Note: All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the bold Italic words are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.
CHAPTER 47 (continued)
TRIS
"Stop!" a voice shouts from behind me.
The security guards. They found us.
"Stop or we'll shoot!"
Caleb shudders and lifts his hands. I lift mine, too, and look at him.
I feel everything slowing down inside me, my racing thoughts and the pounding of my heart.
When I look at him, I don't see the cowardly young man who sold me out to Jeanine Matthews, and I don't hear the excuses he gave afterward.
When I look at him, I see the boy who held my hand in the hospital when our mother broke her wrist and told me it would be all right. I see the brother who told me to make my own choices, the night before the Choosing Ceremony. I think of all the remarkable things he is—smart and enthusiastic and observant, quiet and earnest and kind.
He is a part of me, always will be, and I am a part of him, too. I don't belong to Abnegation, or Dauntless, or even the Divergent. I don't belong to the Bureau or the experiment or the fringe. I belong to the people I love, and they belong to me—they, and the love and loyalty I give them, form my identity far more than any word or group ever could.
I love my brother. I love him, and he is quaking with terror at the thought of death. I love him and all I can think, all I can hear in my mind, are the words I said to him a few days ago: I would never deliver you to your own execution.
"Caleb," I say. "Give me the backpack."
"What?" he says.
I slip my hand under the back of my shirt and grab my gun. I point it at him. "Give me the backpack."
"Tris, no." He shakes his head. "No, I won't let you do that."
"Put down your weapon!" the guard screams at the end of the hallway. "Put down your weapon or we will fire!"
"I might survive the death serum," I say. "I'm good at fighting off serums. There's a chance I'll survive. There's no chance you would survive. Give me the backpack or I'll shoot you in the leg and take it from you."
Then I raise my voice so the guards can hear me. "He's my hostage! Come any closer and I'll kill him!"
In that moment he reminds me of our father. His eyes are tired and sad. There's a shadow of a beard on his chin. His hands shake as he pulls the backpack to the front of his body and offers it to me.
I take it and swing it over my shoulder. I keep my gun pointed at him and shift so he's blocking my view of the soldiers at the end of the hallway.
"Caleb," I say, "I love you."
His eyes gleam with tears as he says, "I love you, too, Beatrice."
"Get down on the floor!" I yell, for the benefit of the guards.
Caleb sinks to his knees.
"If I don't survive," I say, "tell Tobias I didn't want to leave him."
I back up, aiming over Caleb's shoulder at one of the security guards. I inhale and steady my hand. Just before I get the shot off, Matthew appears behind one of the two guards. For a moment we lock eyes, and I think of Tobias. I think of what he would do, what he would say in this moment without saying anything at all. I stare at Matthew as hard as I can and pray he still has his gun. I hope the slight nod of his head means he understands. The seconds long exchange over, returning my focus back to the guards, I exhale and fire. I hear a pained yell, and sprint in the other direction with the sound of gunfire in my ears.
As I run, I swing the backpack around my body and open the zipper. I take out the explosives and the detonator. There are shouts and running footsteps behind me. I don't have any time. I don't have any time.
I run harder, faster than I thought I could. The impact of each footstep shudders through me and I turn the next corner, where there are two guards standing by the doors Nita and the invaders broke. Clutching the explosives and detonator to my chest with my free hand, I shoot one guard in the leg and the other in the chest.
The one I shot in the leg reaches for his gun, and I fire again, closing my eyes after I aim. He doesn't move again.
I run past the broken doors and into the hallway between them. I slam the explosives against the metal bar where the two doors join, and clamp down the claws around the edge of the bar so it will stay. Then I run back to the end of the hallway and around the corner and crouch, my back to the doors, as I press the detonation button and shield my ears with my palms.
The noise vibrates in my bones as the small bomb detonates, and the force of the blast throws me sideways, my gun sliding across the floor. Pieces of glass and metal spray through the air, falling to the floor where I lie, stunned. Even though I sealed off my ears with my hands, I still hear ringing when I take them away, and I feel unsteady on my feet.
At the end of the hallway, I can see my followers caught up with me; well one of them, at least. Matthew, and I have to assume the other footsteps, not far behind, belong to Caleb. I have no time to think, I am running on one cylinder now: act. I notice the blast has thrown my perception just slightly as I get up and throw myself around the corner again, half walking and half stumbling to the blasted-open doors.
Beyond them is a small vestibule with a set of sealed, lockless doors at the other end. Through the windows in those doors I see the Weapons Lab, the even rows of machinery and dark devices and serum vials, lit from beneath like they're on display. I hear a spraying sound and know that the death serum is floating through the air, but there could be guards behind me, and I don't have time to put on the suit that will delay its effects.
I also know, I just know, that I can survive this.
I step into the vestibule.