by Isamu Fukui
“I know we’re all tired,” she said, “but it’s probably best that we eat before resting so that we’ll be ready to move by nightfall.”
Zen didn’t seem to care much either way, and busied himself playing with his hoop. Meanwhile the girl opened her pack and lit the stove. Cross donned a dirty apron hanging from the kitchen door. The albino looked at him in surprise as he pried open a can of tuna fish and began to stir the contents with vegetable oil.
“You cook?”
“I used to,” Cross replied. “My father was … well, at home I had to take care of myself.”
The albino looked at him strangely and said nothing to that, but allowed him to heat some bouillon for a soup. It was not difficult to work with what few resources they had, and in no time at all they were sitting down at a small table and eating. Zen dug into his tuna with a spoon, while his mother used crackers for the same purpose. Cross merely nibbled at his portion, finding that despite his exhaustion he wasn’t very hungry.
How many of the students had escaped? Could they elude capture for long, hunted by an enemy like Iris? Had he only made things worse by trying to resist? Cross’ mind assumed the worst. He was no good at leading. Cross wished that he’d had the courage to refuse his promotion long ago; that he’d never become the leader of the Student Militia.
That wish triggered a fresh wave of guilt. Cross clenched his spoon so tight that it hurt. He had reminded himself that there was a reason he hadn’t refused the promotion.
* * *
“I’m impressed,” Edward said. “I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”
Cross said nothing. It was nighttime. The two of them were sitting in the darkness of their dormitory again. Cross was bandaged up from several wounds, his chest bare.
“You should thank me, Cross,” Edward continued. “The drawing was a regrettable loss, but your focus would be better spent on more ambitious endeavors. Plus I vouched for you, so you’ll get off easy for putting those three boys in the hospital.”
Cross shook his head. “Those guys were your friends.”
“Oh, I don’t really have friends,” Edward said. “They were just instruments—no, more like currency, things to be earned and spent as needed.”
Cross remained silent.
“Don’t feel bad, Cross. This is a turning point for you,” Edward said. “You now have a reputation as an angry, violent, antisocial lunatic. The other kids will probably leave you well alone. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
Cross continued to sulk. Edward was right. Word had spread quickly. The other students hated him, laughed at him, saw him as dangerous. Edward had not orchestrated their cruel response. They had been eager to make him an outcast.
Cross blinked back tears. He hadn’t wanted this, he hadn’t deserved this. The world had been unfair to him, but fighting back had only made it worse. Cross understood now that there would never be a place for him among his peers. They deserved the fate Edward had planned for them.
Cross balled his fists. “I’ll do it.”
Edward raised his thin eyebrows. “Do what?”
Cross looked up at Edward with blazing eyes.
“I’ll help you take over the City. I’ll help you destroy them.” Cross shook with anger. “I hate them. I hate them all, everyone.”
Edward smirked.
“Good,” he said. “When the time comes, I’m sure you’ll make a useful ally on the battlefield. But you know where I want to begin for now. Let us discuss ways to destroy the Truancy, and make me the obvious successor to the Mayor.”
Cross clenched his fist. He was prepared for this. Edward’s ambitions had planted the seeds of a dark idea in Cross’ mind, but this would be the first time he ever allowed it to bloom.
“If you want to take down the Truancy,” Cross said, “you’d have to cut them off from their base of support.”
“The students.” Edward grinned. “That much is obvious. But how to do it?”
“Make the Truants fight the students.” Cross pictured his tormentors being blown apart on the battlefield. “Start recruiting students into the Enforcers, or even better, create a new organization for them.”
Edward leaned forward. “You propose an entire militia of students.”
“Yeah. A Student Militia.”
* * *
“Are you going to eat your food, or just play with it?”
Startled out of his trance, Cross looked up. Zen’s bowl was already empty, and the little boy had curled up in a chair to sleep. The albino had also finished, and she was now looking at Cross with mild reproach. Embarrassed, Cross picked up his spoon and began eating.
“Sorry,” Cross said. “I was just thinking about—”
“The other students?” the girl finished.
Cross could not bring himself to tell the whole story. He nodded instead.
“Are you worried about them?”
“Yes.”
The albino shrugged off her blue militia jacket and laid it over the sleeping Zen. “Then what do you plan to do about it?”
“Plan?” Cross put his spoon down. “There’s nothing to plan. The plan is to avoid getting caught for as long as possible.”
“Is that all you aspire to do?” she asked. “Run away?”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
The albino looked at him as though it were obvious. “Try to help your friends.”
“Help?” Cross nearly laughed. “Every time I try to help it just ends up helping the enemy. The Government won. The rest of us lost, and now there’s nothing to do but wait until they catch every one of us.”
“If you’re still free, then you haven’t given up yet,” the albino pointed out. “The City is not beyond hope.”
“Yes it is,” Cross said. “Even if we weren’t scattered, the Student Militia would never have a hope of taking on the Government. You’ve seen their power. We’re kids with toys compared to them.”
“Didn’t the Truancy successfully resist the Enforcers for years, despite being outmatched by the Enforcers’ tools and numbers?”
That observation, while true, irked Cross. “Well then it’s too bad that the Truancy can’t give us some advice,” he said sarcastically.
“Maybe you should go and ask them for some.”
Cross stared at the albino. She seemed serious as always, her eyes an honest blue in the faint light. Still, Cross was not convinced that she hadn’t been joking.
“That’s impossible,” Cross said flatly. “The Truancy is scattered now, and even if they weren’t, working with them is—”
“Necessary,” the albino said. “If you want to save your comrades, if you believe that they’re not yet dead, then your path is clear. Do you feel no responsibility for the Student Militia?”
The question cut deep. Cross had never wanted that responsibility, but he could not bring himself to deny it.
“Why do you care?” he demanded. “What does it matter to you what we or the Truants do?”
The albino gestured over at where Zen slept. “I don’t know what kind of City he will grow up in,” she explained, “but I don’t want it to be one ruled by terror.”
Cross swallowed, remembering what it was like as a child, to live day to day in constant fear, without hope or succor. He took a deep breath.
“How would we even contact the Truancy?” Cross asked. “They’re all in hiding, like us.”
“I don’t have any easy answers,” the albino said. “It may take awhile to find them, but that might be for the better. As things are now, you’re not ready to negotiate with the Truancy.”
Cross frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If you want to deal with their leader, you should appear to be his equal,” the albino explained. “Right now, I don’t think you can pull it off.”
Cross hesitated, then turned to look at one of the great mirrors on the wall. He looked thin and haggard, his face gaunt, black rings forming under his eyes. He resembled a corpse that
had been dragged through the sewer. She had a point.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Cross asked. “Appearances can be changed, but there’s more to it than that. I can’t match Takan in a fight and everyone knows it.”
The albino’s chain clinked as she unfolded her arms. Outside the sun steadily climbed higher into the sky, its bright morning rays spilling into the street. As the fresh light diffused through the windows, the girl’s eyes seemed to glow red, and for a moment Cross felt very small before her.
“Train with me,” she said simply. “If I can teach you anything useful, I will. For as long as our journey lasts, you will be my pupil.”
* * *
Squish, squish, squish.
“Sepp, this is gross.”
“I totally agree. Hopefully the Government does too.”
Squish, squish, squish.
“Do you think they suspect some of us are hiding in the sewers?”
“Hide in the sewers? Who would do something crazy like that?”
Squish, squi—
“Sepp.”
“Something wrong?”
“I need to stop for a bit. I think I cut myself on something sharp.”
“Oh, that sounds bad. Here, let me kiss it to make it better.”
“Sepp!”
Sepp smiled at the squeal of outrage. He always found that noise endearing. Too bad Floe didn’t seem to think the same about his jokes.
“Guess not,” he said. “Well I see a little light up ahead. Maybe we can take a break there.”
The light turned out to be barely a ray flowing down through a street drain from the dusk outside. Grateful for both the illumination and the fresh air, Sepp and Floe sat down and rested in a nearby alcove, surrounded by heaps of decomposing litter that had fallen into the gutter over the years. Sepp could definitely think of more romantic settings than this. He glanced at Floe, who was now bandaging her cut with gauze from her fanny pack. She caught him looking, and frowned.
“What are you even doing here, Sepp?” she demanded, tying off the end of her bandage.
“Most recently?” Sepp scratched his head. “Thinking about how nicely your hair offsets all this charming garbage.”
“Shut up!” Floe flushed red. “You know what I mean! Why did you follow me?”
“’Cause,” Sepp said, leaning back, “I love being interrogated about my motives.”
Floe let out a strange sound as though she were trying to laugh and be angry at the same time. Sepp grinned. That was a new reaction.
“Sepp, we’re running for our lives here, with no clue where to go, and an entire army out to kill us!” Floe said. “Can’t you be serious for one moment?”
“I am serious, this is how I handle serious!” Sepp held his hands up. “I prefer laughing and joking to tense and moody, but if you’d prefer the latter…” He hunched over and made a grimacing face like the one Cross often wore.
Floe almost giggled, but caught herself in time. She swiftly rearranged her features into a neutral expression.
“Seriously, Sepp, what are we going to do?”
“Remember when I said you were welcome at my place?”
“Sepp, I’m trying to be serious here—”
“So am I,” Sepp said. “Look, Cross ordered us to hide with our families. He had a good idea. Mine has room for you.”
Floe blinked. “You said it was a one-room apartment. Where would we hide if the Government came looking for us? We can’t endanger your family like that.”
“Hm, you have a point there,” Sepp said. “Guess we’ll just have to squeeze in the cupboard if the worst happens.”
“Sepp!” Floe looked ready to slap him.
“Not a joke, not a joke!” Sepp said hastily. “It’s pretty big, it’d fit the both of us. Anyway, it’s not like we have any other options. I mean, I don’t think we’re going to find any hotels down here.”
Floe looked away, biting her lip.
“Will your parents take me?” she asked. “It’s a big risk for someone they don’t know.”
Sepp shrugged. “I think they will. I’ll just tell them you’re my—”
Sepp caught himself before he said the word girlfriend. He had intended it as a joke, but for some reason the word had sobered him. Now that they were alone, he found himself considering for the first time the possibility that his attraction might go beyond simple teasing. Remembering Cross, Sepp felt guilty.
“Your what?” Floe asked.
“Uh, comrade,” Sepp said quickly. “You’ve saved my life plenty of times, they’ll appreciate that. And besides, we’re technically following orders, aren’t we?”
“You mean to hide with our families?”
“Er, yeah, those orders.”
Sepp had no idea what Cross had intended when he’d told Sepp to follow Floe. Rumors about Cross and Floe’s relationship had circulated among the Militia—it was Cross, after all, who had recruited her from the Truancy—but Sepp’s attentive eye had never caught any evidence of Cross making a move on her. They definitely had some sort of history, but whatever it was, Sepp decided, it probably wasn’t romantic.
That worked for him. If Cross wasn’t interested, it was every man for himself.
“All right then.” Floe stood up, accepting that Sepp’s house might be better than sleeping in sewage. “Where is your house?”
“It’s in District 9,” Sepp said. “I’m not an expert on sewer navigation, but given the two options I’d say going forward makes the most sense.”
Floe rolled her eyes. “Forward it is. Come on, let’s go.”
With that, Sepp and Floe resumed their trek through the dark tunnels. As she walked along, Floe’s hair caught the light from the drain, and Sepp found himself smiling. He’d been joking at the time, but those light brown curls really did strike a nice contrast with their surroundings. And that wasn’t the only part of her that was nice.
Squish, squish, squish.
“Sepp, what are you staring at?”
“Nothing!”
18
WAKING NIGHTMARES
“What are you up to now, Iris?”
Iris smiled faintly and shut the folder she had been perusing. She’d only barely detected the newcomer coming up the stairs, but had known exactly who it was—the only other person allowed to enter and leave the Mayor’s study at will.
“I was browsing through the Mayor’s old files,” Iris said, looking up. “Or at least what could be salvaged of them. He was quite thorough, but it turns out that he forgot to wipe his Enforcer profiles.”
Umasi adjusted his sunglasses. “What could possibly interest you there?”
Iris set the folder aside. When he was not talking with her, Umasi spent most of his time trying to acclimate himself to his new environment. She could tell that he felt out of place among the uniformed soldiers, and so he had been living mostly out of his old bedroom in the mansion. It still felt a bit awkward to talk with him, but they had steadily begun to build a polite rapport.
Really, in Iris’ opinion they thought a lot alike. She believed him when he said he wanted to help, and she knew there was a lot he could do towards that end. Iris looked forward to seeing what he could do. But she wasn’t ready to share everything with him just yet.
“I was trying to determine which of the Enforcers might prove useful,” she said. “Did you have something you wanted to discuss?”
Umasi nodded, though Iris could tell that he hadn’t entirely bought her explanation.
“The City is secure, for now,” he said. “But I’m worried about a few loose ends.”
“Which in particular?”
“For one, the leader of the Truancy is still at large,” Umasi pointed out. “As is my brother’s former lieutenant, who I actually consider to be the more pressing threat. She’s been unpredictable and dangerous ever since Zen died.”
Iris drummed her fingers on the desk. “Do you believe the Truants might rally around her?”
�
��That possibility exists,” Umasi allowed. “But I find it more likely that in her confusion and anger, Noni will end up targeting important people. With one success she could throw the City into chaos.”
Iris considered that, then looked sideways at Umasi.
“Do you think you or I are in danger?”
Umasi laughed.
“If she had a chance to kill me, she probably would,” he said. “As for you, I can only guess. It depends whether or not she ends up directing her anger towards the Government. Either way, I would feel more at ease if we were able to detain her.”
“I’ll put an alert out for her description,” Iris promised, “though it sounds like she’s just as likely to be her own undoing. But what about the Truancy’s current leader? You mentioned that you once tutored him.”
Indeed, the information that Umasi had been able to provide the Government had been extensive and invaluable. Iris was surprised to learn that Umasi knew, directly or indirectly, almost all the major figures in the Truancy. He had provided the names and backgrounds of all of them. But even where Umasi was an aid, the Mayor proved to be a hindrance from beyond the grave. Among the records he had destroyed was the entire City’s student database, making cross-referencing impossible. So, for now, Iris was left to rely on Umasi’s information and opinions alone.
The boy shook his head.
“As things stand now, I don’t believe that Tack is an immediate threat,” Umasi explained. “He’s more stable than Noni. I believe he’ll do the sensible thing and try to lie low for a while. Given time, I might even be able to convince him to come quietly.”
“That would be a very happy outcome for all involved,” Iris said. “If the Truancy leadership could be convinced to cooperate, we’d be well on our way towards reconstruction. Is that all that was bothering you?”
Umasi hesitated. That was unusual for him, Iris noted.
“The new leader of the Student Militia did cross my mind,” Umasi said after a moment. “I know very little about him. He may try to rally his Militia against us. It could turn out to be a big problem.”