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\\Four/
He sags down into the leather with a weight that makes him feel like he could meld into it, through it. He was sure the roof hatch was locked well and tight, but he was also more than a little sure that the dead didn't have enough left of their mental capabilities to open it.
The smell of air conditioning fills his nostrils and he inhales sharply, feeling like he hadn't taken a breath in forever. The cold and hot air mix, expanding in his lungs to the point of bursting.
Only after the bitter taste of bile hit his tongue did he notice the overpowering stench that followed after. Like rot and body odor mixed with lingering cigarette smoke.
The stench, he realized, emanated from himself now. It was no longer the smell of the dead.
His fingers and hands slippery, his knuckles throbbing and raw. He could feel smeared blood beginning to coagulate on his cheeks and jaw, his once stiff shirt now drenched in sweat, clinging to him like a second layer of skin.
Flashes of gaping wounds, whites of bones and the crunch of them against his fists, lifeless eyes, and gnashing teeth invaded his senses.
He closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the headrest, clutching his knees to keep from using his hands to cover his ears.
"You're alive." Tris says, speaking to Eric, she sounds surprised, like she's seen a ghost. Her voice is an anchor to Four's wayward thoughts and emotions.
Four raises his heavy eyelids and turns his cheek to see her, leaning forward at the edge of her seat. Her hands shaking, curled into fists on her lap. The same dark red coat over them, splashing up to her bony wrists like winter gloves.
If anyone looked ghostly, he thought, it would be us.
Her face is a deathly pale, and her eyes rimmed with dark splotches. The light brown of her irises now, an almost pitch black in the lighting. Her cheeks and neck decorated with droplets and streaks of blood like his own.
We're alive. Four thought, and at the moment he wasn't sure how or why, but then, he knew it was because of Eric, he also thought though, that it was because of Eric and Erudite that all this had happened in the first place.
"Yeah, no thanks to you." Eric blurts with a dry, humorless laugh.
Four rears back, planting a boot into the middle of the drivers seat, causing Eric to jerk forward against the steering wheel.
"Oh, and all these people aren't dead because of you?" He pulls his leg back to his chest and delivers another strong kick.
"You're still alive right?" Eric asks matter-of-factly before shaking his head in the front seat. He sits gripping the steering wheel tighter till his knuckles turn white and the veins bulge from the back of his hands.
Four catches his threatening gaze in the rear view mirror as though Eric could change that in seconds if he wanted to, and he brings his boot back once more.
"Four. . .Don't." He halts his assault when he notices Tris reach for him, and pause when she takes in the condition of her hands, staring at them, horrified, as if she's just now seeing them.
His stomach plummets as her eyes widen and darken with despair.
"Do you really think we did this? That we could be capable of this kind of - That we would do this?" Eric argues with a hint of hysteria in his voice. "Look around stiffs, those thing's aren't exactly dead are they? Those things aren't even people. Not anymore."
The comment struck a violent chord within Four.
He didn't feel much like a person himself anymore. He pictured himself looking almost exactly like one of the corpses outside, covered in blood, sweat, and filth, as though he had just torn into a living, breathing, person himself.
"Whose fucking fault is it then?" Four yells, his body starts shaking. His nerves shot to shit. "Who else could be responsible? You, the other Dauntless leaders, and Erudite planned to wipe Abnegation out! You were going to slaughter them all anyway! Look at what happened Eric, did you get what you wanted? What exactly were you trying to accomplish?"
He couldn't stop himself from the barrage of kicks he began to throw into the back of Eric's seat, using enough force to disengage the space adjustment mechanism and push it forward, crushing Eric against the steering wheel.
Eric curses loudly and forcefully drives his chair back, ducking down, as Four reaches around in an attempt to choke him. He swipes at empty air before the headrest strikes him in the cheek and chest and he falls back onto his ass.
"Tobias stop it!" Tris reaches for him again and in that same moment Eric slams his boot down onto the breaks and they lurch forward as the vehicle makes a sudden screeching, stuttering stop.
The loud hum of the vehicle's engine becomes a low-pitched hiss and the tires drum against ridges and cracks in the unpaved road.
Four collides with the seat in front him just barely putting his arms up to keep his face from another impact before getting thrown onto the ground between them. His head smacks against the edge, sending a burst of light across his vision and a punch to his sinuses.
Next to him he could see Tris' impact as her injured shoulder hits the seat when she gets thrown back onto her side. Her eyes shut tightly in a pained grimace.
He shoulders himself upright quickly and crawls to check her, stepping between the seats, turning away from the immediate danger. A mistake.
Eric shoves his chair all the way back and it strikes Four in the shoulder. He immediately braces his elbow to keep from landing directly on his side, back into the seat and before he can recover or realize his mistake, he feels the cold muzzle of a gun pressed to his temple.
He freezes instinctively with his eyes on Tris, lying still, not an inch from his outstretched hand. The breath caught in his lungs, and the hair on the back of his neck rises.
"Sit up, slowly. Turn and face me, Eaton." Eric commands, his tone a deep snarl indicating that he's done being fucked with.
The pressure of the barrel against his clammy skin increases and Four moves with measured slowness until he sits with his back straight.
He stares unflinchingly and accusingly into Eric's predatory gaze, the pistol aimed dead center on his forehead. This time there is no avoiding it.
Four could've sworn he saw something behind Eric's usual predominant scowl this time though, it's different, not triumph, not loathing, nothing remotely familiar. Something that wasn't there before.
Pain? Regret? Remorse? As soon as he saw it, it was gone, replaced by the same asshole Eric he always knew, with those dark listless eyes narrowed into a glare under furrowed pierced brows, lips curled into an almost threatening half-grin, half-snarl.
Only, the Eric he knew would've shot him by now. This was his opportunity, Four had no escape, no weapon and yet, minutes seemed to pass and Eric doesn't.
He becomes confused as Eric lifts his finger off the trigger slowly, followed by the rest, letting the gun swing on his thumb through the trigger guard.
"Don't!" Tris yells shaking her head to dispel her dizziness. "Killing each other isn't going to fix anything." She scrambles to a sitting position. "We can't afford to be fighting each other and. . .And the. . .The dead." She takes in the position of the hanging gun and blinks, confused.
As if on cue, a blunt impact hits the back of the truck catching their attention and they all glance back, craning their necks to look over the third row of seating as if they'll see the cause of the noise.
There is no back window, only the rest of the vehicle and the steel double loading doors at the end.
Eric reaches behind him and engages the door locks although they are already locked and barred. The hollow click is loud in Four's ear and actually does make them feel safer. A little.
They sit in silence for a moment, of the banging and scratching against metal, suddenly lost in thought that the world might have indeed become so black and white.
The dead outside don't care who you are or what you've done. They don't care if you're Divergent or not, or what your name is, how old you are, what faction you're in.
Eric lets out a breath, holding the gun in the air between them. "Whatever this shit is. . . Erudite - the other leaders and I, know next to nothing about it. Now it doesn't really matter if you believe me and I don't give a shit if you do but. . .Fuck, I don't know."
Four stares hard at the gun and thinks about what Eric just said before wiping his hands on his pants and accepting it. In more ways than one he felt he wasn't just accepting the gun.
He felt like he was accepting some momentary truce between them, accepting that just maybe, all this would've happened anyway. This is just the way shit went.
"What about the rest of the factions?" Tris asks immediately. Her concern genuine to Four but Eric looks back and forth between them speculatively. Why should they care?
"Candor and Amity have been alerted. . .Dauntless is evacuating to one of the safe zones. Apparently this. . .Somehow got there, or. . .Whatever the hell." Eric explains, shaking his head before turning back to rummage around the front seat of the vehicle, slamming the glove compartment, picking his bag off the ground. "Erudite is on lock-down."
"Why are you out here, instead of holding up in Erudite like the rest of them then?" Four asks. "What was your plan exactly?"
He had to admit they really have no plan themselves right now, as they didn't actually expect to make it out of Abnegation.
But he sure as hell wasn't about to get dragged to Erudite if that was Eric's intention.
Eric takes a moment of silence before answering. "I'm still working on it, but it involves finding out for myself what the fuck happened at Dauntless, and then probably do something about it, not that there's much else to do about, well. . .The 'dead' ones, besides. . .Where are the others?"
Four considers Eric's so called 'plan' and wonders by his question, if Eric assumes they've just been recruited to go along with him and is now just looking for more followers.
From the empty vehicle, Four takes it that there were none willing at Erudite.
They had other more immediate concerns and he wasn't about to just take up arms with Eric on a whim either. Tris still needed medical attention and he'd yet to take stock of his own condition.
Sure he was curious and wanted answers too, but they had to survive first.
"They were headed for the train." Tris answers immediately. "There were. . .10 of us on the roofs, not including Four and I. Tori said she had. . .8 with her."
Eric starts the windshield wipers and not a moment later the vehicle starts moving again. Stuttering back to life with a turn of the key in the ignition.
The vibration of the engine almost soothes Four's aching limbs but it also makes him feel like the very world was trembling around him. Whats left of their world.
"I don't know if you've noticed Eric, but you aren't a leader anymore as far as anyone. . .anyone left is concerned." Four says as he leans back.
He wonders if Eric knows that he, of all people have more than just the dead to worry about and that even if he and Tris believe him, he doubts anyone else will.
"With the way things are headed. . .There might not be anything or anyone left at all in the future." Eric replies. "The way I see it, we're all gonna wind up dead one way or another, but, I'd like some answers first, I'm sure I'm not the only one. . ."
Four nods his head to himself.
"Speaking of which, if you fuckers decide to shoot me again, do me a favor and aim for the head instead of leaving me to end up like that." Eric turns in his seat to tilt his head at Tris as if speaking solely to her and Four answers before he can antagonize her further.
"Alright." Four says simply, without making it a solid promise. He can't make promises for anyone else with a gun and a hate for Eric, and he's sure there was no shortage of those.
"And no worries. I'll always have a bullet in my gun for you guys." Eric says as if he assumed they would request the same courtesy. "Won't let you two end up like your buddies back there either."
Four grits his teeth and curls his hand tightly around the pistol, but, he had to admit, dying by a bullet is quicker than being eaten alive.
He suddenly thought about dying. About being torn to pieces, and devoured, something he hadn't actually considered up on the roof.
A death he did not want for himself or Tris. A death he wouldn't wish on anyone.
"Why did you help us?" Tris asks. It was a question that they all wondered about and Four had no intention of ever thanking Eric for it.
Eric didn't seem to be expecting any thanks though.
It was no secret that Eric hated Four, and Tris had shot him. But In a utilitarian point of view, you usually hold onto things that have use.
He himself could see the strategic value of having someone like Eric around, and he thought that it may possibly be what Eric see's in them as well.
He also thought though, that there was a good chance they'd all die in the near future regardless. No matter what they did. No matter what Eric did. No matter what everyone does.
"I don't know. I guess I'd rather be around two live stiffs, Divergent even, than around those. . .Stiffs." Eric shrugs and waves a hand back.
Four lets out a spiteful laugh, he didn't want to admit that he never really liked being around them when they were alive either.
Now that they're dead they suddenly give him much more attention.
He notices Tris shake her head slowly, her expression between grief and understanding. She has nothing to say and no more tears for the moment and he was glad for that.
They both can't argue with Eric, not now at least.
\\Christina/
There were 6 of them, from what she could see in an instant chasing after Tori and Oz in the alley down below and she moved her gun a fraction.
She aimed quickly at a running dead, with only a second to identify it by the blood dribbling out of its slacked jaw. It's left leg appeared injured and dragged behind, though it moved fast, despite the crippling way it was bent. She noticed he was wearing Abnegation gray.
She moves her gun back to check Tori's condition and judge the distance between them worried that they might be injured.
Tori's face appeared clenched in rage through her scope as she raises a hand over her head, the other held Oz by the jacket collar and she was screaming.
Christina couldn't tell what she was saying but, she felt as if something went horribly wrong. She swallows down the lump in her throat and adjusts her crouch.
Where was Zeke? Where was Malcolm?
She breathed out and refocused on the dead, her chest thumping loud in her ears and before she could pull the trigger the sound of a gunshot rang out in her right ear. She saw an invisible force rip through it's leg, it fell, landing hard on the ground.
It's head, she could see, bounced off the pavement in a way that made her feel like it was her own skull cracking like an egg against the earth.
Thick blackened blood poured out of it's open mouth, opened far too wide as its head lolled back, releasing a garbled howl. It reached out with both hands, the fingers twisted into claws and continued to crawl.
A shudder ripped through Christina and her finger suddenly felt stuck. She blinked once. The ringing in her ears hadn't subsided yet.
Her mind was a tumult, she sat there staring hard, unable to move. Unable to process movement.
She could hear the screeching in the distance and the sounds of gunfire around her from the other roof but she couldn't stop picturing the sickening way Mia scuttled over the grass on all fours, dragging her twisted broken leg.
She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her body, every part of her was shaking with it. Shaking so violently that she couldn't feel if she were really breathing.
It's as if the very world were trembling. She thought with another un-fulfilling breath.
"Chris!" She ripped her eyes away from the images and spun when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder, her gun slinging onto her back. "We need to run!" A Dauntless screamed into her ear before releasing her.
She nodded but when she tried to stand out of her crouch, her legs felt stiff and she grabbed the brick wall that lined the roof to keep from falling. The static pains of sleeping limbs tingles through her legs and feet.
She hauls herself up, forcing her legs to comply before leaning over the top to look down the narrow alleyway that ends at a flimsy chain link fence.
The city area between Abnegation and the tracks, dense with hollowed out buildings and a large number of alleys. Escape routes.
Christina peered over at the other roof tops and watched the others beginning their retreat, feeling that things weren't going to go as planned. It seemed less likely when some of them ran for it as soon as Tori left, leaving them with 3 Dauntless short.
She didn't blame them. She couldn't because she was just as scared. She had hope though, and a strong gut feeling that the others would make it to the train.
It might have been wishful thinking, even she thought it might be, and yet she kept it in her mind that getting to the train would mean safety for them all.
She's always been an optimist and anyway, the truth is a hard pill to swallow. Maybe that's why Christina left Candor, because sometimes the cold hard truth, reality, holds little appeal.
"Let's go!" The Dauntless yelled at her, she blinks at his pale face, his eyes sunken in and full of panic as he motions impatiently with his hand. He was already turning away when she finally broke into a sprint, pushing herself off the wall after him.
She runs to the end of the roof and vaults over the waist high wall, floating over the short distance between buildings, suspended in the air as if she were flying.
The drop almost 10 stories, down into the dark asphalt abyss below but, falling off roofs is the least of her worries.
She lands on the other lower rooftop with a tuck and roll, before kicking off to begin running again. Just barely taking notice of the jagged pieces off rooftop rubble that scrape her palms.
Her boots drum in time to the beat of her heart and the weight of her gun bouncing against her back. She chanted to herself a mantra. Get to the train. Get to the train. Her lungs and legs burning for that purpose.
The two reach the end of the roof and the Dauntless, she remembered his name now - Chad swung off, gripping the sides of a ladder. Christina watched as he pressed his boots to the sides and slid down quickly several stories and hit the steel staircase that winded down the side of the building.
She mimic's him and together they run, around and around, leaping down stairs at a time, their hands only hovering over the hot metal railings, touched by the heat of the sun.
When they hit the ground they circle back around the corner of the building and she draws her gun, breathing heavily. Her eyes skirting everywhere even over the faded brick walls. Her entire body pivoting with the gun, taking in the alley. The ground. The sky even.
Tori and Oz just clear the chain fence a block ahead and the dead hit it not moments after Tori throws herself away from it, nearly losing her balance.
"Where the fuck are the others?!" Tori screeches, turning around, her fingers brush against the ground as she regains her balance.
Christina stares past her at the fence, it won't hold. The loud shaking metal creaks with age and rust. Worry pickles up her spine.
The dead press their faces against it, their fingers broken, some just bone, stick through the interwoven metal like caged animals and the others come up behind, pushing them further into it.
She stares wide eyed at the little red tears at the perimeter of one of their cheeks where it's peeled back from it's skull, it's eyeball rolling around in a gelatinous cavity, spilling out of the socket as it's face gets crushed against the fencing like it could squeeze through the tiny diamond shaped holes.
The group turn and Christina realizes Tori has a grip on her jacket collar now, hauling her away. She shuts her eyes for a brief moment as if her own eyeballs stood a threat of popping out.
She spins, ducking under Tori's arm to face away. The jacket twists around her neck.
"They ran." Chad replies breathlessly. They both calm down in the presence of Tori. "Where is Mal? Zeke? Cordy? The other guys?"
Christina stares at Oz's back as they make their way back around the corner. She wondered the same things and both awaited and dreaded the answer.
Tori gives them none.
The hairs on her neck rise as she can hear the snapping and howling from behind her back like they're angry at being abandoned.
Christina puts it in her mind that the fence will hold.
"They didn't leave the guns?" Tori asks, she doesn't receive an answer.
"They didn't exactly say goodbye either." Chad scoffs. Tori shakes her head and wipes her cheek with the back of her hand.
"Did you see Tris? Did she get off the roof?" Christina asks hurriedly, surprised by the solidity of her own voice. She's spoken very little the whole day which is unusual for her.
She shrugs Tori's hand off but then the gun in her arms suddenly felt foreign and she desperately wanted to have it replaced with a human touch, despite the circumstances.
"We'll find out at the track." Tori says simply, and something about her voice keeps them from asking anything else. They had to survive themselves first before worrying about others.
Oz remains silent and his expression is grim, adverting his gaze from Christina's. She tries not to read too much into it. She didn't want to.
The group make quickly for the back of the complex and broke into a sprint when they could see the clearing between two decrepit buildings.
So close, she thought. We just have to get to the train and then we'll be safe.
The picture of Candor filled her mind, a massive 18 story building across a wide river, accessible only over a collapsible bridge or by train, their destination. Safe.
She followed Tori up to a waist-high brick wall and clambered over, the drop further than she anticipated and she lands hard on her hands and knees, immediately pushing herself back up with help from Oz who still won't look her in the eye.
Her lungs heaving and muscles aching worse now as if ready for the relief that safety provided, but her entire body felt heavy the further away they went.
As if she were forgetting something, leaving something behind. She tucked the feeling away. Something to dwell on when she could afford to.
They leave the shelter of the buildings, exiting out into a flat expanse of several miles with the train tracks directly between them and another ocean of buildings.
The train whistle blares in the distance, a sound that makes their hearts race. The hum of of the vibrating metal tracks resonates through their tired bodies.
She strains her eyes and cranes her neck in the direction that it would be coming from but, the curve of the tracks obscures it from view.
"Over there!" Oz yells as they continue making their way closer.
She follows his pointing hand, looking in the opposite direction and sees a group of people sprinting towards them from about a mile away.
Christina immediately shoulders her gun and peers through her scope to search their faces and count them. "7." She says. "8. . .9." But her gut rolls because none of them is Tris, none of their faces belong to Four.
None of their faces belong to Will.
They're alive though, she thought, hoping the same for the ones not seen. She watches as they begin to scramble across the tracks and in the opposite direction as if suddenly diverted.
Her blood runs cold. Christina curls her finger around the trigger when she sees an alarming number of dead spilling out from between the buildings after them.
A mass exodus of tattered, bloody forms hurling over each other. Some falling and getting trampled under other dead spilling out of the alley like water in a drain pipe.
"Don't." Tori says placing her hand across the barrel of Christina's gun, forcing her to lower it. "They'll be fine, save the ammo."
Christina glances frantically at where the train will appear and she can see the faint glimmer of metal shining against the sun as it rounds the corner of a buildings.
Tori is right, they'll run on the other side of the tracks and the dead will try to cross in pursuit but the train was practically upon them. She shudders at the images of bodies crushed and shredded by the train. The likely outcome.
A strong hand grips her jacket from behind and drags her backwards, she can only guess who has her and this time she makes no complaint. They cross over the tracks and she could feel the clicking of the train through her boots.
The screeching of metal against metal gets louder and the group take off, running along the tracks as the train glides towards them.
To Christina's surprise there are Dauntless already on it, waiting at the open doors of the cars. She throws herself sideways towards their outstretched hands. One grabs her arm and she grasps the handle next to the doorway as he pulls her into the safety of the cab.
She falls to her knees in the nearly empty car and within moments it becomes more and more dense with the bodies and heavy breathing of others that clamber in, falling over each other.
The cold vibrating metal of the train under her sweaty palms doesn't quite make her feel safe like she thought it would. She closes her eyes to steady her heart beating against her ribs, tightening around her lungs.
"You alright?" Oz asks her briskly, lowering himself beside her. She nods and suddenly remembers introducing herself to Tris this same way. "What was your name?"
"I'm Christina" She said in her head to Tris and out loud to Oz, offering her hand.
It's a weird thing to remember but it's also comforting. He takes her hand in a strong grip and shakes it twice.
"Ozzie." He replies.
Beatrice. Tris had answered in her head but, Christina can see that she's not on this train. Not this time. Her heart gives a little squeeze.
The wind blows harder through the open doors and she crawls over to the corner so she can peer sideways outside at the passing buildings and catch a last glimpse of Abnegation.
She sees the marsh, wide and brown and she sees the city. Abnegation a gash, with dark smoke curling towards the sky like gangling twisted claws, reaching for the life that's escaped.
Tears begin to blur Christina's vision, and she wipes at them to no avail because they keep falling, creating streaks down her dusty cheeks.
A pull at her back turns her around and Tori grips the gun still slung around her torso. Tori yanks it over her head, Christina raises her arm so the strap won't catch and snag her elbow.
Before she can ask what Tori is doing, the woman hurls herself off the train.
Right out the open doors. Without even saying goodbye.
Christina watches wide, teary eyed as the woman disappears and buildings of the city envelope them back into the shadows, like a vein barreling through glass, brick and metal bowels.
\\Tris/
The truck doors slam loudly as Four and Eric exit the vehicle. The slams resonates in her ears and through her chest and she wonders what it was exactly they had said just seconds ago. They'd missed the train, and none sure how long ago but the sound of gunshots was unmistakable.
There were still people out there.
Her temperature was beginning to elevate, dehydration, blood loss and exhaustion starting to catch up with her now that the initial shock ebbed away. Her skin felt clammy, sweat decorating her forehead, strands of hair plastered around her face. Her breaths came in short shallow and labored rasps.
She grips the rifle tightly in her hands to prevent them from trembling, and brings it close to her chest before crouching up onto the leather seats. The roof hatch unlocked and propped open above her. She presses her hand against the lock wheel and takes a deep breath, holding the metal, closing her eyes and resting her cheek on her raised arm.
Tris tells herself that she will count to three and when she's done, she will move on. She'd done it before, she can do it again. It works. Mind over matter.
She takes a deep breath in through her mouth and releases it slowly through her nose.
One, she pictures her mother or more, lets her mind drop the secure walls she erected. She would have to face it sometime. Her heart twisted wretchedly in her chest as if squeezing it dry of blood.
Two. She watches the light leave Wills eyes as he falls to his knees and drops forward into a pool of his own blood. Her lungs felt shriveled and she sucked in a raspy breath, catching and trapping her sob.
It isn't nearly enough, it won't ever be, but it has to be right now. There are people out there that need help and she could help them.
Three. She pushes the heavy metal open and stands. Pressing the butt of the gun against her injury, pulling it back to apply pressure and keep it steady as she braces her elbow on the burning hot metal roof.
A stab of pain shoots through her shoulder, making her feel a little light headed and she curls her finger around the trigger breathing in and out slowly before peering purposefully through the lenses.
The train tracks are smeared red, and she ignores the twitching scattered remains along the pavement and rubble. Her eyes flick between the moving and mobile targets.
From where she perched she could see Eric kneeling behind a waist high brick wall a few feet from the vehicle, his gun balanced over the lip of the bricks and he jerks his head.
Four jumps the wall, keeping his gun low and ready, making a beeline along the side of a building. They've not fired yet. But she hears a crackle and pop of distant gunfire.
"Where is he going?" Tris asked Eric. She frantically raised her gun planting her elbows onto the hot roof of the truck. Unable to see where the shots echo from.
She follows Four until he disappears around a corner and her breath catches. Panic blooms in her chest forcefully. Anxiety skyrocketing.
"Over there." Eric hisses before aiming his gun over the wall in the direction of the tracks to their right. "Use your fucking eyes."
Tris pivots her torso around in the truck and aims towards what looks to be an awning on the side of a building. Her chest squeezes tightly when she sees 3 people trapped atop it.
Zeke bloodied and injured, held up by his brother Uriah and Tori. Tori fires at the dead that try to get at them from below. There is no way for the group to get their attention without attracting the attention of the dead as well.
Tris can see them chauffing and circling in wild jerky movements. Her finger curls around the trigger. "Don't. Not yet." Eric says as though he can read her intention.
At first she wonders why they can't just drive over and have them jump in like Eric's last stunt but she can see the benches and build up of debris around them that would make it impossible to simply plow through.
"Wait for Four." Eric says pointing towards a building adjacent to the scafold the survivors are trapped on.
What is Four going to do? Tris thinks panicked. "What is Four going to do?" She asks out loud.
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