by Isamu Fukui
“I know, I know, they always side with him!” Elli said, suddenly looking panicked. “You’ve got to understand, you have to believe me! He sneaks out at night, breaks curfew to do who knows what, and you wouldn’t believe how many complaints I get from other parents about him! He . . . he’s even threatened my husband and me!” Elli added, sounding truly frightened. “He’s threatened to kill us, and we have to leave him alone because . . . well, I think he’d do it!”
“The child seemed respectful enough to me,” Rothenberg said, and from him this was the highest praise.
“You don’t understand!” Elli wailed. “He does this every time a visitor comes around! Always a polite act, and sometimes he tells them that we’d been abusing him, and they believe him! We got dragged down to the Enforcer station for an inquiry!”
“Have you been abusing him?” Rothenberg asked. “Personally you’d have my utmost sympathy if so, I firmly believe that—”
“No, no, no we haven’t!” Elli insisted. “No one ever believes us! Not the Enforcers, not our neighbors, not even our friends! He’s a monster, and a damn clever one too! We keep asking the Enforcers to arrest him, to take him in, bring him back to that damnable orphanage, but he . . . one time . . .” Elli’s voice lowered to a frantic whisper. “He actually planted a gun under my husband’s pillow! Damned if I know how or where he got it, but he put it there, I’m sure of it, and he reported us to the Enforcers! My husband spent two months in detention for that, and we’re lucky it wasn’t longer! Do you know what that did for our reputation? Have you asked what people think of us now? I swear I haven’t laid a hand on that boy, but sometimes . . .”
At this point Elli seem so overcome by anger and fear that she could not speak, her face puffing up like a red balloon. Rothenberg watched amusedly, unsure of what to think. On the one hand Elli seemed so desperately frantic that Rothenberg found it hard to believe that she was lying. On the other, what she was saying seemed so outlandish, so unlike the boy Rothenberg had met, that Rothenberg had indeed convinced himself that she was lying to get the boy out of the house. Rothenberg shrugged. If they wanted the brat gone that much, he’d oblige them.
“You believe me, right?” Elli said suddenly. “Please say you believe me, Mr. Rothenberg!”
“To be honest, I don’t.” Rothenberg frowned as Elli groaned. “However, I don’t need to either. I am going to return Edward to the orphanage anyway without interviewing the boy.”
“You . . . you are?” Elli said, a faint note of hope in her voice.
“I am,” said Rothenberg, “because you seem to want him out very badly, and the idea of ruling in favor of a child is repugnant to me.”
“Thank you, thank you so much!”
But Rothenberg was no longer listening. He was staring behind the woman at the flight of stairs, down which Edward was now dragging a packed suitcase, his foster father trailing a cautious distance behind.
“Hello again, Mr. Rothenberg!” Edward said brightly from the stairs. “Will we be leaving now, sir?”
“How did you know—” Rothenberg began.
“Oh, don’t be surprised at that, he probably figured you out and what you would decide the moment he saw you,” Elli said bitterly. “Always two steps ahead. He’s a bright boy, if only he didn’t . . . wasn’t . . .”
“Well, I don’t think there’s any more to be said,” Rothenberg declared as he stood up. “We’ll be going now. Good luck to the two of you.”
The couple thanked him all the way to the door, where Rothenberg waited for Edward to catch up and begin following with the suitcase. Rothenberg didn’t spare the boy a second thought, and they walked under orange streetlamps in silence. Then Rothenberg stopped short, recognizing the street that they were on. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised—it was District 18, after all—but he began glancing around frantically at every shadow, for it was here that he had seen the ghost with his own eyes.
When no phantasm presented itself, Rothenberg remembered something that the couple had mentioned. He slowly crouched down so that his face was level with Edward’s. Edward had been watching the man cautiously. At such a distance Edward could not help but notice the dark rings under his eyes, as well as a general appearance of dishevelment.
“You out here a lot at night, boy?” Rothenberg whispered.
“Fairly often, sir,” Edward said. “Even when I’m not running errands, I sometimes go for walks myself . . . before curfew, of course.”
“Good, good,” Rothenberg said distractedly, running a hand over his scalp. “Tell me this, then: Have you ever seen a pale girl with red eyes on the streets around here, coming or going to District 19, carrying around a chain?”
Edward wondered if the Enforcer was drunk, or if he was playing some sort of game. Unsure of what answer the man was looking for, Edward decided to go with the truth.
“No, sir.” Edward shook his head. “Haven’t seen anything like that.”
At that, the look on Rothenberg’s face turned ugly. The next thing Edward knew, the Enforcer slapped him hard enough to send him staggering.
“You lying brat!” Rothenberg snarled. “I’ve never heard so many lies from a kid before in my life. I’m going to tell the orphanage that you’re a lying, thieving, vandalizing miscreant. Maybe that’ll teach you.”
Edward winced and rubbed his stinging cheek as he struggled to keep his fury under control. Patience, Edward told himself. Patience. Give him what he expects to hear.
“But sir, that’s not true,” Edward protested.
“You shouldn’t be complaining,” Rothenberg said. “Be glad that I’m not going to go through the trouble of arresting you for lying to an Enforcer. There’s a war going on, boy—hell, you should be happy that I don’t shoot you right now.”
With that, Rothenberg seized Edward by the arm, dragging him along. As they walked, snowflakes began to fall from the sky, visible only as they fluttered under the streetlamps. Rothenberg looked more disturbed than ever, casting furtive looks at every patch of darkness that he passed, muttering under his breath about ghosts and war and rebellious children. So self-absorbed was Rothenberg that he never saw the grin on Edward’s face, a twisted smile as the boy imagined a thousand horrific things that he would someday like to do to this brutish Enforcer.
Edward did not hate this man, though he did envy him. Edward envied his power and the freedom to abuse it. His various petty misdeeds gave him only fleeting satisfaction; the best he could do was manipulate someone in a position of power. He coveted that position for himself, the constant liberty to treat those under him however he wished. After all, if there was one thing that his unfortunate life had taught him, it was that justice had no meaning unless you had the power to define it yourself.
24
THE BIRTH OF ZYID
Snow had fallen during the night, and early the next morning Umasi decided to go to the trouble of making a warm bath. After he was done, his nameless guest had asked to use what was left, and he had of course consented. One of the things that had struck Umasi when he first met her was how clean she was for a vagrant. He wasn’t sure what her secret was, but he hadn’t thought it polite to ask, and instead exited the apartment to give her some privacy.
Only after she emerged did he understand that she had in fact been dirty before. She looked like a person transformed, like glass turned into diamond. Her skin and hair, which he had thought white before, had really been dull gray compared with how they were now. When the pale sunlight struck her hair, she seemed like an ethereal goddess rising up from the snow.
Umasi complimented her on her appearance, but noted that it was a shame that she couldn’t wash her clothes as well. She then mentioned that she’d never been able to buy any for herself, making do with whatever gray or white rags she could find. That gave Umasi the idea of going clothes shopping, something that he’d never considered doing before in his life. Up until that moment, buying clothes had been something to do out of sheer necessit
y and nothing else. He wasted no time in approaching his companion with the idea.
“Shopping?” she frowned. “I told you, I can’t afford—”
“I’ll pay for you.”
“No you won’t.”
“It’s not charity, you know. It’s just doing a friend a favor.”
“It . . . what?” she sputtered, momentarily disarmed.
“Come on!”
For the first time since he’d met her, the pale girl looked taken aback, but she didn’t protest as Umasi led her along by one arm. Though she talked to no one, and pointedly ignored all the stares she attracted, she otherwise seemed strangely comfortable among other people. When they got to the store, Umasi remembered that he didn’t have the faintest idea about picking outfits, and so he urged his companion to do it for the both of them. The albino was reluctant at first, but after she got a chance to examine the nearly endless aisles of clothing, she soon seemed almost to be enjoying herself.
The pale girl quickly chose plain white garments for herself, replacing everything but her headband. She then set about picking Umasi’s attire. Her new white sweater, tied around her neck like her old one, billowed behind her as she moved from aisle to aisle. Umasi ended up with several simple sets of clothes of different light colors, a theme that suited him. He now wore plain khaki jeans, and a long-sleeve white shirt with a buttoned-up collar, over which a beige vest had been added. His worn, dirty green jacket had been discarded, and a long white scarf was tied loosely around his neck so that its ends could flow behind him.
Umasi quickly paid for everything, not wanting to be seen in the living districts for longer than necessary. Just as they were about to leave the store, the nameless girl spotted a case of sunglasses. She chose two pairs of a simple black design that didn’t seem very popular.
“What’re these for?” Umasi wondered.
“Remember what I said about not relying on sight?” she asked as she slipped hers on. “These will probably work better than blindfolds. They dim your vision instead of removing it altogether, so you can keep them on all the time.”
“Constant practice.” Umasi nodded. “It’s a good idea, but black’s not really my color.”
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah, my brother’s the one who likes and looks good with black, so—”
“Aren’t you twins?”
“Not identical, and—”
At this point she put a hand on her hip and looked at him sternly.
“Umasi, the rest of your clothes are practically white. Are you going to let your brother decide everything you wear? Or are you going to let me do it?”
“Are those my only choices?” Umasi asked meekly.
“Yes.” She smiled.
“All right then, milady.” Umasi slipped the sunglasses on.
And so Umasi left the store looking quite striking, though his companion still attracted far more attention for a variety of reasons. Neither of them looked remotely like a vagrant anymore, and it was already after school hours, so though many heads turned, no one bothered the pair as they made their way back to District 19.
As they walked through the snow, Umasi began to get a strange, unreasonable feeling that his new outfit wasn’t as warm as the old one—a notion that he quickly dismissed because the clothes he was wearing now were decidedly thicker than those that he’d abandoned. But by the time they reached the District 19 fence, he was visibly shivering.
“Are you all right?” the nameless girl asked, removing her sunglasses.
“Yeah,” Umasi insisted, “just a bit cold and tired right now.”
“Cold and tired?” she repeated. “You didn’t throw out that old green jacket yet, right? Maybe you should wear it again for now.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Umasi agreed, sliding into the jacket only to realize that it wasn’t doing him much good. “I just think I need to lie down under some blankets and get some rest.”
“You haven’t been up all that long,” the albino pointed out. “You shouldn’t be worn out already.”
“Maybe it’s all this snow, I don’t know,” Umasi murmured. “Will you help me over the fence, milady?”
She obliged him and gave him a boost over the wooden barrier. He dropped down unusually clumsily onto the other side. As he rubbed his sore back, Umasi numbly realized that he wasn’t thinking very clearly. Chalking it up to his inexplicable weariness, Umasi staggered to his feet and began making his way back towards the lemonade stand. His nameless companion gracefully slipped over the fence herself a moment later and swiftly caught up to him.
“You’re not like yourself,” she said, eyes narrowing. “I think you might be catching a cold.”
“Milady, I’ve been dunked into the river and come out into a blizzard without getting sick,” Umasi said wearily. “I don’t think a few flurries are going to get to me so easily.”
“It was a miracle that you survived before,” she conceded. “But that doesn’t make you invincible.”
Umasi had nothing to say to that. He simply walked back to the apartment and immediately slipped under a pile of blankets that he had made his bed. But even with the warmth of the thick cloth, he only grew colder with each passing moment. Despite the chills, it didn’t take his weariness long to lull him to sleep, and so he never noticed the pair of blue eyes that watched him in growing concern.
Gesturing forward with two fingers, Rothenberg glared at the other Enforcers, some of whom were looking decidedly nervous. Outside, the sound of explosions continued to rend the air, some off in the distance, others uncomfortably close by. At Rothenberg’s command, the other Enforcers rushed forward into the abandoned apartment and began shouting as they knocked on doors. They were rewarded with yells of surprise, and Rothenberg felt a surge of triumph. The brats were here!
Rothenberg had returned to Enforcer Headquarters late the previous night, and had been simultaneously pleased and outraged to find the Mayor’s aide asleep in his chair. While Rothenberg had lamented the loss of his seat, he was happy that he wouldn’t have to deal with the man, and even happier that his last orders had been followed in his absence. A massive task force moved out to take District 7 by storm.
Forgoing sleep and driving all thoughts of specters and phantoms from his mind, Rothenberg hastened to join the task force. When he arrived, his eyes were met with a scene of total destruction: Every few blocks patrol cars and bodies littered the otherwise empty streets, smoke rose in great gray and white plumes, shouts both from nearby and over the radio echoed in his ears. But though their casualties were mounting, it had not been in vain; one of the children was seen fleeing to this building, and so Rothenberg personally led a team in to flush him out.
“Truants! This is the Enforcers! Surrender now or we’ll kill the lot of you!” Rothenberg roared as one of his men kicked a nearby door in.
In response, a gunshot rang out and the Enforcer who had kicked the door down crumpled in the doorway. Leaping into action, Rothenberg peered into the room and fired at the center of the dark figure within. His victim let out a yelp and crumpled to the ground, but another sprang from behind a closet, forcing Rothenberg to duck back as bullets soared his way. Rothenberg fired back blindly into the room, and then chanced a look. The Truant had taken cover behind an overturned desk, just as he expected. Seizing his chance, Rothenberg charged into the room and leapt over the desk, tackling the boy before he realized what was happening. Rothenberg roughly slammed the Truant’s head against the ground, rendering him motionless.
Rothenberg rose and looked around the room, breathing hard. It was now unoccupied, though a small pile of what Rothenberg suspected were crude explosives rested in a corner. From the sounds throughout the building, Rothenberg knew that his fellow Enforcers were fighting similar battles. Running back out into the corridor to join them, Rothenberg drew his radio from his belt.
“Remember, if you see our primary suspect, apprehend him alive at all costs!” Rothenberg s
houted for the umpteenth time that morning. “We need him alive!”
It was a purely precautionary reminder. Rothenberg did not expect to encounter the Mayor’s son in this small hidey-hole where only a handful of Truants seemed to have settled in. Indeed Rothenberg did not expect to find the boy in District 7 at all. Still, Rothenberg was taking no chances about accidentally shooting him. He didn’t even want to imagine what the Mayor would do if one of his sons turned up dead.
As Rothenberg lunged for the stairs, a deafening noise split the air, and the entire building began to quake. Over the ringing in his ears, Rothenberg heard panicked shouts on his radio.
“They’re setting off their entire supply of bombs!”
“They must be crazy!”
“Everyone out, the building’s gonna collapse!”
Rothenberg took those last words to heart, turning tail and dashing out of the building as fast as he could. As he ran out into the street, he turned and looked up to see flashes of more explosions inside the building. He raised his arm to shield himself from falling glass, and then, with a great tremor and crumbling sound, part of the building collapsed in on itself, sending dust and debris cascading to the ground. Other Enforcers emerged from the entrance, coughing and sputtering as they reached the open air.
Rothenberg smiled for the first time in days. It had come at a high price, but this was a victory for the Enforcers; the Truancy had now been completely eradicated from District 7, and he was one step closer to cornering their lunatic leader. Rothenberg rubbed his hands delightedly and then reached for his radio. His duty to the Mayor had been done for the day. Now it was time to hunt down the ghost of District 19 and earn some peace for himself.
. . . And sometimes, they would . . . they would threaten me with a gun. I was so scared, but then the Enforcers took it away, and after that Mrs. Elli got angry, very angry, and . . . and . . .”