Agents of the Forgotten Faction

|Chapter 9|

I crawl across , my mattress and heave a sigh. It has been two days since my fight with Peter, and my bruises are turning purple-blue. My body is adjusting back to the tight regime here at Dauntless even though it is more laid back than at the Academy when we had ridiculous amounts of physical strain placed upon our bodies.

Zeke sneaks me a couple of vials of that healing serum. It's not really a miracle worker but it puts the body at easy for a faster healing time. Today he also snuck me some kind of a pin. Apparently it has a small camera in it because of some event that is happening tonight, the camera would be able to take pictures of the landscape to see how the factions will move if a war does break out. Good for Even though I am still injured, I had to fight again today. Luckily this time, I was paired against Myra, who couldn't throw a good punch if someone was controlling her arm for her. I got a good hit in during the first two minutes. She fell down and was too dizzy to get back up. A girl like Myra would wash out of the Operations Academy within a few days.

The second I touch my head to the pillow, the door to the dormitory opens, and people stream into the room with flashlights. I sit up, almost hitting my head on the bed frame above me, and squint through the dark to see what's going on.

"Everybody up!" someone roars.

A flashlight shines behind his head, making the rings in his ears glint. Eric. Surrounding him are other Dauntless, some of whom I have seen in the Pit, some of whom I have never seen before. Four stands among them. His eyes shift to mine and stay there. I stare back and forget that all around me the transfers are getting out of bed.

"Did you go deaf, Stiff?" demands Eric.

I snap out of my daze and slide out from beneath the blankets. I am glad I sleep fully clothed, because Christina stands next to our bunk wearing only a T-shirt, her long legs bare. She folds her arms and stares at Eric.

"You have five minutes to get dressed and meet us by the tracks," says Eric, "We're going on another field trip."

I shove my feet into shoes and sprint, wincing, behind Christina on the way to the train. A drop of sweat rolls down the back of my neck as we run up the paths along the walls of the Pit, pushing past members on our way up. They don't seem surprised to see us.

I wonder how many frantic, running people they see on a weekly basis. We make it to the tracks just behind the Dauntless-born initiates. Next to the tracks is a black pile. I make out a cluster of long gun barrels and trigger guards.

"Are we going to shoot something?" Christina hisses in my ear.

Next to the pile are boxes of what looks like ammunition. I inch closer to read one of the boxes. Written on it is "PAINTBALLS." I've never heard of them before, but the name is self-explanatory. I laugh at how cute this is. Paintballs were fun. When we did games that involved guns back home it usually involved some kind of landscape and something called a Neurostim dart. They simulate the pain of a real bullet. It was smart because the first time that I got shot with on of those bad boys I was turned off bullets for awhile.

"Everyone grab a gun!" shouts Eric. We rush toward the pile. I am the closets to it, so I snatch the first gun I can find, which is heavy, but not too heavy for me to lift, and grab a box of paintballs. I shove the box in my pocket and sling the gun across my back so the strap crosses my chest.

"Time estimate?" Eric asks Four. Four checks his watch, "Any minute now. How long is it going to take you to memorize the train schedule?"

"Why should I, when I have you to remind me of it?" says Eric, shoving Four's shoulder.

A circle of light appears on my left, far away. It grows larger as it comes closer, shining against the side of Four's face, creating a shadow in the faint hollow beneath his cheekbone. He is the first to get on the train, and I run after him, not waiting for Christinaor Will or All to follow me. Four turns around as I fall into stride next to the car and holds out a hand. I grab his arm, and he pulls me in. Even the muscles in his forearm are taut, defined. I let go quickly, without looking at him, and sit down on the other side of the car. Once everyone is in, Four speaks up.