Truancy Origins Read online

  Rothenberg took a sip of coffee. If only his private life had worked out as well as his professional one. His wife just hadn’t understood that being a parent meant being a City official. The Mayor had said it himself: The role of a parent in the City was to enforce the will of the Educators upon each individual student. Rothenberg believed to the core of his being that this duty meant keeping them in line and making them constantly mindful of their place. His wife, on the other hand, had strongly objected to Rothenberg’s ideas about discipline.

  It was all that damn kid’s fault, Rothenberg thought as the car stopped at a light. When Rothenberg became an Enforcer, he began spending much more time at work, leaving his wife at home to spoil their son. Then came the daughter, and when no agreement could be reached about her upbringing his wife actually took the girl and left. Even worse, she’d left their worthless son behind.

  Rothenberg’s grip tightened on his coffee. He didn’t want to have anything to do with that kid. The boy had ruined everything—and Rothenberg had told him so, many times. But with his wife gone Rothenberg was free to experiment with his brand of discipline, and as far as he was concerned it had definitely made progress. The boy didn’t talk much anymore, didn’t get into trouble, and generally took care of himself, leaving Rothenberg free to do what he really loved—hunt the vagrants.

  Rothenberg grinned wolfishly. There was something incredibly satisfying about identifying, tracking, and finally dealing with a vagrant. Mere truants simply weren’t as fun; they were still students, so you couldn’t shoot them, and what fun was hunting down rebellious teenagers if you couldn’t administer the ultimate punishment when you caught them?

  Rothenberg took another sip of coffee. He had always thought that students were treated too softly, almost like equals. He was determined to remind them that they had no rights, and he would put them in their place by force if necessary.

  The patrol car screeched to a halt, and Rothenberg’s partner unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk of District 5. Rothenberg quickly followed suit, feeling his heart start to beat faster at the very thought of a chase. Rothenberg grinned again, fingering the handle of his gun and the hilt of his knife. It was time to put a miscreant in his place, six feet beneath the ground.

  U masi slept fitfully. With no blankets to cover him, the winter’s chill managed to reach him in his dreams, where he found himself standing in the midst of a strangely silent blizzard. His head throbbing, Umasi struggled against the snow, but found only an infinite expanse of white all around him. Freezing winds battered at him cruelly, ice melting at his touch and seeping into his garments. Never until now had Umasi, who had never lacked for warmth, realized just how much he hated the cold.

  Without warning, a particularly powerful gust of wind slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. Within seconds, as though it had been waiting for him to fall, the blizzard had covered him with a snowdrift. Umasi fought, but could not stop the white from washing over him, and he cringed, expecting to suffocate at any moment. A second passed. And then two.

  Umasi opened his eyes, finding himself warm and unharmed in an impossible landscape. Everything, absolutely everything was white, with not a shadow or a blemish to distinguish one patch of ground from another, nothing to indicate where a wall or ceiling might begin or end. This was no snow-covered landscape—just pure, infinite whiteness.

  As the panic and fear slowly left Umasi, some rational corner of his mind told him that it was all a dream. As if on cue, a dark figure emerged from the whiteness, marring its perfect plainness. Umasi glared at the boy who seemed to bear his face. The boy, dressed in an overlarge dark green winter jacket, smiled in greeting.

  “Well, I don’t think that either of us saw that coming,” he said conversationally.

  “Saw what?” Umasi demanded.

  “Oh, come on, haven’t you figured it out? Why you’re here?”

  “Because I’m dreaming.”

  “Right, and why are you dreaming?”

  “Because I’m asleep?”

  “And, Umasi, why are you asleep?”

  “What kind of stupid question is that?”

  “One that you can’t seem to answer,” the boy observed. “Why don’t you get up now and take a look? Or are you going to let your brother have everything his own way?”

  With that cryptic statement, the boy smiled again and pulled the hood of his jacket tightly over his head so that it cast his face into shadow. Before Umasi could respond, the boy waved an arm in farewell—the jacket’s sleeves were long enough to conceal his hands—and Umasi could feel himself gradually rising into consciousness.

  Stirring and forcing his eyes open, Umasi found his vision blurred and his head hurting terribly. Rubbing his eyes furiously, Umasi forced himself to sit up, feeling dazed but knowing that he was awake at last. Instinctively he groped around for his glasses, and as he put them on he realized that he was lying on the floor. Wondering what he was doing there, Umasi confusedly looked over at Zen’s bed to ask his brother about it.

  The sight of the empty bed brought it all back to him, like another blow to the head. Fully alert now and feeling a fresh surge of panic, Umasi forced himself to his feet. Zen was gone. Gone for real. This was no nightmare, and there would be no waking up. Zen had run away from home and was going to kill people, maybe a lot of people.

  Umasi expected to be paralyzed by indecision, but to his surprise he found that he knew exactly what he would do. He would not stay here, wasting away in school as disaster brewed outside. He would not stay here to be interrogated by his father. He would not stay here, helpless as he had always been.

  He would go after Zen.

  He would make his brother see reason if he could, and stop him if he must, but Umasi knew he couldn’t allow Zen to carry out his plans. Looking around his room, Umasi moved with unusual swiftness. He seized his backpack and turned it upside down, dumping all of his school materials out of it. He then approached the dresser to get his account card . . .

  Only to find it missing, along with Zen’s.

  Umasi stared at the dresser in disbelief. He knew that the cards had both been there the night before. Umasi knew it was impossible that they could’ve just disappeared, unless . . .

  Umasi’s face hardened. Zen. Umasi found it difficult to believe that his brother could have resorted to theft, but there was no other explanation.

  Swearing under his breath, Umasi opened a drawer in the dresser and seized a small bundle of cash bills. He stuffed them into his backpack along with a blanket before proceeding down to the kitchen. He threw a bunch of food haphazardly into the backpack as well, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, also included a long, sharp kitchen knife.

  He then quickly returned to his room, threw on some warm clothes, and slung his backpack over his shoulders. He was about to leave, but at the last minute a small tinge of regret stayed his hand as he reached for the doorknob. Father. The Mayor would lose not one, but both sons at the same time. Despite all that the man had done, Umasi felt that he owed him at least a final farewell.

  Frowning, Umasi spun around and approached his desk, taking out a fresh sheet of lined paper and a bold marker. Hastily, he scribbled a brief note and left it prominently placed on the desk, where it would quickly be found.

  Dear Father,

  I know everything. Zen knows everything. He has run away. I’m going after him. I won’t be back. Good-bye.

  Love,

  Umasi

  As Umasi opened the door, he spared one last look at his old life. And then he was gone.

  9

  APPLES AND ORANGES

  Red eyed the fruit stand as he walked amidst the crowd, his stomach grumbling in anticipation. His better judgment had argued against returning to strike District 5 so soon, but he was emboldened by his previous success, and his stomach had prevailed over that better judgment. There were many stands in the City that peddled fresh fruit, but as far as Red was con
cerned, the one in his sights was the greatest. The modest display of produce looked to Red like a feast from paradise, all of it within about twenty paces of his grasp.

  Red continued walking along with the flow of pedestrians towards the fruit stand. It would be a risky maneuver, he knew, as there wasn’t an immediate escape route available. Still, Red was fairly sure that he would be fast enough to make it to a border alley across the street, provided that enough pedestrians remained indifferent; after all, running away was still his area of expertise. Once he made it to the alleys, Red knew he would be safe. No one but an Enforcer would dare chase a vagrant into an abandoned district.

  His mind made up, Red readied himself as every step brought him closer to the stand. Red saw a woman stop to buy some cherries from the proprietor—a perfect distraction. Drawing up to the stand at last, Red swiftly grabbed a plastic bag from the stand’s supply and piled into it a heap of apples and oranges, the two closest fruits, before either the woman or the proprietor could notice that he was a vagrant.

  And just like that, Red was off like a rat, the plastic bag full of fruit slung heavily over his shoulder as he ran. A moment later Red grinned as he heard the expected cry of outrage from the proprietor.

  “Stop that kid! He’s a thief!”

  Red’s grin quickly faded, however, as he was not expecting to hear what came next.

  “Out of the way! Give us a clear shot!”

  Red spared a backwards glance and felt his blood run colder than the winter air. There were two men in blue uniforms, holding pistols and running towards him at top speed. Enforcers. Red thought he had been running as fast as he could, but his legs instantly doubled their effort at the sight.

  Then a gunshot went off, and he could hear screams.

  “No, you idiot, not with civilians around! Chase him into District 8!” a deep voice shouted. “If you’d hit anyone the Educators would’ve served you up in the school cafeterias!”

  “Sorry, Rothenberg, sir!”

  Red found that he could yet run a little faster upon hearing the name Rothenberg. Up until that moment, he had never known exactly how much he and all vagrants had come to fear that name, but now that he was actually being pursued by the man himself, Red found a sick feeling of dread building up in his already-suffering gut.

  “Watch where I’m going? How about you watch who you’re talking to!”

  “Get out of his way, urgent Enforcer business!”

  In spite of everything, Red managed a grin. Apparently the Enforcers had bowled over some angry pedestrians in their haste to get at him.

  And then he reached the open mouth of the alley, the walls spread to either side like welcoming arms. Red darted in without a moment’s hesitation. From the sounds of angry cursing and argument behind him, Red knew that he’d probably have plenty of time to make good his escape. He smiled to himself as he proceeded down the alley, slowing down to an almost leisurely pace.

  And then he froze, stunned by what he saw before him.

  Standing there, motionless save for slight shivering, was a very pale, hauntingly thin girl with filthy black hair that messily fell down to her shoulders. She seemed so incredibly small that at first Red thought the girl must be about ten years old, but he quickly decided that she was more like thirteen, albeit extremely thin and hunched over, making her seem unnaturally tiny. All of these things were odd by themselves, but none of it was what had frozen Red in his tracks.

  It was the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the alley, the eyes were an icily light blue, as if they possessed a pale luminance in and of themselves. They were wide open, unblinking, as if permanently fixated upon some invisible horror that only they could see. With one brief glance into those icy orbs, Red could see unspeakable pain, shock, and fright in those eyes, enough to send shivers down his spine. Whatever this girl’s story was, Red pitied her instantly.

  Shaking himself out of his stupor, Red reached into the plastic bag and drew out an apple, which he thrust into the girl’s hands as if to buy off that icy stare of hers. The girl didn’t move, and gave no indication that she had noticed Red or his apple at all.

  And then loud, angry voices and heavy footsteps approached the alley, and Red’s survival instinct kicked in. He quickly glanced farther down the alley. The path seemed to branch off into two different directions, which would force the Enforcers to split up, unless . . . Red scanned the sides of the alley and spotted a fire escape that led up to the roofs of one of the buildings. Perfect.

  “You should run,” Red advised, turning to look back at the girl. “Enforcers are coming, you can’t stay here.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him, and much to Red’s concern simply remained staring straight ahead with those haunting blue eyes.

  “You might get killed if you stay here!” Red warned urgently, shaking the girl with one arm. “You have to run!”

  The angry noises drew closer now, almost to the mouth of the alley, and Red groaned as he released the girl. Left with no other choice, he dashed over to the fire escape. Climbing as nimbly as he could—and he wasn’t bad at climbing—he just managed to slip up onto the roof as the two Enforcers plunged into the alley below. His heart beating wildly, Red peered cautiously over the edge of the building, his curiosity refusing to let him leave until he found out what would happen to the strange girl.

  Red held his breath as the Enforcers slowed to a halt down below.

  Well, what have we here?” Rothenberg said, rubbing his hands together at the sight of the helpless vagrant.

  “Looks to me like an accomplice to that thief,” his partner said, seizing the girl’s arm and squeezing so tightly that she dropped the apple instantly. “Will you handle the questioning, sir?”

  Rothenberg didn’t answer at first. Instead, he slowly bent down to retrieve the apple, contemplating it for a moment. Then he suddenly snapped upright, shoving the apple into the girl’s face. The girl flinched, but didn’t make a sound as Rothenberg leaned over to look her in the eyes, their faces separated by no more than an inch.

  “There was a boy here,” Rothenberg said with deceptive calm. “He stole this apple. Where did he go? Which path did he take?”

  Still watching from up above, Red tensed, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice should the girl give him away. But mystifyingly, seconds passed without the girl saying anything. She merely continued to stand silent and motionless. Red wondered at this behavior. Was she trying to repay him for the apple by keeping quiet?

  No, Red decided a moment later, after examining the girl’s features. She was just scared. Too terrified to speak. He could tell by the way her icy eyes widened, how she stood stiff like a board, petrified.

  “Answer me!” Rothenberg boomed, his furious words echoing throughout the alley.

  Red could see the girl cringe, her eyes widening even further at the Enforcer’s outburst. Another tense moment passed, and still the girl said nothing. This time Rothenberg smashed the apple into the side of the girl’s head, causing flecks of apple to fly everywhere.

  Red gritted his teeth in anger, and for one reckless moment entertained the idea of announcing his presence to the Enforcers below. But no, there was nothing to be gained from that. If half the stories about Rothenberg were true, he’d just kill the girl first and then come after him.

  “If you do not answer me, I will hit you again, harder,” Rothenberg said bluntly.

  Red clenched his fists, furious at the injustice occurring below him. Rothenberg surely knew that his efforts were only terrifying the girl further, making her only less likely to talk. But Red knew enough about Rothenberg to understand that that was probably what the Chief Truancy Officer was really after.

  As if to punctuate this thinking, Rothenberg at that moment chose to make good on his promise, and slammed the hard apple onto the girl’s head again, harder, eliciting a whimper but no answers.

  Red felt a sudden surge of guilt. If he hadn’t given the girl that apple, perhaps none of this would be ha
ppening. A moment later, he scolded himself for thinking that. He knew what was going on. Having failed to capture him, Rothenberg was instead taking his frustration out upon the first helpless child he could lay his hands on.

  The girl had begun to tremble visibly, dazed by the blows. Rothenberg slowly shook his hand to free it of mashed apple. For his part, he thought he was doing good. If there was one thing that Rothenberg couldn’t stand, it was a disrespectful child, and wasn’t fear the ultimate sign of respect?

  Rothenberg now spoke again, this time his voice so deadly that Red hugged his arms to his chest as chills spread across his body.

  “Hold her still,” Rothenberg ordered his partner, who obediently seized the girl firmly by both shoulders. “We’ll get some answers out of her, one way or another.”

  Rothenberg reached for his belt and drew something shiny out of a small sheath. As it caught the dim light of the alley, Red suddenly realized what it was.

  “You bastard,” Red breathed.

  It was a knife. At the sight of it, the girl’s blue eyes widened even farther, and for the first time a tear ran down her cheek. By now, however, she was so overcome by fright that she couldn’t do so much as whimper, much less talk—not even to save her own life.

  “See this?” Rothenberg said, bringing the knife up to the girl’s face. “This represents your last chance to cooperate.”

  Red shook with silent rage. The sight below was horrifying even to eyes as experienced as his—and yet he couldn’t look away. The worst part for him was that he could be nothing more than a spectator; there was nothing he could do now that wouldn’t result in both him and the girl dying. And as a vagrant, one’s own survival had to be the first priority. Had to be.

  But none of that made it any easier for Red to watch what unfolded below.

  In one quick motion, Rothenberg made a cut across the girl’s left cheek. It was shallow, but the wound stretched across her entire lower face, ending at the bottom of her chin. Red knew from a glance that the ugly gash would disfigure her for life at the least. Her tears, now pouring freely, mingled with her blood. Red silently cursed himself, wishing that he were good at more than just running away, certain now that he’d be watching the innocent girl die right before his very eyes.