Page 84 of The Sixth Fraction

Tris

I go over the route, the map unfolding in my mind. Run down Grand Avenue. Catch the train going east. Ride two stops to the Merchandise Mart. And then . . .

I curse myself for not memorizing the faction headquarters maps yet. I’ve never been in Candor headquarters. I have no idea where I’m supposed to go once I’m in.

Four overtakes me. He makes it look effortless, his strides long and his breaths easy, all his obvious discomfort when we were high above the ground now gone. He leads the way to the platform on Grand, taking the steps two at a time.

Once I’m at the top of the steps, I pace. There’s nothing I can do now but hope a train comes soon. I lace my fingers behind my head and try to calm down.

When I saw the smoke, all I could think was that it was too coincidental. The hearing. Mae at Candor headquarters. Me telling Evelyn, alleged leader of the most radical factionless in the city, where she would be. And this fire, the ultimate distraction.

“Why are you so sure the fire was Evelyn?” Four asks me.

I stop pacing and look along the tracks for a train. I can’t see one yet.

“That raid I told you about, it involved a child taken from her brother’s care,” I say. “The hearing is tonight. At Candor headquarters. And I’m the one who told—”

I pause, remembering how he called me her lackey. I wish he was wrong.

“You told her,” he says, sounding sour again. “And now the building is on fire.” His lip curls. “Tell me again how you’re not her errand girl?”

It’s as if all the tentative warmth of the past hour blew away with the wind. The boy who insisted on helping me climb despite his obvious terror, the boy who told me I looked Dauntless, is gone. In his place is this boy with the hard stare, embittered by grief.

I can’t help it; I erupt. “For the last time, I am not her goddamn errand girl!” The curse seems to surprise him as much as it surprises me; I can’t remember the last time I said one. “I was trying to help a little girl. If she has to go back to her mother, it’s—” I hesitate. It’s not my place to share Mae’s story, or the Mender’s. “It won’t be good for her. That’s all.”

He gives me a strange look. But neither of us has the time to respond, because the train is approaching the platform. Almost as one, we both start running alongside it. He’s faster than I am, so I expect him to board before me, but instead I feel the press of his hand against my back, warm and urging me to move. I grab the handle and pull myself in. He gets on right behind me, the movement smooth and confident, though his eyes are still wary.

On this route we have to go the wrong direction before we can go the right one, and watching the smoke engulfing the Merchandise Mart get farther and farther away is agonizing before the train turns and switches tracks. I bounce on my toes as we thunder back across the river; closer to the flames, to Christina, and to my father.

The train slows as it approaches the Merchandise Mart stop, which is connected to Candor headquarters itself, though the Candor don’t ride the train.

I can hear the fire alarm before my feet even hit the wood, screeching inside the building in a rhythm that’s counter to my heartbeat.

I jump off first, at the end of the platform, and almost stumble into Four when he lands right in front of me.

He shouts over the alarm: “Come on. I had to testify at a hearing once; I know where to go.”

This platform leads right into the Merchandise Mart, though it’s now only used for deliveries. We run down a narrow channel hemmed in by wooden crates of all sizes, some empty and waiting to be repurposed, some full and waiting to be unloaded.

We turn a corner into chaos.

The alarm is twice as loud here as it was on the platform, and accompanying it are bright, pulsing red lights. There’s a river of people rushing toward the exits, so dense it feels impossible to cross. Four’s hand stretches behind him, and without thinking I grab it. He tugs me closer to him, and then charges into the crowd.

I’m too short to see where we’re going. All I can see are arms and chests and shoulders, and above them, the marble-covered pillars of the Merchandise Mart lobby. It’s an airy, grand space, a place where important things happen, but that solemnity has now devolved into shouting and running. And Four is pushing against the flow of the crowd, using his body as a shield against stray elbows and shoving hands.

Somehow we make it to the emergency stairwell, which isn’t as crowded as the lobby was. I’m breathless and frantic.

He releases my hand, looks me in the eye, and says, “Ready to climb?”

I nod, even though I’m not ready at all. I feel like I’ve been in constant motion since dinner, and Colin and Rory were right—it takes longer than a couple weeks to build endurance. But the thought of Christina or Mae or my father trapped in the flames is enough to drive me forward.

It’s not that I think my father is helpless—it’s that I think he won’t help himself if he has the opportunity to help someone else. The best and worst thing about my father is that he’s a devoted member of Abnegation.

And I can still feel his kiss on my forehead. His shoulder bumping mine as he confessed that I got my impulsivity from him.

I’m on the second-floor landing when I realize I’m holding Four’s hand again. I should let go of it—the stairs are still crowded, but there’s plenty of space for us to climb without losing track of each other—but right now I feel like it’s keeping me steady. So I don’t let go.

By the fourth floor, the crowd has thinned, my legs are burning with exertion, and I can smell smoke.