by Isamu Fukui
“I remember being scared of vagrants when I was a kid.”
“As you should have been,” the albino said. “They were desperate people … frustrated … violent…”
The sound of a scuffle, followed by crying interrupted her reminiscences. Cross turned his head. Three boys close to his age had cornered a younger girl on the platform. The terror on her face bothered him, bringing back memories of childhood. He glanced over at the albino.
“Do you think we should get involved?” he asked.
She frowned. With a gesture that Cross should remain seated, the albino stood up and walked over to the three boys.
“Excuse me,” she said, “what’s going on here?”
One of the boys, probably the leader, turned to look at her. Seeing her pale face he took a step back, then looked her up and down, repulsed by her appearance.
“What are you, some kind of freak?” he demanded.
Cross was instantly angered by that, but then remembered that he had once had a similar reaction himself. Feeling guilty, he kept his mouth shut and watched. The albino, for her part, seemed to be immune to such comments.
“What’s going on here?” she repeated, more firmly this time.
The boy laughed. “You wanna know? Well, this girl here is trying to steal our food, isn’t she?” He held up a can of soup. The other boys made noises of agreement.
The albino looked at the girl questioningly. She was scrawny and trembling, her clothes relatively clean—the look of someone who had not been out on the streets for long. The girl looked at the can and burst into tears.
“I-It’s mine,” she sobbed, turning to the albino with pleading eyes. “The Government kept r-raiding our h-house so my p-parents gave me f-food to flee.”
“Yeah, well you dropped it, didn’t you?” the leader of the boys said. “It’s finder’s keepers, isn’t it? Trying to take it back from us is stealing!”
The albino looked sadly at the small can. Cross could guess what she was thinking; it was a stark sign of the times that such a thing was worth fighting over.
“I’ll trade you for it,” the albino told the boys. “I’ll give you a bigger can.”
The leader seemed to consider it. Then he smiled. “Deal.”
The albino returned to the fireside. Trusting that she knew what she was doing, Cross reached into their pack and handed her the can. She brought it back to the boys and then held her hand out expectantly. The leader took the can. Then he shoved her, laughing.
“Looks like you dropped yours too, freak!” he mocked. “I guess we’ll be keeping both, then.”
The albino’s face was unreadable. The boy laughed some more, and the scrawny girl began crying. He turned to aim a kick at her—
The albino’s chain hissed like a snake, the blow so swift that even Cross couldn’t see it. The weighted ring dangled from her arm as the boy collapsed, the cans rolling out of his limp hands.
Cross leapt to his feet, drawing his knife. The other boys took a step backwards, shocked, but looking like they were prepared to fight. The whole platform went silent; all eyes were on them. Tense moments passed. The boys looked at the albino, then at Cross. They finally seemed to understand that they were outmatched.
“C’mon,” one of them muttered. “They’re not worth it.”
The two boys turned and left to sulk by their fire, not even bothering to drag their unconscious friend with them. The albino calmly picked up the cans, and then gave both of them to the girl, who was now staring at her with something that resembled hero-worship.
“You’re not yet ready for this environment,” the albino told her. “Be strong—and until you are, avoid gatherings like this if you can help it.”
With that she returned to the fireside, and Cross understood from her posture that it was time to leave. Feeling a renewed admiration for his teacher, he began packing their bag. Heaving it over his shoulder, he followed the albino and Zen down onto the tracks as they resumed their march into the dark.
“We drew too much attention to ourselves,” the albino said. “We’ll walk to the next station and sleep somewhere more private.”
“As you wish,” Cross said. “You know, at this rate we can reach District 20 within a day.”
She shook her head. “This line will only take us as far as District 18 before veering off in another direction. We’re going to have to resurface.”
District 18. Cross felt a sudden tightness in his chest, but then relaxed. He had nothing to fear from that place anymore.
“That’s fine,” he said. “The apartment where I used to live is in District 18. We can take shelter there, I still have the keys.”
* * *
Noni gave one last look around for any soldiers that might be patrolling this part of the prison. Finding none, she entered the dark room and was pleased to find it empty. A number of computers and monitors were lying around—probably an administrative office. It appeared to be recently used. Perfect.
Her heart beating with excitement, Noni accessed a system. She knew that this was a risky move, but she was now after information that only the Government could provide. She had guessed, correctly, that because the camp was still under construction it might have some security gaps. The building had been adequately repaired on the inside, but most of the repairs were made to prevent escape, not entry.
Noni frowned as several monitors flickered to life, showing live feeds of prisoners in the cells. She tried to ignore the terror and hopelessness on their faces. On her way here she had seen some of the students in person. Their pleading and sobbing had stirred old sympathies inside her, which were quickly quashed—the prisoners had nothing to do with her objective, and there was nothing she could do for them anyway.
Noni drew up the rosters for the entire camp system. This was what she was looking for; data on prisoners that the Government had processed. She searched and found nothing on Takan, which was expected—she’d had faith that he’d evade capture. Then she found that there was nothing on Umasi either. That was a surprise. The albino had sworn he had confronted the Government’s leader. If not captured, had he been killed, then? Surely he couldn’t have won.
Noni slammed her fist on the desk. All her efforts were getting her no closer to the truth. Grunting in frustration, Noni switched the system off and then rose to leave. She had barely gotten three steps out of the room when a nearby door swung open. Bracing herself for a fight, Noni quickly drew two knives.
Then a man emerged from the door, and the knives dropped from her hands.
He had a red mustache, a massive frame, and a grin both predatory and cruel. He wore body armor and grasped an enormous hammer. There was no mistaking him. This was Rothenberg, the Enforcer, the terror of Noni’s childhood.
The shock of recognition hit Noni like a physical blow. Ghostly pain from a phantom knife traced itself across her face. She trembled. This was nothing like meeting the albino again—this time Noni felt that she had stepped into an old nightmare.
“What have we here?” Rothenberg whispered. “A little rat running around.”
With that, Noni realized it wasn’t a nightmare. She really was standing before this monster again, so many years after he had terrorized her in an alley and left a mark she could never erase. She managed to choke out a single accusatory word.
“You.”
Rothenberg looked surprised. “You know me, brat?”
Noni stared in disbelief. “You—you don’t even remember?”
“Remember what, kid?”
Anger surged in Noni, erasing her shock.
“Four years ago you found me in an alley and gave me this!” she seethed, pointing at her scar. “You were going to kill me, until he sorted you out.”
For a moment Rothenberg looked at her as though she was crazy. Then something seemed to click, and he remembered. Out of the sea of his countless victims, Rothenberg drew her out of the depths of his memory. And he laughed.
“The girl with the appl
e!” Rothenberg roared with delight. “Even more ragged and pathetic than before.”
Noni drew a fresh knife.
“I am going to kill you.”
“I don’t think so.” Rothenberg waved a finger. “Haven’t you heard? The Mayor’s brat is dead now. Who’s going to help you this time?”
Noni exploded with rage, her vision clouded with fury. She lunged blindly with her knife and felt the impact of an unyielding surface. Then a heavy blow stuck her stomach. Noni was flung backwards. As her vision cleared she realized that Rothenberg had driven the hammer into her belly.
Rothenberg advanced upon her with slow, deliberate steps.
“You’re just like all the other worthless Truants I’ve faced,” he breathed. “You’re pretending to be adults and you’re in over your head. Children like you have no place in this City—I’m going to finish what I started and split your empty head open!”
Noni hurled a knife at him, but it bounced off his body armor. Rothenberg laughed. Noni dodged aside just in time as he slammed the hammer down. Drawing one of her few remaining knives, Noni lunged again, aiming for his throat. Rothenberg grabbed her by the arm and hurled her body down the hall.
Bruised from the fall, Noni scrambled to her feet. Rothenberg was advancing again, still with those slow, heavy steps. Breathing heavily, Noni looked around. She knew that she couldn’t drag this fight out indoors with soldiers in the building. Spotting an unfinished window, she climbed out of it and onto the rooftop.
She gained some distance from the window and paused to catch her breath. A large crane was positioned nearby, its arm slanting downwards. Noni heard a thud behind her, and spun around to see that Rothenberg had followed her. His grinning visage renewed her anger.
Noni charged head-on, ducking as he swung his heavy hammer. Taking advantage of the opening, she leapt and slashed at his unprotected shoulder. She felt a surge of triumph as Rothenberg roared in pain and outrage. He dropped the hammer and punched her full on in the face. Noni staggered backwards, stunned.
Rothenberg took two heavy strides forward, then seized her and threw her off the edge of the roof.
There was a loopy feeling in her stomach as she fell. Noni reached out and grabbed the nearby crane. The abrupt stop felt like it would tear her arm off, but she did not let go. Slowly, she began to pull herself up.
Peering over the edge, Rothenberg scowled. As he looked at the crane, a twisted idea came to mind. He hobbled over to the cockpit and crawled inside. Turning the machine on, he jammed one of the control sticks as far to the right as he could.
Lying on top of the crane arm, Noni felt a tinge of fear as she realized she was moving. She braced herself and shut her eyes as the crane swung and crashed into a taller neighboring building. There was a terrible noise; bricks and glass fell all around her. It was like the whole world was collapsing.
Then Noni heard laughter, Rothenberg’s laughter, and she remembered what had transpired in the alley all those years ago. She felt again the cool knife on her face. She remembered the years of pain and shame, the scars that had sent her down this self-destructive path in the first place. Feeling all fear evaporate, Noni burst from the debris and glass and began running full speed up the crane.
She could see Rothenberg’s smiling face in the cockpit, and relished how his expression quickly turned to fear. Noni was dimly aware of other persons spilling out onto the roof, but none of that mattered now. Her one goal in that moment was to end the life of the man who had destroyed hers.
Noni dropped from the crane and ran for the cockpit, rewarded by Rothenberg falling out of his seat in his haste to escape. He was close now. He couldn’t get away. Noni drew her last knife, preparing to drive it home—
Something slammed into her hard from behind. Noni was knocked to the ground, a heavy weight pinning her down. She had been tackled by a soldier.
“NOOOOOO!” she howled, realizing now that she would never reach her target.
More soldiers came, seizing her limbs, dragging her back. Rothenberg climbed to his feet and smiled. His face filled Noni’s vision, and she struggled harder in vain.
“NOOOOO!” Her voice was anguished. “NOOOOOOO!”
Rothenberg laughed.
“I told you you’re no better than the others!” he taunted. “Uglier perhaps, but you all go down the same!”
Furious tears flowing down her face, Noni made one last, vain attempt to reach the focus of her hatred. Through sheer force of will she nearly broke free, and the soldiers holding her had to redouble their efforts.
One of them struck her on the head with the butt of his rifle. Then Noni’s world went black.
21
FULL CIRCLE
The next day, well-rested, Rothenberg leaned back in the car, enjoying the wind on his face. He was finally nearing the comfort of his home, which he had been assured was still standing, and the Government had granted his request to use it as his base of operations. The vehicle had been stocked with plenty of nonperishable supplies. Life was good.
“The General was really pleased. Don’t see that very often,” Colonel Hines said, steering around some fallen debris. “Turns out we’ve been looking for that Truant you caught yesterday.”
“It was nothing, really,” Rothenberg said. “She was hardly any trouble at all.”
“Right.” Hines smiled. “So, how’s your shoulder doing?”
Rothenberg scowled. The cut hadn’t been deep, but the medical treatment had brought back unpleasant memories of the hospital.
“Just a scratch,” Rothenberg said. “It’s not like a little girl could do me any real harm.”
“Whatever you say.” The colonel sounded amused. “I gotta admit, though, that was impressive—defending yourself with that clunky thing.”
Rothenberg glanced at the large construction hammer that was propped up next to him. He had brought it along as memorabilia.
“It just takes strength,” Rothenberg said. “For years I could only exercise my upper body. This thing feels like a toothpick in my hands.”
“Even so, I’d carry a gun if I were hunting rebels.”
“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” Rothenberg snorted. “Me, I’ve always preferred to feel things break when I hit them.”
“I’ll let you know the next time I need a jar opened.”
Rothenberg laughed.
“You’re spying on me for Iris, aren’t you,” Rothenberg said suddenly.
“Of course I am,” Hines replied, not missing a beat. “Took you this long to figure that much out?”
“You are shameless.”
Hines snorted. “You know, I read your file—”
“All lies the Mayor made up.”
“—and you didn’t like the last guy sent to spy on you either.”
It took Rothenberg a minute to recall who Hines was talking about.
“Jack?” he said. “That man was a glorified clerk who never had the guts to get his hands dirty. I doubt anything ever made him happy other than writing reports.”
“Guess the Mayor had a bit of honesty in him after all,” Hines said. “By the way, we’re here.”
The car came to a halt, and Rothenberg lurched forward in his seat. There it was, the unassuming brownstone building that had been his home before his imprisonment, before unruly children had ruined his life.
“This entire neighborhood was vacated after the Truants took over,” Hines said, getting out of the car. “You’ll be alone while conducting your investigation. You have a radio, so let us know if there’s any trouble.”
“There won’t be any.” Rothenberg put his feet onto the pavement. “I have no intention of getting injured again just yet. I’ve had enough of maniacs in white coats trying to stick things in me.”
Together Rothenberg and Hines moved all of the supplies from the car onto the doorstep of the building. Finished, the colonel climbed back into the car.
“You’ve got all day to see what you can find, Roth
enberg. I’ll be back to pick you up again tomorrow.” He gave a salute. “Oh, and don’t think that we’re not keeping track of you when I’m not around—trust me, we are.”
Rothenberg grunted as Hines drove off. He idly wondered if the man was bluffing. Either way it didn’t matter; Rothenberg didn’t expect his stay here to be eventful. He turned to look at the door to the building. It was a little older, a little more worn than he remembered.
Rothenberg reached into his pocket and fished out a set of keys. He smiled as he picked one out and slid it neatly into the lock. It had been too long since his last visit, and he was looking forward to finding out if Cross had finished the chores he’d been assigned all those years ago.
* * *
As the stars twinkled overhead, Cross and his two companions poked their heads out of a subway entrance deep within District 18. They had waited until night to make their move on the surface.
Finding the entire neighborhood blessedly unoccupied, the three of them made their way towards Cross’ old home. They were heartened by the fact that District 20 was so close now—they could even see its buildings in the distance. Little Zen walked ahead of his mother, a skip in his step.
“The fastest path would be through District 19.” Cross glanced in that direction. “But I’ve never been there before. It was sealed off when I was a kid.”
“I’ve been in District 19,” the albino said. “I know it pretty well, actually. If it’s clear, I can probably get us through in less than a day.”
“You seem very familiar with the City.”
“When I was younger, fences and district borders were nothing,” she said. “I could watch the Truancy sprout up around me. I even knew more about their founder than they did.”
Cross blinked. “You mean Zyid?”
“That was not his original name, but yes.”
“How could you possibly—”
“Edward probably knew a great deal of what I do,” she said. “We had a mutual friend. He lived in District 19.”
Cross now remembered more of what Takan had said during their duel in the dark. Umasi, that mysterious character he had never met, who had befriended so many extraordinary people, had also been Zyid’s brother. And he had lived in District 19. It felt odd now to think of all the times Cross had passed the fence between Districts 18 and 19, never suspecting that anything interesting could lie on the other side. He wondered how his life might have been different if he had ever thought to climb over that fence.