I
am awake and alive, but am surrounded by brain-dead soldiers, mind-controlled
Dauntless. The only difference between them and me is that I am Divergent, and
they are not. I must pretend to be one of them, or be found out.
I
help Tris into the train car, and she stands beside me. She glances up at me,
her eyes begging, begging.
We
stand in four rows, shoulder to shoulder.
Every Dauntless was injected with an orange-brown
serum that contained a tracker. Each and every Dauntless was told that the
tracking device would be activated if he or she was reported missing.
I did not believe it. But I still had no idea what
could possibly be the purpose of the serum.
The Erudite were planning a war, and had allied with
the Dauntless so that they could use us as their fighting force. What better
way to control a whole faction? Mind control. A simulation.
The colored serum contained transmitters.
Transmitters connect the mind to a simulation program.
The Divergent are always aware during a simulation.
They know what is real and what is not real. Their minds are wired differently
from the rest.
I
lace my fingers with hers, my palm pressing her palm, confirming that I am
Divergent. She squeezes my hand, and I squeeze it back.
When I showed her the tattoos on my back, it was
wearisome. I had done something no one had ever done before, that would
probably get me killed if anyone found out. The symbols of each faction were
drawn on my back—Dauntless at the top of my spine, Abnegation just below it,
and the other three, smaller, beneath them.
Dauntless
soldiers shove Abnegation council members into the street and shoot them
through the head. Some adult members of Abnegation are herded toward one of the
nearby buildings, along with the Abnegation children.
Tris had tattooed herself with the symbols of
Dauntless and Abnegation. Dauntless, where her mind was, and Abnegation, where
her heart was.
Eric
leans close to my face, grinning. He is an Erudite in disguise, the bond that
connected the Erudite and Dauntless. “Now, this is a happy sight,” he says.
“The legendary Four. No one’s going to remember that I came in second now, are
they? No one’s going to ask me, ‘What was it like to train with the guy who has
only four fears?’” He draws his gun
and points it at my right temple.
The
metal is cold.
“Too
bad you didn’t just take Max up on his offer, Four. Well, too bad for you, anyway,” he says quietly, sneering
at me. He clicks the bullet into its chamber.
He’s
obviously not going to shoot me. I’m not stupid enough to let him. I move my
hand towards my gun, but Tris already has her barrel pressed to Eric’s
forehead. She did not think before she decided to risk her life for me.
“I think we’ve made a mistake,” I told her softly.
“We’ve all started to put down the virtues of the other factions in the process
of bolstering our own. I don’t want to do that. I want to be brave, and
selfless, and smart, and kind, and honest.”
We
run, me pulling her forward as she stumbles behind me. But then I hear a
gunshot. She falls, a scream stopping in her throat, her cheek scraping the
pavement. “Run!” she yells at me.
I’m
not stupid. “No.”
We
are surrounded in seconds. I help Tris up, supporting her weight.
“Divergent
rebels,” Eric says, standing on one foot. His other foot has one of Tris’
bullets stuck in it. “Surrender your weapons.”
Handing
over our weapons would be useless.
We are Divergent. We can’t be controlled.
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