cowardice, to protect those who are unwilling to defend themselves – sink to the state in which we find ourselves today?

I don't know where we went wrong.

I don't know anymore.

I don't know.