Insurgent: Traitor

Chapter 16

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Tobias' POV

"No! Absolutely not!" I am far past fed up with Peter at this point... I am beginning to wish I had shot him during initiation.

"It's the only chance we have. You just don't want to admit my plan is good," he scoffs.

I consider this. He's not wrong, but that doesn't make him right. It may be one of our only chances, but that doesn't make it our last. And I only partially don't like the plan because it is his.

"Fine," I mutter, rubbing the spot where my forehead and the bridge of my nose meets. "What's this plan again?"

"Okay," Peter starts, obviously glad to have my attention and unwilling approval. "There are Dauntless spies in several groups of the Erudite traitors. The guy who brings us our breakfast? His name is Curt Kamen. He's one of them. If we can give him a message to take back to Dauntless Headquarters then we've got it made!"

"I got that part numb-nuts," I state irritably. "Tell me about how you plan to get the message to him."

"Well, you could pretend you've gone completely insane in here.."

I try to interrupt him and his madness but he shushes me and insists I wait until the end.

"And when he comes in tomorrow morning, you'll stumble over to him and lean on him or something and slip a piece of cloth with our message into his hand and then he'll be on his merry way. Now, you can ask your questions."

"One: Why do I have to act like a fool?

Two: How do you know so much about the Dauntless spies?

Three: About how many are there?

Four: How are we going to write on the cloth?"

"Are you done?" He questions.

"I'm done.."

He sighs and then takes in a dramatic breath.

"Because I think it's funny. Long story. Too many to count, and that's only in the army. There are more Erudite spies in the lab, though I don't know who they are. And with blood." He drags out the "and".

"Long story?" I question, my curiosity and interest spiking. "I have time".

Peter scoffs at the irony. "Yes but I don't have patience".

"Fair enough. But how--and why--the blood?"

"Oh I don't know," he mocks sarcastically. "Do you have any magic markers on you?"

"Point taken".

"Good, I didn't want it anyway," he jokes.

"And how do you plan to draw enough blood too write with but not enough to be obvious?" I inquire.

He thinks on this for some time. "You know how to draw blood with the most accuracy. So I think I'll leave that job to you." He shrugs like he couldn't possibly care about this crucial part of the plan. And perhaps he doesn't, who could tell.

"So... when do we initiate this Grand Plan of yours?" It is fun to tease Peter, even though he doesn't look angry, there is this vain on his neck that darkens when he's upset. It's my only source of entertainment in this prison cell.

"As soon as we figure out Stiff's schedule," he replies coolly.

Tris.

I haven't forgotten about her. I think about her all the time, but the mention of her strikes a nerve. I absentmindedly knock my head against the wall I am sitting against. I think it's safe to say I don't know my own strength, because I instantly regret my actions due to the pounding in my skull that continues long after impact. I rub the back of my head and stare at the floor between my legs. I can feel Peter's eyes on me. Even though I can't actually see him looking at me his gaze burns like acid.

We sit in unbearable silence for far too long. Peter on one side of the room, I on the other. Neither of us are moving, we're hardly breathing.

Actually... I'm not sure is he is breathing at all.

I sigh and look up. I was right, because Peter's lack of oxygen is evident on his face.

"Breathe Peter," I remind him. "What's wrong with you?"

"I just really hope this works.."

"Me too."

Me too.