Tah-da! Chapter 20 is here. Phew xD

As you may have noticed, the story is reaching the end of Divergent slowly. You are probably thinking that it will be over soon but nah. Nahnahnah. I will carry this on into Insurgent. So there are still plenty of updates to look forward to.

The creaking of the mattresses wakes her up. Actually, she was never asleep. Her body was only paralysed, memories of last night swarming inside her. After hoping to cry herself to sleep, Tris realized something astounding. She was acting like Al. She rolled her eyes, anger boiling deep within her on their first night at Dauntless. Al couldn't keep quiet. He was a coward for crying. Everybody was afraid. And only Al was showing it.

But now she was in the same place as he was before. Crying. Probably aggravating somebody else in the dormitory. When did she become so weak?

Her head feels heavy with mucus and the swelling of her eyes makes her want to stay in bed. She sees that the door across the room is open, bringing early morning sunlight inside. Some of the beds are empty. Somebody has left.

She sits up. Movement is registered in her peripheral vision and she turns her head to look: Will is tying the laces on his boots, his head droopy like he is still asleep. His hands are not his hands. But they are his hands. Same with Al. He is tying his shoe laces like is forced to do it. And his body does not belong to him any more.

Tris swings her legs over the edge of the bed, noticing how Christina does the same, "Hey what's…" she trails off, suddenly silenced by her friend's blank stare.

Her eyes are dead. Her face is vacant. She tilts her head to the side, like a clueless dog, except that a clueless dog would not have a hint of anger on its face. Christina does.

Tris widens her eyes, getting off the bed and walking over to her boots slowly. She feels Christina's eyes burning into the back of her head throughout her short journey. Something is wrong.

When Tris turns back around, she sees everybody walking out of the door. Slowly. Artificially.

"Oh, my God," she whispers, laying a hand on her neck. The transmitters in the serum have been activated. They have done it. They have created an army. But Tris is awake. Divergent.

In a hurry, she shrugs on her jacket and shoves her feet into her boots, following her friends to do the one thing she is good at doing. Blending in.

SHSHSHSHSHSH

There seems to be an order to the way the brainwashed soldiers form lines. Tris keeps as still as she can, glancing at an odd person from time to time. The line of people she is in seems to be in height order. But if that is the case, she officially gave herself away. There are people on either side of her. Blank faces. Staring at the back of someone else's head.

They march all the way to the Pit where dozens of tables line the walls. Tris furrows her eyebrows slightly at the new setting. But then she realizes that the tables are for guns. Big, heavy guns. Unlike the ones they used to score points in initiation.

Where is Four? Was he brainwashed too? Is he one of the robots? Is there nobody she can stick to right now? All she needs to do if find out what is going on. Where are they going with those guns?

She keeps her eyes on Christina's jet black hair, refusing to break character. Even when Eric comes into view.

She had kind of expected it. An army of Dauntless, guns at the ready, the corrupt leader at the front of the Pit. It all makes sense. In fact, Tris would have been confused if he wasn't there. She takes a deep breath, biting the inside of her cheek. Don't notice me. Don't notice me.

"They can see and hear us," Max grumbles, "They just don't process it the same way."

Tris watches as he and Eric dawdle in the centre of the soldiers that surround them. They seem so relaxed. How can they be so relaxed? She finds the tiniest smile when a thought crosses her mind. Imagine if everybody just woke up. Or better yet, if they were programmed to attack Eric and Max. That would be a turn of tables. But the chances of that happening are less than 0.01%, as Will would say.

She marches closer and closer to the man she is so desperate to avoid. Step by step by step her throat tightens, suffocating her completely. Soon, she finds that she is not breathing at all. But at least that keeps her face straight.

Once she gets to the table of weapons, her hands lock on one of the biggest guns. The gun is bigger than her. She has trouble holding it properly. Her back begins to ache at the weight of it. But then she realizes that everybody has the same weapon. It's the nerves. She has to compose herself.

"Commands come in through the transmitter," Max says, folding his arms. Tris doesn't dare to breathe. He is right next to her. Max stops talking immediately, as if sensing the tension only her and Eric are able to feel. He backs away, allowing the reckless leader to step closer to her. She can only see his face out of the corner of her eye, but that is enough for her. She can tell that he is not smiling.

If he hadn't betrayed her less than 24 hours ago, they would be on different terms. He would reach out and brush a strand of hair behind her ear. Or lean in, shake her shoulders and demand for her to be out of the simulation.

"You know," Max breathes, "We can wake her up. Take her up to the control room and trigger a certain-"

"No," Eric snaps, keeping his eyes on her face. She nearly passes out from the lack of oxygen, "She wouldn't co-operate. It would ruin the whole mission."

"Okay," and then they walk past her. She takes a long breath, making sure to keep her shoulders level. When she blinks, her vision blurs. There were tears prickling at her eyes this whole time. But if she didn't notice, he didn't notice.

Wouldn't co-operate? That's an understatement.

Suddenly, a man walks out of the organized line. He has tattoos all over his face. His hair is bright red. And he is not in the simulation. But he is Dauntless. Tris feels puzzled for just a moment, and then it all becomes clear when he nudges one of his friends, "Hey, what are we doing?" he hovers in the middle, his eyes wide with perplexity, "What's going on?" he asks another robot.

Tris resists the urge to roll her eyes. How can he be this stupid? He will get himself killed.

"Divergent," Max slurs behind her, at which point Tris starts to panic again. She hears the click of a gun. That deadly click. The click that sucks all the air out of the room, suffocating everyone and everything.

Eric walks forward until he is in the range of Tris' peripheral vision. As crazy as it sounds, she would rather not see him that have him right there in front of her. Most of the time, you want it the other way.

He takes out a pistol from the back of his pocket, shaking it slightly before lifting it up, "Hey!" that gets the man's attention, "Everything's fine. There's nothing to worry about," and that gets him killed. The loud bang of a bullet leaving its chamber makes Tris jump slightly. The first time she has seen somebody murdered in cold blood. And the murderer was Eric.

Tris forces herself to move when Christina starts walking again. She hugs the gun to her chest, allowing herself the luxury of moving her head around to get a better look at things. No authority is around anymore. They have walked out of the Pit. So she has to use the opportunity.

She tries not to trip over the uneven grounds in the dark corridor. That is the last thing that she needs right now. Hopefully there will be a more open space soon. So that she can cough without anybody hearing her. And slump her shoulders with nobody to see from behind. And look up at the sky with no Max or Eric to see from the distance.

They end up outside, all marching at the same pace and with the same certainty. The sky is quite grey today. Please don't rain.

The warm summer breeze calms Tris slightly, allowing her to take a few deep breaths to compose herself. Her heart is still racing from the murder she has witnessed. But she has a feeling that wasn't the last murder she is to witness. Even though it was her first. She marches and marches until all at once, the marching stops. A train pulls up on her left. So close, that the metal grazes the fabric of her jacket. It takes her all of her willpower not to flinch.

Then the doors slide open. And everyone starts piling in.

For a long time the ringing in her ears deafens her. Her head spins when reality hits her. Eric is a murderer. And he is working for Jeanine. And she is obviously a murderer too. And they want Divergents dead. And Tris has a gun. And she needs to use it. And she doesn't know where they are going. What if it's a war zone? What if they have to kill other Divergents in the city? No. No. Nonono.

She snaps back to where she is. In a train. Packed with zombies. She has to do something. There is no way anybody is going to make her kill.

She looks ahead, furrowing her eyebrows when a familiar tattoo catches her eye. It's a neck tattoo. She still has no idea what the tattoo is of, but none of that matters any more. She knows who it belongs to. It's Four. He is among the zombies. She needs to get to him. Just to make sure…

And she does. After what felt like a million slow steps and a billion shoulder bumps, she gets to him. She is at his side. Staring into the distance. When they get off the train, she will have to figure this out.

A warm hand curls around her own. It squeezes hard enough for her to understand the message. She used to be confused about the signals Tobias sent her. Through eye contact. Through short nods. But now she understands.

As they intertwine their fingers, she understands. They will figure this out together.

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