Dauntless

"Line up for inspections."

I took one last look into the small mirror hanging against my bunk rail: my hair was thankfully evenly cut, though I couldn't do much for the sun spots starting to appear on my already-dark skin. The rookies were similarly scrubbed clean; the few with curls had joined into a small group to cut each other's hair. I briefly wondered if I looked like these new recruits when I first joined, all gangly limbs and pink ears slightly too large.

We filed into the hallway, lining up against the wall outside our bunkroom, waiting for the Lead Dauntless to look us over. As he passed, I stared straight ahead, fighting the urge to glance to either side of me to ensure everyone had dressed according to standard. We'd had increasing numbers of Dauntless join us over the years, and these novices had become my responsibility, somehow. I took a deep breath as the Lead moved down the row, pulling a few of us forward out of line. My flannel smelled of clove soap, courtesy of the Amity women who had laundered it.

"Passed. Join ranks."

I breathed an internal sigh of relief at having gotten past the first stage, while simultaneously steeling myself for whatever was going to happen next. We followed in a single line, marching in time as we made our way across Amity grounds.

We stopped in front of a large, multi-storied cabin, lining up against the wall to the side of the wooden building before being escorted inside.

"Enjoy," the Lead Dauntless smirked, propping the door open with his boot as we filed in. My stomach clenched at the grin on his face. This time, I did glance back at the rookies, all of whom were wearing expressions of nervous anticipation, unsure of what to expect.

We remained in our line as we filed inside, creating a semicircle facing a group of Amity. My steps almost halted in confusion when I realized they were all women, all wearing next to nothing, all smiling at us with varying shades of apprehension.

No, they weren't women—these were girls. I had to be at least eight years older than a few of them.

I recognized one of them, a young woman with grey eyes, light olive skin, and silky black hair. When I had first seen her, in passing as she walked home from the Mess Hall, she had paused briefly enough to give me a small, surreptitious smile before hurrying forward to catch up with her brother. The gesture had left me completely perplexed; I couldn't understand it, but she had intrigued me. The next time I saw her, I had given a slight nod in return. The handful of times we crossed paths, when I was on the evening shift, we had done nothing more than exchange a quick glance, a small smile and quiet nod. I didn't even know her name. I still don't.

I saw another doing her best not to look around nervously: a young girl with striking red hair, trying not to draw attention to themselves as they fidgeted in the group we had surrounded. A couple of girls towards the back surreptitiously passed a small cup between them.

One of the young women stepped forward; she was fully clothed, which I took to mean designated her the leader of this group, responsible for these girls. Although her pale skin was very pretty, and I knew it was wrong to pass judgment on her, there was something about her appearance and the expression on her face that left me deeply unsettled.

I heard the Dauntless next to me let out a low chuckle. "New one's mine." A couple of others shifted slightly forward on their feet.

The girl I recognized from before, with the grey eyes and beautiful black hair, gave me a small, shaky smile.

"Welcome." The leader paused for a moment, appraising our unit, then smiled and stepped quickly aside as she said, "Enjoy."

The row of Dauntless lunged forward. I did the same, throwing my elbow out to the side and catching the Dauntless next to me, the one trying to grab the youngest girl in the group. He roared and clutched his face as I shoved myself in front of him.

I snatched the girl by the arm instead, and she let out a quickly stifled shriek as I dragged her behind one of the curtains along the far wall.

Inside the cubby-like room was a small cot covered with a thin sheet. I forced down my disgust as I yanked the curtain closed behind me.

The girl was pressed against the wall, as far from me as possible. I lifted my hands slightly, trying to let her know that I wasn't going to hurt her. Until I heard footsteps approaching the row of curtains to commence inspections, and all decency was lost.

I hiked up her thin nightgown, hating myself for doing so, and half-pulled my pants down, doing my best not to put too much weight onto her, to strategically angle both of us away from the inevitable prying eyes through the curtain as we lay on the cot.

She sobbed in fear and humiliation as I ground against her inner thigh. I was completely soft. I doubted I'd ever be able to become aroused again. Not after this.

I wanted to clamp my hands over the girl's ears, to keep her from having to hear the noises coming from the other rooms, as well as my own. Instead, I kept my eyes trained on a small whorl in the wooden wall next to us, trying to focus on something else, anything else.

The footsteps stopped outside the curtain; by the time I heard the squeak of the curtain rings behind me, I had already clasped both of the girl's wrists in one hand, against her chest, grunting loudly. She was weeping so hard she could barely breathe, her face turned as far away from me as possible, towards the wall. As the footsteps traveled to the next room, the curtain remaining slightly ajar, I found myself whispering, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," over and over again, not caring whether I was found out. I doubt she heard, anyway. Or cared.

I continued to lay on top of her as the noises started to disperse, as Dauntless laughed and said their parting words as they buttoned themselves up and left, one by one. Only once they had all left did I finally move, carefully lifting myself off of her and trying to hide myself as I tucked myself back into my trousers.

She curled into herself, facing the wall, still crying. Her beautiful red hair was fanned out behind her on the dingy cot. I thought I might vomit. I was going to vomit.

I stumbled out of the alcove and leaned over the first bucket I could find, an empty pail that had once held an eye-wateringly strong spirit of some sort. I leaned against the wall, slowly breathing in and out while clutching the bucket to my chest, trying to stop the ground from swaying underneath my feet. The pounding in my ears gradually started to dissipate.

The pail was suddenly snatched out of my hands and replaced with a musty grain bucket shoved into my stomach. I opened my eyes to find the young woman from before, the leader.

"There's always one of you, isn't there?" she scoffed. "I don't know why they even bother doing inspections if this is how you act."

She brought the pail to a small table in the middle of the open floor, upon which sat a tray containing a few tin cups. I unthinkingly followed her, trying to get as far away from the small, curtained alcove as possible. The pounding in my ears returned.

Small cups were being passed among the few remaining girls now standing at the back of the large cabin in a huddle, who downed the bitter liquid in one gulp. Breathing hard, I reached for one of the last full cups remaining on the table.

"That's not meant for you," she snapped, slapping my hand away and taking the last cup for herself. "You're the last one who should be drinking this. It turns your kind into animals."

I looked around at the room. The slightly older girls were readjusting the younger girls' dresses and smoothing their hair, speaking in low tones as the younger girls drank deeply from their glasses. I looked quickly away.

She followed my gaze and gave a sarcastic laugh. "Welcome to the Stables. I'm surprised you didn't enjoy it more; your kind usually do."

I looked at her for a moment in disbelief, about to tell her not to call me 'your kind;' having been met with her impassive stare, I decided against it, and instead glanced back around the room, until I saw that the curtain to the small alcove was still partially closed. "There's still a girl in there…she's pretty young…I tried not to hurt her too much."

She turned. "Jade," she called, "check on Dahlia. Give her some Appeasement if you need to." A tall, brown-skinned young woman hurried to the cubby-room. The last few girls started to file out of the cabin through a door near the back, some being led by the older ones, still murmuring to them reassuringly.

The leader pulled me away from the alcove where Dahlia and Jade were, making sure my back was to the curtain as she said, "They've lowered the minimum age again. She's the youngest here."

"I don't understand. What the hell is this—? "

She cut me off, sighing impatiently. "There's always one of you asking questions, isn't there?"

She busied herself with clearing the small table as she continued. "There's a harvest quota. We ensure there's enough yield for the next seasons." At my uncomprehending silence, she rolled her eyes and continued, slowing her words to a condescending crawl. "We need more people to fulfill the harvest quotas. If the women in this faction can't find a partner for pregnancy, they're sent here."

I swallowed the bile quickly rising back up my throat. I must have been at least ten years older than the girl. Dahlia. "Can you help her?" I asked, gesturing to the half-closed curtain she was still behind. "Make sure she's okay?"

She looked at me with her dark eyes, flat and unfeeling as a shark. The stare sent ice down my spine. "Jade's with her. Besides, she has to learn sometime. We all have our part to play here."

I looked incredulously at her. "How can you possibly say that?" After a split-second, however, I remembered where I'd seen this woman: standing next to the Leader of the faction, smiling smugly down at the legion of Amity standing below her, and I understood.

"Why are you even here? You're the President's daughter, you can choose—"

"We have no choice," she hissed, so suddenly and with such venom that I flinched. After a moment, she composed herself, and continued. "It's about survival here. You follow the rules, or you're out."

"What about you? Where's your partner?"

She leveled a cold look at me before shrugging. "I had someone. Some bitch tried to steal him from me, so I took care of it. I've managed to buy myself more time by managing this group. I'll probably be assigned to one of the Heads soon."

I stared at her in shock. "You can't be okay with that. Even the youngest Heads are decades older than you." She shrugged.

I thought back to the light hair and pale eyes of her mother, the leader of the faction, so different from the jet-black hair and eyes of the woman standing in front of me.

I scoffed, realizing at last where I recognized her dark features. "You might be from Amity, but you're Dauntless through and through, aren't you?"

She glared at me. "And you're a Candor, masquerading as Dauntless, squatting in Amity territory. Watch what you say to me." She looked at me for a moment longer before shrugging, turning back to her drink. "Although, you seem alright. You don't have the status or luxury the Heads would bring, but I might choose you as my partner."

I recoiled from the beautiful woman. "I would never accept."

She slammed the glass down on the table. The last remaining girls jumped, turning suddenly towards the sound before hurrying from the cabin through a small door at the back.

She glowered at me, and to my horror, her glare slowly morphed into a venomous smile.

"Who says you would need to accept?"

I saw one of the young women walk into the Mess Hall a couple weeks later, talking with one of her friends as they made their way to their usual table. One Dauntless moved from his post along the wall until he was next to her and smirked as he greeted her. She started when she saw him, but quickly regained her composure and smiled politely as he said something, leering at her as he did. Her smile faltered slightly, and then she laughed and said something offhand as she walked away with her friend. His back was to her as he made his way back to his post, smug as an alley cat. As she sat down, the woman next to her quietly gave her a piece of her bread. She wordlessly ate it, washing it down with a couple quick gulps of water.

I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand to be around these people, this reminder of who I was, of what I had done. I stormed over to the Dauntless, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him against the wall as I snarled, "The next time you leave your post, you're factionless. Consider this warning a mercy. If I were anyone else, you'd have been sent packing already."

He glared at me for a moment before lowering his eyes and mumbling a couple words of apology and thanks. I glanced back at the woman as I made my way back to my post. She was smiling listlessly at her companions, nodding as she spooned food onto her plate. A mindless, automatic motion.

Now I understood: the downcast eyes, the way they would hurry past us, or ignore us completely as they walked past. The way they always traveled in groups, always made sure they knew where each other were. The way some of them shared such different features, such different demeanors from their fellow faction members.

I wanted nothing more than to hang my head and weep with shame, but it would be catastrophic to show any sign of weakness. It very well might mean my death. Sometimes, I wished it would; if they cornered me one night and hacked me to pieces with their dull farming equipment, and never spoke again of what they'd done, I don't think I'd blame them.

I considered reporting the Dauntless to the Heads, but knew it was futile. They were on our side, quick to punish their own Amity instead of taking responsible measures with us. I could see why: we were indispensable, whereas for the Amity…there would always be more to take their place. The Heads made sure of it. I had helped make sure of it.

But a man's words reverberated in my mind, echoes from years ago, and I knew it wouldn't go unnoticed, the discipline of a Dauntless in front of a room full of Amity.

I saw a young man with dark-brown skin casually make his way over to a table. I recognized the woman sitting there as the leader of the girls at the cabin.

And then, before I could fully understand what had happened, absolute pandemonium broke out over the Hall.

I was transferred yet again; this time to a position usually reserved for the older Dauntless, just before they return home for sentencing. To be allowed to stay Dauntless or to be made factionless. This was my last chance.

I found myself standing once again in a small clearing, in front of an old man, dark and bent from years of hard labor. His white hair stood stark against his heavily tanned skin, and he avoided my eyes as he took one last look around him, finally focusing his attention on the sky, on the clouds high above.

I hesitated, then pulled a small bundle from my pocket and handed it to him. "Here. It fell off the harvest truck."

He took it hesitatingly, looking at me uncertainly before carefully unfolding the cloth. He stared at me in wonder, slowly sinking to the ground in a low crouch, as he once again beheld the opened kerchief in his palm.

It was a peach. He carefully picked it up, turning it over in his fingers, inspecting it carefully before looking up at me in wonder. "I've never tasted one before."

I stared at him in utter disbelief. I had watched these people sow and harvest and carefully, painstakingly nurture these crops for years. I had seen piles of these fruits in Erudite bowls from my rotations during Inter-Faction Week, spoiling in the synthetic heat. And this man had never tasted one? It was not possible. I would not allow myself to believe it. And even then, I knew it in my heart to be true, that this man, this entire faction, had gone their whole lives in servitude of a world that didn't know, nor care, maybe even hated that they existed.

He was overcome with a carefree, childlike joy. He carefully took a bite, and tears spilled down over his cheeks as he laughed in wonderment, wiping his mouth with his wrist, licking the sticky juice from his fingers.

I took a deep breath, fighting my own tears, as I made him the offer I had made another Amity, a lifetime ago. "Go. Run into the woods. I won't tell anyone."

His happiness immediately disappeared, and he leaned forward in his crouch, almost falling over, before I quickly bent to catch him. He gripped the leg of my trousers with one hand, the other still gripping the half-eaten peach. "Please, don't make me factionless, I won't survive it. Please do me the honor of letting me rest as Amity."

I stared at him for a moment before nodding wordlessly. Satisfied, he let go of my leg and turned his attention back to the fruit. I waited until he had finished and was looking up expectantly at me before I recited the Death Rite.

My throat was dry, my voice gravelly and forced. "Amity thanks you for being a trusted, valued faction member. You have served your people well. Now, it is time for the greatest honor, to rest among your fellow faction." He nodded as I spoke, staring up at the cloudless, blue sky.

Finally, the moment I could put off no longer. I raised my rifle as the man sat cross-legged on the ground, head tilted towards the heavens, eyes closed. A faint breeze rustled the leaves on the corn stalks.

As I aimed at this man, I saw the face of another, heard the words that had been spoken, words from what felt like a lifetime ago. 'This is not my burden to bear. Not anymore." I let out a slow, steady breath and willed myself to pull the trigger.

I sit with the dead man for a while, rigid and unseeing, as his body starts to grow cold. The kerchief that had once held the peach is now stained red.

I hear the horn of the truck as it arrives to gather any remaining faction members, and again as it leaves. The next one will be the last of the day.

I stand and sway slightly on my feet. I can see the world around me, but cannot comprehend it. I start to walk through the clearing, away from the truck, the noise, the people I should be returning to. The man's words continue to echo in my ears.

I reach the edge of the circle, and my feet continue to carry me, through the tall stalks of corn, away from the dead man, whose name I do not know and didn't even think to ask. My rifle slips off of my shoulder and falls to the ground with a dull thud.

I continue to walk, unseeing, until I am swallowed by the endless, silent sea.