The next few days were brutal. I got up painfully early every day, as usual, and made my way to the training room to run. It was empty when I got there and stayed that way the entire time I ran. Part of me was crestfallen. The more rational side of me grumbled that it was unreasonable to have expected Eric to show up every single morning. After the third day, I wasn't surprised anymore.
My goal each morning was ten quick laps, though I stayed for a few more depending on how winded I was. I left for breakfast sore and starving. Al was uncharacteristically silent at meals now. I thanked my lucky stars and tried to enjoy it while it lasted. Later on the first night, Christina told me Al's doped up attitude had just gotten worse after I'd left them that evening. It only made me feel more terrible about how I felt about him, which was purely platonic. Thankfully I didn't have much time to agonize over it with how busy we were.
Four was in an odd mood during training, unexpectedly patient with every question or comment that people had to say. Perhaps it was due to Eric's absence, which lasted all day long. Training itself was exclusively made up of long stretches of strength and endurance training with short breaks for Four to lecture us on Dauntless code of conduct.
It was exhausting.
My legs were aching by lunch and screaming by dinner time. On the second day Four had taken us out into the city, fully loaded with our assigned pistols and rifles. We also had the misfortune of being assigned backpacks stuffed with a variety of supplies. Theoretically this was to simulate the gear we would have on us in the field. Four took us on a circuitous route through the city in an effort to get us to memorize the streets. We got to take the train back, thankfully, giving us the chance to rest before more training back at the complex.
Three days after the shooting incident, Four gave us a new challenge. While we sat on the train, resting from hours of traversing the city streets, he revealed some rather unsavory news. "Listen up, initiates. You may have noticed that we're not heading back to the compound," he announced cheerfully.
Will, who had been deep in conversation with Christina, looked out the open train door quickly as though Four was lying. I also followed his gaze, hoping that this was just a joke. We were bone tired. Hell, this morning I'd given up after barely making my ten laps. There was no way I wanted to do any more walking today.
"I figured that there's no better way to test what I've been teaching you than by making you apply it. So stand up and get your gear," Four ordered. "You get to go home when you find your way back."
Myra looked ashen faced. "What if we get lost?" she whispered quietly to Edward.
"Don't worry, you can follow me. I know Chicago like the back of my hand," he assured her with a smirk.
I hauled myself to my feet, wishing that I was doing literally anything else. I didn't want to be caught off guard - "If you're worried about getting lost, then you should go first," Four retorted smugly. With that, he grabbed one of the straps on Myra's pack and forced her to the edge of the train doorway. "Congrats on volunteering to go first."
With a shriek, she tumbled out the doorway. I sucked in a tight breath, worried that she would get sucked into the spinning wheels. "Myra!" Peter called out, pushing past Four to look for her. All I could see from my vantage point was a dark mass.
"She's fine," Four said flatly. "You're next, after this turn." He tried to hold Peter to keep him from jumping, but the younger boy rolled his shoulders and glared hotly at his instructor. Despite his apparent anger, Peter waited for Four's command before jumping from the train.
Next was Will, Molly, and Christina before it became my turn. I'd tried to pay attention to where everyone else had jumped off, but I couldn't keep all the locations in my head. Plus I didn't want to get in trouble by trying to find them instead of going back to Dauntless.
I stared out the train door, my pack straps tight and my weapon holsters double checked that they were secure. "Ready?" Four asked me, tilting his head to meet my eyes. It was weird coming from him, especially after what he did to Myra, and I nodded tightly. With a sharp breath, I pushed off from the edge of the train floor and threw myself onto the road. The train's slipstream tugged at me, threatening to take my balance, but after two days of jumping on and off I had adjusted to the wind.
When I could no longer feel the rushing cars behind me, I turned to watch the silver train vanish quickly into the setting sun. West. The tracks were running west wherever I was. I let out the breath I'd taken and looked for anything that I recognized. The Hub stood out through the other buildings, resolute against the skyline. Between that and the track directions, I figured I was pretty far off from Dauntless, somewhere within the Candor living area.
"Fantastic," I growled to myself. I started off towards the nearest intersection, intent on making it back before darkness totally set in. The shadows stretched longer and longer as I walked. Once the side streets were completely in shadow, I forced myself to alternate between trotting and jogging.
My pack slammed into my shoulders with every step and pain radiated all along my legs. I was definitely overdoing it on the running, with my morning jogs on top of Four's forced marches. But I was making progress. I wasn't winded at all, just enormously tired, and I made it out of Candor to the edge of the Dauntless streets.
I thought I spotted another backpack-clad figure in the street parallel to mine, but they disappeared after a few intersections. Not really thinking much of it, I focused on where I needed to turn next to get to the main entrance to Dauntless. It was probably one of the others, intent on making it back before dinner was over.
"Don't bother running, Stiff," someone yelled from my left side. "Just give up!" When I turned my head to see who was shouting, something slammed into the back of my head. Everything turned red and then black. A ringing filled my head and pricks of pain exploded on the side of my face and arm. I couldn't understand why the world felt so sideways until I realized I'd fallen onto the pavement.
I blinked quickly, trying to get my vision back. Between the stars of pain and the shadows, I couldn't make out anything beyond a dark shape. I didn't hear them say anything else, but I sure as hell felt their boots slam into my stomach. I tried to get up and find the will to fight back, but all I could feel was pain.
They stopped kicking the crap out of me after what felt like an eternity. I didn't hear them leave, nor did I see what direction they went in. All I noticed was the asphalt by my hands slowly coming back into focus. And the pain slowly ebbing into "almost-manageable" territory.
"Come on, Prior," I growled to myself. "You gotta keep going."
At least that's what I was trying to tell myself.
Starting with one hand, I slowly pushed myself to be sitting up. Tenderly I pressed a hand against my ribs. Nothing felt busted, but I wasn't a doctor. I figured that I could attempt standing after another minute of careful breathing and pain management. "Trust this to have happened in the only empty street in all of Chicago," I panted.
I made it to my feet finally, fueled by rage and determination. Whoever it was - most likely Peter - was trying to keep me from finishing initiation. I couldn't let that happen. Not when failure meant living factionless, essentially cast out from society except to clean bathrooms, pick produce, and drive trains. And letting them win.
Step by painful step, I forced myself to make it to the next intersection. And turn down that street. And keep going until the next street. On and on I pushed myself, my ribs and head pounding with every step. Eventually I found one of the entrances to the garages and pounded heavily at the door.
A slit in the door opened, someone peering out cautiously. "Name and purpose?" They asked brusquely.
"Tris Prior. I'm one of Four's initiates," I spat. A wave of pain cascaded along my stomach when I spoke. I clamped my mouth tightly shut to keep from throwing up right there and then. The slot in the door snapped shut and my heart fell. Was there some final twist to Four's challenge? Had he told us to go through a certain entrance and I'd missed the order?
But then the door swung open, nudging against my boots as it did. "You're the last one in," they said matter-of-factly. "By about half an hour."
I nodded. There wasn't much I was going to say to that, even if I didn't feel completely overwhelmed with pain. The guard - an older woman - closed the door behind me. She took my gear bag from me, but not my weapons. Sluggishly I wondered why until I remembered that I needed to put them back in my locker in the training room.
The thought of walking all the way there and then all the way to the pit for dinner was miserable, but it had to be done. Maybe Christina would be in the training room when I got there and I'd at least have someone to sympathize with about what happened.
When I got there, though, it was completely dark. The resemblance to this morning was uncanny, though there was no sunlight trying to come in through the back windows. I shoved my pistol and rifle into my locker roughly, counting on pure muscle memory to disassemble both of them. I closed the door with a slam and turned to leave before realizing I still had my holster on as well.
Groaning, I fumbled through the combination lock and threw my shoulder holster in violently. Something caught my eye and I paid more attention to what I was doing. A small square of paper was stuck to the inside of the door, fluttering around when it opened. I tugged it off and squinted at it.
Tight, black writing was scrawled across it.
You slacking off because I wasn't around? Ten laps should be nothing for you.
It wasn't signed, but it didn't have to be. Something fluttered nervously in my stomach. It could have been from the pain, but a small voice told me it wasn't.
I left the training room as fast as my tired limbs could carry me. The sticky note was folded up tightly in my pants pocket, a question that I didn't want to think about the answer to. I had more important things to worry about, mainly whoever it was that tried to physically force me out of initiation.
The nausea in my stomach refused to quit, getting worse the more that I walked around. Just the thought of food made me feel even sicker, never mind what actually eating would do to me. I diverted from my path to the dining hall and started for the dorm to rest instead. Going down stairs was absolutely terrible and I stopped in an alcove to catch my breath.
God, I hoped I didn't have a broken rib. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to keep a reign on my pain and growing fear.
"What are you doing, Tris?" A low voice called out from the hall. I hadn't realized I'd shut my eyes until I peeled them open to look out. Four had stopped just a few feet away, his head tilted sideways as he looked at me.
"N-nothing," I managed to spit out. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stop leaning on the wall and walk back into the hall.
My instructor looked me over quickly, a frown creasing his forehead. "You look like hell," he said cautiously.
I looked away, staring at my hand by my side. "It was a long day," I replied evasively.
He didn't come any closer and his expression remained the same. "You're pale and breathing pretty heavy. Did you hurt yourself getting off the train?"
"I tripped when I was running back. It got dark and I couldn't see very well," I lied. I'm not sure where it came from. Dauntless didn't care about fairness, just results. Four didn't have to know that I had been attacked. I just had to pass initiation and prove I belonged.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and I prayed that Four wouldn't call me on my lie. "I'll be fine after I lie down," I insisted. "Just took a tumble." Without waiting for him to reply, I brushed past him to continue on my way to the dorm. I could feel his stare as I continued down the hall. When I turned to go down another hallway, I looked back at where he had been. Four was no longer there, thankfully.
I let out a deep sigh and dragged myself to the dorm without any more stops or conversations. It was blissfully empty and I threw myself onto my bunk. I didn't even get to take off my boots before I'd completely fallen asleep.