Truancy Origins Read online

  And then, without warning, the impossible happened.

  It was strange, Umasi thought, how one could be walking along the crowded streets of a bustling City, surrounded by people on all sides, and still manage to feel completely alone. He had only very rarely explored the streets outside of District 1, and though he could navigate his way through the City well enough by its street signs, he felt as though he were in a completely alien world as soon as he had passed out of his familiar neighborhood.

  Umasi had been in a hurry to leave District 1 in order to avoid being recognized by anyone he knew, but as he meandered aimlessly through District 2, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings quickly brought home to him the seriousness of his situation.

  He was all alone now. There was no turning back, and there would be no one to help him anymore. Somehow, the full weight of that realization failed to impress itself upon Umasi. It was an awful lot to take in all at once. After all, in just one day, his entire world had been shattered at its very foundations. The previous day he had been a normal student buckling under the weight of his responsibilities. A normal student, burning with anxiety as his brother planned mass murder, while contemplating how his own father had been using him as an experimental guinea pig.

  Well okay, so maybe some things were better now.

  But on the other hand, he was a vagrant. Umasi shuddered at the term. Neither student nor Truant, he’d done the unthinkable—fled from his comfortable home without knowing where to go. What was he going to eat? Where was he going to sleep? How was he going to find his brother? What was he going to do if he did?

  Umasi paused at an unfamiliar street corner, realizing that he hadn’t thought things through before running out the door. Zen must’ve faced the same questions himself, Umasi knew, but his brother had had weeks to answer them all and more. Umasi adjusted his glasses absentmindedly as his brows furrowed with thought. Where would Zen have gone? Umasi knew that Zen didn’t trust anyone enough to stay at someone’s house, and he surely wouldn’t have risked sleeping in a hotel. He couldn’t even sleep on the streets without risking being seen, unless . . .

  The abandoned districts.

  Umasi frowned at his conclusion. Every child in the City was taught never to go near the abandoned districts, overrun as they were by thugs and vagrants who would kill you for the clothes off your back. But if Zen was prepared to go there, Umasi was prepared to follow.

  But this presented a new problem for Umasi: Which abandoned district would Zen go to? It was a baffling question. Umasi knew that there were dozens of abandoned districts throughout the City, but he didn’t even know which ones they were. He couldn’t exactly go back home to research the subject, nor would he be safe visiting a public library to find out . . . and it definitely wasn’t the type of question to just ask any random stranger off the street.

  Umasi sighed. He really hadn’t thought this through very well.

  Racking his brain for any recollection of the number of any abandoned district, Umasi suddenly remembered a current events homework that he had done the previous school year. The assignment had been about the City’s docks, and Umasi had written about District 13, a waterfront district replete with run-down piers. The district had recently been declared abandoned, and while District 13 wasn’t exactly nearby, it wasn’t impossibly far from District 1 either.

  His mind made up and a destination finally decided, Umasi straightened up, adjusted his glasses, and began the long trek towards the abandoned District 13.

  It was as good a place to start as any.

  10

  SCARRED FOR Life

  Zen examined the alley with interest as he walked along it. City alleys tended to be dark, dirty, and smelly, and yet Zen knew they would prove to be one of his most valuable resources. The countless, narrow passageways in the back alleys of the City connected many districts, and entire armies could easily travel through or hide in them. Such alleys had never completely been charted on any map. Zen imagined that the vagrants of the City would have a better understanding of them than anyone else.

  The vagrants. Zen had given them a lot of thought lately. They were a sizeable population with little reason to love the Educators or the Enforcers. They knew the abandoned districts better than anyone else, and anyone tough enough to survive under their conditions would probably be formidable fighters. The only problem was their trustworthiness, or perhaps their lack of it. He knew that he could recruit large numbers of vagrants just with the promise of food, but how many of them would be left after eating their fill and running off with whatever they could carry?

  And so Zen had decided that, while he would definitely need to incorporate groups of vagrants later, he would need to start with more reliable dissidents who could form the core of the Truancy. He had already contacted a number of students on his list of potential recruits, and had over a dozen that were ready to join him at a moment’s notice, with many more giving his offer some serious consideration.

  In the meantime, however, Zen would continue to devote his time to making sure that his army, when it arrived, would have suitable lodgings, equipment, and knowledge of their new environment.

  Suddenly, as Zen continued walking down the narrow alley, he heard a voice talking in the distance. An adult voice. Zen tensed and began proceeding very cautiously, the words becoming clearer with every step.

  “There was a boy here. He stole this apple. Where did he go? Which path did he take?”

  So, there was a thief on the loose around here, probably a vagrant. Whoever it was that was doing the talking had taken the time to pursue that thief, to the edge of an abandoned district, no less. Zen frowned. It had to be an Enforcer, and he knew that those typically patrolled in pairs. There would be at least two up ahead.

  “Answer me!”

  Zen grimaced at the noisy utterance. It was so loud that even its echo was deafening.

  A moment later, Zen heard a strange sound that seemed to be a combination of a crunch and a squish. Whatever had produced that noise could not have been pleasant.

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

  Zen smiled grimly. So the noble Enforcer was using some persuasive questioning. Judging by the sound, the Enforcer had probably smacked whoever he was interrogating with the apple that had been mentioned.

  Zen was getting pretty close now, and the sound of the second impact was sickeningly clear when it came.

  “Hold her still. We’ll get some answers out of her, one way or another.”

  His curiosity fully roused, Zen quietly slipped his backpack off and drew a knife from his jacket pocket. He wanted to see what was going on for himself.

  “See this? This represents your last chance to cooperate.”

  The voice was now perfectly clear, unobstructed . . . and as Zen rounded a bend, he saw them. The alley he lurked in seemed to merge with a wider one that bent off at an angle, forming a fork in the path. Right in his line of sight stood two uniformed Enforcers and a small, pitiful vagrant girl. One of them was holding the girl in place by her shoulders while the other held a knife up to her face. Neither of the Enforcers had seen him, focused as they were on their helpless victim.

  The Enforcer with the knife immediately caught Zen’s attention. He was a large, middle-aged man who had clearly shaved his hair some time ago. Since that last haircut, the man’s large, bulbous head had managed to sprout mostly red bristles, though some looked to be turning gray. The man’s eyebrows and small but thick mustache were also a dark red, precisely the color of fresh blood. He seemed to have a bit of a paunch, but was otherwise fit, and his impressive frame made him look quite formidable—much more so than his partner, who seemed to define the word “average.” What’s more, the way the redheaded Enforcer spoke and carried himself indicated to Zen that he was the leader of the pair.

  Zen’s eyes glinted in the shadows at the prospect of what he was about to do. He might even enjoy bringing the Enforcer down.

 
Then, right as Zen prepared to act, the Enforcer flicked his hand. Zen raised his eyebrows. The Enforcer was so tall compared with the whimpering girl that he had to bend down to bring his knife to the level of her face.

  Zen swiftly decided to change tactics and gripped his knife loosely, getting a feel for its weight in his hand. Both the Enforcers were armed, though neither had their hands anywhere near their guns. They were both so confident, so secure in knowing that they were at the top of the food chain on the City’s streets, that they had allowed themselves to get completely careless.

  I hope you’ve had your fun, Zen thought, fingering the handle of his own knife. Because I’m about to have mine.

  Zen looked up again. The girl was both bleeding and silently crying now. For a moment Zen felt a tiny hint of sympathy flicker in his embittered heart, but it was swiftly replaced by anger.

  Zen stood up from his hiding place in the shadows, bent his arm back, and hurled his knife through the air like a dart. Zen didn’t even need to make sure that the knife hit the Enforcer holding the girl; he knew that it would. Instead, Zen lunged straight for the larger man as his partner let out a cry of shock, and then another of pain as the knife buried itself in his back, bringing him to the ground.

  Rothenberg had only just begun to redirect his attention, an astonished look on his face as he glimpsed Zen darting towards him like a living shadow. Zen used his momentum to launch himself into a jump kick that caught Rothenberg right in his paunch. The forceful blow knocked the air from Rothenberg’s lungs, and the brutal Enforcer was flung hard against the brick wall, his own knife falling from his large hands. Still in motion, Zen reached out with one arm and seized the knife by its handle before it hit the ground.

  At that range, Zen didn’t even need to look to send the second knife flying right into the smaller Enforcer’s throat.

  Dispassionately, Zen spared one moment to admire his handiwork. The smaller Enforcer was still writhing on the ground, one knife in his back and another in his throat, but that struggling soon ceased. Zen noticed that the recently deceased Enforcer had managed to draw his pistol before the second knife had reached him. Zen swiftly seized the gun and then brought it around to point at the forehead of a stunned Rothenberg, who froze clumsily with one hand halfway towards his own firearm.

  His eyes cold and hard, Zen deftly reached down to relieve Rothenberg of his gun and then swung his leg in an arc, catching Rothenberg aside the face and bowling the Enforcer over.

  “If you want to avoid a painful death, then get out of my sight,” Zen said, brandishing both weapons to show that he was deadly serious.

  Rothenberg fumed for a moment, feeling a familiar rage building up inside him as he prepared to spring into action. A moment later, his fury dissipated, replaced by an emotion that was definitely not familiar for him.

  Fear.

  If any other child had spoken to him like that, if any other child had said those words to him, if any other child had dared to strike him, Rothenberg would’ve retaliated regardless of the consequences—and he might have had a chance, for Rothenberg’s speed and physical prowess had been notorious among the Enforcers he’d trained with.

  But this boy, his dominant posture, his menacing appearance, and his pitiless eyes all served to strike a chord of fear in Rothenberg that he had never known before in his life. For one suspended second, Rothenberg was paralyzed with terror, all logical thought having failed him. By the next, he had already sprung to his feet and was running out of the alley as fast as he could, stumbling in his haste to get away.

  Meanwhile, Zen crouched down by the body of the first Enforcer, contemplating what he’d done. It was the first time he’d killed a person. He’d thought he’d feel guilty about it. Or at least remorseful. Or something. But try as he might, he couldn’t feel anything about it.

  How odd.

  Zen straightened up and slipped both guns into his pockets. Maybe there would be time for emotions later. Turning around again, Zen abruptly found himself facing the girl that he had saved. She was still bleeding profusely, and stood rooted to the spot, though her icy blue eyes were now fixed upon Zen. Zen walked up to her and examined her limbs and face.

  “So, how’re you doing?” Zen asked casually.

  The girl’s eyes widened at his voice, but she didn’t answer.

  “Some nasty bruises all over your body, though they don’t look that fresh. Scraped ankle as well as some other minor scratches, all old injuries. Visible malnourishment and perhaps chronic insomnia. Bad gash across the face—not a deep wound but there’s a lot of blood loss,” Zen observed as he ripped a piece of cloth off his shirt to use as a bandage. “I’m no doctor, but that cut will have to be disinfected, and you’ll probably be scarred for life—perhaps in more ways than one. But all things considered, you’re lucky just to be alive.”

  The girl remained silent and still as Zen retrieved his backpack and drew out a water bottle, which he used to bathe her gash. Using the strip of cloth torn from his shirt, Zen bound the wound tightly, taking care to leave her mouth uncovered in case she’d care to speak.

  “So what’s your name?” Zen asked as he finished binding the wound.

  The girl looked at him, and something in her icy eyes flickered and thawed.

  “I’m Noni.”

  Before Zen could respond, Noni visibly relaxed for a brief second, and then fainted, falling to the ground like a limp rag.

  Zen raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, I was about to ask you if you can walk,” Zen said to the unconscious girl. “But I don’t think that’s necessary now.”

  Red continued staring downwards as the mysterious boy slung his backpack over his shoulders, scooped the girl up into his arms, and began walking back down the way he had come as though what had just transpired were completely ordinary.

  He killed an Enforcer!

  Red still couldn’t believe what had happened. The only thing convincing him that it all hadn’t been a hunger-induced hallucination was the fact that the Enforcer’s body was still lying there in a pool of blood. Red was tempted to climb back down there and touch it to make sure that it actually existed, but he still had just enough judgment left to hold him back.

  Red shook his head to clear it. He would need to think long and hard about what he thought he had seen. It was unheard-of! Someone, a kid no less, had taken down not just one, but two Enforcers—killing one of them at that! Thanks to its ruthless educational system, crime was more or less unheard of in the City, and the worst that Enforcers typically had to deal with were mere truants and vagrants. Vagrants especially had a short life expectancy; they rarely reached adulthood, and anyone who resisted the Enforcers usually had a life expectancy of about thirty seconds at best. And yet . . .

  He killed an Enforcer!

  Red began questioning his own sanity. A murderous child emerging from the shadows to attack adults? If it were real, if Red hadn’t gone completely nuts as he knew some vagrants did, then it could only mean trouble. Winter had only just begun, and the Enforcers would be out for blood if one of their own had really been killed. Things could only get uglier from here, Red knew.

  Still, Red wouldn’t be shedding any tears over the dead Enforcer. The two men had richly deserved what they’d gotten, as far as Red was concerned. It was just a pity that the mysterious boy hadn’t killed Rothenberg as well. Digging into his bag of fruit, Red pulled out an apple and began munching it. He was pleased that the girl had gotten away. She hadn’t done anything to deserve what was done to her.

  Sobering, Red realized that Rothenberg would probably radio for help. Maybe he already had. For all he knew, every Enforcer in the entire City could be descending upon his location at that very moment. Still munching on his apple, Red forced himself to his feet and began to run, the rest of his fruit slung over his shoulder. He needed to get away from here—somewhere far, far away. If things were about to get as bad as Red thought they would, Chris’ gang would hardly be able to offer h
im any protection. He’d flee to one of the upper districts, maybe even as far as the twenties or thirties. Red didn’t really care where he went, so long as he wasn’t in the way when the Enforcers came to exact their revenge.

  And so Red found himself running yet again. He really was good at running. But try as he might, Red couldn’t forget that the other boy hadn’t run. The kid, whoever he was, had stood his ground.

  He killed an Enforcer!

  Rothenberg ran through the crowd, ignoring the angry complaints of the civilians that he bumped into as he pressed his radio to his ear. Now that he was a safe distance away from that damned demon child, his fear had faded, replaced by outrage and anger. What the hell had happened back there in that alley? His partner . . . dead? An Enforcer? Killed by a boy? A kid? An inferior?

  Impossible! Unthinkable!

  But it had happened.

  Except no one seemed to believe it.

  “Can you please reconfirm the suspect’s description, sir?” the voice on the radio asked patiently.

  “What in education’s name is wrong with you?” Rothenberg bellowed. “I told you twice already! It’s a teenage boy, black clothes, long black hair, and dark eyes! Is there something wrong with your hearing? Did you lose your ear in the line of duty?”

  “No sir,” the voice said. “An ambulance is on its way. Can you tell us how badly is your partner injured?”

  “How bad is he injured? How bad is he injured? He’s dead! That’s how bad he’s injured, you idiot! Dead! How many times do I have to say it?”

  “So this young boy just sprang up from the shadows?” The Enforcer on the other end could not conceal his skepticism. “And he killed your partner, right in front of your eyes? With just a knife?”