Truancy Read online

  Finally, his energy all spent, Tack stumbled off towards the adjacent piers, but he didn’t get far before sheer exhaustion forced him to simply lie down and give in to unconsciousness. He slept deeply, for as he lay there on the docks, he was as motionless as his poor sister, who would never sleep again. Meanwhile, the river continued flowing steadily, pitilessly, and the chunk of wood floating on its surface drifted slowly out of sight.

  PART II

  MISCREANT

  12

  REBIRTH

  “Man, Zyid seriously wants us gone by tomorrow; why are we still messing around out here?”

  “I’m supposed to check out the docks, remember?”

  “Gabe, dude, come on; we’re out here risking our necks just to look at some wrecked piers?”

  “Stop acting like it’s so bad; just look around. There’s probably plenty of useful stuff lying about. And that warehouse over there, we can store the spare explosives in it.”

  “If you say so, Gabe, but let me tell ya—checking it up close is just gonna be a bigger waste of time.”

  “Zyid doesn’t think it’s a waste of time.”

  “Well, how hard does the guy want us to look? Should we crawl over every inch with a microscope? Hey, why not? That’s a good idea. Let’s start with this rusted nail I almost stepped on; I bet it’ll be real useful!”

  “I’m not in the mood, Steve.”

  “You’re the one that dragged me out of bed, Gabe.”

  “I’d do it myself, but it’s not safe to go around alone. Look what happened to Frank.”

  “Right, but seriously, Gabriel, there can’t be any Enforcers for miles.”

  “You were the one talking about risking our necks.”

  “Cut me some slack, man; that was a joke.”

  “You’re the joke.”

  “That was just uncalled-for. Look, here’s an old tire, really useful, don’t you think?”

  “You know, if you actually tried being helpful instead of trying to prove your point, we could probably fill half an arsenal in ten minutes.”

  “Fill it with what, dirty river water? I’m telling you, man, there’s nothing use—oh crap.”

  “What? What is it?”

  “Look, over there!”

  “Where? I can’t see what you’re pointing at.”

  “By the other pier, on the ground near the railing!”

  “Son of a … think he’s still alive?”

  “Only one way to find out, Gabe.”

  * * *

  Tack awoke to find something pointy jabbing him in the ribs. Still too weary to do anything about it, Tack squeezed his eyelids shut and turned on his side, hoping that the jabbing would stop.

  “Hey, hey, Gabe, he just moved!” an excited voice exclaimed.

  “Looks like he’s alive after all. Poke him harder,” someone said.

  Tack felt another jab to his ribs, this one sharper and more painful than the others. Groaning, he turned over, one hand instinctively reaching to rub the bruised spot. None of this was helping him get back to sleep.

  “Yep, definitely alive,” the first voice declared.

  “Lemme ’lone,” Tack mumbled.

  “He can talk too,” a second voice observed.

  “Yeah, looks like he was just taking one hell of a nap,” the first voice said. “What should we do with him, Gabe?”

  “It’s a little late for recruiting, but he looks like our type. Wake him up, give him the introduction, and drag him off to the hideout,” the second voice replied. “He can decide where to go after that.”

  “Should I poke him again?” the first voice asked eagerly.

  “No, I’ve got a better idea. Give me your water bottle.”

  The next thing Tack knew, something very cold was splashing all over his face. His eyes snapped open as he sat up, sputtering. Light poured into his eyes, and he blinked as trickles of water ran down his face. Only then did Tack become fully aware that he wasn’t alone.

  “The stick would’ve worked just as good, Gabe.”

  Two unfamiliar faces loomed over him. One belonged to a dark-skinned boy with a cleanly shaven head who was looking Tack up and down curiously. The other belonged to a pale boy with freckles and dirty blond hair parted down the middle. In his right hand, Tack noticed with a frown, he clutched a long, thin piece of wood.

  Noticing what Tack was looking at, the boy hastily dropped the stick, which looked to Tack as if it had been broken off from the pier upon which he was sitting. Completely unabashed, the boy offered his hand, which Tack accepted cautiously.

  “Hey, I’m Steve; how’re you doing?” the boy asked. “This is Gabriel, my boss.” Steve pointed at the boy standing next to him.

  “Don’t call me ‘boss,’ Steve.” Gabriel scowled.

  “Gabe is very modest,” Steve said cheerfully. “He’s a real natural leader type. Pulls us peons out of bed like he’s been doing it since he was born.”

  “I’m Tack—,” Tack started to say, then realized that it might not be such a good idea to give his real name, especially if these two strangers were who he was beginning to suspect they were.

  “Takan,” he corrected quickly.

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

  “Well … Takan … it’s nice to meet you,” Gabriel said politely.

  Tack looked over the two boys and noticed what looked unmistakably like pistols sticking out of both Gabriel’s and Steve’s pockets. That was all the confirmation that Tack needed to know that they were Truants, though he had the sense not to voice his conclusions.

  “So, what’re you guys doing out here?” Tack asked, keeping his voice casual.

  “We were actually about to ask you the same thing,” Gabriel said.

  “Actually, I was going to ask what happened to your shirt.” Steve smirked.

  Tack remembered that he was bare chested, having torn his jacket off the previous day when … he flushed in sudden fury as a memory of fire, of blood, of murderous eyes and a soulless face, flashed through his mind.

  Coming to his senses, Tack quickly willed himself to remain calm. He couldn’t afford to lose his cool, not in front of these two particular strangers who were now looking at him with surprise. Tack quickly decided on a lie that would satisfy Gabriel and Steve.

  “I was expelled and I ran away. I was trying to sleep here,” Tack said.

  Gabriel and Steve glanced at each other.

  “What’d you get expelled for?” Steve asked interestedly.

  “I set off a stink bomb during a Disciplinary Officer inspection,” Tack lied.

  Gabriel whistled softly.

  “Nice, what made you do that?” Steve asked, sounding impressed.

  Tack got to his feet gingerly, rubbing his ribs. “You know, Zero Tolerance Policy and all that. I got fed up.”

  “Yeah.” Gabriel nodded sagely. “I hear that a lot these days.”

  “So, what about you two?” Tack asked, though he was sure he knew the answer already. “You got expelled too?”

  “Yeah, I sprayed a few teachers with deodorant. They needed it,” Steve said lightly. “But Gabriel was a good boy; he just ran off by himself a couple years back.”

  “So why are you out here?” Tack asked, this time genuinely curious.

  “That’s what I want to know.” Steve shot a sideways glance at Gabriel.

  “We’re here to scout out the piers,” Gabriel said. “We’re waging a little war against the Educators, you see.”

  “More than a little, if Zyid gets his way,” Steve added.

  Tack willed himself to be calm, though his heart was now racing. So his first suspicions were right—these were members of the Truancy. Just like the one that had killed Suzie, the one that had turned his back on her body even as it grew cold in Tack’s arms. Tack clenched his fists, then, with immense effort, relaxed.

  “A war?” Tack asked, feigning surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “You know all those Educators and Enforcers that keep
going missing?” Steve asked. “News reports make a little of ’em every once in a while?”

  Tack nodded gravely, remembering Mr. Caine’s body burning on the sidewalk.

  “And all those explosions and blackouts that no one can explain properly?” Gabriel added. “That’s us too.”

  “Just you two?” Tack asked calmly, knowing full well that it wasn’t.

  “Nope.” Steve grinned. “There are hundreds of us. We’re called the Truancy.”

  Tack was torn. One part of him felt like he could do Suzie some justice by killing these two Truants right where they stood. He knew that he had a decent chance of succeeding; he had learned quite a bit from Umasi.

  But on the other hand, Tack couldn’t bring himself to be angry at these particular two boys. There was no soullessness etched on their faces, no murderous intensity in their eyes, none of the monstrousness that Suzie’s killer possessed.

  But if they aren’t to blame, Tack thought, maybe they can lead me to the guy that is.

  “Can I join your Truancy?” Tack asked suddenly, prompting Gabriel and Steve to look at each other in surprise.

  “Uh, well, I suppose we—,” Gabriel began, blinking rapidly.

  “We could always use more help, Takan,” Steve finished affably.

  For one confused moment, Tack had forgotten about the false name he’d introduced himself with, but he quickly recovered before either Steven or Gabriel could notice.

  “So, do you guys have a house or something?” Tack asked quickly.

  “Well, it’s not quite a house, per se.” Steve grinned.

  “But it’s good enough,” Gabriel said, shooting a glance at Tack. “We can take you there right now.”

  “Sure, why not,” Tack said, his heart racing.

  “Come on then; follow us,” Gabriel said, turning around.

  “Try to keep up!” Steve said cheerfully.

  Tack followed a few feet behind Steve and Gabriel as they led the way, giving him some time to think. As they turned from the docks to walk down a street strewn with crumbled masonry, Tack noticed that his fists were clenched, and he quickly opened them, looking down to see that his nails had dug into his palms hard enough to draw blood. Tack was fixed upon only one thought: Suzie’s killer. He had a feeling that he was being led to the Truancy hideout, and that was as good a place as any to begin his search.

  * * *

  “So, what do you think?” Gabriel muttered to Steve.

  “Seems like our kind of guy,” Steve replied as he picked his way through the spilled contents of an overturned trash can. “He looks pretty fit too. I wish I looked that good.”

  “Did you see that look on his face when you asked him about his shirt?” Gabriel whispered, glancing back at Tack, who was now examining his hand gloomily as he walked straight through the trash.

  “Maybe the shirt killed his family or something.” Steve yawned, stepping off the street and onto the sidewalk to avoid the remains of a wrecked truck.

  “And those stains on his arms and pants?” Gabriel continued, his voice heavy with suspicion. “They looked like blood to me.”

  “Maybe he cut himself somewhere,” Steve suggested. “What, you think the guy’s a murderer?”

  “I think that there’re some big, bad secrets that he’s keeping,” Gabriel said darkly.

  “Well, not all Truants have glorious pasts,” Steve said, causing Gabriel to smile grudgingly.

  “I don’t think any of them do, actually,” Gabriel agreed, kicking an empty garbage can out of his way. “All right, you sold me. There’s no time to put him through training, but we’ll give him a chance to learn through experience.”

  “Yeah, might as well,” Steve said. “I can’t remember anyone who was that enthusiastic about joining up so quickly.”

  “Right,” Gabriel said, turning around. “Hey, Takan, hurry up!”

  “Gonna go straight to the hideout then?” Steve asked, jumping over a cardboard box.

  “That’s right,” Gabriel confirmed.

  “Great, no place like home.” Steve grinned. “And since you dragged me out of bed early, I’m going straight back in as soon as we get there, and I’m not waking up until tomorrow.”

  “Lazy bastard.” Gabriel scowled.

  * * *

  The hideout that Gabriel and Steve led Tack to was a large, abandoned apartment complex deep inside the district that was also home to the piers—District 13, Gabriel had told Tack on the way. The building was filled with cramped, cookie-cutter apartments that had been inhabited by the poorer citizens of the City before the district was abandoned. The boys walked under the tattered green awning and right in through the cracked glass front doors. The Truancy had kept the simple, dimly lit foyer relatively clean, though Steve told Tack that the elevators had broken down long ago, and that there was no hope of fixing them. He pointed Tack towards a stairwell instead, the door to which had been propped open by what looked like a stack of old textbooks.

  “If you like privacy when you get around to sleeping, most of the apartments on floors six and up should be empty. The water still runs too, if you want to take a shower,” Steve said pointedly as he handed Tack a copy of the master key to the building. “Dining apartment is on the third floor, if you’re hungry. General supplies are on the second floor. Ask whoever’s around there for a shirt; they’ll give you one. The bar’s also there. That’s where most of us hang around when we don’t have anything to do.”

  “The bar?” Tack asked, surprised.

  “Yeah.” Steve shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Zyid’s against it. ‘You can’t fight with a hangover!’ he says. The other day Noni came to check and told us that we’re supposed to get rid of the stuff by tomorrow.”

  Tack frowned. The names that Steve had used, Zyid and Noni, were familiar, though for the moment he couldn’t remember where he’d heard them before.

  “Who are Noni and Zyid?” Tack asked.

  “Oh, that’s right; you’re new,” Steve said as if reminding himself. “Well, Zyid, he’s our leader; he started the whole thing. Toughest, smartest guy I’ve ever seen. But he’s not the kind of guy you can get close to, you know what I mean? Dangerous kid; I’m glad he’s on our side.”

  Then it all clicked for Tack. Umasi had mentioned them, on that day that they had dueled. Zyid, the leader of the Truancy, and Noni—the only one, as far as I know, that he ever taught.

  “And Noni?” Tack asked, waiting for confirmation.

  “Ah, Noni.” Steve grinned suddenly. “Never met a girl like her. Hot, you know; she doesn’t take any nonsense. Cold-blooded killer, she is, assassinates people left and right. Really loyal to Zyid though, but I don’t think there’s anything going on between them. She’s like his assistant, or something.”

  “I see.” Tack frowned. Cold-blooded killer seemed to describe Suzie’s murderer perfectly, though Tack was positive that the culprit had been male, ponytail notwithstanding.

  “Well, if that’s all you need to know, I’m gonna go catch some sleep.” Steve yawned to punctuate his point. “Gabriel is in charge of this hideout; he dragged me out of bed at six to search the piers; pain in the ass, and we didn’t find anything but you. Say, where did Gabe go anyway?”

  Tack looked around the foyer. It was completely empty.

  Steve let out a sigh. “Well, seeing how he snuck off, I will too.” He nodded at Tack as he turned to walk up the stairs. “Looks like you could use some sleep also—try and get some; there’s big things planned tomorrow.”

  Tack nodded vaguely, not bothering to ask what the big things were. As soon as the echoing sounds of Steve’s footsteps faded, Tack lunged up the stairwell to the second floor. He had no intention of getting any sleep just yet. Steve had said that all the Truants in the building hung out at the bar when they weren’t busy, so if there was anywhere to start looking for Suzie’s killer, it would be there.

  On the second floor, Tack found a dull hallway with white walls and gray carpeting.
A door halfway down the hall was open, and there were sounds of laughter and loud conversation issuing forth from it. Assuming it was the bar, Tack walked towards it. Just as he reached it, the door opposite swung open, and Tack turned to see Gabriel closing the door behind him. The word SUPPLIES had been crudely written across the door in bold black marker.

  “Here, I found you a shirt,” Gabriel said, tossing Tack a plain, spotless gray T-shirt. “You still seem to have the pants from your school uniform, so you should stick with those for now. All the supplies have been packed up for tomorrow; I had to go through some sealed boxes to get the shirt, and it’s new, so don’t lose it.”

  “I won’t,” Tack promised as Gabriel gave him a nod.

  Tack slipped the shirt on quickly, then followed Gabriel into the bar. He stopped and sniffed the air, which smelled distinctly of tobacco smoke. Tack looked around. The room wasn’t very big. In one corner a stack of what looked like wooden bookshelves had been lined up, with stools in front of it, to form a sort of bar. Behind it, a chubby boy sat upon stacks of boxes filled with bottles of what looked to be cheap beer. A refrigerator hummed behind him. The forgettable tan wallpaper was peeling off in places, but the room was crowded with kids of various ages standing around in clusters or sitting at the bar.

  “Charles!” Gabriel snapped suddenly, over to a redheaded kid sitting against a wall with a cigarette in his mouth. “You’re smoking again.”

  “Sorry, Gabe,” the redhead said, looking up guiltily. “I can’t help it; it calms my nerves, you know?”

  “You’re addicted,” Gabriel said harshly, grabbing the cigarette out of Charles’ mouth and crushing it beneath his feet. “If Zyid finds out that you’ve been wasting Truancy money on cigarettes…”

  “Don’t tell him!” Charles begged, his eyes widening. “Please, Gabe, I’ll stop, I swear; just don’t tell Zyid!”

  “Right.” Gabriel stared down at Charles, looking deeply skeptical. “You’re not getting any more allowance. Eat in the dining apartment from now on.”