Truancy Page 18

  Tack nimbly leaped back a few paces, narrowly dodging Noni’s attack. Ignoring the murmurs from the crowd, Noni was undiscouraged as she surged forward again, the end of her scarf and her braidtail trailing behind her. Tack saw that the attack was aimed at his heart, and as he stared into her icy eyes, he felt the familiar sensation of being backed into a corner, with no choice but to fight. As that thought passed through his head, he bizarrely heard Umasi’s voice in his head, repeating words that he’d heard before.

  You will learn to fight back out of necessity, if nothing else.

  Tack dived and rolled to the side, coming up into a crouch as Noni missed him. She turned her increasingly furious gaze onto him and then lunged forward again. Tack found that he was making no motion to strike back, and as she swung at his legs he jumped backwards again. With a snarl of frustration, Noni brought her sword up and tapped it downwards sharply, hoping to hit Tack’s shoulder with the swift blow. Tack merely sidestepped the attack and proceeded to back up.

  “Coward,” Noni muttered from behind her scarf.

  Tack felt his eyes narrow.

  You’re afraid of being hit, and even worse, you’re even afraid of hitting me.

  Tack surged forward suddenly, catching Noni completely by surprise as he slammed into her with the full weight of his body. As she staggered back, he swung his sword in an arc at her neck. Noni ducked just in time, but Tack brought his sword swinging back the way it came, forcing her to block the blow with her own sword. They locked blades for a minute, and then sprang apart, regarding each other in a new light as the muttering from the crowd increased.

  Falling into a pattern invites defeat.

  Noni lunged forward again, but this time Tack met the attack head-on. As she brought her sword up, Tack jumped slightly into the air and kicked the oncoming blade with all the strength and momentum he had. Noni managed to prevent her own weapon from slamming into her face, but only just barely. Tack took the opportunity to deliver a snap-kick to her stomach, driving her backwards.

  You do not wish to truly cause me harm, which is why you will fail to do so.

  Tack strode forward, but even as he prepared to deliver a finishing blow, Noni recovered and swiftly brought her weapon swinging around at Tack’s thigh. Tack managed to block the attack, but couldn’t prevent Noni from driving her foot into his gut. As the wind was knocked out of him, Tack staggered backwards as Noni lunged forward, her blue eyes glowing with triumph. Without knowing what he was doing, Tack suddenly reached behind him and felt his fingers close on a metal folding chair near the table. Swinging the chair around with one arm, he brought it crashing into the oncoming Noni, who let out a cry of shock and anger as she was knocked to the ground, the chair falling on top of her.

  There is time for mercy after they are defeated.

  Without thinking, Tack stepped forward and kicked at Noni while she was down. He heard disapproving gasps from the crowd, and a yelp of pain from Noni, but as the chair fell off of her, he brought his sword down at her neck anyway. Noni unexpectedly shot up from the ground, and while Tack was in mid-swing she barreled into him, one hand closing around his throat while the other brought her sword back in preparation for a powerful thrust.

  There are people in this City that do not share your reluctance.

  Tack’s hand shot up to grab Noni’s arm before it could bring the sword down on him, and as he felt his windpipe being crushed, Tack brought his own sword around at Noni’s neck. Seeing the danger, Noni immediately let go and sprang backwards, leaving Tack to gasp for air. The crowd had gone deathly silent, and Tack stopped gasping long enough to block a series of furious hammering blows aimed at his head that rattled his arm so roughly that it ached. It could not be clearer that Noni was determined to win, and as Tack looked into her blazingly icy eyes, he wondered for a moment if he might just let her.

  And you can never give up, Tack. To give up in this City would be to throw your own life away.

  The thought of surrender was gone as suddenly as it came. Tack looked to his left and saw the plastic folding table still standing there. As Noni came at him again, Tack, to the vocal amazement of the crowd, dropped his sword and jerked forward to seize ahold of Noni’s arms. Slamming her against the edge of the table, Tack was seized by a sudden, mad inspiration and reached out to tug at Noni’s scarf before she could recover, pulling it off of her lower face.

  There was a moment of suspended revelation as Tack suddenly froze. The crowd gasped, and Noni’s blue eyes widened in panic. Tack saw now why Noni had worn the scarf in the first place; a long, ugly scar ran all the way from the bottom of her chin and across her left cheek, marring her otherwise pretty features. Tack wondered for a moment if she would lash out at him, but the next thing he knew she had dropped her sword, covering her face with her hands as she sank to the floor.

  Well, it looks like you pass the test in its entirety, Tack.

  Tack suddenly became very aware that the crowd’s mutterings had intensified, so that the room was now filled with the buzzing sound of conversation. Looking down at Noni’s curled body, Tack felt a sudden stab of guilty pity for her, and he was about to act on it when Zyid caught his eye. Zyid’s reproachful gaze reminded him of what he had to do, and so Tack reluctantly bent down to pick up Noni’s dropped sword, and then touched it gently to her throat.

  Zyid immediately walked forward, and all conversation stopped.

  “Well done, Takan,” Zyid said, presenting Tack with the sheathed ceramic sword.

  Tack said nothing, but took the ceramic blade and dropped the wooden one. As the wooden sword clattered to the ground, Zyid crouched down, removed Noni’s hands from her head, and carefully wrapped the scarf over her scarred face. He gave her a rough pat on the back and straightened up again, turning to nod approvingly at Tack. Noni shakily returned to her feet a moment later, and Tack noticed that she was no longer glaring at him, but avoiding his gaze completely.

  “What time is it, Noni?” Zyid asked without looking at her.

  “Ten forty-two, sir,” Noni said in a voice so small that Tack thought it might vanish if it grew any softer.

  “It’s time that we head out to witness Alex’s arrival,” Zyid declared, turning to Tack. “Takan, I would like you to come with me.”

  Tack couldn’t help but notice that Noni had been left out, something that she obviously hadn’t missed as well; she was now staring at Zyid like he’d slapped her. Feeling more sorry for Noni than ever, Tack was about to refuse when Zyid turned his gaze on him again.

  “Yes, sir,” Tack replied quietly.

  * * *

  “I don’t know who you are, how you got the Educator clearance for this, or why this can’t wait until morning, but I’ve brought her. And by the way, I was in that corridor when she threw that stink bomb, and I know she did it. Erasing that from her student profile in exchange for a midnight interview—”

  “I understand that you’re uncomfortable with the deal, but it’s very important for me to find out what happened as soon as possible—I only just heard about it, you see. Where is she now?”

  “She’s waiting outside the office. And by the way, this is cutting into my sleep too.”

  “Thank you for your sacrifice. Please show her in.”

  “All right, but I’m warning you; you won’t learn much. I told you already, the boy is dead. Tragic, but that’s life.”

  “I appreciate your opinion, but as you know, it is often difficult to accept a friend’s death. I’d just like some … closure, that’s all.”

  “Well, I hope you get it, whoever you are.”

  The principal of the District 20 School opened the door to her office and held it open, calling out in a constricted voice as she did so.

  “Melissa, the young man inside would like to speak to you. Answer any questions he has, and we’ll … overlook your little incident. Oh, and be honest, please.”

  Without another word, the principal slipped wearily out of the office, allowing a
n apprehensive and tired-looking girl with dark hair to enter. As the door closed behind her, she shook off her sleep and boggled at the sight of the odd boy seated behind the principal’s desk, who now adjusted his pair of black sunglasses and straightened up in the principal’s chair.

  “Hello, Melissa,” the boy greeted her. “My name is Umasi.”

  “Hi,” Melissa replied tentatively. “The principal told me you wanted to talk to me.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Umasi nodded. “It’s about Tack. You see, he was a … friend of mine, and I understand that you were among the last to see him before his death.”

  Melissa bit her lip. “Yeah, yeah, I did.”

  “I want to know what happened that day,” Umasi said. “It’s okay to tell me; everything you say here is off-the-record. As a matter of fact, your record will be wiped clean anyway, so there’s no harm in telling the truth.”

  Melissa peered blearily at Umasi for a moment, as if considering whether to trust him or not. After a few seconds, she’d apparently satisfied herself and straightened up.

  “Well,” she began, “Suzie and I, one of our friends got dragged away the week before.”

  “Under the Zero Tolerance Policy?” Umasi asked.

  “Yeah.” Melissa nodded. “I heard the Disciplinary Officer was around to inspect, so I thought I’d protest. I threw a stink bomb at him.”

  “What happened then?” Umasi asked gently, drawing his hands together.

  “Suzie took the blame for me,” Melissa said, her voice cracking a little. “And Mr. Caine took her away.”

  “And her brother saw this?” Umasi asked quietly.

  “Yes.” Tears started rolling down Melissa’s face. “Suzie took the blame and so she got killed; it should’ve been me. I just stood there and watched her go.”

  “But Tack didn’t just stand there, did he?” Umasi pressed as Melissa wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

  “No.” Melissa sobbed. “He ran after them. He chased them. I should’ve chased them too.”

  “It is natural to feel guilty, whether it is justified or not,” Umasi said gently. “But my next question is very important, and I will need an answer.”

  Melissa nodded miserably, and Umasi leaned forward on the principal’s desk.

  “Did you see how Tack died?” Umasi asked.

  “No.” Melissa shook her head, wiping more tears from her face. “He went out of sight, with them, and we thought we heard a noise, and later they told us the gas in the car blew up.”

  “They said … the gas in the Disciplinary Officer’s car blew up? By itself?” Umasi repeated.

  “Y-yeah,” Melissa said tearfully. “Why?”

  “It’s nothing,” Umasi said quickly. “Thank you for coming here at this time of night, Melissa; you may go now. And when you’re done blaming yourself, remember that it wasn’t your fault.”

  As Melissa left, dabbing at her eyes with her shirt, Umasi leaned back slightly in the principal’s chair and, once he was alone, voiced the name of the person whose fault he knew it was.

  “Zyid,” Umasi muttered. “So, Tack and his sister got caught up in a Truancy assassination. But they don’t have your body, Tack, and that means that you’re not dead … so where are you?”

  * * *

  A little under two hours after the duel, Tack was standing at Zyid’s side atop an abandoned brownstone building whose ground floor had once been a Laundromat. Before they arrived, Tack expected Zyid to have prepared a trap similar to the one that had saved Gabriel’s convoy. To Tack’s surprise, however, Zyid led Tack through a forest of old washing machines and up to the roof on which they stood, where only five Truants were waiting, sitting on top of wooden crates with two rocket-propelled grenades resting at their feet. The streetlights below had either all been broken or been shot out by the Truancy, so that the whole block was under the cloak of total darkness.

  The sound of gunshots and sirens had been audible for almost a whole minute, and Tack was now growing nervous as Zyid leaned casually over the edge of the building while the sounds grew louder and louder. Suddenly, from around the corner, the convoy of Truants appeared, like a collection of used vehicles. Tack watched in growing anxiety as the approaching Truants below sped desperately down the narrow street in their ragtag cars and trucks.

  Tack came very close to asking Zyid why he wasn’t doing anything about it, but he stopped himself before his mouth was properly open and instead watched the scene unfold below. Following closely behind the convoy emerged no fewer than a half-dozen Enforcer patrol cars, all of them in hot pursuit. The street was very narrow and the Enforcers were forced to line up one after another in order to pass through, but their equipment was quite obviously better and faster than anything the Truants had. As soon as the Enforcers passed the street and the road widened, Tack knew, it would be all over.

  Tack shook his head. The loss of the vehicles alone would hurt, and how many Truants were down there inside them? How many would walk away from this? Gritting his teeth, Tack turned to look at Zyid, who was still calmly surveying the situation. Tack now felt sure that Zyid had made some sort of a mistake, that he’d led the Truants below to their doom. As Zyid continued to look downwards with mild interest, Tack had to restrain a sudden mad urge to simultaneously push Zyid off the edge of the building and rush down to the street to do something, anything to help the convoy. Revenge on Zyid, Tack resolved, could wait until he saw how this ended.

  Tack was about to disregard all caution and open his mouth to say something when Zyid held up two fingers, and lightly gestured forward. Immediately, two of the Truants got up off the crates, picked up a rocket-propelled grenade each, and walked over to the edge of the building to flank Zyid on either side.

  “It’s a shame to cause the deaths of so many Enforcers,” Zyid mused. “But we must act without mercy, as we have a responsibility to our friends.”

  Tack stared at Zyid, who continued to watch the approaching vehicles with an amused calmness, but his face was set and deadly serious, and Tack realized he wasn’t joking. The situation looked impossible to Tack, but Zyid seemed to know what he was doing. Tack glanced down again; the Truants were now almost directly beneath them, with the Enforcers close behind. Whatever Zyid was planning, he’d have to act fast.

  Tack didn’t have long to wait. As soon as the Truants passed by and the Enforcers drew under them, Zyid made his move.

  “Destroy the leading Enforcer vehicle.”

  One rocket burst from the launchers, cutting through the air to slam into the first Enforcer patrol car in the line. An angry smoke trail marked the rocket’s path as it flew downwards, and a moment later Tack’s jaw dropped in realization as the car leading the chase burst into a twisted metal fireball. Now he understood; the cars behind the wreckage, still pummeling forward at breakneck speed, crashed into the wrecked car and then into each other. As the damage piled up, the other Enforcer cars finally stopped and began attempting to back up.

  “Now take out the last vehicle,” Zyid said casually, hands clasped behind his back.

  A second rocket sailed downwards at an angle, smashing through the windshield of the car at the back of the convoy. There was a moment’s pause, and then an explosion and burst of flame as that car also blew up. The confused surviving cars still attempted to back up, comically smashing into each other until the drivers finally realized that they were trapped. But now the car doors began to open, and out of them issued forth a number of shadowy figures, all of them carrying guns.

  Almost instinctively, Tack, Zyid, and the two rocket-carrying Truants backed up a few steps. A moment later, a hail of bullets came flying wildly upwards, smashing into all the buildings on the block, chipping off bits of masonry, or else zipping viciously through thin air.

  “What now, sir?” Tack asked quietly, looking at Zyid with a new, grudging respect.

  “Now we clean up the mess.” Zyid gave Tack a rare grin, and then turned to the Truants behind him, all of whom wer
e already pushing the wooden crates forward.

  “Bring out the incendiaries.”

  The Truants worked quickly, picking up black crowbars that Tak hadn’t noticed on the ground. Working together, they swiftly pried open the lids, revealing a padded interior filled with …

  “Water balloons?” Tack asked incredulously.

  “Why, yes.” Zyid smirked, handing one to Tack. “Join us, will you?”

  As the Enforcers below continued the barrage, Zyid and the five other kids began lobbing the water balloons over the edge in all different directions with great gusto. Almost unable to take the situation seriously, Tack feebly dropped his balloon off the edge. But as the gunfire below began to subside in favor of confused shouting, and then frightened yells, Tack suddenly realized why Zyid had called the water balloons “incendiaries.”

  “These balloons, what are they filled with?” Tack asked, looking up at Zyid.

  “All sorts of things,” Zyid said offhandedly, hurling the last of the balloons off the edge. “Lighter fluid, propane, motor oil, gasoline, there’s even some confiscated vodka in there somewhere—anything flammable will do.”

  Tack grimaced, sparing a look down at the doomed Enforcers.

  “That’s an awful way to die,” he said bitterly, averting his gaze.

  “Perhaps,” Zyid conceded softly. “But it’s us or them.”

  Tack looked at Zyid and was surprised to find what looked like genuine regret flash across the Truant leader’s face. But just as soon as it came, it was gone, and in an instant Zyid had returned to his usual brisk manner.

  “They seek to consume our lives, and so fire will consume theirs,” he said, drawing a bottle out from his pocket that had a cloth jammed into its neck.

  Lighting the cloth, Zyid turned and tossed the firebomb off the edge just as casually as he had treated the balloons. Almost reflexively, Tack rushed to the edge to watch the bottle fall towards the car, and suddenly he remembered a similar bottle flying through the air, crashing into a car, producing a burning, writhing body, the unbearable stench of sizzling flesh, and a dead girl lying bloody and charred in his arms. As the vision ended, he saw the fiery bottle fall in slow motion through the night, as if time itself took note of the event, and as it dropped Tack wondered if the Enforcers might look up and recognize their own death approaching.