I watch 4 screens at once in full speed on the small tablet. Event's progress before me quicker than I could really follow but I had much to go through.
There was no suspicious behaviors from anyone that I held as a potential culprit, my investigations are proving futile.
A pillow props me up and my elbows are stiff and raw from laying in this position for the past 3 hours. I check my watch and it reads 7:24 P.M.
I rub my temples and then lay flat on my back, trying to discern the next avenue of approach.
The knock on my door is sharp and loud but I make no move to answer it, instead I stare at the concrete ceiling and stifle the invading thought to how the Dauntless compound might've been constructed and when.
"Geeeeene." Complains Amar through the thick door. "Let's go to the lounge, loser."
"No." I reply firmly, curling my fingers into the soft sheets, I sit up immediately because they are far too soft, I hadn't taken my boots off and left some dirty scuff marks on the white.
I wouldn't normally forget to remove them.
The sounds of the door handle being rattled violently start as well as dull thumps from where he kicks his boots against the door frame.
"It's not a request, now get your ass up." He says with a playful harshness as I strip the sheets off the bed and roll them into a ball to drop on the floor.
I reply with a sigh before deleting my lack of notes off the tablet, logging out of the system and shoving it between the mattress and box spring.
"Let's go." He says impatiently, but the door rattling stops.
"One more day until Dauntfest!" Zeke cheers loudly in the dimly lit but overly crowded lounge.
The lights flash and change colors in rapid succession while the array of electronic noises pulse throughout the room from expertly placed speakers.
"You haven't come out to see the progress we made on the wheel." Amar complains shoving me further into the booth to make room for Tori.
Kat and Jade hang out near the bar area engaging with random Dauntless men, several of them back from the wall to celebrate Dauntfest.
"Yeah, you should come sometime tomorrow, I mean we're far from done but it's been fun." Says Joseph, he tells me about how they've managed to take make it mostly safe other than the fact that it's frosty and won't budge.
Only the lights will work.
"I think it might actually be something." Tori says with a complimenting tone before sliding Amar a beer. "Although it's been really annoying running the shop without you, baldy."
Bud starts laughing heartily rubbing his head uncomfortably, with a slight blush over his face.
They start talking about the upcoming festivities, it's all anyone talks about during these months. I check my watch a few times inconspicuously, disguising it as occasional yawns, a few of them are real.
At around 9:45 P.M. I spot Eric, lounging near the bar with Lauren. She'd been instructing them on computer use, having been an Erudite transfer from a year ago, I take it that they might have known each other from before.
They talk animatedly and he smiles a few times while Lauren occasionally playfully slaps at him, her black and purple hair changes colors under the lights and glints off her many piercings.
A natural smile looks out of place on his face. I find I am not even midly curious to what topic could cause it.
Kat takes my attention and gives me raised brows while jerking her head at them, motioning for me to possibly cut in. Or elaborate on the matter.
I excuse myself, telling everyone that I'm tired and Amar lets me slide out of the booth while whining about how we never spend time together, everyone around is already inebriated and he becomes distracted immediately by a game of bouncing caps into a bowl of nuts.
Kat and Jade both frown at me from across the room when I make my way to the exit instead of interrupting Eric's conversation.
My bag is already packed and on his table along with a thicker winter jacket hung over the same chair but next to the bag is a note.
It tells me that I should probably not come back to his room tonight or in the morning and is signed with his name, Eric
I shrug my bag on over the jacket, zipped all the way to my chin, over the scarf and prepare to head out, leaving Eric's room key on the note.
The snow comes down in a slow and steady concession, it affects my vision sorely. The wind whips and stings my eyes and several times I have to hold my hood down to keep it from flying off.
The streets are dark and desolate and I passingly wonder of a time when the broken street lights worked to illuminate to roads at night this far from Dauntless.
When I've reached the borders of faction-less territory I crouch near an abandoned vehicle with no wheels, or windows and check my map.
A GPS would have been more useful but in the event that I should get caught it would be rather helpful to them, I had left my gun as well.
Instead I brought knives.
In the distance I spot large dark shapes but the swirling white strong winds make it hard to discern what each one is. I squint and shine my light over the map once more.
I had been walking for over an hour away from the train tracks where I had disembarked, and I made sure to head in a straight line, taking stock of unfamiliar but un-missable landmarks.
To get lost in unknown territory would be humiliating.
I check my watch for a second letting the frigid air touch my wrist. It reads 12:01 A.M. midnight. I have an adequate amount of time and if not, so be it.
After crunching along over the white blanketed streets for a while longer I find myself in front of a large pillared building across a long stretch of empty lawn space between it and the rest of the city.
There are several metal barrels between pillars, under cover, producing light, indicating that it may be occupied.
Around parts of lawn area stand chest high sheets of steel, rusted and welded, placed haphazardly in a circle, surrounding the area like a fence with barbed wires spun over the tops as well as a single tall precariously made wooden structure that look similar to a guard tower.
There is not a person in sight.
The first thing I do is enter the building closest to me, pulling the stuck door open and closing it behind me out of the weather. I check my map and although I am fairly sure that I am in the right place it would help to be absolutely certain of my current location.
I search the ground floor of this building until I find a suitable metal bar.
Once outside again I make my way closer to the makeshift wall and poke the bar into the snow along the ground before taking steps.
It seems to be a little overly cautious but I have never infiltrated a faction-less nest. I've never been in faction-less territory.
When I finally find a hole in the fence in the form of displaced metal sheets that create a small crawlspace I kneel and bend the metal until I can successfully fit and shove my bag through before lowering myself down onto the cold snow to enter myself.
I continue to check the ground with my bar while slowly approaching the side of the large cream colored building, the crunch and slush of snow under my boots urges me to move faster.
The noise of the quiet crackling of burning in the rusted metal barrels and strong whistling wind disguise my steps.
I start up the stairs of the building passing several large windows all boarded up. I realize that I shouldn't go through the front door but I allow myself this one carelessness because my impatience and the cold are starting to seep through.
I don my mask and very slowly turn the handle of one of the large faded, red, paint peeled doors and push it open, sliding between the space.
The lobby of the building is large and spacious, several holes in the ceiling make way for soft light to illuminate through as well as invite stray snowflakes.
I take a short moment to take in the room, inspecting the large crystal like object broken that hung precariously above, reflecting the orange and yellow lights from more burning barrels.
Still no faction-less.
Across the room is a large staircase that leads up to a balcony that rounds the room and overlooks the main lobby but to the left and right are long hallways with numerous amounts of doors.
The ground is soft, carpeted but old and stained in places. Eaten away at by age. It would have been a wonder to behold and I try to, envision what this building could've been used for.
When I hear the sounds of hasty footsteps I duck into the first dark room I come near, pressing myself against the cold wall. I curl my gloved fingers around the knife handle.
The footsteps become loud and then receed as though they've entered a different room.
At first I contemplate following them but instead I glance around the room I've ducked into, curious, distracted.
It is large, very large, much like the choosing ceremony room at the hub with rows and rows of seating. I click my pocket light on and hold it up with my free hand to make my way down the walkway between the seating.
All the way in the very front where the chairs face is a stage. The wall behind it is black and the curtains along the sides are torn in heaps on the ground.
Sitting slouched in some of the seats are several bodies, still clothed but very much lifeless.
I sigh deeply, filling my mask with hot air. A woman, a man and several others sit organized as though they died watching a show.
The cause of death is not apparent on the first few that I inspect, no wounds just discoloration in their lips and skin from the cold.
I spot one body that wears a mask similar to mine and hurriedly approach it. I remove it from the body, holding my light and knife in one hand but underneath it to my disappointment are the blank lifeless eyes of a faction-less man I have never seen.
The state of this body suggests that he was not dead as long. This particular one has a long gash along his neck, the jagged edges are still red rather than black but the blood that spilled from the wound is long dried to his paling skin and stiff clothing.
I place my blade into my pocket and kneel, dropping my bag on the ground before sliding my mask onto my head between my hair and hood, biting my pocket light between my teeth to shine light and rummage for the syringe and propofol, preparing a needle before leaving this room and heading in the direction the footsteps went.
I stop and press myself against the wall next to a door at the end, straining to hear into the room.
The footsteps come, heavy and fast. When the man exits the door he turns away from the direction I stand and starts down the hall.
I immediately reach around to cover his mouth and stick the needle into his neck, pressing the plunger to inject about half of the white liquid into his system.
The effects of the drug are immediate this close to the brain and heart. I count the seconds and go through what would start to happen in his body and brain as the drug takes effect.
In merely 6 seconds he falls backwards, I stagger from his weight but for someone taller he is unusually light.
I drag him backwards towards the room with bodies. It takes some effort to sit him in a chair and I check his pulse several times, I had not accurately measured the dose but he seems to be fine, steady heartbeat.
He is not who I'm looking for and I am reminded now why I did not take the death serum instead. Such careless mistakes are reprehensible and wasteful.
I wrap him tightly in whatever I can find and pull the hood of his light jacket over his head. He should wake up in the morning.
For a faction-less he seems to be well dressed, wearing articles of mainly Abnegation gray, properly attired for warmth but not comfort. . .
His face is sallow, cheeks sunken in, but his cheekbones are prominent, protruding out with dark circles under his eyes. I have a sinking feeling that he may not be faction-less after all.
I glance impatiently at my watch several times while pacing back and forth or full circle around the room between the rows of chairs.
The time reads 2:26 A.M. and I have already scoured several other areas of the large building.
There were 6 rooms all the same, with rows and rows of seating and stages.
The rest of the building had a timeless feeling to it, everything decaying in slow procession, abandoned and unused. Walls worn, weary, devoid of all light with little hope of being restored to its former glory.
The wallpapers with intricate designs fade to almost nothing, peeling and crumbling away. The ground creaks loudly and an occasional soft groan of the outside wind makes its way inside to disturb the eerie silence.
I had found my way to a door with a faded placard that read basement but it was locked by large rusted chains and I had no means to open it. I also discovered several small rooms with large black machines with spinning wheels that have long stopped working, I'd spent too much of that time wondering at taking them apart to learn their function.
All around are the artifacts of a life lived and hastily abandoned and I wish to know of it.
What had this large building been used for? Entertainment? Education?
I check on the boy again and he is still unconscious, his heart rate is steady and he manages to retain warmth well enough to be left alone, but I add more bits of tattered curtains that I had found within the room.
When I exit the room I notice movement to my left and before I can react I am struck with blunt force and again then my head connects with the carpeted floor.
All I see are lights and boots before I black out.
I jerk back into consciousness, alert instantly. My eyes wide as I scan the room quickly before any head injuries can affect my vision.
The first thing I notice are the chairs around me before my vision begins to blur as a dull ache spreads from the back of my skull.
My mouth feels thick as though I've awaken from a long slumber. I blink several times forcing my heavy eyelids apart to disperse the spots and fog from my head and re scan my surroundings once more.
I sit with my wrists bound behind my back in a wooden chair directly in the middle of the nearly empty room, surrounded by other meticulously spaced out chairs, all of which are also occupied by people wearing similar masks to the one I still have on my face.
My breathing intensifies, filling my face with hot air as I make the comparison, the only difference between them and I, is of the milky color of their eyes, they are all dead.
Slumped forward or propped back against the wooden backrests, their exposed skin pale and far too white, their eyes peer out through the eye holes dull lifeless and unblinking.
I calm my breathing and steady the thumping in my chest.
The rope around my wrists cut into my skin as I try to twist out of them. My gloves are still on but my watch is gone, as is my jacket but the air in the room is warm with heat from two burning barrels. I rock forward and pull the chair with me to stand and find that whoever tied me up did not tie me directly to it.
I slide right off the backrest and pull my arms under me, sliding my legs through to maneuver my hands to the front.
I search the room for a weapon or anything sharp while using my teeth to try and chew through some of the rope but when I find none, I walk over to one of the barrels and use the jagged edges.
I sense someone approaching before I see them.
My breath catches for a second when his darkened eyes take in the scene before him and his head tilts, casting menacing shadows over his features as his lips spread into a wicked grin, exposing rows of straight white teeth.
The first thing that happens is the sharp bite into my shoulder where the first throwing knife lodges itself.
I fall forward onto my hands and knees while gritting my teeth to stop the noise from escaping my lips, using everything inside me to swallow it back down my throat.
He stalks up the the circle of chairs and shoves the first masked body out of one. It falls with a loud thud to the ground as he drags the chair up, turning it around and sitting with his arms crossed over the back and his chin rested on top.
Mere inches away from me with the same wicked smile. I try not to tense as the hot trickle of liquid makes it way down my arm and side.
If removed the flow of blood would intensify. I think of the names of the muscles and tendons in that area, to relax them.
He frowns at me as he gestures for me to stand with another knife in his grasp. Orange and yellow glints off the metal threateningly as it reflects the light of the burning barrels when he points it at me.
He slouches now, watching me stand slowly and his brows knit together under his sandy brown hair.
"I've missed you." He admonishes almost jokingly, as his knife did not miss. He runs a ragged hand through his hair. His face contorts into a momentary grimace.
I swallow thickly again when leans over to tap the handle of the blade in my shoulder sending a sharp jolting pain through my system, effectively creating bright spots across my vision.
"Do you have contacts within Dauntless?" Is the first question that I ask. It is the first one that rises and forces its way through my clenched teeth.
He laughs. "You guys are so paranoid ." He says with an eye roll and noncommittal shrug. "Damn though, you are as fearless as ever. Your first time in faction-less territory and you just breeze on in here like…"
"Why have you broken the arrangement?" Is my next question.
"Why do you think?" He asks menacingly before reaching over to one of the corpses, using the tip of his knife to lift and flick the mask off him.
It is the Dauntless born initiate. Reiner.
Divergent.
"You're welcome." He says then. "Now you owe me one."
I scoff, the action makes my wound throb.
The realization that Falen or Max is a traitor to the city makes my blood run cold. I'd forgotten who took care of Dauntless borns this year so I tried to deliberate by other means.
Max had drawn the shortest straw, it was his task to begin with. If it were Max. . .I vaguely remember him insisting it be by chance.
If it were Falen though, why wouldn't he have volunteered to quiet this himself before discovery?
I swallow thickly when he stands and begins walking in a circle around me tapping the knife against his chin, his eyes narrow and become calculating.
He tilts his head from side to side, smiling, producing a gun from his back pockets, he stabs his knife into one of the other masked corpses before pressing the cold barrel to my forehead and curls his finger around the trigger.
"I'll give you two options."
I glower up at him. "Who is responsible?" I ask. "What do you know?"
"One. You die here." He says raising his voice over mine, ignoring my questions.
I feel the adrenaline spiking, making me hyper aware of every corner of my body adding an intense, harsh emphasis to the foreign object protruding from my shoulder.
The chemicals our body creates naturally, in response to stimuli produces a cataystic effect to our brain. You can effectively mind over matter your bodies reaction, anticipate it, with some accuracy and prepare for it. Control it.
"Two. You-"
"One." I say, cutting him off.
He starts laughing raucously and points the gun at a faction-less corpse and fires once. The sound is soft and quick, muffled, the gun is silenced.
The corpse moves only slightly to fall out of the chair and a pool of blood begins to form around it.
I use his momentary distraction and lunge forward using my un-wounded shoulder to slam into him and send us both tumbling over and into the chairs, knocking over the other lifeless occupants.
The gun flies out of his hand and scatters across the floor.
He shoves me off him violently, sending me on my side, my knifed shoulder hits the ground sending a flash of pain across my vision. The pressure forces my flesh to contract around the blade embedded in me.
I scramble for the gun pushing off the ground, ignoring the searing pains that shoot through my veins, spreading like hands pulling every nerve to shreds and out of one part of my body.
He flails, lashing out at me to get to it first, kicking a chair at me in a fit of rage, it collides with my legs sending me back down before I am fully up.
I suck in a sharp breath, filling my lungs and holding it as I curl my fingers around the handle of the knife to yank it out.
His head snaps back to me just moments away from reaching the gun and he lunges for me instead, he slams my hands down to relinquish my hold on the weapon. The knife clatters away just out of reach.
He chomps his teeth inches from my face with spit flying out like a rabid animal, my fist connects with his jaw and he becomes dazed for a second.
I press my boot between us and kick him away using the force to propel myself across the ground towards the knife, it is just out of reach, my fingers just barely graze the hilt and his fingers claw at me to pull me back, his nails dig into pants and then the flesh of my stomach to my belt.
I kick at him and writhe in his grasp. Searching the floor behind me with my hands until they finally get purchase of the knife and I bring it down.
I remove my gloves and throw them anywhere and lay back for a moment before shrugging his lifeless arms and hands from my body. Sliding further across the floor, away from him.
He lays there motionless, a pool of blood forming a halo around his upper half.
I close my heavy eyelids and search through the darkness behind them, letting the pulsing noise of my heart flood out of my ears.
When I open my eyes the first thing I see are the lightening shadows being cast across the concrete ceiling, there is little of the sky filtering through the holes in it and soft snowflakes drift slowly downward spiraling through the cold air.
The large decorative crystal ceiling object indicates that I am in the lobby now, someone had moved me.
My body is cold, stiff. My shoulder is weighed down by a large amount of frigid white slush and the rest of me covered in tattered dirty clothes and unmentionables.
I lick my dry lips and weakly turn my head to see my surroundings as well as take stock of the aches and pains throughout my body.
My lungs burn and my head is throbbing, I close my eyes again taking stock of my symptoms.
"Are you awake?" Asks a male voice filled with concern. My eyes snap open and I turn my head to see the boy dressed in Abnegation clothing. "I wasn't sure if you would wake up, I think you have a concussion." He says, while pushing the snow off my shoulder.
"What time is it?" I croak, my voice comes through dry and scratchy and I swallow thickly.
If he is awake it must be morning.
"It's close to 6 A.M." He answers while throwing bits of items into a burning barrel. I vaguely smell trash, and the feel of blankets over my lower half. "Easy, easy." He says as I push myself to sit up.
I am still fully clothed but the fabric is stiff and cold.
"My bag." I say and he looks confused at first until I describe it to him. He nods his head and disappears for a moment then returns with it, handing it to me politely.
I stand with his assistance and brush the snow off of me, ignoring the protest of my cold limbs and dull pain starting up from the wound, and my head.
"Why are you here?" I ask immediately, I know he is Abnegation now. I find my watch among my belongings and strap it to my wrist.
"I was trying to find someone." He replies while rubbing his neck uncomfortably, I notice the injection site. His eyes begin to glaze, the corners filling with sparkling tears he covers his face for a moment and takes a deep breath.
I assume he found whoever he was looking for.
He explains how he had located a few faction-less residing in the outskirts of Abnegation and in exchange for food and clothing they pointed him in the direction that his brother had gone and he found this place, he also tells me how when he was searching the building someone had ' knocked him out '.
His name is Todd, he and his brother had just completed Abnegation's initiation.
I sigh deeply, while unzipping my bag to take out the shirts, matches, spare knife, some gauze and the water. I leave everything else in it and toss it into one of the still burning barrels.
He adverts his gaze when I begin peeling the sweater off myself, gently removing the bits of fabric sticking to my wound.
I hardly care about my undergarments, they will not be visible. It is a dull pain, frigid but dull and I thank him for the snow he had applied, he had possibly saved my life but I do mean to thank him for that.
I uncap the water bottle and pour water over myself to wash the blood off, it burns my skin, as if scalding and I know it is not a good sign of my body's temperature regulation.
He hands me the gauze, attempting to be helpful. I begin shoving them into the wound that's long since stopped bleeding.
He treats me like a victim, reassuring me that I'm safe now. I presume it's because I'm a girl. Dauntless or not.
Abnegation don't do what he did, run away and go into dangerous territory, but then, most of them don't go through what he did.
The ends of my hair are stained and won't wash off so he offers to cut it for me with my pocket knife after hearing my exhausted sigh and watching me attempt to do it myself.
"What made you come here?" Todd asks while taking more than an inch off. "You're Dauntless."
"I came to find someone too." I admit, tying my hair back, testing the new length.
Todd apologizes for my non-existent loss and then he attempts to talk me into going back to Dauntless, convinced that I am the same as him.
I pull one of the clean black shirts over my head and look myself over, a fever is taking hold of my body and I am slightly light headed due to blood loss.
Todd finds my jacket and watch and he tells me again, that I should head back to Dauntless before my condition worsens, he does not know who I am, or what my name is, and he doesn't ask so I don't tell him.
I appreciate when he says he won't tell anyone that I was here, that a Dauntless girl was in faction-less territory but I will have to come up with my own excuse once back in Dauntless myself. If questioned, and since it's almost 7, I am sure my absence will be noticed.
I'm unsure what awaits me. For the second time in months I am unsure what to do next, what I can do next.
My mind works through possible outcomes to actions but sluggishly, the condition of my body effected.
I watch as Todd begins moving bodies, and he tells me even faction-less deserve a proper send off.
I do my best to help him although I am slow, and soon the air is filled with the stench of burning flesh as we cremate the corpses of faction-less.
"You should get back." He says again and we aren't even near finished yet. "You're looking worse off and someone will notice the smoke."
My thoughts come hazy and slower, the hotter my skin becomes, he notices and I assure him that he does not have to help me get back to Dauntless.
I would not be able to explain it if seen with him.
I pull my hood over my hair and decide to leave the matches and the extra shirt and I passingly regret not bringing more articles of clothing, but after today I will probably never see him again anyway.
"Faction-less." He chuckles but his dark brown eyes are dull and sad, they water up and he cries silently to himself, his shoulders shake and his lip trembles.
He kicks at the ground sucking in air to steady himself like he'll collapse inwardly. I remember a scientific thought about crying but push it from my mind.
I look away and zip my jacket up to my chin before leaving out the red, paint peeled doors.
When I gaze up at the overcast sky outside, snowflakes fall and lightly peck my cheeks, melting instantly, creating burning streaks down my skin.
I try to imagine, but can't quite simulate what I'm supposed to feel on the inside, in the way people tremble, the way they breathe when overcome with grief, the way they move and break apart. I tense and relax the muscles of my chest and back, my shoulder searing.
Perhaps it is something I can learn.
I arrive back at Dauntless and several straggling drunken Dauntless greet me, I greet them back with little effort, forcing myself into an appropriate calm and casual countenance but my face must be red and flushed from the fever that has begun to effect me.
I could pass as drunken myself.
My vision blurs sometimes and I sway, my skin is scorching hot and I am not sure how much further I can walk before collapsing.
Falen's office is located much closer to the entrances and I had expected one of them to be waiting for me.
No one is there.
Max takes one look at me from behind his desk before jumping up with a wide spread grin. His lit cigarette continues to smoke and burn but on the cement ground.
I regard him as an enemy at first but his expression when seeing me would seem thrilled and not disappointed. He calls for Falen at once.
I sit leaned back against the leather chair while the tugging at my shoulder continues. Between my teeth is a leather belt and I bite down each time the needle slides sharply into my skin and pulls my flesh together even though it's been a while since it hurt, I still expect it and prepare for it.
Max works with meticulous care, brows furrowed in concentration, his hands work quickly and skillfully.
Falen drinks from a cup while talking about today's agenda, I cast my eyes from him and remain silent.
His expression betrays nothing.
When Max finishes up he pours it over my wound and I bite down even harder and clutch the arm rests, digging my nails into the leather to keep myself from screaming when the searing pains start spreading through every corner of my body. The pain reignited.
They both laugh and slap me on the back, on the same shoulder and congratulate me as I take a gulp of the deep yellow liquid myself.
When they ask me for details, wanting to know what had transpired.
I explain briefly, but I leave out the part with Reiner.
Falen shows extreme humiliation at how 'fucked up' his genes are, he claims they came from his 'wife.'
Her name was Mel, I hardly remember the woman.
They laugh more and joke about it at least, not being Divergent genes, I feel ill.
My skin is tepid and my eye lids are heavy, several times I swallow back down a bit of burning bile as my mind begins flashing through the events of last night, the scenes, the smells.
Apparently their investigations proved futile as well but they mentioned that they noticed me going into Eric's apartment and they tease me because surveillance doesn't show me leaving his room right afterwards.
They share a drink and toast and go on to talk about Amar's Ferris Wheel and an upcoming end of the year conference.
To be safe and sure that there is no leak however Max warns me not to do anything suspicious during the week and we are to continue to monitor activity within Dauntless.
Neither of them are acting out of the ordinary. I watch them, for any signs, any hint or flash of a look in their eyes. Nothing.
"To another successful year." Max exclaims while lighting up another cigarette.
My head lolls and my eyelids feel heavy, but they snap open, aware of the danger I need to uncover here when there's a knock at the door.
"Yes?" Falen asks, peeking through the crack in the door while I pull my shirt back over my head and my slightly shorter hair through the neck hole.
Max offers me a cigarette and I refuse while standing unsteadily.
"Actually, Gene is right here." Falen says.