Divergent?

Chapter Fifteen (Tobias)

The factionless sector looks abandoned. Little huts where live, that are more like shacks than houses, are dotted around a space of cracked concrete. The concrete has layer of dust on it that suggests no one's disturbed it for years. Tufts of grass grow up from the cracks, yellowed and wilted by the sun. On the far left on the area, train tracks cut across the barren landscape, with thick, green luscious grass growing on the other side. The tracks then bend around the back of the sector, and on the right and back the backs of Abnegation houses mark the start of the factionless area. The factionless sector is cut off from the rest of the city.

As we walk past the last side-streets of the Abnegation sector, I can sense the fear and worry amongst most of the initiates. The factionless are outcasts, no one wants to turn out like them, they're to be feared. They just simply don't belong. That's what we were always taught, but I disagree. They're humans, just like us, and haven't actually done anything wrong. They just don't fit in with a certain system. In fact, they override that system- which is why they are seen as a threat to the city. The factionless don't belong, but is that really a bad thing?

A sea of barren land littered with their little houses stretches out before us. They look deserted, but I know they're in them. The factionless have a gift for disappearing when they want to. As we walk silently towards the first of the houses, food; blankets; medicine in hand, faces start to pop out of them. They must be used to visits, as more and more faces appear, then walk with surprising assurance towards us. We can see them clearly now, and the revulsion on some of the initiates' faces shows. Their eyes are hollows sunk back into their faces and framed by dark rings, and their mouths are turned down in frowns. Dirt covers them head to toe, and a distasteful smell rolls towards me. They look bedraggled and decrepit, but there's an energy around the camp that feels completely alive- the opposite of how they look. Zombies, an army of them, slowly advancing, but with their minds still intact, still sharp, still able to think for themself... I nudge Uriel sofly in the side, and he turns around to face the group of initiates

'Right, so remember the groups we allocated you on the bus? Get into them now, and off you go. There's no need to be afraid!' He adds the final sentence after a survey of the faces looking up at him. There's no movement at first, but then they all begin to buzz around finding their groups, all  previous caution forgotten for the moment. I notice Beatrice shuffling towards a boy and girl, who I think are called Yves and Faith.

'And off we go', Uriel mutters in my ear.

The smell gets worse and worse as Uriel and I move towards the centre of the sector. Waste, disease and the smell of unwashed humans mixes to create an appaling stench. Next time we visit, we need to remember to bring some soap or something.

Then, we step into one of the huts and find a little girl hunched up in the corner of the foor, her skinny arms wrapped around her legs. She looks just like the rest of the factionless, only much more malnourished. The sight of this girl startles me, and I know it surprises Uriel as well as he lets a little yelp escape his lips. The factionless aren't supposed to have children, and if they already do before they become factionless, the government usually takes the child and lets another familly look after them. However, this particular child must have been hidden from the government. The thought makes me happy- how can you take a child away from their mother? But it happened to me anyway. My mother's dead, taken away by death. And I do not think I would have been sad taken away from Marcus. I'm fine without him. I don't need him, unlike this girl before me.

'What's your name?', I ask her in the softest voice I can manage. She stares up at me with empty eyes, tugging on her ripped and faded yellow dress before whispering:

'Margo'.

'Well hello, Margo. We've come to help you today. We've brought you nice new clothes and some food, even medicine if you're sick.' Uriel says to Margo in a soothing voice. 'Where's your mother, Margo?' He continues, and Margo points one of her spindly fingers outside the hut.

'But I'm n-not si-s-ick', Margo whispers, the fear in her voice showing. 'And I don't w-want new clothes. I want to keep thi-this', she says, fingering her dress.

'But that's all dirty! Don't you want a nice new, bright yellow dress?', I say trying to coax Margo out of the thing. But she just shakes her head stubbornly and backs away further into the corner.

'Oh, well.' Uriel sighs as we leave the hut, leaving Margo alone in the corner sucking her thumb.