Truancy City

by Isamu Fukui

  Umasi nodded reluctantly. From their perch on top of one of the watchtowers, he and Iris were observing the first of the new “students” being moved in. The kids had all been provided with new uniforms—gray like the old ones. Most seemed resigned to their fate, but some looked defiant.

  That defiance worried Umasi. He’d come to accept as a fact that the less trouble there was, the faster the City could return to something resembling normalcy.

  “And if there are escape attempts?” Umasi said. “Or other disturbances?”

  Iris shrugged. “We have methods to encourage compliance, special programs for difficult cases. Students will repeat their courses if they must.”

  “I don’t believe half of those kids down there are actually subversive,” Umasi remarked. “They don’t all deserve this.”

  “And what if we let half of them go?” Iris asked. “How many hidden Truants will then be free to do mischief? We don’t have the luxury of giving the benefit of the doubt. If we are serious about restoring order we have to be prepared to do whatever it takes.”

  Umasi frowned. Iris’ words had reminded him of something else that he’d discovered that morning.

  “On that note,” Umasi said. “I had a chat with the District 1 Hospital Chief. I hear that you had a certain patient released a few days ago.”

  Iris closed her eyes. “I knew that couldn’t stay secret for long. What of it?”

  “You let him loose to hunt down his own son.”

  “I did.”

  Umasi drew in a sharp breath. “Iris—”

  “You’re about to tell me that I’ve done a foolish thing, that Rothenberg is an unstable and untrustworthy man, and that he could end up being as great a threat as those he’s meant to neutralize,” Iris said. “Am I correct?”

  Umasi hesitated.

  “Yes, I read the man’s file,” Iris continued. “He was born to a pair of teachers, both accused of abusing their students in violation of City regulations. Mayoral inquiries pushed them to commit suicide, leaving their son orphaned at the age of thirteen.

  “He had a troubled record in school, including a series of altercations with other students. He graduated with mediocre grades and joined the Enforcers. After the end of his troubled marriage, he became known for extraordinary brutality on the job. Rothenberg maintained no known close relationships with anyone from that point on. The man is a true sociopath.”

  Umasi shook his head. “If you knew all that, then why did you do it?”

  “Because I believe it will work,” Iris said. “Cross is a dangerous wild card who lives for war—I know his kind, he needs it, and as leader of the Student Militia he might have the clout to get it. Rothenberg is uniquely suited to neutralize him, and if he succeeds then the method becomes irrelevant.”

  “But Rothenberg himself—”

  “Has been defanged, of course,” Iris said. “During his surgery I had a tracking device implanted under his skin. I also have a trusted officer keeping an eye on him. He’s no threat to us.”

  Umasi frowned but said nothing.

  “If he gets out of hand we’ll rein him in,” Iris promised. “I have no illusions about the man’s character. I merely intend to use him towards a noble goal.”

  “And if he succeeds?” Umasi pressed. “What will you do with him then?”

  “Lock him up again, of course.” Iris looked genuinely surprised. “It wouldn’t do to have someone like him running loose forever, would it?”

  Umasi was deeply conflicted. The decisions Iris had made rubbed him the wrong way, and yet all of her words contained a certain ruthless logic.

  A shrill cry from the camp rang out, followed by hysterical shouting. Umasi’s eyes were not good enough to see who was making the noise, but it sounded like a young girl. He could make out the shapes of soldiers rushing towards the site, and moments later the crying ceased.

  “It’s an ugly business,” Umasi said. “This whole thing is an ugly business. There has to be a better way than this.”

  “We just went over this, didn’t we?” Iris said. “I like it no better than you, but think of it like this—we are making sure that they can go back to a functional society. We’re saving these kids, Umasi.”

  “They don’t see it that way.”

  “This isn’t about perspective. There are hard truths that guide our actions.” Iris gestured towards the City at large. “Days ago there was open warfare in these streets. After years of bloodshed we’ve brought peace to this City. Is that not an achievement worth protecting?”

  Umasi sighed. “At times like these,” he muttered, “I think I understand the dilemma the Mayor must have faced.”

  “The Mayor?” Iris repeated, a chill entering her voice. “I find it hard to believe that he was ever conflicted about anything. It always seemed to me that he was only interested in saving his own hide.”

  “You did not know him personally, Iris,” Umasi said. “He had good intentions, and his philosophy was not much different than yours.”

  Iris considered that. “And perhaps yours as well?”

  With only the barest hesitation, Umasi nodded.

  “I’m glad that we are on the same wavelength,” Iris said. “Incidentally, I have something to ask of you, Umasi.”

  Umasi turned to look at her. “Yes?”

  “We’ve lifted the blockade and there are now Government transports regularly coming and going from this City,” Iris said. “I would like you to board the next one this evening. I appreciate your assistance thus far, but there’s no need for you to stay for this whole unpleasant process.”

  “That’s kind of you, but I’ll have to decline.” Umasi looked down at the camp. “This is my City. This is where I belong.”

  “I had a feeling you would say that.” Iris sighed. “But even if you’re determined to get your hands dirty, I’m not sure there’s a place for you here. You’re not one of my soldiers, Umasi, and it’s not within my power to pretend that you are.”

  “I know I don’t fit in with your military,” Umasi said. “Put me where I belong. Surely there’s a civilian position that I can take.”

  Iris brushed her forehead with her knuckles. “That could be arranged, perhaps.… I’ll have to give the idea some thought.” She glanced at Umasi. “If you change your mind, the transports will always be ready for you.”

  “My mind is made up,” Umasi said firmly. “It’s not just because I love this City, you know.”

  “Oh?” Iris looked surprised.

  Umasi lifted his sunglasses and looked at her. “It’s also because you’re the only family I have left.”

  For a moment Iris was rendered speechless, her tough façade melting away to reveal a sensitivity that Umasi had never seen before.

  “I-I see,” she stammered, struggling to regain her composure.

  Umasi let his sunglasses fall back over his eyes as he turned to look out at the City once more.

  So, he thought, in the end even she feels lonely.

  * * *

  “My hair is yellow,” Zen said, patting his head. “Yours is red. Did you know that if you put them together you’d get orange?”

  “I don’t think there are any orange-haired people.” Cross bit off the end of a granola bar.

  “Why is that?”

  Cross shrugged, passing the bar to Zen. “Maybe so we wouldn’t mistake their heads for traffic cones.”

  “What if someone mistakes yours for an apple?” Zen took a bite.

  “Then they’d probably think yours is a banana,” Cross retorted.

  Zen giggled—not too loudly, for they were outdoors. Cross cracked a smile himself. The two of them sat alone under a pedestrian bridge. The albino had gone on ahead to scout out their next path, as she always did before they moved, and in the meantime the boys were left to wait for her return.

  Over the past four days they had slipped in and out of the subways, with painstaking stealth and patience, searching for any trace of the Truancy. So far
they had found nothing. They would search at night, through back alleys and narrow streets, and return underground by sunrise. Then they would sleep, wake up late in the day, and train for a few hours before moving again.

  Cross flexed his arm as Zen devoured the rest of the granola bar. He already felt faster and sharper, and his nameless tutor had provided a lot of good advice—about fighting, about survival, about the City and the Truancy. But perhaps even more important to Cross were the normal conversations he was now able to have with both the albino and her son.

  “That was good.” Zen licked his lips. “I wonder when Mom will be back.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Cross said. “She sometimes takes awhile.”

  Zen made a face. “Not this long.”

  Cross hesitated. The kid had a point, didn’t he? It had to have been at least an hour since they last saw the albino. Cross began to feel a little uneasy—it normally didn’t take more than twenty minutes to do her scouting. It was probably nothing … but if it was something … Cross shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that.

  He stood up.

  “I’m going to go look for her real quick,” Cross told Zen. “Stay right where you are, okay? Don’t let anyone see you.”

  Zen made another face. “I know that.”

  Cross smiled, then turned and ran for the alley where they’d last seen the albino. It was probably nothing, he told himself again.

  * * *

  Fate was a funny thing, Aaron thought as he lugged the plastic garbage bag along. After all the victories he had contributed to, and after all his time spent as a respected veteran of the Truancy, he was back to taking out the trash.

  “Oh well.” He sighed to himself. “Could’ve been worse.”

  That much was true. When he turned up on their doorstep his parents had seemed more pleased to find him alive than anything else, and they’d asked no awkward questions so far. Things in the house had since settled into an old routine, though Aaron knew that everything left unsaid would have to come out sooner or later.

  “Preferably later,” he muttered to himself, navigating the maze of back alleys that concealed the entrance to his house.

  He wasn’t sure how they would take the news that he’d been behind nearly every major explosion the Truancy had ever set off. They were steadfast believers in education, though ever since the Government had replaced the Educators even they had developed doubts about the authorities.

  News of the Mayor’s resignation had been met with shock, and while everyone was glad that the fighting was over, no one knew what to think about the new Government. Aaron had been worried when he heard about the camps at first, but no Government soldiers had come to pick him up yet.

  Reaching the mouth of the alley, Aaron opened a Dumpster and tossed the trash inside. Now that things had calmed down, garbage collections had started up again. Aaron reached for the lid.

  “Your house is well hidden,” a voice said. “Took me a few days to find it back there. Is that why the Government hasn’t come calling yet?”

  Aaron slammed the lid shut and spun around, heart pounding. The alley appeared empty, but he knew that voice and what its owner was capable of.

  “Show yourself, Noni,” he said. “Friends shouldn’t be trying to scare each other.”

  In response, there came a cold chuckle that sent shivers up his spine.

  “Friends?” Noni repeated. “I guess that’s what we were, once, when we both served Zyid. But he’s gone, Aaron. Gone. What’s that make us now, I wonder?”

  So the rumors were true. She’s gone nuts. Aaron reached for his right pocket, where he kept a very special remote. His family would’ve had a fit if they’d known about his mines, but he now felt fully justified in planting them.

  “What do you want, Noni?” Aaron asked with bated breath.

  This time the voice was directly behind him. “Answers.”

  Aaron spun around, but Noni was too fast. The blow hit his solar plexus, knocking him backwards and leaving him short of breath. There was a black blur, and then his arm was being pinned painfully behind him, unable to reach the remote. Noni relieved him of the device, and then threw it against the wall, shattering it.

  “Did you think I hadn’t checked for traps before dealing with you?” Noni whispered in his ear as she pressed a kitchen knife to his throat. “I know you, Aaron, I watched you work for years. Didn’t you notice little me in the workshop, hiding under the tables? The Truancy could never kill me … if the Truancy is my enemy. Are you my enemy, Aaron?”

  Aaron gulped. This wasn’t good; she was even crazier than he’d heard.

  “Why would I be?” he said. “Listen to me Noni, you’re not right in the head. Everyone misses Zyid, but—”

  “Do not speak his name!” she hissed. “You don’t deserve to. You’re not worthy. He gave you everything, everything, and you—you betrayed him!”

  “I—what? Noni, I didn’t—”

  “Then tell me!” She removed her knife and shoved, knocking Aaron to the ground. “Tell me where he is! Tell me where I can find Takan!”

  Uh-oh, she’s after the boss. Aaron rolled over and looked up at her, and then all thought fled his mind.

  Noni’s appearance had changed. In addition to her fully exposed scar, a number of smaller wounds now covered her face, the scabs giving her a truly fearsome appearance. Her clothes were bloody and torn in places—even her trademark scarf was ripped. There were dozens of knives strung from her belt. Her hair was no longer braided, and she’d made no effort to brush loose strands from her face.

  It was as if a vision of madness itself stood before him.

  Aaron’s mind raced. Noni had clearly gone completely insane, and now was after Takan, their leader, the only hope of ever reestablishing the Truancy. If she killed him, it was all over. And even if she didn’t, it would kill Takan to have to kill her. There was no way he could allow them to meet.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp kick to his ribs.

  “Answer me!” Noni shouted, her voice deep and terrible. “If you do not answer me, I will hit you again, harder!”

  “Then you’ll have to keep going until you kill me,” Aaron said. “Takan disappeared like the rest of the Truants. I don’t know anything, and even if I did,” he added with more bravado than he felt, “I wouldn’t tell you.”

  Noni’s pitiless blue eyes narrowed, and her next words were cold as ice. “I’ll have to pay your family a visit before I believe that.”

  Aaron felt a surge of anger. “Don’t you da—”

  Noni kicked him in the face, and he toppled backwards.

  “I’ll get some answers out of you,” she snarled, “one way or another.”

  * * *

  Noni watched in satisfaction as Aaron twitched, unable to rise. He had never had much physical endurance—at some point during those long hours spent sequestered in the workshop, he had put on weight. Noni hauled the boy up by his collar and began dragging him farther into the alley.

  Then a new voice spoke behind her.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Without even a glance at the speaker, Noni threw one of her knives backwards. She knew her aim was true, but to her surprise there came no cry of pain. Instead, there was a sound of rustling metal, and Noni’s blade clattered to the ground.

  Noni released Aaron and drew two more knives, turning to face her challenger. Then she froze. It was a girl with impossiby white hair and skin. She had on a white shirt, blue jeans, and a worn-looking and unbuttoned Student Militia jacket.

  A memory flashed into Noni’s mind, of a bridge and a battle, stinging hail and a warm hug. The first time she’d ever had her hair braided.

  “I know you,” the girl said. “Your name is … Noni, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right.”

  The girl looked sad. “So this is how you turned out,” she murmured. “That’s unfortunate. I’d hoped for better.”

  “Save t
he lecture,” Noni snarled, the memory vanishing. “I remember you’re pretty strong. Maybe strong enough to kill Zyid. Do you know anything about that?”

  “I don’t.” The albino shook her head. “What happened to your face?”

  Noni smiled coldly. A year ago she would have been ashamed of her scars, unwilling to discuss them or even allow them to be seen. Not anymore.

  “I got the big scar when I was tortured by an Enforcer named Rothenberg—you probably know him, he was famous back then.” Sure enough, the albino seemed startled by that. “The rest are recent. I got them while hunting down Zyid’s killer.”

  “And is that him?” the albino asked, nodding at Aaron.

  “No,” Noni said. “He’s just someone I need information from.”

  The albino looked her in the eye. “What are you going to do to—”

  “That’s none of your business,” Noni interrupted. “I’m a lot stronger now, you know. Get out of here and stay out of my way if you know what’s good for you.”

  The albino glanced at Aaron, then back at Noni.

  “No,” she said simply.

  Noni thought about it for a moment. A fight would probably take a lot of time. Then again, it’d probably be faster than a debate. She shrugged, and without warning hurled one of her knives at the albino.

  The pale girl sidestepped the projectile, and Noni drew another knife and ran straight for her opponent. Without room to swing her chain in the alley, the albino gripped the metal ring at the end like an iron knuckle and met Noni head-on. She deflected one knife with the ring, and blocked the second with the chain wrapped around her left arm. Then she kicked Noni, sending her staggering back a few steps.

  Noni lunged again, keeping one knife behind her as she drove the other at the albino’s neck. The albino ducked the first strike, and as the second knife came around she used her arm to block Noni’s—then she rapped Noni on the forehead with the metal ring and leapt backwards.

  Noni recovered quickly. Her opponent’s elegant and defensive style gave her an idea. She charged again, but this time Noni twisted her shoulder forward and slammed into the albino with full force. They crashed to the ground together. Straddling her foe, Noni raised her knives for the kill.