Aftershock (Divergent)

I

Four hurt all over. His head throbbed, his muscles burned, and the bullet wound in his calf hurt like hell, to say the least. With each hop-step he took, it felt like someone was repeatedly driving a knife into his leg and pulling it out, over and over.

He couldn't decide what hurt more—his leg, or the fact that Tris was the one who had shot him. And he could hardly acknowledge the third reason—that the only reason he wasn't dead was because he had done the cowardly thing and turned his gun on Tris.

But he wouldn't let the bitterness, the shame, the pain, consume him. Not quite yet. He had the hard drive in his pocket, that little piece of metal and circuitry that Tris had died trying to destroy. He felt like it was burning a hole through his pocket.

Four didn't know how he was able to power on through the dark halls of Dauntless, with a bullet in his leg and a sacrifice in his back pocket, but he kept going regardless.

Perhaps it was the thought of her that kept him from stopping, the image of the life leaving her burning behind his eyes. Maybe it was the thought of revenge that gave fuel to his stride. He wanted revenge. There was no doubt about it. He wanted Jeanine Matthews to suffer like he had—like Tris had. She had given him that damned control serum and make him kill Tris!

It hurt too much; Four stopped running and leaned up against the wall. Should he run? Should he hide? He had to destroy the hard drive, there was no doubt about it. Places and ideas flashed through his mind. Where were there no security cameras? Where wouldn't he be seen and tracked down? He knew this. He knew! Why couldn't he think properly?

To hell with the cameras, he decided. If the Erudite caught him he was as good as dead with or without the hard drive. Their serums didn't work on him.

He walked a little further, just around a corner.

He held the computer drive in his hand and stood at the chasm's edge. Drop it, Four, he told himself. Drop it and let it be over.

Drop it, whispered a voice in his mind, and you'll destroy the only proof of her existence. The only pictures, the only record of what she gave her life for. Could he do that?

A quiet sound echoed through the pit, and Four's head snapped to the side. Who was coming?

It didn't matter. He had to destroy the program or the Erudite could get a hold of it again. Jeanine or Eric would find it no matter where he hid it. He wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't.

But it was too late. A small number of Dauntless poured into the room, guns all trained on him. He froze and a figure stepped out from the masses.

"Hand over the program, Four," the man said.

"Make me, Eric," Four spat. Eric smirked.

"Hand it over or they shoot."

"What a shame you can't do it yourself," Four drawled. "A bit of a sore foot there? I'm surprised you're even walking."

Eric grimaced and then glared at him, readjusting himself on the makeshift crutch he was carrying himself on. A bullet to the foot would do that to a person.

"You know, Eric?" Four said, turning the hard drive over in his hands. "Something just doesn't make sense to me right now." Eric raised his pierced eyebrows as if to say, go on. "You could have shot me the moment you got in here and walked right back out with the hard drive. But I'm not dead yet, which means that you don't have the program. So tell me, Eric, what is going on here?"

Eric snorted. "You know, I'd almost love to tell you, just to see the horror in your eyes, but I'm not sure your little Stiff brain would be able to understand."