Chapter 34: Tobias – Boxes
Caleb stays annoyingly close as we scout out the freight entrance. I know he's trying to be supportive in the way Abnegation drills into its children. Stay nearby but don't pry, in case the person wants to talk. But I have no desire to say anything, no desire to think.
I understand now why my father always seemed to have two selves – the monster who beat us and the man who led the city and trimmed my hair and taught me about cars and computers and Divergence. He had to separate those parts of himself. It's the only way to face the world after you've done something unforgivable.
And I form that same box inside myself now. I can't think about her sprawled against the wall, struggling to breathe after the blow I delivered. I can't even let myself say her name. All I can do is focus on the mission, on what I need to do within the next eight hours. There can't be anything beyond that or I will cease to function.
The others wait, trying to look casual, while Peter and I begin our jobs. He needs to pick out the cleaners' vehicle, and I have to locate the security cameras around the freight entrance. Fortunately, after two years of working in the Dauntless control room, I'm good at this, so it doesn't take long to find the three cameras and to figure out what areas they cover – and where there are gaps in the coverage. It will be tricky to navigate the gaps, but hopefully it's possible, depending on exactly where we need to go.
"There," Peter whispers, making a slight gesture with his chin. He's picked out a nondescript commercial van with no windows along the rear walls. It's backed into a space near the docking bay, where it's easily accessible from the building's back door. It seems like a reasonable guess.
"It will be tough to reach it," I whisper to him, looking at the cameras again even though I already have their coverage areas memorized. "Follow me closely." He nods wordlessly as I glance around to make sure no one outside our group is watching. We're clear.
To his credit, Peter does a good job of following me, staying close and keeping his limbs tucked to him the way I do, so nothing wanders into a camera's range. We work our way around the side of the van to the more hidden of its two back doors.
I take a deep breath before opening the door and climbing in quickly, Peter scurrying behind me and yanking the door shut. This is the riskiest part, since it puts us in range of one of the cameras for a few seconds. We just have to hope that it's dark enough here to obscure us, and that no one is viewing this particular camera closely at this exact moment in time. Normally, I'd feel pretty good about those odds, but with the kind of luck we've been having on this mission, I find myself tensely listening for the sound of approaching guards.
When the overhead light comes on, I actually jump before I realize that Peter turned it on. He gives me a half-hearted smirk before turning his attention to where we are. It's immediately clear that he was right about the vehicle – it's filled with cleaning supplies. We search rapidly, but it still takes us a few minutes to locate the spare uniforms. There are three of them, varying in size. It's a good start.
I take the largest outfit and give Peter the medium one, and we change quickly, ignoring the sight of each other's scars and more recent injuries.
"I'll take this one to Margot," I whisper, holding up the third uniform, which is considerably smaller than the other two. "It looks like it should fit her." Peter nods, busily collecting cleaning materials now, presumably to help his disguise.
I lead Margot to the dark area beside the van, where she's hidden from the cameras and from anyone who might pass by in the alleyway, and I turn away while she changes. She joins Peter after that, but I stay behind, watching the two of them move back and forth between the van and the back door of the building so the security guards will have time to see them. Hopefully, that will make it look like they came out of the building to get supplies and are now trying to reenter it.
It must work, because within a few minutes, I see them enter the building, apparently having convinced someone to open the door for them. It's nerve-wracking to watch them disappear into the unknown while I wait here, but I know it's what I need to do. I'm the best person to escort the others past the cameras, and whether or not I like the idea, I know I have to stay alive to operate the Control Computer. That duty falls squarely on me now, since I destroyed our better option.
It's a frustratingly long wait before the back door opens again – probably a half hour. I watch the figure that emerges closely, unable for a moment to discern features. A small sigh of relief goes through me when I realize it's Margot. She props the door open behind her and then calmly approaches the van, carrying a large bag. I can only assume there are uniforms in it.
"Christina and Uriah," she mutters when she's close enough for me to hear. She opens the door and swings the bag as if loading it, before she drops it surreptitiously onto the ground by the van. I pull it into the spot where she changed earlier and then make my way toward the others, leading Christina and Uriah back with me. They don't say anything, which is not surprising. Neither one has spoken a word to me since Christina finished yelling earlier.
Once again, I watch as my newly-disguised companions enter the building. They go one at a time, a few minutes apart, to reduce the odds of someone realizing they're coming into the building without having first left it. As Christina walks through the door, a bloodstain on the back of her uniform catches my eye. I don't let myself think about it. It's better not to know what Margot did to get those clothes, or what happened to their previous occupants.
The next waiting period is even more nerve-wracking, despite the fact that it's shorter. Finally, Margot returns again, carrying a bag as she did before.
"Get the others," she whispers, and I retrieve my father and Caleb, leading them to the "changing spot" before joining Margot in the van.
"Same deal as before," she says softly as she hands me a mop and bucket. "We'll go in one at a time, a few minutes apart. Once you're inside, hang left until you see a door for the stairs. Go all the way to the bottom and wait in the nook under the stairwell." I nod and immediately make my way to the back door of the building, entering casually and leaving the door propped open behind me.
I walk into a large, well-lit space that is half-filled with stacks of boxes. Apparently, they get quite a few deliveries here. I keep my head tilted down and my pace deliberate as I shuffle through the large room. There's no one in sight, but I have to assume I could be seen at any time, so I'm careful to keep my body language appropriate to my disguise. At least I know what I'm supposed to be imitating. Unlike the others in our group, I saw the factionless cleaning up at night quite a few times as I watched from the control room.
Peter, Christina, and Uriah are already in the stairwell when I get there. We wait in silence, not looking at each other, until the others arrive.
"We've taken out too many people," Peter whispers once we're all together. "The guards will start noticing that no one is cleaning some of the usual areas."
Marcus nods. He seems to be in charge again, since no one else has stepped up to take the role and I've stopped protesting. It doesn't matter at this point, I tell myself. I'm as bad as he is.
"Some of us will need to do their portion of the cleaning for now, to avoid suspicion," Marcus says in a low voice. "The rest of us must determine where the cameras are monitored from, so we can take out the guards in that location. That will give us the cover we need to reach the Control Computer." He turns to Margot expectantly and asks, "Do you know where the monitoring station is likely to be?"
She thinks about that for a moment before saying, "I've seen security stations in the main lobby in a lot of buildings, and the guards usually have monitors that flash images from around the building. That would be my best guess."
"I'll go," I say. "I'm the most familiar with that type of equipment, so I should be able to figure out how to disable it."
Marcus eyes me narrowly for a moment before nodding. "Very well. You and I will go together." I manage not to flinch.
"I'll go too," Caleb says quickly, "in case it's a different type of system than what you've used before." He has the grace not to add that he's the only Erudite left among us, so he's now the smartest resource we have.
Marcus tilts his head in acquiescence before turning to the others. "The rest of you will need to fill in for the cleaners we took out." His gaze rests on Christina as he adds, "Be sure to do the job credibly to avoid raising an alarm." Peter rolls his eyes, and Christina narrows hers in annoyance, but they all head out without verbally complaining.
Marcus, Caleb, and I briefly discuss tactics for approaching the main lobby. We'll need an excuse, since we're not sure what time the cleaners are normally in that part of the building, and we need to walk directly there, instead of cleaning our way there over the course of hours. It takes a few minutes to come up with a plan, and I can't help but feel her absence during the discussion. I know she'd come up with something better. But it's a moot point, so I end up agreeing with Caleb's idea, and when my father accepts it too, we move out.
We make our way toward the lobby at a carefully casual pace. The building is in far better shape than anything we've seen in NUSA so far – more like the faction buildings back home. I don't know if that's typical of government buildings here or if this particular location is used by "important" people. Either way, I find myself gazing at the beautiful marble floors and spotless walls as we walk. They're a stark contrast to the hand-made shelters most of the population sees every day.
We pass a handful of cleaners on our way, and they glance at us curiously, obviously wondering who we are. But we nod and continue as if we're simply new, hoping that the cleaning crew is big enough for that to be reasonable. Apparently it is, because they return to their work without comment.
The third group we pass contains two children. They're on their knees, scrubbing the floor by hand, their body language making it clear that they're used to this type of hard work. I stare at them for a moment, suddenly wondering if Margot and Peter just killed their parents to get us uniforms.
I force myself to look away, trying to push this thought down too, along with all the others, but it's too much on top of everything else. My mind floods with images…. Peter cleaning like that as a child, in between beatings. My mother and little brother starving on the streets like the thousands of women and children we've passed by in the last few days. The boy that Eric shot in Candor, dead by the elevators. If my brother is still alive, he's around that age – around nine. For all I know, that was him.
I almost stop walking when I think of the little girl I gave the rest of my sandwich to earlier. Her face was lit with a fierce kind of hope as she grasped that small bit of food, as if it meant the difference between life and death. Suddenly, I'm overwhelmed by how cruel our societies are to the most innocent among us.
And then the realization hits me that I'm the one who can change that. If we succeed, I'll be broadcasting a message to this entire country, trying to forever change the direction of its government. All of those lives are in my hands. The thought is absolutely terrifying.
I remember the message Anna tried to teach me to project, the message that explains about the Suggestibility Serum and the receivers and then throws out the current government. It puts other people in charge, people I don't know. I was so worried about whether or not I could project the message properly that I barely thought about the message itself. But now I do. How do I know if I can trust those people to do anything better than NUSA? Anything better than what Chicago has done? My actions will put them in charge, and that means that I'm ultimately responsible for what they do. And I don't know what's right.
God, I wish she was here. Her instincts are so much better than mine – I know she could send a message that would make things right. But I ruined that chance, and now everyone in this country will end up suffering the consequences of that terrible mistake. What the hell have I done?
I want to stop and let myself panic. I want to crumple up against the wall and shut out the world. But that isn't a choice right now, so instead I keep walking beside my father, adding those thoughts to the box inside me. It allows me to function.
The main lobby is even more striking than the hallways we've been navigating. It's at least three stories tall, with marble and glass reflecting the numerous lights. I let my eyes wander briefly to the front doors – just long enough to see that the lobby doesn't connect directly to the outside wall of the building. There's an entrance room of some type in between, filled with equipment I've never seen before. I don't look long, but I'm glad there's at least a buffer between us and whoever might be watching from outside. If we have to kill the guards, we certainly don't want witnesses.
We approach the circular desk at the back of the lobby. A man sits there, his feet up on the desk, drinking coffee as he looks at us with mild distaste. The cleaners must not approach the security officers very often.
"Excuse me," Caleb says to the guard in a hesitant, downtrodden voice. "We got a note from Michael Beamer that special cleaning is needed where he works." He looks down as if he's embarrassed. "But we don't know the offices by people's names. Could you please tell us which room number that is?"
The guard looks us up and down before he turns to his computer and types a bit, presumably getting the information we requested. I take the opportunity to look at the monitors on his desk. There's one that flips between images from security cameras, but I don't see any controls for it. It doesn't look like the main monitoring station. I scan the lobby slowly, keeping my movements casual. There's an open door to the side, and I can see another security guard in there, also sitting at a computer. I know instinctively that that is the right room, but we have no excuse to enter it. That means we'll need to take it by force.
I complete my survey of the lobby. There is one other guard standing by the front doors, looking bored. If we attack, it will be three of us against three of them. That's manageable, but the sound of gunshots might attract attention we don't want. I meet Caleb's eyes briefly, wondering if he's thought of any alternatives, but there's no flash of brilliance there. Reluctantly, I glance at my father and see his indication that we should act, and I nod dully.
I already know how we should break this down. My aim is the best, so I'll need to shoot the guard who's farthest away – the one who's in the other room. Marcus will take the next farthest – the one by the front doors. That leaves Caleb to handle the one who's right in front of us. In a way, that's the hardest one, since it's always more difficult to kill someone when you can see the fear in their eyes, but it's the most logical option. I glance at Caleb again, gesturing towards the guard with my eyes, and he swallows hard before nodding infinitesimally.
The three of us pull our guns and fire simultaneously. For a second, the lobby echoes with the loud gunshots, and then it goes nearly silent. All three guards slump in place, but a low moan starts from the one closest to us. Caleb missed the kill shot.
I turn my weapon on the bleeding man, but before I can fire, his eyes find mine and lock in place, pleading with me. I stiffen.
There's no choice, I tell myself. Pretend I'm in my fear landscape, facing my fear of taking a life. But his eyes are too human, and I know she wouldn't do it. She'd find another way.
"We'll tie you up if you stay completely quiet," I hiss at him. But the frantic look in his eyes tells me that won't help him. The government must kill guards who fail in their duty.
Our eyes are still locked, my mind churning through options, when the gunshot sounds next to me. The guard's head whips backwards, spun by an irresistible force, as blood erupts from his skull. I close my eyes, just for a half second.
"Caleb, keep watch for others," Marcus orders tersely. "Tobias, we need to hide the bodies." I nod and step towards the man whose last moment I just saw. Maybe my father is right that we should focus on the greater good. It's too hard to think about one person at a time.
Between us, we haul the dead bodies into the monitoring room and hide them behind the desk. I ignore the guilt that stabs through me as I move the one I killed, but I silently add her to the list of lives I've taken. I don't know if I can ever be forgiven for all of them. Now isn't the time to wonder.
My father begins cleaning up the blood trail while I evaluate the security equipment. I can see where the cameras feed in, and I know I can stop the flow of images. What is less clear is who else in the building can currently see them. There might be other stations that view the information the way the front desk does, and when I shut off the feed, those guards might come looking for an explanation.
"One of us is going to have to dress in uniform and stay here," I mutter to my father when he returns. "To cover things if anyone comes looking."
He nods. "Figure out how many guards are left in the building and where they are," he tells me firmly, "and then shut down the system." I obey as he heads toward Caleb. The funny thing is that I don't even care anymore that he's giving me orders. In a way, it's a relief. It means I'm less responsible for my own actions.
Within minutes, Caleb is wearing a combination of the dead guards' uniforms – the most blood-free pieces we could put together – and is sitting at the main desk in the lobby. We've closed the door to the monitoring room, to make it less obvious that there's no one on duty there anymore, and we've disabled the camera feeds entirely – to wherever they go. It's the best we can do.
I glance at Caleb a last time as Marcus and I leave, a pang of guilt going through me at leaving him in such a dangerous position. He's her brother, after all. But my expression never changes, and I follow my father without question as we head back to retrieve the others. The Control Computer is next.