"You could go a little faster." Max tells Eric, his voice thick with impatience. "I'd like to be back at Dauntless before deserts… Speaking of which, have you eaten yet Gene?"
I nod though I haven't. I remind myself that once back I should try. The pain in my abdomen is dull, still lulled by the painkillers Eric dutifully administered, but it creates a solid feeling there, like there would be no space for food.
"She's been sick." Eric says, waving a hand.
"Have Garrett check for a blood infection." Falen tells me, I nod again. "Have you been using the pain medication? It can sometimes effect your appetite, liquid foods and vitamin supplements might be a better alt-"
"Alright, old man, I'll get her some baby food." Eric breathes annoyance and Max laughs.
I tap my fingers against my leg with agitation and stare out the window, my brows furrowed unintentionally as I am brought back to my dream, about the whispers.
The fear laced murmurs, hushed around me, blending with the vibration and hum of the truck. I can hear them, but I can't understand them.
Back at Dauntless the leaders head in and Eric does not have me accompany them. They all but dismiss me.
I'm not sure when I found myself looking for him. But when I finally find Amar, he stands on the low platform at the edge of the Ferris Wheel staring up at it, tilting his head back. His eyes are bright paired with a wide almost wistful smile. His chest puffed out with his hands on his hips.
Pride.
I stop making my way towards him and just watch, imagining for a short moment that I could look at it the way he does.
As though it were more than just a machine and then I find myself recounting times he's looked at me the same way.
I hesitate and turn away, burying my face in the collar of my coat, just enough to see the entrance of Dauntless in my peripherals in case Eric changed his mind and appeared through the doors to retrieve me.
After a breath, nothing. Another. He doesn't appear.
Something soft hits my thigh, exploding on impact and I look back distractedly, to see Amar hold up his hands as if to say he had nothing to do with it, but I can see that his fingers are red and puckered, wide troughs of snow dug up around his knees and the effort he's using to hold in laughter.
I trot up to him and he dusts his pants off before tucking his hands into his pockets.
"You finally free for the day?" He asks, his voice taking on a forced lightness.
"I am." I answer with a nod, though I am not so sure. I didn't stay for a schedule, or orders or I just didn't hear them. Then I remember I'm not quite but I don't say.
We stand there for a moment. Our gazes wander to everything but the other, and our feet shifting on the ground, hands in our pockets.
"So uh… It's been… Four years… Today." He says before looking to the ground, flinching as he kicks at the snow. "I've rarely had to say it out loud, or even acknowledge how long it's been. I just go from day to day, tomorrow to tomorrow without bundling them all together in heaps to represent weeks and months and years."
It unsettles me, when I realize what he's talking about, why he's acting this way, what today is for him. Every year on this day, we would train, run, spar, and shoot. If we were allowed. His last day of Dauntfest.
"It's just…" He hesitates, running his hand through his hair, before clasping the back of his neck. "When people leave us, they don't come back. No matter how much we want them to… It doesn't make it any easier when they leave us by choice either, but we've got to let them go, Gene. We can't-"
"Amar." I reprimand sharply, shaking my head to myself. Suddenly today, it isn't about him. He's made it about me. "I don't want to talk about it."
"When then Gene?" He paces, becoming frustrated, while I stand clutching my jacket and inhale deeply, welcoming the biting cold into my lungs. The taste of the air is sharp-edged and bitter. He stops, looks at me, holding out a hand and then lets it drop. Emotions war across his face. "Please, talk to me, Gene."
I stare at the way he holds himself as he watches me, his body rigid, face strained. My frustration boils over and I wrap my arms tighter around myself, digging into my ribs as if I could keep the agitation inside, force it deeper under my skin.
The dull pain speads along my side to where my fingers press in. He sees it and misunderstands, grabbing my arms above my elbows and pulls me to him, taking my head and pushing it into his shoulder, his arms circling my back.
I close my eyes against the twisted feeling, clutching to myself as I try to control my breathing.
"We've known each other our entire lives." He says, his breath soft over my hair. "You can tell me anything."
I swallow thickly, feeling my pulse flutter at the possibility of his words but, I don't know how to tell him. I don't even know where to start.
It's difficult to envision the person he sees, like there is something different under the mask, the one that I've never taken off. The person he thinks he's known all this time.
My mind whirls at the different outcomes, of which mask to put on now, which identity I could let him create for me next, how simple it would be for me to let him assume one for me and go about my day.
Irrational rage expounded through me, at myself for the thought, shooting fast through my veins and I shove him away, turning around to head back towards Dauntless.
Amar calls after me but I don't listen and break into a run. The fury simmers and vibrates, like a hum that I can feel through my bones.
He chases after me, and just as I wrench the door open he grabs it, holding it closed so that I can't leave.
"Help me understand what you're going through, Gene. Really, I just can't see why you need to suffer it al-"
I spin on him, eyes flashing. He reaches for me and I rip my arm from his grasp, my hands curl into fists.
His eyes narrow with confusion at my anger. "Is it Eric?" He asks. "Four told me that you're hurt. Did he hurt you?"
"No." I tell him forcefully but Amar doesn't believe it.
He reaches for me again and I push his hands away. "I knew he wasn't good for you-"
"It's me!" I yell back at him. "I'm not good."
The word leaves a bitter taste. As if I didn't think, all this time, what I was doing was right. Now I don't know.
"I'm not like you." I gulp in the frozen air. "I'm not like Eric either." I tell myself.
"Gene." He says with a sad laugh, like I'm a child. "I'm not perfect, and you need to stop thinking that I can't make mistakes either. Good, bad, those are just perspectives. I mean, to a bird a cat would seem bad right? I could never look at you that way… You're human. We're both just human. Nothing more. Nothing less."
I ache to believe him. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to force more distance between us before he can. The inevitability, I can feel it crawling up my throat, I clutch my jacket at the neck when I feel it tighten.
"There have been…Birds, Amar."
The hand he has raised to touch me once more, stops, and his brow raises in confusion as he goes over the meaning of my words. He stands dead still for moments, longer maybe, an eternity, and then his hand falls to his side.
Though expected, his actions drain my anger, leaving only a slow enveloping heaviness behind. As if all the air were sucked from the world and turned my body inside out at my wound, for him to see.
The blood, guts and feathered remains in my hollowed stomach. This black and shriveled heart, lungs of smoke.
"What?" I intend for the question to come out harsh but instead it's only a coarse whisper. "Do you need a different analogy?" I choke back the resentment with a scoff. "Perspective?"
"Gene…" He stares at me and then shoves a hand in his hair and wraps his long fingers around the back of his neck. I can see in his face the pain of this reality. "Who? You can't mean Kathe-"
"Does it matter?" I ask, cutting him off before he can say her name. "Shes gone."
"Did the leaders make you do it?" He asks, sounding almost desperate.
"Does. It. Matter?" I repeat, my entire body tense.
Does it matter why I did it? Only that I did. Does it matter if I was made to do it? Only that I did. Does it matter who? I might as well have been responsible for them all.
"Yes, it fucking matters why Gene!" He looms over me, bringing himself to full height. "Because I feel responsible for you, because I love you, because you're the only family I have left!" His eyes are wide, his lips parted, face flushed and his hand shakes when he raises it to his neck again.
I turn around and yank the door open.
"Don't walk away from me Gene!" I stop dead in my tracks and I see the shadow on the wall of him raising his hand but he does not touch me and I do not turn around, I hold the door, using it to steady myself. "What are they using against you?"
I've made a grave error and there will be equally grave consequences if it is discovered. If Eric finds out. If Amar says anything or does anything. I cannot leave it like this.
"What could you do about it?" I whirl on him, fists clenched, he looks back at me, stunned. I lower my voice to a harsh and threatening whisper. "Say anything, and you will die. Do anything and you will die. Dauntless is not a safe place for your kind."
Had I not suspected Amar these four years? Did I not realize when he became an instructor that he would be watched. That in his first year he already made the mistake of hiding initiates abnormal results. He knew. He's known.
He had escaped it once, the leaders never told me, but I'd known. Would he escape it again? And again?
Recognition dawns across his face, and his jaw hardens. "Then the rumors are true."
"They woud use you too." I choke out softly, clutching my jacket tighter to choke it down. Before I can see his expression I wretch the door open once more and leave him.
Once again I am back in the control room. Gus eyes me speculatively, and I make a mental note that he may report my unusual behaviors.
I scan the employees for the day and sit at an empty console. No one looks up at me, no one of consequence is scheduled today.
Once my code is entered I check the screens for the back grounds near the Ferris wheel and then I check the archive, nothing is saved. No one had watched.
I run a check on any codes that may have been entered to view or monitor footage and nothing comes up.
I push away from the desk and lean back in the chair, running my hand through my hair, and then I lean forward, putting my head between my knees.
"Geenie weenie." Gabriel coos as he drums carrots against the edge of the cafeteria bench.
My hand closes around the cup I hold, meticulously fitted not to crush it and spill the hot liquid everywhere.
"No." I reply for the third time. They had asked me if I would be joining them tonight, then tomorrow, then the day after. "I'm to visit Candor the day after tomorrow. Then Abnegation. And Amity."
I'm busy tonight.
"What?!" Gabriel sputters, throwing his hands into the air. "Dude, Gene, please please, you have to get us some of that Amity bread!"
"And some ice cream from Candor!" Jade exclaims, she clutches my arm and shakes me, my body becoming stiff as a board at her touch.
They all begin to plead incessantly for these faction specific specialties, taken the bait and misdirection.
"Alright." I relent, gritting my teeth and gently removing Jade's hand from my arm. "I'll see what I can do."
They begin cheering and creating a ruckus, pounding the table top and that is when I notice Amar enter the canteen.
Our eyes meet and the sound around me becomes muffled as a single moment passes. It feels as though minutes go by, but compressed into a second before he tears his gaze away, casting it downward as he leaves the room just as soon as he had arrived.
I cannot deny the acidic taste that rises up my throat or the fierce desire to stand and go to him. This hollow ache creates a fury that chills me to the core.
I feel the skin of my knuckles pull tight as I clench my fists, and my nails embed themselves into my palms.
"Hey… Eric." The name snaps my head around and our eyes lock. Blue on blue.
He acknowledges their greetings with a nod, never taking his gaze off mine as if determining my mood.
Finally he smirks and I resist the urge to scowl. "Have you eaten yet?" He asks to which I tilt my cup at him in response. "Good then you're done here."
He takes my hand in a grip that is too tight, pulling me up. I squeeze back, fitting my nails into his skin and down my cup as Gabriel and Uriah make hooting noises, and lewd whistles. "Its against the rules now, you know!"
Eric pulls me down several halls before finally yanking me around him and against the wall. The coldness of the concrete spreads through me at first contact before his heated gaze penetrates mine.
"What are you doing employing Lauren?" He asks immediately.
"I have my own investigations." I reply formally and semi-cooperatively though not disclosing full details or reason behind my request. "As I've said."
I'm unwilling to throw Four back under Erics scrutiny just yet. I'd considered it to get him off myself.
"Oh?" Eric deliberates, before framing my head with his arms against the wall and leaning in. The action deemed threatening.
His expression becomes grim and hard in an instant as if beginning his calculating, reevaluating and assessing, finding error or an unwanted result.
Perhaps wondering what other things I may be trying to uncover, even about him. That he may be who I'm investigating among others.
I turn my head and look down the hall in both directions, and to the cameras, realizing it may have been prudent to do so beforehand.
The conversation being slightly more sensitive to be spoken of publicly.
"Did you have somewhere else you needed to be?" Eric asks with heavy annoyance. Misunderstanding my action.
Maybe it's his implying tone, or maybe it's my lack of patience with him to begin with but I do not answer.
He brings his hand to cup my cheek, his thumb running over my jaw. I'm forcing myself to stay calm but I can feel the cold needle pricks beneath my skin.
I wonder then if he had seen or heard of my altercation with Amar, or from anyone else that there may be a rumor going around that he himself had hurt me.
He leans in closer, his gaze becomes darker, swirling. His lips brush mine. I hold his gaze with one of my own, of boredome.
"I'm not like all your other 'friends', I am not like Amar." His name is like a slap in the face, I remain impassive.
Maybe he had seen.
"You aren't like them either."
Maybe not?
"That makes you neurotic, so you don't eat, you hardly sleep. You dissociate yourself, hoping that it'll go away, you explain it all with cold hard logic like theres a scientific reason for every cause and reaction. But does that make it better? Does that make you happy? Wasting away. . ."
He touches the center of my chest, his palm spreading flat against me, and I close my eyes when I feel each exhale of his breath as his touch flutters up along my hairline, tracing the curve of my ear.
My heart becomes a steady thrum against his hand.
I know better than to listen to him, but I hear him loud and clear like they are my own thoughts. Have they not crossed my mind at one point or another?
"With no other heartbeat to keep yours company…" A shiver spreads through my veins. "No voice to keep away the darkness of night… Nobody to share the length of days with…" His whispers are seductive as they roll off his tongue and mix with his breath, my only source of air.
But there is another whisper, it is urgent, warning.
"Can you be more lonely than you are now?" He leans closer and frames my face with his hands forcing me to look him in the eyes. Our lips brush against each other, so light, as if I'd merely exhaled. "Always working on your own. . .No one to rely on or turn to."
My answer is but a tired deafeated sigh, and he pushes his mouth into mine, once barely, then again, swiftly, open-mouthed and our tongues touch for one instant. My hand moves to cover his on my cheek as he pulls away but his other hand finds my waist.
I open my eyes to meet his downcast. "Soon you won't have to endure it anymore." He says.
I look at him, my brows furrowing, wondering what he could possibly mean by that. And end to the never ending.
If he means it as a joke, of my transfering to Erudite, as if that could change my course. He couldn't possibly know of my defections just yet or what awaits me there.
His gaze returns to mine, and in them I see a promise, though I can't fathom what it is just yet.
Maybe it is more of a threat.
"What would you do?" I ask almost accusingly, but I turn to place my lips against his palm. His pulse thrums beneath his warm skin against my mouth reminding me of my coldness.
"Whatever it takes." He says simply, almost reprimandingly as if it should already be obvious to me.
His breath hot but turning cold in my lungs as his lips come back down against mine. Softly, alluringly.
He places a flashdrive into my palm before leaving me. I assume it is the program from Lauren.
Once again I am lain across my bed across several pillows, watching saved and archived security feeds. Starting from most recent to older.
Nothing out of the ordinary, just certain passages like Gus had said. The halls to the pit, entrances to the canteen, several entrances and exits to Dauntless.
Those screens show nothing out of the ordinary, but on a separate screen I have each camera going through its usual 5 second rotations, making a note of the angles and locations of the ones located outside Dauntless, for tonight.
I write down their codes to pull up later while I'm out to isolate on Gus's console, which I have mirrored to my tablet and can take control remotely to delete off the saved archive at my leisure.
He assured me there were only a few Daunltess scheduled for tonights shift and Four was not one of them.
For a moment I wonder at Gus's life. If it is one he had chosen. He had been working in the control room longer than I could remember. Had he spent most of his life behind those screens watching everyone else live theirs?
I shake the thoughts from my head and continue, deleting the inconsequential files as I peruse them.
I find the meeting I had isolated with Zeke. Delete it.
Several of the feeds are of Eric going about routine things and I wonder then if Four really suspected him of something or just loathed him, as Eric did him.
The feeling certainly seems mutual.
I find another feed, a quick flash of orange that makes my gut tighten. It is of Kat, Jade, Gabriel, and Joseph sneaking into the fear simulation rooms.
After watching it a few more times I delete it.
There are more feeds of that same hall, one with a flash of Four. Then empty. Another empty.
Towards the end of the same files of feeds of that hall, of Jeanine, just gimpses of her walking down it to the fear sim rooms, dated around the time she visited to run the programs herself. The initiates and then Amar.
They ran him through again. I delete them all.
Then one, I find particularly interesting is of Max and Jeanine. He is sitting in his office, smoking a cigarette as usual, and she is leaning on his desk.
They are having a silent exhange. I plug in the headphones I procured from Gus and turn the volume up.
Jeanine is saying they've already agreed upon a candidate. That it was ensured.
Max is telling her he wants time to find someone else, someone more likeable.
She aquieces but tells him she has no time for Dauntless pride and when he fails to accept there is no one better suited.
I delete the feed immediately afterwards, not hearing Max's reply. Then I take control of Gus's computer and delete everything completely off the archive.
If Four had seen this, he would suspect Eric as I had. As I have.
I check for any isolated screens of Falens new office, in case Gus or someone else had not caught those ones before, and find nothing.
I make a mental note to ask Lauren tomorrow, if I make it back, if there is a way to detect the mirroring program, if not by running a simple systems diagnostics. . .
At that thought I decided to test that theory on my own and run one on my tablet, and find nothing save for the one I already installed, detecting it.
I return to the 5 second rotating feeds and try to find Amar now. I see him exiting the tattoo parlor, and then I wait for another screen to show him entering the canteen.
"You're early." Eric says from where he's seated on his couch, he doesn't look up or back from the tablet in his hands. "Your toys are in the bedroom."
I nod to myself and kick my boots off before walking to the back of the couch.
He is still looking through documents and does not look up. The muscles in his face are tense. His teeth gritted and his eyes hard.
I touch between the micro dermal piercings above his eyebrow, they're new, the skin is still red and inflamed. His brow raises but otherwise his expression remains unchanged.
"Did you need something else by chance?" He asks, with a hint of amusement. I notice an empty cup of coffee on his table and another half empty, it's hasn't been more than 4 hours since I last saw him. "Otherwise, I'm busy at the moment."
I turn away from the couch and head to his bedroom where, sure enough, my knife, a mask, a flashlight and a heavy jacket lie spread over his bed.
I drop my spare clothing on the bed to begin changing, deciding to forgo a proper shower.
The bandages around my waist have a large darkened black splotch and I remove them. The skin underneath is slick with blood, my stitches bend with every breath.
Its been on constant fluctuations since my trip to Erudite and being handled roughly.
I sigh, really my body is unmanageable much like my mind of late. I pull the shirt on and pick up the bandages, leaving the bedroom and entering the bathroom.
There I dispose of the them and search Eric's cabinets till I find the proper first aid.
"Would you like some help with that?" Eric asks, appearing at the door. His brow raises as he leans against the frame.
I remove my shirt, careful not to get any fresh blood on it and in this light it does not look quite as gruesome as I expected.
His eyes narrow and his smile gradually straightens then frowns as he grabs a towel. "Sit on the counter."
He takes the first aid box from me, opening it on the counter and pulls out a sterile-packaged alcohol wipe which he held between his teeth, then an iodine wipe, a tube of ointment, two medium sized gauze pads, and a pack of suturing needles with a length of thread.
I would have been fine with just applying rewrapping with a fresh bandage but it seems he has more thorough ideas.
He leaves the bathroom and I slide up onto the surface, near the sink, crossing my ankles. Eric returns with a chair and seats himself. I press my palms into the countertop, leaning back as he gets to work immediately.
He uses the first gauze to pad around the wounds, the little amount of prodding creates a liquid mixed with blood that trails down my stomach and he drapes the towel over my legs. There is really no need to restitch, and I would much rather he didn't but, he already begins snipping the old stitches and pulls them out with a pair of medical tweezers.
The skin is torn and stretched and at first I think he may remove the damaged tissue but he leaves it.
It would seem impossible to keep it securely closed long enough for the skin to knit back together.
"Hold this here." He instructs, placing another gauze against my skin. He gets a few more, possibly because the two he had produced weren't enough.
I'd seen him focused before but this is much more meticulous. There is something else though, his mood is darkened.
"You know, that I am no fool." He says before handing me another gauze. "If you lie to me I will find out even-"
"I'm not Candor." I press the gauze in place while he works open the iodine wipe with a smile on his face. I was not expecting this conversation. "Neither are you."
"Funny, did you know then, that our leader Falen has… slipped out of Dauntless?" He asks as he pulls the bloody gauze pad off. He sits back and his stare holds mine. "Coincidence?"
I don't answer. I didn't know. I hadn't seen him on surveilance at all, it escaped me to even check for him.
But I know what Eric might think.
"If you intend on killing him, I would advise against doing so now, unless you intend to make yourself some kind of martyr." He tosses the soaked gauze into the sink with the rest, then proceeds to swab the area around the wound with the iodine wipe, staining my skin a yellowish brown.
"But, if you're working with him…" Eric trails off as he begins threading a curved needle with a frown on his face. "Well, therein lies both the problem and the solution."
I raise my brow in a question. Before I can say anything he stands and his hand clamps over my mouth squeezing my jaw tightly, shoving me against the mirror.
His expression is fierce, in an instant and his eyes ablaze.
"I know what you're capable of." He sneers. "In my case you can see how that would piss me off?"
"Yes." I reply through pinched lips, and I can.
He would assume I'm compliant because Falen needs me to be, that I am here with him because Falen wants me to be. That I may be sneaking out for a rendezvous.
I should have factored this in, potentially being suspected of that sort of duplicity, Eric is far too intelligent to neglect the possibility of every avenue.
That I would willingly distract him at Falen's behest.
But I'd never expect Falen to be so careless. How could he be? He knows Eric is watching him, he has to know. Why would he be sneaking around so soon after supplanting bait. He is a leader.
Unless it is a trap. Unless it is deliberate to cause tensions between us. Maybe Falen believes Eric and I have gotten too close.
"Are you or are you not working with Falen?" He asks bluntly. I could say yes, but technically I'm not, I do not know his plans, I could say no, but, Eric wouldn't just take my word.
Still. "I am not." I state.
He doesn't relax and his hold gets tighter.
"Well, I find that a bit difficult to accept completely, you see, he's actually had numerous opportunities to kill you, and I think he intended to, but, he didn't. Which means, Genesis?" He asks with a tone like Jeanine's, requesting an explative but his grip tightens, his fingers press harder, he doesn't want me to speak.
I remain passive and maintain eye contact though it is quite jarring that he can go from docile to aggressive in the time it takes to blink.
He's maniacal. His expectations unrealistic, unmeasurable.
"It means, he needs you for something, and soon enough he'll call on you to fulfill whatever that is." Eric says, releasing my face to settle back in his chair. "So, tonight if you see him- Or maybe I should say when you see him, anything you learn, anyone you see, you will report back to me."
I wipe my face with the back of my hand to get the blood I feel off. The only thing he didn't say was 'Or else.'
But the threat is loud and clear in his expression.
Eric doesn't say another word and the silence is tense, all the muscles in his face are pulled tight.
I don't say anything either, just lean back and let him work.
It takes about ten minutes to close the wound with his stitching and his work is neat though he had to stitch higher, unable to use the skin already torn.
His expression is placid as he examines it and he stands to turn the sink on, the blood on his hands turns the water pink and the sink fills as the gauze clogs his drain.
I pull my shirt back over my head as he turns off the water and dries his hands with a towel, and he steps back in front of me, tilting my head up to wipe my cheek.
"Get dressed." He says and his tone is not nearly as sharp. "Then, you and I are going to dinner." He smiles ruefully placing his hands on the counter on both sides and leans in but he doesnt kiss me now.
Just stares into my eyes as if searching for something, a hint or flicker. If he sees anything he doesnt make it known, he pushes himself away and takes the chair with him out of the bathroom, I slide down and grab several sterile gauze a bandage wrap and a packaged needle and thread but leave everything as it is and make my way to the bedroom closing the door completely behind me.
I pull my pants on and string the belt not too tight, and I pull the jacket on, slipping the flashlight and everything else into one of the pockets.
Then I wrap the scarf around my head and grab my gloves in a fist. I'm leaving now. I think of what I can say to get out of dinner, wondering if it would be futile.
I sigh and begin to remove articles deciding not to antagonize him further.
A knock sounds at Eric's door and I slide my knife into my boot and put them on before tucking the mask back into my pants.
"You're here extremely fucking early." Eric's tone is disdainful and low. I pause at the bedroom door with my hand over the handle awaiting a response.
"Better early than late with you, right?" It's a female voice and I calm myself before opening the door. "You get mad if I'm late, mad if I'm early, can't ever win with you."
Lauren pushes past Eric into the apartment and halts when she sees me. Her expression instantly surprised, the rings in her lip get sucked between her teeth in an awkward smile.
I pull my sleeve up and begin to remove my watch. Eric smirks and leans against the open door and begins to remove his.
"Lauren and I are working on a few things." He says with a shrug before stepping around her, he trades our watches and straps his to my wrist.
Lauren pulls her jacket sleeve up and extends her wrist as well. "I hope you don't mind." She says to me as he begins strapping my watch around her tattooed wrist.
She tucks a strand of her purple and black hair behind her ear, her tone is strained and I see her swallow thickly. Nervous. Fearful?
With her, she has a large black bag and a portable computer under her arm.
"Oh jeez, I didn't mean-I mean the watch, I hope you don't mind me wearing your watch-" She amends hurriedly. "Not that- I mean-Not this. That's not what - were not" She gestures between her and Eric who just laughs.
I head for the door.
I catch the last running train and get off several miles from Erudite but I am constantly watching my back and searching corners, every flick of a shadow, or sway of a broken streetlight turns my head and my eyes scour the dark empty roads.
I walk in the shadows of buildings, my footsteps crisp over snow and slushed asphalt. None of the city lights are on in this area, but the moon is bright enough that I can walk by it without too much trouble.
The buildings around me tower above, monoliths of glass and steel, brick and plaster. I stare into shattered windows on higher floors expecting movement but find none.
My breath is loud and hot with the scarf over the bottom half of my face. It feels like I've done this a thousand times before, and maybe, a thousand times too much.
I head a few blocks closer in Erudites direction where the roads are clearer, having been plowed and can see the drains and the curbs that distinguish he road from sidewalks.
Remembering the angles of the cameras down these streets by memory. I'm out past curfew.
When I'm unsure of a road I stop and check my tablet to be sure. If there is a camera I'm unable to avoid, I isolate it, traverse it and delete it myself.
Its a wonder I never considered doing this myself before.
A flash of headlights makes me duck into a dark alley and I press myself against the wall as one of the Dauntless patrol make their rounds down the block.
When it disappears down another street I sprint out onto the road and dust slush off of a manhole cover, I bite and pull one of my gloves off to slide a finger into a hole in the lid, curling it and I brace my boots on each side, gritting my teeth to lift it and drag it to expose a black hole leading into the bowels of the city.
The weight is hard on my weakened body and I chastise myself for not continuing my training or taking care of it in this state.
I locate the ladder and slip in, climbing down several rungs before weaving my boots into one to hold me as I strain to pull the cover back over, sealing me in the dark underground.
Incased within the sewer, I feel and climb my way down until I reach the sodden ground where I pull out the flashlight and click it on.
The tunnel before me is high enough to walk upright but lower than a normal ceiling. The width just a few feet wider than a door.
My light does not shine far enough to see into into depths but I start down it.
I stay in the middle, unwilling to hug the grimy walls, oozing with either moss or mold, of which I am unsure but the musky smell of stale wet air could be smelled along with waste and rank garbage.
My boots step over deep rivets filled with water, puddles that catch drips that echo with each water droplet.
Rats scatter around with squeaks of terror, and I see only their tails, slipping between mounds of waste, or scuttling into cracks along the walls.
I breathe through my mouth and adjust the scarf over my face. In my head I have memorized the twists and turns that will take me directly under Erudite, though never once did I imagine myself traversing sewer tunnels.
After many twists and turns I arrive in a larger tunnel, the ceiling lifts and the ground separates around a rectangular pit of murky water.
Along the walls there are large steel doors and I approach each one reading the faded lettering. I find E6 and place the flashlight in my mouth and work to twist the deadbolt cylinder to disengage the lock.
The first comes undone with a loud "clack" and a spring loaded square below the first, opens, requiring a key.
I kneel flashlight still in mouth and poke my fingers into the lip of my boot and remove the key Garett had given me. I'd not really knew where else to stow it on such short notice.
I contemplate now, what I had not thought of before. Holding this key in my hand.
Garett had implored me to do this task, had said someone told him I'm the only one capable. Or perhaps he meant available or willing. Maybe I'm mixing it up.
If he were working with Falen also, as his connection inside of Erudite, this would be my way to appear fully aligned with him. They would give me another oportunity.
What happened with Katherine. . .
I shake the thought from my head and insert the key, dropping the flashlight to the ground as I strain to open the large metal door.
It is much heavier than the manhole cover and when I get it open wide enough to slip into I pause to catch my breath against it. I've never gotten exhausted so quickly but I suppose physically I'm wasting away, as Eric said.
I peek inside and visually inspect what I could of its interior and then check my watch. It was just about midnight and Garret told me the incinerator would be delayed until 1:30 tonight.
I squeeze myself inside and am immediately assaulted by the smell. I know it well. The rank stench of charred flesh and ash. It was mixed with the heavy musk of compact air and trash, long sealed inside this incinerator.
Dauntless cremate their dead but Erudite, Erudite simply incinerate them the same way they do with their waste and trash. Efficiency. There is a difference, in respect.
I walk in and shine my light up to the high ceiling and up the long narrow shute, the opening closed off by large metal jaws. I check my watch once more, impulsive, idle behavior, I tell myself to stop.
I shine the light around me at the ground. Ash. All ash and dust beneath my boots.
I pull my scarf back over my nose and mouth, to keep the stray mites from drifting and filling my lungs.
For a while I wait and then I push the heavy door a little further open. Then I pace along the length of the room beneath the shute.
My abdomen is burning and I recognize that sickened rolling in my gut at the thought of facing Divergent. My hand moves to my back pocket and my fingers wrap around the mask.
There is still so much I don't know about them.
I relent and put it on, shifting my scarf just as a loud metalic shift and click sounds out and echoes far above me. I shut my light off take a few steps back until I am nearly against the wall.
The first body bag drops down and lands with a loud thump on the ashen ground. Then several regular bags of trash, before the next body and another on top.
Three Divergent.