Chapter 40: Tobias – Impact

It's difficult to shut my emotions off after I end the broadcast. I badly want to sit here and let myself break down, the way I did back in the bomb shelter after showing Caleb that memory. But I'm not alone this time, and I won't show that kind of weakness in front of others. It's ridiculous, I know, since I just relayed my feelings to the entire country, but the habit is still too ingrained to fight.

So, I force the feelings down, my eyes dry as I look around the room. What I see catches my attention.

Four soldiers are crowded in the doorway, staring at me with something akin to awe. They're not moving, and I can only assume that they're no longer threats. If my transmission worked, they shouldn't be.

However, they're not the only concern. Peter is lying on the floor, blood pooling from a wound on his side as Uriah crouches next to him, pressing his hands to the injury. That must have been the commotion I heard as I started the transmission.

I jump from the chair, heading toward them quickly, but I'm immediately tangled by all the wires that still connect me to the Control Computer. They rip at my skin in multiple places at once, jerking me back to the seat. I growl a little in frustration, grabbing a handful of wires and yanking hard, but that approach is as ineffective as it is painful.

Reluctantly, I slow down, working the electrodes off one at a time. And then something unexpected happens. One of the soldiers walks over to me, her expression hesitant.

"Let me help," she says, reaching for the wires as she watches my face to make sure I don't object. I stare at her for a second, uncertain how to respond, but she's clearly not attacking me, and I could honestly use some assistance. So, I nod, letting her pull the wires from my left side while I deal with the ones on the right.

As we're working, the other soldiers seem to come alert too. "I'll grab an emergency kit," one of them declares abruptly before racing from the room.

"I should get a stretcher, right?" the third one asks. At first, I think he's talking to the room in general, and I'm about to respond when the fourth soldier does it for me.

"Yes, quickly," he states sharply. He must be in charge.

I watch him closely as he begins moving toward Peter. It's hard to predict what he'll do, all things considered. But he just crouches down opposite Uriah as if he's as unsure how to proceed as the rest of us. I suppose he is.

"I think that's all of them," my helper says, and I realize I'm finally free of the wires. Good. In two long strides I'm across the room and crouched beside Uriah, looking levelly at the soldier.

He looks back for a few long seconds before saying, "I'm Levi." Gesturing to the woman who helped me, who is now starting to crouch beside him, he adds, "And this is Em."

I nod slowly. "Four," I respond. "That's Uriah, and Peter."

Levi nods too, his eyes barely touching on Uriah before we all turn our attention to Peter. His eyes are wide, darting fearfully between us. He tries to say something, but he's breathing too rapidly, and it just comes out as gibberish.

"Don't try to talk," I tell him firmly, trying uselessly to evaluate his wound through Uriah's hands. All I can see is blood. Hopefully, that makes the injury seem worse than it really is.

"I need to see the damage," Levi says calmly, gently pulling Uriah's hands away, and we all look.

The gunshot hole is near the edge of the abdomen, high enough that the bullet probably grazed a rib, or went through one. But in that position, there's a chance it missed the organs.

"He's going to be okay, right?" Uriah asks urgently. I'm vaguely surprised by his concern. A few minutes ago, he was pointing his gun at Peter, but now he seems truly upset. I suppose he's thinking of all the people we've lost within the last month.

Levi makes a noncommittal sound. "I've seen worse," he says, "but we'll need to get him to the hospital." He pulls his overshirt off, bunching it up and pressing it against the wound to slow the bleeding. Em reaches out to help him hold the compress in place, her expression serious. It's somewhat surreal watching the people who shot Peter a few minutes ago now trying to help like this.

"He stood his ground," Uriah says abruptly, looking at me. "Honestly, I always thought he'd jump out of the way or surrender or something if it came down to it, but he didn't. He stayed Dauntless." It's probably the highest praise Uriah can offer. But then he surprises me by adding, "I think he saved my life."

I turn my gaze back to Peter, not knowing what to say. He and my father both did their duty today when I wouldn't have expected it of either one of them. And it cost them both a lot more than I thought they'd give.

Peter's breathing is still rapid, and it's obvious he's in a state of panic. I've never been good with what to say in situations like this, but his eyes lock on me, and I know I need to come up with something….

"Your mom will be safe," I finally say, remembering his explanation of why he came on this mission. It may or may not have been true, but the words are the only comfort I can offer him right now. He nods a bit frantically, looking more vulnerable than I've ever seen him. He looks startlingly human.

"As soon as Marv returns with the stretcher, we'll take you to the hospital," Levi says reassuringly. "The trip will be a bit rough, but we'll get you there." Peter stares at him with a wild mix of emotions, but either he still can't talk or he has the sense not to insult the people helping him, because he stays quiet. We all do, sitting in awkward silence.

It's a relief to hear rapid footsteps approaching. I look up, expecting it to be one of the soldiers returning, but instead it's Christina. She stops in the doorway, holding a machine gun out in front of her. She looks flushed, her hair and eyes a bit wild, but she doesn't seem to be injured. Something inside me relaxes. Tris' best friend has survived this mission.

Christina takes in the odd scene, her eyes roaming over Peter to Uriah to the soldiers who are clearly helping us now and finally landing on me. She lowers her gun.

"Good broadcast," she comments finally, her voice stiff. She clearly has no idea what else to say in this bizarre situation.

"Yes, it was," Levi says, surprising me. "It gave me a lot to think about." His eyes meet mine as he adds, "I wish I'd known all that years ago. I would have made different decisions." He lowers his gaze to Peter again, and suddenly I wonder if he's the one who fired that shot. I decide not to ask.

"Are you all right?" I say to Christina instead, though I can see that she is. I guess I'm really wondering who else is wounded, or dead.

She nods, biting her lip. "Yeah," she says quietly, "but I'm afraid Marcus isn't. He…he led the soldiers away…and he was shot."

"I know," I say, not meeting her gaze. "Did he die?"

"Yes," she whispers. "I'm sorry."

It's surprising how difficult it is to avoid eye contact in a room of this size, but I try anyway. Maybe someday I'll figure out how I feel about "losing" my father, but it won't happen today. And even when it does, I know I won't want anyone's pity for it.

"What about Margot?" I ask after a moment, trying to redirect the conversation. "Any chance she's alive?"

"She was the last I saw her, a few minutes before the broadcast," Uriah answers a bit defensively. "She, Amar, and Cara were in the north stairway."

Something sinks and lifts inside me at the same time. Amar escaped. But if Cara is here, then….

"Where's Tris?" I demand more loudly than I intended.

Uriah's expression changes to a mix of worry and apology. "I don't know," he admits hesitantly. "There wasn't time to ask." For a split second, I just stare at him. We've been here for minutes; why didn't he say anything?

I'm on my feet and out the door before I realize I've moved, Christina scrambling out of my way to avoid a collision and then falling into step behind me. And then we're racing toward the north staircase as fast as I've ever moved in my life, my heart hammering with sheer, blinding terror.

After everything she's survived, Tris can't be dead now. She can't. Please no.

I take the stairs three at a time, stopping only to make my way around dead bodies. I count six – all soldiers. Their bodies are draped unceremoniously over the steps, their blood making the tile slick. After what Levi just said, part of me feels bad seeing them like this. They were never really our enemy. But I can't help but be glad there are no familiar faces among them.

"Amar! Cara!" I shout, seeing no reason to stay quiet at this point.

"Up here," a woman's voice answers, and I clamber toward the sound.

Three forms stand on the landing above the twentieth floor: two in soldiers' uniforms and one I recognize from behind as Margot.

"Where is Tris?" I call as I bound up the final steps to reach them. It's torture not knowing.

The closest soldier turns toward me rapidly, reaching out to physically prevent me from stepping onto the landing.

"Wait!" she exclaims, and I'm startled to realize it's Cara. I stumble briefly, grabbing the handrail to catch my balance as I come to a full stop on the final step below the landing. My eyes focus on her, and I freeze at her expression. Something is very wrong.

It's all I can do to peer over her shoulder to see what's happening behind her. The sight is not reassuring.

Amar stands in the corner of the landing, wearing a soldier's uniform that is splattered with blood. He's on the balls of his feet as if poised for flight, his expression more agitated than I've ever seen on anyone at any time in my life. He turns back and forth in place, his hands alternately making strange gestures in the air and pawing at a device that is attached to the side of his head. Everything about his appearance is disturbing. He looks more like a mortally wounded animal than my former instructor.

As I stare at him, his eyes latch onto me, and then he begins screaming in a horrified voice. "I don't know how many! I don't know. I didn't count!" He turns away again, his hands waving even more wildly in the air as if batting something away. "So much blood," he whimpers after a moment. "So much."

I grip the handrail tightly as I stare wide-eyed, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing.

"Oh, my god," Christina says from the step below me, and I start. I'd forgotten she was following me. "What did they do to him?"

"I don't think they actually did this," Cara answers fretfully. "At least, not directly."

Our confusion must show in our faces, and she opens her mouth as if to explain more, but then she shakes her head. "One thing at a time," she mutters.

She meets my eyes and says firmly, "Tris was captured a couple of hours ago." A jolt goes through me as my entire stomach clenches into a ball. "Amar didn't think we'd still be in the other building, and he led his captors there. He and I escaped, but Tris was in no shape to run." The words slice through my vital organs, a sickening reminder of what I did. If she's dead…or like Amar, because of me….

"She's probably fine," Cara continues steadfastly. "She is much more resistant than Amar, but obviously we need to find her. Particularly since you put her in charge." I nod weakly, but before I can ask where she is, we're interrupted by Amar yelling again.

He's mostly incoherent this time, though I catch the word "gun" several times. Behind Cara, I can see Margot trying to reassure him, but he seems to be oblivious to her presence. He does, however, notice me again when I come into his line of sight. "I killed them," he groans, focusing on me. "Was that right?"

Before I can figure out how to answer, he turns away again, pulling at the device on his head. At this rate, he'll rip it off soon, and who knows how much damage that will do.

"Cara, what happened to him?" Christina asks again, more insistently this time.

Cara sighs. "I don't know exactly…. He was fine earlier. He got us out of the other building and had us change into these uniforms so we could get in here. And he took out everyone in our way. He was…normal the whole time. But since the broadcast, he's been like this."

She looks at him thoughtfully before turning back to us. Her voice is softer as she adds, "Your message was very strong, Four. It was necessary, of course...but I think maybe it was too much for him. We know that the questioning can sometimes cause brain damage, with such a high dose of Suggestibility Serum and such a powerful receiver…. I'm afraid that may be what happened."

I lean against the wall, feeling my muscles go limp as the full impact of what she's saying hits me. Amar has brain damage. Because of me.

"Is it permanent?" Christina says shakily, voicing the question I can't bring myself to ask.

"I don't have enough information to answer that," Cara states. "It would help to get some brain scans, to see exactly what the serum has done."

Again, Christina is the one who speaks up, while I stand silent. "Peter has been injured. The soldiers downstairs are taking him to the hospital. We could take Amar too."

Cara nods slowly. "That would be ideal, if we can get him there." She gives him an evaluating look, but he doesn't return it. Instead, he focuses on me for the third time.

"Guns!" he shouts. "They had guns!" And he starts waving his arms again, as if fighting off bullets in the air.

I don't realize Cara is talking to me until she clamps her hands on my shoulders. "Four," she says firmly as my eyes snap to hers. "You need to take him. He's been completely unresponsive to Margot and me, but he's clearly aware of you. You're the only one who might be able to get him to the hospital."

I shake my head, not sure if I'm saying no or just trying to clear my mind enough to think. I have to go after Tris. Of course I do…. But I can't abandon Amar, either. There's no good way to proceed.

"Cara's right," Christina says before I can come to a conclusion. "You need to go with them, Four. Margot and I will find Tris." There's a hardness in her expression that I remember from initiation – from after Tris was attacked, and in that moment I know that she will do whatever it takes to protect her friend.

Something clicks into place at the thought, and suddenly I'm able to push the fear down and focus on what I need to do.

"Take Uriah with you," I order, "in case someone needs to carry Tris." And then I step toward Amar without a backwards glance. I have a duty to perform.

Levi insists that the fastest route to the hospital is on foot. And given how quickly he and the other soldiers carry Peter's stretcher, that's probably true – for them. But it's much slower getting Amar to walk. He only moves if I'm directly in front of him, looking at him, leading him forward with my hands on his arms. Even then, he pauses at times to shout wildly, though each time he eventually notices me again.

After a few minutes, Cara and I tell the others not to wait for us. Peter needs medical attention soon, after all. But as I watch their backs draw farther away, I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt at leaving Peter in the hands of strangers – former enemies at that.

Cara walks a bit ahead of us, clearing the way and warning me whenever I'm about to run into something, since my visibility is limited by walking backwards. She also encourages me to talk to Amar, as if that's an easy thing to do. I'm not exactly chatty to begin with, let alone good at coming up with things to say in a situation like this.

But I try. Initially, I describe Dauntless – the dining hall and the cake and the thrill of jumping onto a train – but it just seems to agitate Amar even more. So, I end up turning to his other aptitude, describing the meadows and orchards around the Amity compound, going into great detail about the fruit trees. At one point, for lack of anything else to mention, I tell him about Tris being given the peace serum. He stares at me for a long time during that narrative, but it's impossible to tell how much he's actually processing.

As we get close to the hospital, Cara drops back and catches my attention.

"If you can manage alone for a bit, I should run ahead and make arrangements," she says.

I nod, understanding what she means. We'll need a quieter entrance than the Emergency Room – it would be a bad idea to march Amar into a room full of crying and bleeding people right now.

"Go ahead," I answer, and she moves off at a faster pace.

I turn back to Amar, scrounging for another suitable topic of "conversation."

"George will be glad to see you," I finally say. That seems to work – his eyes instantly focus on me.

"George?" he asks, his tone less panicked than I've heard this whole walk. He seems to think for a moment, and then he nods as he repeats, "George." The fingers of his right hand start tracing the ring on his left, and for a second a wide grin splits his face.

"Yes," I say, seizing the opportunity. "We can go back to George soon. You'll get to see him very soon."

He smiles again, fleetingly, before his face changes and he shakes his head violently. "Blood blood blood blood blood…."

"Shh, Amar, it's okay. It's okay." I rub my hands over my face, trying to think of what to say or do to calm him down again, but nothing comes. On top of that, he stops moving the moment my hands leave his arms. God, I'm terrible at this.

But after another moment, his frightened eyes return to mine, and I resume my light hold on his wrists, leading him forward again. "You told me a little about when you and George got married," I say. "Do you remember that?" Amar stares, silent. "We were driving and talking, just the two of us. Do you remember what you said?"

"No," he answers slowly, and the word sends a surge of hope through me. He actually answered a question. He's not entirely gone.

"Well, you told me that Anna officiated at your wedding. Do you remember Anna? She's Tris' grandmother."

For a long moment, his eyes stare straight through me to some distant place. "Tris," he says softly. "I remember Tris. She played Capture the Flag."

The words sink dully into me, proof that he's still mired in my broadcast, since he never really saw her do that. Still, at least he's responding.

"Yes, she let Christina take the flag," I answer. It's hard to keep my voice steady, but I force myself to continue anyway. And I tell him about Tris – things from the broadcast as well as other memories. I'm careful to stick with lighter memories, and he watches me intently the whole time, slowly following me toward the hospital.

Eventually, Cara rejoins us and leads us into a side entrance where a few hospital workers wait for us. Amar doesn't seem to notice them as we make our way through the winding hallways, me still talking endlessly about Tris. I start to repeat myself after a while, but he doesn't seem to notice, and that makes it easier to keep talking.

The hospital staff must be keeping the corridors clear ahead of us, because we don't run into anyone else before we reach what appears to be a surgical prep room. They must be planning to remove the receiver before doing anything else. That makes sense – it probably contains metal that would get in the way of an MRI.

"See if you can get him to lie down," Cara tells me quietly, gesturing toward a bed with machines around it.

That, however, proves to be impossible. I struggle with the task for at least ten minutes before realizing it's never going to happen. Cara must reach the same conclusion, because she finally takes a needle from one of the nurses and slips behind Amar, jabbing it into his neck during one of his brief quiet moments.

He swings toward her, dangerously fast, and I instinctively leap to intervene, but fortunately the anesthetic takes effect before he can harm her. He freezes in place, looking like cement was abruptly poured into his entire body, and then he drops. My arms shoot out, managing to grab him before he hits the floor, and I haul him onto the bed instead.

But I don't watch as they prepare him for surgery. It reminds me too much of Erudite, and I don't need that image of Tris right now. Strapped to a table, ready to die….

Instead, I go looking for Peter. He saved her from that fate, after all. I at least owe him a visit.