Truancy Read online

  “You got it,” Charles said sadly.

  “And you know what, I think I’m going to go check your room, to make sure you’re not hiding anything,” Gabriel said, turning to leave the bar. “Again.”

  As soon as Gabriel left, Charles looked around frantically, and, spotting Tack, seized hold of the new kid and pulled him close.

  “Quick, take these!” Charles hissed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Gabe’s gonna search me after he finds what’s in my room, and if he finds these on me, I’m toast! Toast, man!”

  And with that, Charles pressed the items into Tack’s hands, leaped up, and scampered out of the bar. This left a confused Tack clutching a half-full pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his hand, the rest of the room’s occupants looking at him with interest. Not knowing what else to do, Tack quickly slipped the pack into his pocket. As he did the same with the lighter, he was suddenly reminded of fire, of hungry flames.…

  Tack shook his head furiously to shake the thought off, but now grimly remembered why he was there. As casually as he could, Tack examined the face and hair of every boy in the bar, but none of them stood out like he knew that the killer’s would. Just as Tack was about to give up, the chubby boy behind the bar called out, “Hey, you! New kid!”

  Tack turned towards the bar in surprise. “Me?”

  “Yeah,” the boy called. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

  “Uh, I just got here,” Tack explained, approaching the bar.

  “Oh, lucky you,” the bartender said. “You came just in time—tomorrow would’ve been too late! Has Gabriel told you about that yet?”

  “He mentioned something about tomorrow but didn’t say what it was.”

  “Well, then forget I mentioned it,” the bartender said hastily. “But since you’re new, why don’t you help yourself? Everything here is on the house—we need to get rid of it anyway.”

  “No, I don’t think—,” Tack began.

  “Come on; it looks like you’ve had a hard time,” the bartender interrupted, squinting at Tack. “Relax a bit; it’ll do you some good.”

  Tack hesitated, and in that brief moment of weakness, the failure of his search brought back to him memories of Suzie, of warm blood and a cold body.…

  “Give me a beer,” Tack ordered abruptly, shaking his head.

  The bartender smiled, his fat cheeks bulging. He reached into the refrigerator and drew out a glass bottle filled with a gold liquid. Tack twisted open the cap with his new shirt, took a deep breath, and then downed a large gulp of beer. A moment later he was coughing violently—the alcohol left a sort of burning sensation in his throat that he wasn’t used to, and the beer itself tasted rather bitter. Still, Tack determinedly gathered himself together and a minute later had finished the entire bottle.

  “More,” Tack requested quickly, and the bartender hastened to oblige.

  Halfway through his second bottle, Tack started shaking. He felt a tear running down his cheek, which he quickly wiped away on his sleeve. Realizing with a bit of panic that more tears were imminent, Tack suddenly remembered what the redheaded kid, Charles, had said. It calms my nerves, you know?

  Desperate to wash away the painful stains from his mind, Tack removed the cigarette pack and lighter from his pockets and took one of the white cylinders, and inserted it into his mouth.

  “Those aren’t good for you, you know,” the bartender said, looking worriedly at Tack. “You don’t want Gabriel to see you with that if you got it from Charles.”

  “Shut up,” Tack said harshly, his voice raspy as he blinked back tears.

  Tack clumsily got the lighter to ignite, and quickly lit his cigarette. As he took a puff from it, his lungs were filled with a foul smoke that he quickly coughed out violently. Tack ignored the initial awfulness of the cigarette and quickly took five more quick puffs. Finishing up the rest of his beer in the hopes of washing away the bad taste in his mouth and throat, Tack suddenly felt a burning sensation in his face, followed shortly by a horrible throbbing, dizzying sensation in his head. Realizing vaguely that he’d just drunk more alcohol than he ever had in his life, on an empty stomach no less, Tack stumbled over to a corner of the room and collapsed onto the hard floor.

  Tack heard concerned mutterings from all around him now, which didn’t help his headache at all. In the brief moments that followed, feeling like he’d been poisoned, Tack heard only one distinct sentence, spoken close by his head, and he thought he recognized the voice of the bartender.

  “Man, he’s a lightweight for sure.”

  And then he passed out.

  13

  A SHOW OF FORCE

  Tack awoke feeling worse than he ever remembered feeling in his entire life. The taste permeating his mouth and throat was so foul that he tried desperately to cough it out, only to find that his throat was too dry, causing him to spasm horribly. Involuntary tears streamed from his shut eyes as he rolled onto one side and gasped desperately for air. All the while, a horrible, intense headache unlike any he’d ever had before raged inside his head. It was like a sledgehammer was driving a blunt nail into his brain each time his heart beat.

  Then he heard a voice.

  “You’ve got a hangover, Takan; drink this.”

  Tack felt a plastic cup being raised to his lips, and bizarrely half-expected it to contain lemonade, but when he drank he recognized the taste of orange juice.

  “You’ll have to take these painkillers too; just swallow them,” the voice commanded.

  Tack felt two pills being forced into his mouth, and he quickly downed them with another gulp of orange juice. Feeling slightly better, Tack gulped down the rest of the juice and opened his eyes blearily to see Gabriel crouched over him with a carton of orange juice clutched in his right hand.

  “Are you good?” Gabriel asked.

  “Yeah … yeah, I’m okay,” Tack lied, shutting his eyes.

  “Zyid is right. We need to get rid of that stuff,” Gabriel muttered. “Listen, Takan. You weren’t told yesterday, but we’re clearing out the entire hideout today. We’re meeting up with Zyid and then heading to the main hideout.”

  Tack knew that what he was hearing was important somehow, but the relentless pounding in his head wasn’t allowing him to properly grasp what it was. He let out a groan.

  “It’s around five in the morning right now,” Gabriel said. “We’re set to leave at noon. You have about six hours to rest; that should be more than enough to get you back on your feet. We can’t wait for anyone, Takan, so be ready by then.”

  “Okay,” Tack mumbled, opening his eyes a crack.

  “Here, take these.” Gabriel shoved a jelly doughnut into each of Tack’s hands. “You’ll need to eat to keep your strength. And I’m leaving the orange juice here; one less thing to carry anyway, even if you don’t drink it.”

  Tack nodded gratefully, then shut his eyes again. As the sound of Gabriel’s footsteps died away, Tack lay on the floor breathing steadily, waiting for his headache to come under control. As soon as he was able to, Tack began to consider what Gabriel had said. Everyone was meeting up at the main hideout—where else would Tack have a better chance of finding the murderer if not at the Truancy’s main base?

  Briefly Tack’s mind strayed back to his old life. What were his parents, the ones he felt no affection for, thinking now? And his teachers, the ones that he had hated so much? And Umasi, the boy that he’d respected and learned so much from?

  Then Tack remembered the bloody school jacket he had cast off at the scene of the explosion—his bloody jacket. Those people probably all thought him dead by now. There was no question of going back; there was nothing for him to go back to. Only one thing remained to drive his life forward—his determination to get revenge. Tack would work with the Truancy; he would walk among them until he found the boy that had killed his sister. Tack would find him, and then he would kill him.

  Tack absentmindedly brought a jelly doug
hnut to his mouth and bit into it, enjoying the squishy pastry and the taste of gooey raspberry that spread throughout his mouth. It was funny, Tack thought suddenly, that the small pleasures of life still remained, no matter what kind of tragedies life inflicted.

  * * *

  “Have the scout reports been confirmed?” Zyid asked as he paced about the rooftop upon which he and Noni stood.

  “Yes, sir,” Noni replied quietly.

  “So, the Educators really are having helicopters patrol all the abandoned districts,” Zyid mused. “Massively expensive for them, I don’t doubt, and unfortunate for us.”

  “Sir, the first hideout will leave at noon,” Noni pointed out. “That will be in twenty-three minutes. There is a good chance that the aerial patrols will see them.”

  “Yes, I know,” Zyid said curtly. “There will be no rescheduling. We can turn this to our advantage; all we have to do is massacre the Enforcers. Helicopters will complicate matters, but they are hardly invincible.”

  “Yes, sir,” Noni replied unquestioningly.

  “Gabriel will have to be informed,” Zyid muttered, drawing a cell phone from his pocket. “Alex’s group leaves at midnight, so he will have more time to breathe.”

  Zyid quickly dialed a number.

  “Gabriel? There’s been a change of plans. Educators are flying helicopters over all abandoned districts. I want you to proceed directly to the ambush point.”

  There was a pause as Zyid listened intently to a reply. “I want you to be spotted,” Zyid answered. “Don’t worry about ground pursuit; if they want to see a show of force, I won’t disappoint them.” Another brief pause. “If the helicopter itself gives chase, you have my explicit permission to use the rockets.”

  Zyid inclined his head slightly as he listened to the response. “Leave at the scheduled time,” he ordered, “unless you hear helicopters overhead. If you do, you may leave early at your discretion; we will be ready for you. Good luck.”

  Zyid jabbed a button on the cell phone, folded it shut, and turned to face Noni, who hadn’t moved an inch the whole time.

  “We have an appointment to keep,” Zyid said imperiously. “Gather up the team; we’re heading to the ambush.”

  “Yes, sir,” Noni said obediently, bowing her head.

  * * *

  By eleven thirty, Tack had consumed the rest of his breakfast, gotten to his feet, stretched a bit, and decided that he was finally ready to face the day. Remembering what Gabriel had told him about leaving at noon, Tack left the bar to find the second floor hallway completely deserted. The door to the supply room opposite the bar was ajar, and Tack could see that the room had been emptied.

  Tack didn’t have a watch, but he recognized that all the signs pointed to his being late. He dashed down the steps to the foyer, where dozens and dozens of Truants were bustling all over the cramped area like ants, moving cardboard boxes and wooden crates out the cracked front doors. Tack noticed that some of the Truants were standing grimly in a corner near a pile of what looked like the contents of an arsenal, picking through various guns and strange-looking white knives. Everyone was working in silence, which struck Tack as ominous.

  In one corner of the room, Tack saw Gabriel standing with a group of Truants including Steve, deep in low conversation. Tack made his way towards Gabriel, and had almost reached him when the melodious sound of a cell phone echoed throughout the room. Almost reflexively, dozens of heads turned towards the source of the sound, which seemed to be inside Gabriel’s pocket. Gabriel himself froze, and then quickly removed the phone from his pocket.

  “Yeah, it’s me; go ahead, Zyid,” Gabriel said apprehensively. “Helicopters? What if they spot us and send ground support?” There was a sudden and total silence as Gabriel listened to the reply, nodding slightly as he did, which Tack took to be a good sign.

  “And the helicopter?” Gabriel asked. Whatever reply Gabriel got seemed to please him; Tack noticed that his face had visibly relaxed. “So when should we leave?… All right.” A moment later, Gabriel shut off the phone and closed it. “We’ll need it,” he muttered to himself as he slipped the cell phone back into his pocket.

  “Well,” Gabriel said loudly, addressing the gathered Truants, “as you probably overheard, the Educators are having helicopters fly over all the abandoned districts, and the chances are they’ll pass over here soon.”

  The worried muttering that Tack had noticed when Gabriel had been on the phone quickly returned. Tack, for his part, found that he wasn’t bothered by the news at all; the idea of death no longer seemed of terrible concern to him.

  “Our orders,” Gabriel said, “are to attract attention and lure any Enforcers into an ambush that Zyid has set. We leave in ten minutes, possibly less, so we need to hurry.”

  There was a brief pause, during which the Truants, some of them standing still as they clutched boxes and crates, looked at each other uncertainly.

  “You heard him; get going!” Steve snarled.

  The Truants returned to work with doubled vigor, shouting frantic instructions to one another. Stacks of crates and labeled boxes began to vanish out the door at a furious pace. Unsure of what to do, Tack stood there helplessly for a moment until Gabriel made his way towards him clutching a heavy-looking wooden crate.

  “I see you’re finally up, Takan! Take this outside.” Gabriel shoved the crate into Tack’s arms. “Charles!” Gabriel shouted as he seized another box. “You better not have that thing in your mouth when we meet up with Zyid!”

  Tack turned around halfway to the door and saw the embarrassed-looking redhead quickly remove a cigarette from his mouth and throw it aside.

  Soon Tack was swept out of the building by a flow of Truants, and once outside he couldn’t help but gape in amazement. Overnight, the street had been filled with all sorts of vehicles that formed one long convoy that stretched down the entire block. There were old, rusted cars that might’ve been salvaged from the dump, shiny new trucks that looked fresh from the dealership, a couple of SUVs that Tack guessed had been taken without permission, a few white nondescript vans, and even an Enforcer patrol car.

  The trunks and back doors of all the cars were wide open, and Truants were swarming all over the street, cramming the crates and boxes into the various vehicles. Most of the engines were already running, and already Truants were piling into the cars. Tack quickly went over to the nearest van and lifted his crate up to a waiting Truant who seized it and stacked it with the others. As he did, the last of the Truants poured outside and filed into each vehicle in so orderly a manner that Tack concluded that they’d each been assigned to a vehicle beforehand. It was impressive organization.

  Tack was feeling slightly left out when suddenly an odd hush fell over the block, and he became aware of a heavy humming sound cutting through the air. Over fifty pairs of eyes rose up to look at the sky, where the faint shape of a black helicopter came into sight, forming a dark blot upon the midday sun. There was a moment of suspended awe, and then a furious voice rang out.

  “What the hell are you bastards waiting for? Move!” Gabriel bellowed.

  The Truants didn’t need to be told twice; in a matter of seconds, everyone on the block was inside a vehicle except for Tack. At a bit of a loss, Tack looked around frantically for an open spot when he felt a hand grip his shoulder.

  “You’ll ride in my truck, Takan,” Gabriel said, guiding Tack over to the front of the convoy. Waiting there was a red pickup truck, the engine running and Steve at the wheel. The passenger seat was occupied by boxes, but bizarrely it seemed like the back of the truck was empty. As Tack was pushed by Gabriel up onto the back, however, he fell onto a small mound of jagged things that he realized, with a jolt, were guns and boxes of knives. A second later, Gabriel himself climbed up to join Tack.

  “All right, go, go, go!” Gabriel shouted at Steve.

  The truck lurched forward, flinging Tack onto his back. Gabriel, however, remained sitting and was furiously sifting through the pile
of weapons. As Tack lifted his head up, he saw that the entire convoy was now in motion, all of them following the truck at a furious pace.

  “Straight to the ambush, right?” Steve called, sticking his head out of the window as the truck veered to the left.

  “That’s right!” Gabriel called back, still digging furiously through the mound. “Now keep your eyes on the road!”

  The heavy beating of the helicopter grew monstrously loud, and Tack looked up to see the black shape descending upon them, the pilot apparently wanting to get a better look at a find that was too good to be true. Tack uneasily noticed that the sound was affecting Steve’s driving; the truck was now jerking left and right erratically.

  “What ambush?” Tack asked urgently as the helicopter swept down almost close enough to touch the rooftops.

  “Zyid was prepared for something like this; he set a trap!” Gabriel shouted over the noise of the helicopter, which was gamely keeping up with the convoy.

  “Think we’ll live to see it?” Tack asked seriously, his eyes following the helicopter, which was now swooping towards their speeding truck.

  “Let me worry about that, Takan; you keep your head down!” Gabriel yelled as the truck banked a hard right, rattling the pile of weapons violently.

  Tack decided that it would be best to do as he was told, and he crouched down in the back of the truck as Gabriel overturned some boxes of the odd white knives. As he did, the truck turned left at an intersection so sharply that the tires screeched and Tack and Gabriel were slammed against the side of the truck.

  The helicopter banked left to follow, and suddenly Tack saw a dark figure lean out of one side of the helicopter holding a pistol. As Steve sped the truck straight down a street, heedless of the traffic lights that still glowed red, the helicopter swooped down on them and two shots rang out over the din, one missing completely and the other shattering a backlight of the truck.

  “Don’t worry about that; it was a lucky shot!” Gabriel said, still scrabbling around the pile for something.