CHRISTINA
ZEKE'S FOREHEAD CREASES with worry when I tell him about Tobias' disappearance.
"We're taking a group to try and follow the tracks today," I tell him.
"Follow the tracks where? Out of the parking lot? Then where do you plan to go? They could have gone in any direction."
I know his anger isn't directed at me and that it's only his frustration at our lack of knowledge on this case.
"Zeke, trust me, I'm just as irritated as you are. If we can't find him, then we'll start asking people about the men from the church. Somebody has to know something. It's not everyday a man with that strong an accent comes around."
He still doesn't look convinced.
"Get some rest so the doctor won't change his mind about letting you go this afternoon. I'll let you know what we find when I get back."
He accepts my promise and relaxes back into his bed. I leave the room and join Amar, Peter, Oliver and Eli outside. We leave the hospital and head back to the Dauntless compound to follow the tracks. I forbade anyone from entering or exiting from that side of the building until we had a chance to start our search. When we get back, Amar jumps out to examine the tire tracks.
"They drove an off-road vehicle, four wheels, with zig-zag patterned tires with diamond markings down the center," he reports.
"Alright, everyone keep their eyes out." But I don't get my hopes up.
Zeke was right when he said the tracks wouldn't get us far. They are clear until the road, where the dirt leaves a mark for a couple hundred feet, and then fades out. I continue to drive, though, in the same direction we are already heading. The road leads north through the city and out through the set of gates.
I have a feeling that whoever kidnapped Tobias wasn't from Chicago or the fringe I know. They can only be from far on the edge, where it would not be easy to just travel to and from.
I suddenly remember that Peter worked in an office that was pretty far north. Perhaps he knows something that could help us.
"Hey Peter," I say tentatively.
He looks up at me.
"Did you happen to hear anything strange while you worked at the office?"
He doesn't answer for such a long time that I think perhaps he's forgotten I even said anything, when he gives a small nod.
"Well…" I prompt when he still doesn't speak.
"I think I overheard someone say that…" He says something after that, but all I hear is a mumble.
"Speak up," I tell him as gently as I can, with the suspense that he's putting me under.
"I think I overheard someone say that they're planning a rebellion."
I slam on the brakes unintentionally. Groans come from the back seat as bodies slam forward, momentum still carrying them after the sudden stop.
"What?" I say, shocked. I guess I was wrong to assume that our rebellious problems were over.
"I can't be sure," he says. His face is whiter than usual from all the attention he's getting. "I was delivering a file one day to my manager, whose office is on the other side of the building, and I heard talking in one of the rooms. Normally, I would just keep walking, but I recognized a voice from someone in my division who wouldn't be on that end of the building. I stopped outside the door and listened.
"They were whispering, so I only heard a little, but it sounded like they said 'have you gotten the sample from the system yet' and then 'Rogav will want to travel to the city tomorrow to see the translatable rebels for himself.' That's the last I heard. I hid around the corner when they walked out, so I don't know for sure if it was the girl from my division or not." He finishes his account and I turn the information over in my head.
"What do you think they meant by 'translatable rebels'?" Oliver asks.
"And who did they mean by 'Rogav'?" Amar questions.
"I don't know," Peter answers, "but it isn't right. None of it is."
"No, it isn't," I agree. We've been driving for a few hours now. "There's nothing more we can do to find Tobias until we know more about this 'rebellion'. Let's just say this 'Rogav' guy is the one who has Tobias. Until we find someone who has even heard of him, we aren't going to be any closer to the truth."
"When we get back, I'll ask George if he told anybody about our trip," suggests Amar.
"Good. Eli, can you and Oliver ask Johanna? Peter and I will find Evelyn and follow up with anyone she passed the information off to."
"I know George told us about your trip to the fringe. He was trying to convince us to volunteer for the next trip, but we didn't mention it to anybody else," Eli says. Oliver nods in agreement.
"Alright, I'll just double check that it stopped with you two," says Amar.
I turn the car around and we head back towards the city and hopefully towards an answer for at least one of the many questions swirling in my mind.
It's late afternoon when the Dauntless compound comes back into sight. Amar gets off so he can go talk to George, and then I head to the old courthouse at the Merciless Mart where I know Johanna will be. Once Oliver and Eli are dropped off, I turn to Peter.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask.
"You weren't exactly what I would call friendly," he says. "I didn't feel obligated to reward you with that information."
"Really? You didn't think it was important enough that someone needed to know?"
He glares at me. "I was planning on telling Four, but someone had to blow up the wall and abduct him."
I snort with exasperation. "And what would Four have done? He would have told me and everyone else."
"And that would be because he trusted you. If he does trust you, that is. I didn't feel comfortable giving the information to anyone but Four, and if he felt like you were worthy of it, he would have shared it with you."
"Worthy," I scoff.
I know that I should be grateful that Peter handed over the information at all, but I can't help but wonder if Tobias would have told me, had he known.
Of course he would, we're best friends.
Right?
By the time we reach the fields, the sky is splashed with Amity red, orange and yellows. I drive to the spot where I last saw Evelyn: at the small buildings in the middle of the farm district. There's hardly anyone in sight now; they've all gone inside for the night. A few are still milling about, tying up corn stalks or stacking hay bales. I pull off of the dirt road and park by the front of the first building. I hop out, and Peter follows.
At first, nobody notices us, then a young boy around thirteen sees us standing awkwardly by ourselves, and heads in our direction. When he's within earshot, he asks "Can I help you with something?"
I step forward. "Yes, we're looking for Evelyn Johnson. Do you know where she is?"
He nods and turns around, skipping as he goes. We follow him down the winding path that curves in and out between the buildings, leading up to doors and then away again, under awnings and over bridges that jump small, gurgling creeks. His brown hair flops as he bounces, one foot hitting the ground after the other. At the second to last building, he takes the road to the front door and knocks.
A chilly wind blows my hair over my eyes and I gather my jacket up to cover my neck from the biting cold. The door creaks open and a small girl pokes her head out.
"Oh, hello Henry." Her eyes drift up to my face and she opens the door a little wider. She raises her eyebrows, but doesn't question our presence. "Come on in from the cold. I'll make some cocoa."
I step over the threshold and into the house. The little girl disappears around a corner. Peter shuts the door behind us and the light within the room darkens. Candles are scattered throughout the room, on tables, windowsills and in a chandelier. There's a whole line of them covering the mantel. As we walk further into the room, our shadows contort against the wall, dancing to a music that I can't hear.
Henry's gone off to find Evelyn, so I take a seat in one of the oversized armchairs. Peter stays standing, though. He looks uncomfortable, with his hands shoved deep into his pant pockets and his head bowed like he's being chastised by his mother.
The girl comes back in, two mugs in her hands. Cream floats on the top of the warm beverage and when I bring it up to drink, the white foam comes off on my lip. I lick it off, savoring the sweet flavor, and press my hands against the sides of the cup to warm them. Peter takes a sip of his drink, and then sets it down on the table.
After a moment, the girl speaks again. "My name Lanna," she says. She shifts her weight back onto her heels and then rolls forward until she's up on her toes. Her fingers twist through each other like a tangle of vines, and I get the sense that she's just as nervous as Peter about something. "Not many people come and visit our little establishment. It's nice to have some company."
She's afraid she'll scare us away. I try to ease her worry a little. "And we are happy to be here. We actually came to see Evelyn," I say in between sips. As if on cue, she comes around the corner, Henry tagging along behind her. Lanna looks a bit more relaxed now that we've accepted her hospitality and steps back so Evelyn has room to stand in the small space between the chairs and the fireplace. Henry runs out of the room. He comes back in a moment later carrying a wooden chair from the dining room table. Evelyn takes the seat he brings her and sits facing us.
"It is good to see you again, Christina. And Peter, I did not expect a visit from you. How have you been?"
His eyes find her and then immediately fall away. "Fine," he mutters.
"And how is Tobias? I haven't seen him for nearly a week."
Peter looks like she just slapped him in the face. I realize that I'm going to have to tell her about Tobias. It's not like I wasn't going to, but if there was a way to have avoided the subject…
I suck in a deep breath, and prepare to tell her. But the air won't leave my body; my tongue won't form the words. I sit there, with my lungs full and ready to burst, silent as our dancing shadows.
I can't do it.
"It's my fault," Peter bursts out.
I understand why he was a wreck earlier.
His words burst out of him like river finally free from the dam. "We were walking and all of a sudden this wall explodes and I hit my head. When I regained consciousness, Tobias was gone. If I had only been a little farther from the wall, or if I just came to a little sooner I could have saved him, I could have—"
"Peter," Evelyn interrupts, "it's not your fault."
Then she is silent. I watch her, alert for any signs of grief or anger. Her face is as plain as Abnegation.
And then her eyes darken, sucking all the light from the room.
"We think," I say hesitantly, "that he may have been kidnapped by someone with the name of 'Rogav'."
The candlelight reflects in her steely gaze and her lips turn down in a scowl.
"Viktor Rogav. Yes, I have heard of him." She pauses before continuing. "And when I find him, he will pay. Then no one will ever hear of him again."