stand at the abyss, you fall to your knees (a Divergent fanfiction)

Chapter 16: to sleep upon the world

“What are the numbers on their uniforms for?”

“They’re squadron numbers. Each squadron is ten Dauntless, nine grunts and a commander, and each patrol has ten squadrons. Each patrol has a Captain, and each of the commanders rotates through the position randomly so no one can get too comfortable with the position.”

“That’s one hundred Dauntless,” I say. “And they just mill around?”

“Each squadron is assigned a route, usually between eight and fifteen city blocks, depending on how dense the population of factionless is in the area.”

“It seems pointless,” I mutter into the lip of my milk bottle.

“It’s a show,” he says again. “Dauntless patrols keep the peace, Erudite shuts the hell up, and Amity feels like there might be a real reason that we should exist. It isn’t a prefect system, but it works.”

“You designed it, didn’t you,” I say, but it isn’t a question; the efficiency of the entire structure has my brother’s name painted all over it.

“Yeah.”

***

There are eight new patrolees when we gather at the south end of the compound, eight of us without the additional numbers. We crowd together, forming our own group as it seems that we’ve been excluded from everyone else’s. I’m surprised to find Connor amongst the unfamiliar faces. He smiles at me and I nod back, but my attention is quickly stolen by a man climbing a stack of crates and whistling for our attention. He’s tall, maybe even taller than Eric, and dark skinned. His eyes are a sharp blue that seem to catch everything as they scan the crowd. He’s wearing the same uniform as everyone else, but his sleeves have been rolled back like we aren’t on the verge of winter, and he has a gold star tacked to his collar.

“My name is Henley, and I am the Patrol Captain for the month. We have eight new patrolmen, and seven slots to fill, which means someone gets to go back to their old job. Do I have any volunteers?”

No one in the crowd raises their hand or speaks up. A look of satisfaction passes over Henley’s face, and I start to think that this may just be an assignment one gets shunned for wimping out of. The Captain pulls a sheet of paper out of his pocket and holds it up for the rest of us to see.

“Since no one is going to abandon their squadron, I guess we’ll have to improvise. I’ve got assignments right here, and if I hear anybody moaning and groaning that they don’t like their new squadmate, I’ll hang you from the rafters myself. Understood?”

A general noise of agreement rises up from everyone else.

“Good,” he says. “Getting on with it. Pierce, Justin: Squadron 289.”

Several hands reach out of the crown and pull an unsuspecting young man back into the crowd, jostling him and patting him on the back as someone forces his jacket from his shoulders. Henley and the rest of the crowd laughs, but it’s easy to tell that no one means any harm.