Truancy Origins

by Isamu Fukui

  A moment later, the source of the noise rounded the block and stopped short as it spotted Umasi. Umasi, for his part, wasn’t able to see the boy as anything but a blur at a distance; his eyeglasses were one relic of his past that he had yet to replace. But as the boy approached slowly, as if unable to believe what he was seeing, Umasi realized to his surprise that he had met this vagrant before. It was the kid from the supermarket raid—Red, he had said his name was.

  Red stopped short a few feet away from Umasi, and Umasi took the opportunity to examine him up close. The boy was covered in dirt, streaks of black concealing what would have, under better circumstances, probably have been a handsome face. His head was covered with wild, untamed brown hair, which matched his amber eyes. He was unnaturally scrawny, but something about him testified to a hidden strength. The look on his face and in his eyes spoke of great maturity and intense hardship.

  Umasi was amused to see that Red had a look of complete shock on his face. Apparently the vagrant was more surprised by this reunion than he was.

  “Hello there,” Umasi said as he stood. “I didn’t expect to be getting any visitors around here. I understand that vagrants consider this a risky place to be.”

  “Yeah,” Red managed, seemingly uncertain that the person before him wasn’t a stress-induced hallucination.

  “Are you lost?” Umasi inquired.

  “Uh . . . I don’t think I am,” Red replied, flustered.

  “Well then, you must be here on purpose,” Umasi reasoned as he held out his bottle. “Care for a drink?”

  Chris fumed as he strode along the darkened streets of District 13. Nearly all the vagrants of District 15 had already joined the Truancy, and so it had fallen to him to recruit in the lower districts that he was so familiar with. He hadn’t taken well to this task; after being in charge for so long, running around like some errand boy seemed more ignominious to him than eating trash. And that kid Z had the nerve to complain about Chris’ performance. Didn’t he understand that he was lucky that Chris had helped him at all? Didn’t he understand what Chris could do?

  Apparently not, and so Chris had decided to show him. Approaching a run-down phone booth, Chris furtively glanced around to make sure he was alone. Seeing no one in the growing darkness, he quickly began dialing a very special number. He had powerful friends, and the Truancy would soon pay the price for insulting him. His only regret was that that bastard Red had seemingly vanished, and would not be there to die with them.

  “This is Enforcer Headquarters, how can I help you?”

  “Yeah, this is Chris, I’m an informant,” Chris said, smiling into the receiver. “I’d like to—”

  “Let me forward you to our tips division.”

  Chris felt a flash of annoyance, but kept his cool as his call was transferred.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Chris. I’m a regular, my name should be down on the list.”

  “Ah yes, yes it is. We were very pleased with your last two tip-offs. Over two dozen vagrants killed, very impressive. Do you have more vagrants to turn in?”

  “Better,” Chris said, unable to contain his excitement. “I need to come into a station again. I got some very interesting information you should hear.”

  “Hold on a second, Chris,” the operator said. “It seems that Chief Truancy Officer Rothenberg has left a note concerning you. It says to let you know the next time you make contact that he needs to meet you in person as soon as possible.”

  “R-Rothenberg?” Chris said, feeling a jolt of fear at the name. Then he laughed at himself. Why was he afraid? Rothenberg was on his side! What’s more, the man actually needed him! “Tell Rothenberg I’ll see him first thing tomorrow, then. They’ll notice me missing if I go tonight, I think.”

  “He will be expecting you,” the operator promised before cutting the line.

  Chris hung up and grinned in triumph. If the Enforcers had been pleased before, they would be ecstatic now that he could deliver an armed rebellion to them on a silver platter. It was only a matter of time now until Chris could retire to the living districts under Enforcer protection.

  With that pleasant thought in his head, Chris proceeded to his original destination. Until he could get the Enforcers to come along and mop up the Truancy, he would have to play along with their little game. This meant continuing to go through the motions of recruiting vagrants. Deep into District 15, Chris soon found what he was looking for; the smoke and firelight stood out in the otherwise abandoned district. Before making himself visible, Chris approached silently and peeked out at the camp from behind a corner.

  Small fires had been ignited in garbage cans and metal barrels, and around them milled about an assorted bunch of vagrants. He could tell from their behavior that they were not a gang; they were too guarded for that, and yet they seemed somewhat familiar with each other. The camp was typical of vagrants: someone built a fire, and its warmth drew others like moths. Even as he watched, a vagrant wearing a winter jacket with a hood pulled over his head appeared from a nearby alley and moved in to warm his hands around a fire. Deciding that it was safe enough, Chris made his move.

  “Hey there, guys!” he said cheerfully, moving out into the open. “Nice, cozy place you got here.”

  The vagrants all spun around to stare at him.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” someone demanded, voicing the question that was obviously on all of their minds.

  “Relax, guys, I’m on your side,” Chris said. “I’m Chris, but right now I’m talking for the Truancy.”

  “The Truancy?” a vagrant repeated. “What’s that?”

  “A rebellion,” Chris replied. “A bunch of kids out to beat the Educators. Hard to believe, yeah, but these people are serious. They like to talk about freedom and good stuff like that—but between you and I, there are much better reasons to join up.”

  “And what’re those?” another vagrant demanded.

  “Guns. Food and drink. Warm beds,” Chris said. “But of course, if things later go south, I, probably like most of you, would ditch, and take what I can with me.”

  “So you’d just screw your buddies, after all they do for you?” the hooded vagrant demanded from his place by the fire.

  “Hey, just pointing out that there’s nothing to lose here,” Chris said defensively, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

  “And what would the Truancy ask of us in return?” a vagrant demanded.

  “Just that you fight the Educators and their Enforcers,” Chris said, a statement that sparked murmurs among the group. “And also that you take orders from the boss, a guy that likes to be called Z. He’s tightfisted with money and thinks he’s cleverer than he is, but I guess he’s a match for the Educators.” Chris yawned. “So, if you’re interested, all you have to do is come to District 15. The more that come along together, the better the chances are that Z will reward m—I mean, us.”

  And with that, Chris made an ironic salute and spun around to leave the camp. As soon as Chris was out of sight, excited conversation broke out among the vagrants. Most of them did indeed know each other, and many seemed wary of the Truancy and especially the one claiming to be its messenger. One of the vagrants, seeking a fresh opinion, turned to address his neighbor, the quiet boy by the fire whose face had been obscured by his hood.

  “Hey, you, I ain’t seen you around before,” the vagrant said. “Whaddya think ’bout that guy? Is he nuts or what?”

  “I don’t think he’s nuts,” Gabriel answered, lifting his hood for the first time that night. “But I do think he’s a traitor.”

  Yeah, yeah, so then I told him I wasn’t going to help him kill anyone!” Umasi said, his voice slightly slurred as he took another swig of lemonade liquor. “And what do you think he did then?”

  “Wait, wait, don’t help me, I know this.” Red furrowed his brow in thought as he took a sip from his own bottle. “Did he . . . uh . . . I dunno, do a dance?”

  “No!” Umasi shook his
head violently. “Zen, he doesn’t dance. No, no, he hit me over the head with a bat, that’s what he did!”

  “He didn’t!” Red gasped in disbelief.

  “He did,” Umasi insisted mournfully. “And then he ran off, and I chased after him, and a few . . . a few snows later, and I end up here.”

  Red paused to digest the boy’s story. It was a strange and wild tale, almost as fantastical as Red’s encounter with the vagrant ghost, and yet he didn’t doubt its truth for a moment. The alcohol they had been sharing might have had something to do with that, but even when he was completely sober Red had felt, somehow, that Umasi was completely trustworthy.

  At first Red had been too stunned at meeting Umasi again to question his hospitality, and so far Umasi had been nothing but generous and had asked nothing in return. Normally Red would’ve been suspicious of such selfless behavior, but as strange as Umasi was, he wasn’t tripping any of Red’s internal alarms. He seemed almost as good as Zen (the boy Red now knew was his twin) had been bad. In fact, Red actually found his company to be enjoyable. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to sit around another human being and not worry about being killed or robbed.

  It was night now, and the two of them sat by a large bonfire they had built in the middle of the street outside of Umasi’s apartment. Umasi’s speech had been rather guarded when Red first encountered him, but a couple of bottles later they found themselves much more talkative. Umasi had wasted no time in telling Red his story, and Red had been relieved to find out that the boy named Zen was human after all, if especially dangerous. Now that he knew who led the Truancy, Red felt assured that he had had a narrow escape by evading it.

  After explaining his brother’s saga, Umasi’s story began twisting and turning, taking a few detours along the way, and they soon found themselves a bit distracted.

  “Bubble gum is cool,” Red said, “but not as good as . . . what did you say this stuff was?”

  “Hard lemonade,” Umasi replied, reading the label.

  “Yeah. Alcohol. My dad, see . . . he didn’t drink much . . . at least not that I ever saw,” Red said, putting his bottle down for a moment. “Always working, you see.”

  “My dad . . . well, being Mayor and all . . . didn’t exactly get to see much of him you know?” Umasi said as he took another sip from his bottle. “But I never thought he’d . . . he’d betray us like that. I always thought he loved us.”

  “Man, you got it bad, you did,” Red acknowledged. “I had a good mom, I think. She was always saying that going out and getting exercise and fresh air and all that was important. Then when I did she’d tell me to get back in here you miserable boy and finish your homework.”

  “I never had a mom, not that I can remember,” Umasi said. “Adopted and all that . . . I think my real mom named me and my bro, though. Zen got the better name, I think. I’m not too fond of my name, did you know that?”

  “Yeah, well I’m named after a . . . what do you call those things . . . a color,” Red complained. “It’s like . . . my parents got real lazy . . . or drunk. Might as well have named me . . . purple or something.”

  “Red’s not a bad name,” Umasi insisted. “It’s like . . . Ted, but with an R.”

  “Funny, I never thought of it like that,” Red said as he took another swig. “So . . . uh . . . how long have you been out here, like as a vagrant?”

  “Now that you mention it, I think . . . I think it was like . . . what, a few weeks?” Umasi said. “I could’ve sworn it was longer, but I guess it only felt that way.”

  “Yeah I lost track myself, you know,” Red murmured. “I’m pretty sure it’s been at least two winters besides this one, though. You always remember the . . . that cold stuff . . . snow.”

  “Two years, man, that’s rough,” Umasi said. “I barely been one for a week, and it was . . . it was . . . was awful, I think.”

  Red and Umasi continued drinking in silence as the bonfire flickered and cast dancing shadows through the snow. The silence stretched on and on, until both of them had nearly gotten through an entire other bottle. Suddenly a bolt of pain shot through Red’s gut, and he doubled over in agony. Umasi looked over at him.

  “You all right?” Umasi asked, suddenly sounding much more sober than he had mere minutes ago.

  “I’m . . . I’m fine,” Red replied as the pain faded. “It’s just that damn ape . . . no, appendix. It’s acting up again.”

  “Appendix?”

  “Yeah, at least, that’s what I think it is. Who knows?” Red spread his arms as if asking the City in general.

  “It’s been bothering you for a while now?”

  “Yeah, getting worse all the time.” Red nodded gravely.

  “Maybe you should see a doctor.”

  “Impossible.” Red snorted. “Million problems with that . . . you’re a silly guy . . . besides, I’m fine, I got plenty of life left in me.”

  “I dunno, you look pretty sickly to me.” Umasi’s speech slurred anew with a fresh gulp.

  “Sickly?” Red waved his bottle angrily. “I’m the fastest vagrant in this entire City! No one can outrun me!”

  “That so?” Umasi smirked. “I bet I can beat you in a race!”

  “You’re on!” Red shouted, leaping to his feet. “I’ll . . . I’ll beat you so bad . . . you’ll be like the tortoise in that racing story!”

  “The tortoise won,” Umasi pointed out.

  “The weasel then!” Red hiccupped as he stumbled around the bonfire. “Let’s go! We’ll see what animal is faster!”

  “Yeah . . . real fast,” Umasi agreed, swaying slightly. “But maybe, you know, we might could do that . . . later . . . kind of not in the mood now.”

  Red pondered that suggestion for a moment.

  “Yeah . . . yeah . . . later sounds good.” Red decided, as he sat back down. “I’m feeling kind of . . . tired . . . now that you mention it.”

  And with that, Red tipped over and collapsed, alcohol coursing through his veins and throbbing painfully in his head. In the brief moments of consciousness that followed, Red heard only one distinct sentence, spoken close by his head, and he thought that he recognized Umasi’s muttering voice.

  “Man, he’s a lightweight for sure.”

  And then he passed out.

  19

  SETTING TRAPS

  Huffing, Umasi ran up the steep incline of the street, trailing just slightly behind Red. It had been several days since the vagrant had shown up in District 19, and Umasi never ceased to be surprised by how fast he could run. As far as sprinting was concerned, they had very quickly established that Red was superior. Since then they had taken to running long, elaborate marathons through the streets of District 19, and Umasi found that he stood much more of a chance with these long-distance races.

  As they reached the top of the paved hill, Umasi saw that they were coming up on one of the many obstacles that had naturally formed over the years: a run-down building had collapsed, creating a miniature mountain of debris right in the middle of the road. Far from going around it, however, the two boys tackled the problem head-on, scrambling over it as fast as they could. Umasi was able to find better footholds in the mess than Red, and slid down the other side with a small lead.

  “Passed you!” Umasi taunted over his shoulder.

  “Not for long!” Red shouted back as his feet touched down on smooth pavement again.

  The weather had warmed slightly since Red had shown up, and though the air remained chilly, the sun was bright and the skies were blue. All the snow from the great blizzard had melted. This, in addition to good food, had seemed to do wonders for Red’s constitution. True to his promise, Red sped up and was soon running evenly with Umasi. By this point they were both breathing heavily, a fact that wasn’t lost on either of them.

  “Want . . . to slow . . . down?” Umasi suggested between breaths.

  “Are you . . . getting . . . tired?”

  “You’re the one . . . that fainted . . .
the other day,” Umasi pointed out, causing Red’s face to live up to his name.

  “I just . . . had a few . . . too many drinks,” Red insisted.

  “Lightweight.”

  “Tortoise.”

  “Remember . . . the hare . . . took a break,” Umasi pointed out.

  “Good point,” Red admitted, slowing down to a jog.

  Umasi followed suit, and the two continued their trek through the empty streets at a slower pace. As they ran, Umasi cast a furtive glance over at his newfound friend. The amber-eyed vagrant looked quite civilized after just a day or two of baths and new clothes. His health and stamina had also improved noticeably during their runs, though he still complained about his painful appendix.

  Umasi hadn’t realized how much he missed human company until Red showed up. There was just something about being able to have open conversations that refreshed his spirit. Umasi could relate to this troubled vagrant. No matter how much dirt covered him, Umasi recognized that Red was a good person at heart. Of course, that raised an awkward question in Umasi’s mind, one that he hadn’t yet felt comfortable asking.

  Umasi glanced over at Red, who seemed to be admiring the abandoned urban scenery. It was probably better to satisfy his curiosity now and get it out of the way.

  “So, Red,” Umasi said, “how did you end up becoming a vagrant? Why did you run away?”

  Red blanched.

  “I didn’t run away,” he said after a moment’s pause. “I was forced out.”

  “By your parents?”

  “No.” Red shook his head. “By the Educators. I was expelled.”

  “Why?”

  “For cheating,” Red said darkly. “It was my fault. I deserved it. I was stupid.”

  “Did you just peek at someone else’s test or something?”

  “Nah. I let a friend peek at my tests for the entire term. My homework too. He would’ve been thrown out with a failure if I hadn’t helped him. But the teacher eventually caught on, and the rest is history.”