Truancy City

by Isamu Fukui

  As the teacher walked away, Cross began to feel dizzy and short of breath. The laughter of his classmates was drowned out by the throbbing in his head. Recesses were no great loss; he only ever got bullied in the courtyard anyway. Yet his head still spun, because he knew that his father was going to be called.

  Cross looked down at his small hands. This was going to mean more bruises.

  * * *

  “So, you showed off your bruises to the teacher, eh, boy? Thought that she’d protect you from me, was that it?”

  “No dad, it wasn’t like—”

  “DO NOT CALL ME THAT!”

  Cross had braced himself for the blow, but the sheer force of it still knocked him to the floor. “S-sorry, Mr. Rothenberg, sir.”

  “You pulled me off duty for this, boy!” Rothenberg raged, pacing around the living room. “I happen to be working on a very important case! Do you think I want to be here right now? Do you think I want to waste time on disobedient trash?”

  “No, s-sir,” Cross mumbled, fighting back tears.

  “Then why do you make me do it?” Rothenberg demanded. “If you’d just learn to behave yourself then I wouldn’t have to do this! Are you trying to waste my time? Apologize!”

  Cross couldn’t help it. The tears came pouring of their own accord, defying his every attempt to suppress them.

  “I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sor—”

  “Stop crying!” Rothenberg roared. Cross tried, but the flood would not be held back. “I said, stop crying!”

  Cross gasped as Rothenberg landed a kick to his stomach. The blow was so powerful that it shocked his tears away.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

  It was just a nightmare, just a nightmare. Cross repeated that mantra in his head as he turned his head to look up at his enraged father, who now held a leather belt in his hands.

  “I’m gonna give you a choice, boy,” Rothenberg said. “Ten lashes with your hands closed, or five with them open. Choose!”

  Cross almost started crying again, but stopped himself just in time.

  “Ask for one, or you’ll get both!” Rothenberg snarled.

  Cross shut his eyes and held out his fists, trembling.

  “Ten closed, p-please.”

  * * *

  The sidewalk was cold and unforgiving as Cross hit the ground again. His breaths came ragged, misting in the winter air.

  “Hah, looks like he’s all worn out now. How many times did you hit him, Chuck?”

  “Just ten. Heck, I’m surprised he took that much.”

  “Thought you were real clever, didn’t ya, Cross? Thought you’d ditched us, huh?”

  “Hold his arms tighter, Jim, I can’t aim right like this.”

  Cross gritted his teeth as he took another punch to the gut, hating how this had become a weekly routine. With his father absent most of the time, it fell to Cross to cook and clean after himself. This meant going out for groceries and stretching what little allowance he had. Most kids just laughed when word got around that Cross did housework. Two upper graders, however, had since made a habit of ambushing him on his way back from the store.

  “Why’d you have to struggle, Cross? Now you’re gonna pay for getting mud on Jim’s pants.”

  “Yeah, you have any idea how long it’s going to take my mom to wash this off?”

  About forty minutes by hand, if she uses the right detergent, Cross thought.

  Cross had tried hard to avoid them this time. He’d taken a long detour around the edge of District 18, only to discover that they’d been following him all along. His patience had snapped, and Cross had tried to fight back. Foolish.

  Staring up at the frozen gray skies, Cross took their blows as his groceries scattered across the street. His eyes remained dry. It never occurred to Cross that anyone might help, that this time might be different from all the others.

  Then an unfamiliar voice called out.

  “Are we going to have a problem, or are you all going to get the hell out of my way?”

  The two bullies glanced up, and even Cross rolled over to look at the newcomer. It was a boy, wearing a gray student’s uniform and short blond hair. Emerald eyes glinted in the pale sunlight, and his thin eyebrows were slanted in contempt.

  “Mind your own business, blondie,” Jim said. “Get outta here before you end up like this kid.”

  Cross privately thought that the boy should take the advice. He was clearly younger than the bullies, and physically didn’t seem like much of a match.

  “That sounds like a raw deal.” The blond boy actually yawned. “Here’s a better one. You get out of my sight now, or I will remove you from it.”

  “Isn’t this kid from one of the lower grades, Jim?” Charles asked, squinting. “He’s got quite a mouth on him.”

  “Guess his parents never taught him when to keep it shut.”

  The boy shifted impatiently, and suddenly Cross felt a chill that had nothing to do with the winter weather.

  “My parents, being the extraordinary fools that they were, are dead,” the blond said. “Get out of my way unless you want to join them.”

  “Hah!” Jim’s features lit up. “I remember now, he’s one of those orphan kids!”

  Cross found that vaguely interesting. All orphanages were run by the City, and contained kids whose parents couldn’t or wouldn’t take care of them. A gathering of misfits and outcasts.

  “Yeah.” Charles chortled. “I bet he— hey, whaddya think you’re doing, blond boy?”

  If his ribs weren’t hurting, Cross would have gasped. Within an instant, both of the older boys lay sprawled on the sidewalk. Jim cursed and writhed as Charles rose to his feet and stared at his foe.

  “You stupid little blond!” he snarled.

  Charles lunged, intending to tackle the smaller boy to the ground. Like lightning, the orphan leapt clear, and Cross winced as Charles crashed into the ground face-first.

  “My name’s not ‘blond,’ fool.” The boy kicked the fallen bully in the ribs, twisted delight on his face. “It’s Edward. Remember it.”

  * * *

  Cross remembered it.

  It happened while he was scrubbing the floor of the apartment’s bathroom, the revelation as sudden as it was random. Cross had always felt that the name Edward was familiar, but as someone far too awkward to fit into any social circle at school it had taken him some time to place it.

  As he squeezed out his rag, Cross finally recalled that Edward was one of the popular kids at the District 18 School, a star at … something. Maybe a lot of things. Belonging to different social strata, they had never met before the incident with the groceries—though Cross had sometimes heard the name spoken in the hallways in tones of awe. There was no doubt in his mind that they were the same boy.

  Taking down older kids that easily … I wish I could do that.

  As Cross began work on the toilet, a sudden knock at the door snapped him out of his reverie. Cross tensed. It wasn’t like his father to knock, but who else would possibly pay a visit here?

  Cautiously, Cross removed his rubber gloves and hurried to the door. The knock came again, louder, and Cross quickly decided to open it before whoever was on the other side got angry.

  The door swung open, and a uniformed Enforcer stepped inside.

  “Are you Cross?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m Enforcer Abrams,” the man said. “Custody of you has been turned over to the local orphanage. I’m to escort you there. Pack your things.”

  The impact of the words was so sudden that Cross felt a little disoriented. Dozens of questions swirled in Cross’ head, threatening to make him burst from the pressure.

  “Wha … I mean, yes, sir, but what … what…”

  Cross couldn’t find the words to express himself. He didn’t even know what to express.

  “Your father has been injured in his duty as an Enforcer,” Abrams said unhelpfully. “H
urry up and pack your things. I’ll explain on the way to the orphanage.”

  4

  A LEGEND RETURNS

  “You shouldn’t be here, you know.”

  Sepp frowned as he and Floe picked their way through the dormant battlefield. The sun was just beginning to creep over the horizon, and the dawn was a swirled mess of blue and red.

  “Why?” Sepp asked. “I’m not that ugly, am I?”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Floe snapped. “You could have retreated with the rest of the Militia instead of following me behind enemy lines like this.”

  “You’re not the only one who wants to find Cross and Joe,” Sepp said. “This is my unit too you know.”

  Floe said nothing to that, but kicked an empty can in her way with particular ferocity. Sepp sighed and looked around sadly.

  As far as the eye could see, the City had been completely devastated by the battle. Fires had reduced entire blocks to ruins, and some of them were still burning. The buildings they left behind were little more than charred husks—burnt monuments against a sky of ash. Rubble, trash, and the wreckage of cars littered the streets, relics of one battle or another.

  Some of those ruins had once been neighborhoods that Sepp had known in his childhood. Now they were beyond recognition. Clucking his tongue, Sepp bit back a curse against the Truants. Floe had once been a Truant.

  “Thanks for the backup out there,” Floe said suddenly, her voice neutral now. “That shot was really clutch.”

  Sepp smiled. “No problem. I owe you some thanks too.”

  Floe turned to look at Sepp skeptically. “For what?”

  “For improving the view. Sniper duty is so drab and unpleasant without you in the scope.”

  Floe shook her head. “You are incorrigible.”

  “I’m not familiar with that word. Does it mean ‘very handsome?’”

  “No.”

  “Ouch.” Sepp clutched a hand over his heart. “You could have at least lied to spare my feelings.”

  The large gap in the overpass was in sight now, like a great chunk had been bitten out of the structure by a giant. Sepp scrambled up a piece of what had been a support column and gave Floe a hand up. After clearing more debris they arrived at the center of the blast.

  Lying amidst the twisted concrete and steel was the wrecked hulk of the bulldozer. Like a slain animal it lay on its side, smaller pieces of it strewn around, smoke rising from its corpse. Mercifully there was no sign that the Truancy had come to salvage the machine yet—and judging from the extent of the damage, it was unlikely that they would gain much by doing so.

  “Look for a car,” Sepp said. “It should be somewhere nearby.”

  Sure enough, they found the battered automobile in the shadow of the bulldozer. It was upside down and half buried by rubble, but still in one piece. Floe bit her lip as she ran for the car and practically ripped the door open. Sepp thought she looked almost distraught as she pulled Cross from the wreckage.

  For a moment Sepp was sure that their leader was done for. He showed no sign of movement and was bleeding from the head.

  Floe pressed her ear to his chest and relief spread across her face.

  “He’s alive!”

  Sepp grinned. “That’s great news.”

  There was a groan from the driver’s seat. Floe peered through the car window. “So is Joe.”

  Sepp blinked. “That’s … news.”

  Floe nearly snorted with amusement but caught herself in time. Lifting Cross, she began to make her way up and out of the crater.

  “Come on,” she said. “We need to get out of here in case the Truancy gets curious about what happened to their dream machine.”

  “But we’re behind enemy lines,” Sepp pointed out. “Where can we possibly go that’d be safer than here?”

  “We’ll figure something out. Drag Joe out of there, will you?”

  Sepp frowned and looked down at the car. He could catch a glimpse of Joe’s massive outline through the window.

  He groaned. “Heroics should come with a weight limit.”

  * * *

  The news of the loss of the overpass threw District 1 into complete disarray. The Enforcers scrambled to prepare new defensive lines and carry out evacuations without any clear plan. Civilians fled en masse towards City Hall. Everyone expected to see Truants in the streets within hours. It was as though the end had already come.

  As the chaos unfolded, no one noticed a lone figure clothed in black slip into a dark alley. The dawn had taken away the cover of night, but no one was looking for one shadow while throngs of thousands filled the streets.

  Crouching behind a garbage can, Umasi waited and listened.

  How long has it been since I last set foot in District 1? Two years? Three? Things sure have changed.

  A group of Enforcers were trying to enforce a curfew to drive the crowd back from the steps of City Hall, but the civilians were being uncooperative for once. The disturbance would work to his advantage.

  Straightening up, Umasi began moving, careful to avoid making any sound. Although his eyesight was already poor, he wore sunglasses that left him nearly blind. He had trained himself to rely heavily on hearing. Making his way around to the back of City Hall, he finally located what he was looking for—an old trapdoor service entrance that led into the basement. It hadn’t been used for years.

  The lock was rusted and easily gave way to a steel crowbar. With a smile of satisfaction, Umasi adjusted the black windbreaker buttoned around his neck like a cape. A pair of identical ceramic swords dangled at his sides.

  The trap doors creaked open. After four years of self-imposed exile, it was finally time that he returned home.

  * * *

  The first conscious thing Cross became aware of was a slap to the face.

  The second thing was another slap to the face.

  As the third one came Cross seized the oncoming arm by the wrist. Instinct told him to leverage his grip to break the limb, but he managed to suppress the urge. He cracked one eye open and groaned.

  “What the hell are you doing, Floe?”

  “Just testing your alertness,” Floe said innocently. “And your patience too, I suppose. Surly as ever. You’re going to be fine.”

  Cross tightened his grip. “What’s going on?”

  “You were having a bad dream.”

  Cross grunted. “It was better than this.”

  “I’ll bet,” Floe agreed. “May I have my arm back?”

  Cross released her arm and sat up. They were on a station platform somewhere. A subway. The lights had long since gone out in this part of the City but a small bonfire had been built close to the edge of the platform so that the smoke would rise out of the ventilation holes above.

  Floe was kneeling beside him with a look of concern on her face. Sepp was lying on his side, watching them idly through the fire, feeding it occasional planks of wood. Joe was awake as well, brooding by himself on a bench by the wall.

  There was a painful pounding in Cross’ head and he found it hard to concentrate. He gingerly touched the top of his head. His hand came away with dried blood.

  “What happened?” Cross asked.

  The others cast dark glances at one another.

  “The Truancy is advancing fast towards District 1 now,” Sepp said. “Without the overpass it’ll take them a few days, but I don’t see a whole lot that can be done to stop them. Meanwhile, we’re stuck here in enemy territory.”

  “Enemy territory?” Cross repeated.

  “That’s right, boss,” Sepp said. “Nothing between us and home but a few thousand Truants and the front lines of the war.”

  There were a few moments of brooding quiet. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. Sepp tossed another plank onto the heap.

  “Are they looking for us?” Cross asked. “The Truancy, that is.”

  “I don’t think we were seen. I doubt they even know we’re here.” Floe began digging through their pack
s. “Listen, I know you all might not have much of an appetite, but we should eat now while we have the chance.”

  No one was hungry, but the suggestion made sense. They pried open some canned rations and heated them over the fire. Within minutes they were scooping food up with their hands. Joe ate double his share but seemed to complain the most.

  “I hate this damn slop,” he said as he shoveled it in his mouth. “This stuff makes cafeteria food taste good.”

  Sepp merely poked at his food. “At least we put up a good fight. I’d say that for every student that went down we took two Truants with us.”

  “Maybe.” Floe sipped at her canteen thoughtfully. “But it was never our combat ability they really feared. It was more the idea of us. Our very existence proves that they don’t speak for all students. I can tell you firsthand that Edward gave them a real ideological crisis when he first came to power.”

  “I’m not Edward,” Cross muttered.

  “And a damn shame that is too.” Joe was still licking his container. “What is this crap? They call this meat?”

  “Hey, it’ll give you a new appreciation for home cooking.” Sepp punched Joe lightly on the shoulder. “Heck, my little sister could do better than that junk.”

  “She’s only six, isn’t she?” Floe said.

  “Yeah.” Sepp smiled. “But she’s probably more mature than me. She lives near the western border with my mother. My father’s an Enforcer, and I’m in the Militia, but of the whole family she probably minds gunfire the least. For her it’s like fireworks every night.”

  “Aren’t you worried about her?” Floe asked. “With the Truancy advancing and everything—”

  “Of course I’m worried,” Sepp said. “I’ve always been worried. Part of me wishes I could be with them right now, but staying with this unit is the best way I can protect them and everyone else. It’s why I joined up in the first place. I couldn’t stand doing nothing while the Truancy destroyed everything.”

  Cross remained silent. The talk of family made him feel uncomfortable. With nothing to add, he chewed the last of his food mechanically.

  “That’s all very noble of you Sepp.” Joe threw his empty container aside. “But while we’re talking about why we joined up, I’ve been dying to hear your reason, Floe. Haven’t heard you mention it yet.”