I laugh. Cara does not seem to be amused, but she nods. “Thank you.”
“Cara, you’ll need to get out of the city fast,” the Dauntless-turned-Erudite girl says. “Which means you should get someone to operate the trains.”
“Good point,” Cara says. “Does anyone here know how to drive a train?”
“Oh. I do,” the girl says. “Was that not implied?”
The pieces of the plan come together. Johanna suggests we take Amity trucks from the end of the railroad tracks out of the city, and she volunteers to supply them to us. Robert offers to help her. Stephanie and Rose volunteer to monitor Evelyn’s movements in the hours before the escape, and to report any unusual behavior to the Amity compound by two-way radio. The Dauntless who came with Tori offer to find weapons for us. The Erudite girl prods at any weaknesses she sees, and so does Cara, and soon they are all shored up, like we have just built a secure structure.
There is only one question left. Cara asks it:
“When should we go?”
And I volunteer an answer:
“Tomorrow night.”
CHAPTER NINE
TOBIAS
THE NIGHT AIR slips into my lungs, and I feel like it is one of my last breaths. Tomorrow I will leave this place and seek another.
Uriah, Zeke, and Christina start toward Erudite headquarters, and I hold Tris’s hand to keep her back.
“Wait,” I say. “Let’s go somewhere.”
“Go somewhere? But . . .”
“Just for a little while.” I tug her toward the corner of the building. At night I can almost see what the water looked like when it filled the empty canal, dark and patterned with moonlit ripples. “You’re with me, remember? They’re not going to arrest you.”
A twitch at the corner of her mouth—almost a smile.
Around the corner, she leans against the wall and I stand in front of her, the river at my back. She’s wearing something dark around her eyes to make their color stand out, bright and striking.
“I don’t know what to do.” She presses her hands to her face, curling her fingers into her hair. “About Caleb, I mean.”
“You don’t?”
She moves one hand aside to look at me.
“Tris.” I set my hands on the wall on either side of her face and lean into them. “You don’t want him to die. I know you don’t.”
“The thing is . . .” She closes her eyes. “I’m so . . . angry. I try not to think about him because when I do I just want to . . .”
“I know. God, I know.” My entire life I’ve daydreamed about killing Marcus. Once I even decided how I would do it—with a knife, so I could feel the warmth leave him, so I could be close enough to watch the light leave his eyes. Making that decision frightened me as much as his violence ever did.
“My parents would want me to save him, though.” Her eyes open and lift to the sky. “They would say it’s selfish to let someone die just because they wronged you. Forgive, forgive, forgive.”
“This isn’t about what they want, Tris.”
“Yes, it is!” She presses away from the wall. “It’s always about what they want. Because he belongs to them more than he belongs to me. And I want to make them proud of me. It’s all I want.”
Her pale eyes are steady on mine, determined. I have never had parents who set good examples, parents whose expectations were worth living up to, but she did. I can see them within her, the courage and the beauty they pressed into her like a handprint.
I touch her cheek, sliding my fingers into her hair. “I’ll get him out.”
“What?”