Truancy City

by Isamu Fukui

  He had no face.

  * * *

  The bell was still ringing when Cross awoke.

  Through the noise and the darkness he struggled to gather his bearings. Vague images from his nightmare flashed before his eyes, and for a few confused moments he half expected to find Edward looming in the shadows over him. Then there was a crack of light from an opening doorway, and the stirrings from the other bunks brought the memories rushing back.

  Edward was dead. He had been for a long time.

  Cross rubbed his eyes. It had been nearly a year since the young rebels of the Truancy had first risen up en masse to seize control of the City. A year since Edward, an ambitious student and Cross’ mentor, had sided with the Mayor and answered the Truancy’s challenge with his own Student Militia.

  A year since the Truancy’s founder Zyid had called for peace on the night of his greatest offensive. Neither Edward nor Zyid had survived that night. The cease-fire that followed had deteriorated quickly, as Cross had known it would. Now, a year later, peace was still elusive.

  No sooner had Zyid’s death been announced than word of his replacement, a mysterious boy named Takan, had circulated. And Edward had barely been gone a day before the Mayor had insisted that his protégé should succeed him—thus Cross had ascended to a leadership and responsibility he had never desired.

  Swearing under his breath, Cross slid out of bed and into his shoes. Someone turned the lights on and was rewarded with a chorus of groans. Cross ignored them and focused on recalling the current situation through a fog of sleep.

  The room he was in now had a year ago been an old classroom of the District 2 School. It had been long since converted into a dormitory, and the school itself transformed into a base for the students who chose to fight to defend their City.

  They were losing that fight.

  “All students, report for duty immediately,” the intercom blared. “This is an emergency. I repeat, all students, report for duty immediately.”

  Cross looked around and saw that the other students were still dragging themselves out of bed. Heaving himself to his feet, Cross dashed out of the room without a word to those supposedly under his command. The only backwards glance he spared was for the clock on the wall. It read 20:06. He’d had a long patrol that morning and had slept right through the entire day.

  Cross ran for his locker. The hallways were dimly lit by dying fluorescent lights and buzzing with blue uniformed students in various states of preparedness. Reaching his destination, Cross entered his combination and quickly retrieved his equipment. Rifle. Knife. Sidearm. Body armor. Flashlight. Pieces of himself.

  Feeling complete now, Cross rubbed sleep from his eyes as he headed for the front doors where he knew his personal unit would gather. Sure enough, two of them were already there. The first was a lean, wiry boy with straw-colored hair and a sniper rifle slung over one shoulder. The other was a girl with brown hair held back by a blue bandanna.

  “Rise and shine, boss.” The boy bowed with exaggerated deference. “You sure look bright and cheerful this fine—”

  “Not in the mood, Sepp,” Cross snapped. “Have you heard anything about what’s going on?”

  “Well, sir, it would appear that the Truants are attacking. I hear that they’re very unhappy and would like us all to die.”

  Cross let out a noise of exasperation. The girl cracked a smile.

  “All we know is that they’ve massed around the eastern overpass,” she said. “It sounds like they’re a lot of them out there, but last I heard they haven’t even tried to tackle the barricade yet.”

  “Well, that’s some good news,” Cross muttered. “Thanks, Floe.”

  The girl gave an airy salute. Rather than the uniform pants used by most girls in the militia, Floe had opted instead for a matching skirt and a hip sack. At five foot five she was the shortest member of his unit.

  The news she’d offered was important. The Truancy’s long campaign had cut off Educator-controlled districts from one another and strangled them until only a fortified core remained. Those fortifications had held so far, but they were all that stood now between the Truancy and total victory.

  All tiredness forgotten, Cross found himself itching to get into the fight. Black vans were beginning to pull up by the curb outside.

  “There’s our ride,” Cross said as other units began to form up and exit through the front doors. “We’re still missing Joe. Has anyone seen that—”

  “I’m here, I’m here!” a deep voice shouted, its owner shoving his way through the crowd. “Yeah, I’m a little late, whatever, let’s go, come on!”

  Joe was a large, muscular boy with a shaven head. Without waiting for a reply, he charged out as though he had been first. Rolling their eyes, the others followed. Now fully assembled, Cross’ group piled into one of the waiting vans. Cross clambered in last and shut the door behind him.

  Together the four of them made a formidable team, one that Cross felt was a match for any group of Truants. He had selected each of them for a different reason. Joe had impressive strength and could be absolutely vicious in battle when he got going. Sepp was one of the best shots in the Militia and could pick off Truants from many blocks away with his rifle.

  As for Floe … Cross glanced over at the brunette, who was busy adjusting the sight on her rifle. Cross had personal reasons for picking her, but she had also defected from the Truancy and thus knew more about the enemy than any other student.

  “The Truancy never had all this standardized gear.” Floe admired her knife as the van began moving. “But we did get to play with some neat toys.”

  “Like what?” Joe grunted.

  “Like these.” Floe pulled a glass bottle out of her hip sack. A cloth was stuffed into its neck, and Cross recognized it as an old Truancy favorite—gasoline and motor oil, mixed into an explosive cocktail.

  “Aren’t those illegal?” Sepp said.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Floe stuffed the bottle back into the pack.

  “It’s not like they’d arrest her for that,” Cross said. “The Educators should let us use them openly. They’re easy to make, and they give the Truancy an edge.”

  “Might as well have us all just be Truants,” Joe muttered.

  Cross glared. “Shut up, Joe.”

  An awkward silence fell over the van. Cross had never liked Joe as a person. The large boy had made the mistake of taking Cross for a pushover during his first day with the Militia. When their first and only fight put Joe in the infirmary for two days he had become much more respectful, though Cross knew Joe was still sore over the incident.

  “Hey, you kids back there all ready to go?” the driver called. “I’m about to hit the gas so you all better buckle up!”

  The students reached for their seat belts as the driver took a particularly sharp turn. Stop signs and streetlights flew by so quickly that Cross was glad that there was a curfew to prevent pedestrians from getting flattened.

  “What have you heard about the situation?” Cross asked the man.

  “Probably not much more than you,” the Enforcer said, hitting a speed bump. “The overpass seems to be holding, which is good, ’cause the most important thing for us is to hold the high ground there—but the ground is just swarming with Truants. We can’t pull too many Enforcers away from the other districts in case this is just a diversion.”

  “So that’s why we’re being called in.”

  “Exactly, kiddo. Now hold on tight, we’re almost there.”

  A few moments later, the van screeched to a halt. Cross was already sliding the door open before the wheels had stopped turning. He leapt out. The others quickly followed. Sepp looked a little green from the ride and took great gulps of air with his hands on his knees.

  They were standing at the base of a ramp that provided access to the overpass above. Not too far off in the distance, Cross could see tiny flashes of gunfire and movement—that was where the front lines were. The T
ruancy would have a hard time drawing closer with the overpass so well defended.

  His heart racing with excitement, Cross was about to order his team straight onto the overpass. A rocket slammed into the van they had just gotten out of. There was a flare of heat and light, and then the force of the blast sent Cross crashing to the ground.

  His head spinning, Cross dove behind the van’s wreckage as gunshots rang out. He saw muzzle flashes coming from ground level. The Truants were in the buildings that lined the overpass.

  Cross soon found himself joined by Sepp and Floe—Joe had found other cover nearby. They blindly returned fire.

  “Ugh, with our attention on District 8 they must’ve snuck in over the District 5 border,” Floe said. “They’re everywhere now!”

  “Split up,” Cross said. “Sepp, go find a roost. Floe, you stay down here and keep an eye on the buildings, don’t try anything stupid. Joe, come with me, we’ll go—”

  “Wait, look up there!”

  Floe’s eyes were wide with fear. Cross turned. Just a few blocks down, on the roof of a relatively low building, a figure stood clearly illuminated by a red neon sign. Against the dark blue sky, Cross could make out wild hair, a matching brown trench coat, and the faint gleam of what had to be a white sword.

  Cross breathed. “Is that—”

  “Takan,” Floe said grimly. “Their leader.”

  “Sepp, can you get a shot off from here?” Cross demanded.

  Sepp reached for his rifle, but never got the chance to aim. Another rocket landed nearby, and Cross’ unit ducked for cover as shrapnel shredded the air. By the time they raised their heads again, Takan was gone.

  “Of course it wouldn’t be that easy,” Cross muttered, his ears ringing. “He’s taunting us. But if he’s here at all, that means this fight is the real deal.”

  Already more vans and Enforcer patrol cars were arriving. Students and Enforcers spilled out of them, filling the streets, forming defensive positions, and charging up onto the overpass. A subordinate, one of the Student Militia’s coordinators, ran up to Cross.

  “Orders, Captain?” the student asked.

  Cross frowned. This was the part he hated the most. He didn’t like everyone looking to him for answers—he was good at carrying out orders, not giving them. He never thrived on being in charge as Edward had.

  “Send half of the students onto the overpass to reinforce our defenses there, and spread the other half out down here,” Cross said. “Try to push the Truants back to those buildings.”

  The student nodded and ran off to relay the commands.

  “Don’t underestimate Takan,” Floe warned, glancing up at the neon sign. “If he joins the battle himself, it’s gonna be messy.”

  “This was never going to be clean,” Cross replied, raising his rifle. “All right, Joe, you’re with me. Everyone, get going. Let’s hunt some Truants!”

  Floe joined the other students advancing upon the unseen Truants in the buildings. Sepp darted off on his own. Cross felt a familiar thrill as he charged up the ramp and onto the overpass. Peering off the side, he let off a three-round burst at a Truant that had strayed too far from cover.

  Cross fought for the sake of fighting. He didn’t enjoy the killing itself. It was the danger and excitement that came from being one mistake away from death. He didn’t really remember why he was supposed to be doing it. He didn’t care why. Cross lived for the moment.

  As the Student Militia reinforcements arrived, the Truants backed off. Only sporadic fire came now from the shadowed buildings. The brief respite gave Cross and Joe a chance to peer over the edge of the overpass, into the darkness of the Truant-infested District 5. That area had already been abandoned before the war had started, but now it lay in utter ruin with only the burnt and crumbling skeletons of buildings left standing.

  “Can’t say I like what they’ve done with their occupied territory,” Cross said. “Everything they touch seems to turn into a smoking wreck.”

  “I hear the guys have their own name for it.”

  “Do they?” Cross turned to look at Joe. “What is it?”

  The large boy grinned and fired a shot off into the darkness. A tiny wisp of smoke rose from the barrel of his gun.

  “They call it Truancy City.”

  2

  UNLEASH THE BEAST

  Aaron peered off the side of the rooftop with binoculars pressed tightly to his face. A veteran Truant, he had come to enjoy watching the ebb and flow of battle.

  “How’s it look down there, Aaron?” Takan sat crouched nearby.

  “There’s an awful lot of them,” Aaron replied. “Looks like they’ve emptied their headquarters. Almost as many students as there are Enforcers. You okay with that?”

  “We settled this a long time ago.” Takan gazed at the red glow of the sign. “The students made their choice—they can go down with the Educators if that’s what they want.”

  Aaron was about to reply when his cell phone began vibrating. He flipped it open.

  “Yeah? When? How many? All right, thanks, I’ll tell him.” Aaron shut the phone and turned to Takan. “Word from our spies. The Militia is dividing their forces, half for the ground and half for the overpass.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s it.”

  “That’s it? Well that’s boring.” Takan smirked. “Is it Edward’s replacement leading them out there?”

  “They didn’t say, but it probably is Cross.”

  “Cross, huh? By all accounts he’s fierce, but he’s got none of his predecessor’s finesse,” Takan said. “How are the preparations for the Beast?”

  Aaron put the binoculars down and scratched his neck.

  “Your, uh, additions should hold,” he replied. “She’s all fueled up and ready to go. The crew is just waiting on your order.”

  “Good. It’s almost time. Get ready for it, Aaron.”

  Aaron shifted. “Can I just ask one thing?”

  “Make it quick.”

  “Why isn’t Zyid’s brother along for the ride? This attack is important, isn’t it?”

  “He’s not really one of us, you know. I can’t exactly order him around.” Takan shrugged. “Besides, he’s got other things to worry about.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how to get into City Hall and persuade the Mayor to surrender. Hopefully this attack will make his job easier and we won’t have to go through with Plan B.”

  Understanding dawned on Aaron’s face. Before he could say anything, a fresh cacophony of gunfire sounded. He raised his binoculars again.

  “Looks like the Militia is fully deployed on the overpass.”

  “Like moths to the flame.” Takan sighed. “If they want to test the strength of their defenses so badly, I’m happy to oblige. Unleash the Beast.”

  * * *

  At the farthest end of the overpass, secure atop a twelve-foot-tall structure of reinforced concrete and steel, Patrolman Iverson blew lazily on his coffee. It was against regulation to be drinking coffee while a battle was going on, but no one ever took that rule seriously. Iverson himself had seen a dozen Truancy strikes come and go, but not once had the enemy dared to approach the impenetrable barrier on the overpass.

  Setting his mug down, Iverson turned to the sentry next to him. “Hey, you can handle staring at nothing by yourself for a minute, right?”

  “Yeah, sure. What’s the matter?”

  “Too much coffee.”

  The other sentry snorted, and Iverson descended from the barricade. At the edge of the overpass, Iverson unzipped his fly and began relieving himself off the side. The city streets were dark and abandoned below. No one lived this close to the border anymore. The distant sounds of battle were easy to ignore.

  “Hey, wait a minute, I think I see movement.”

  Iverson glanced up at the sentry on the wall, who was now reaching for his binoculars. The other Enforcers were still dozing, or in the guardhouse listening to music and waiting for the commoti
on to die down.

  “Are you sure?” Iverson said, zipping up his pants.

  “Yeah,” the man said. “Yeah, Truants, in the distance. They’ve got something with them. I think—”

  A distant shot rang out, and the man toppled off the barricade and onto the pavement, a bullet through his head. Iverson stared at the fallen body in disbelief.

  Explosions abruptly rocked the unattended barricade. The Truants were using rockets, but Iverson knew that they’d need more than that to break through. Iverson readied his rifle and darted up the barricade as other Enforcers spilled out of the guardhouse. One of them, he hoped, would remember to radio for help.

  Atop the barricade, Iverson’s stomach dropped as he saw dozens of dark shapes approaching fast. Behind them he thought he could see something huge approaching as well, a massive shadow in the night. Before Iverson could get a better look at whatever it was, bullets whizzed by, forcing him to duck.

  Iverson and the other Enforcers returned fire, even as the barricade shook beneath them from more rockets. Closer now, a few Truants fell to the Enforcers’ bullets. Then one of them lobbed something, and Iverson panicked as the grenade landed perfectly in their midst.

  The blast threw Iverson from the wall, his ears ringing. He had landed atop the crumpled body of one of his fellows. Unable to stand, Iverson raised his head and realized that he could hear roaring now, a great mechanical cry of engines and gears.

  He tried to back away, just in time to see something huge slam into the damaged barricade and burst through it like sand. In his last moments Iverson froze, and only one thought registered in his mind.

  The barricade is gone, it’s gone! They have a highway right into the core districts! We’re finished—

  He caught a glimpse of rusted metal and barbed wire, and then the machine was upon him.

  * * *

  “Got one!” Joe laughed. “Man he was chubby. Easy target. Whatever the Truancy was feeding that guy, I want some.”

  Cross ignored him, focused on trying to provide cover fire for the students advancing below. Unable to escape the withering fire from the overpass, the Truants were beginning to pull back to the safety of the buildings. They had barely put up a fight against the student counterattack, and for a moment Cross wondered if it would really be that easy.