by Isamu Fukui
The doctor nodded. “Her injuries weren’t life threatening. She’ll be fine.”
Inside the ward, Noni began to stir, her mouth moving. If she was speaking, Umasi couldn’t hear the words from out here.
“She looks delirious,” he said.
“We’ve had to anesthetize her to keep her from struggling,” the doctor explained. “I’ve never had such an uncooperative patient in my life. It was like trying to treat a tiger.”
“But she can talk?” Umasi was dubious as Noni went still again.
“Oh, yeah. She might seem a little out of it, but at least she won’t try to take a bite out of you. Though I would stay back anyway, just in case.”
The doctor smiled wryly. Umasi wasn’t amused—there was something sad about seeing such a fierce individual reduced to this. Still, it was probably for the best. With a sigh, he opened the door to the ward and stepped inside.
“Go away,” Noni mumbled, not even opening her eyes.
Umasi ignored her and walked over to the side of her gurney. She was strapped down tight, the medical staff evidently having taken no chances that she might get loose. She looked different this way, dressed only in a white hospital gown, her shiny black hair splayed beneath her. With her eyes closed she looked almost peaceful.
“Noni,” he said, “can you hear me?”
Noni seemed to spasm at the sound of his voice, straining against her bonds again. Slowly her eyes slid open, struggling to focus. Then she recognized him, and her eyes shut.
“I hate you.”
Umasi had not expected those to be her first words. He watched as a single tear slid out from under her eyelids. Umasi struggled to understand how Noni must be feeling—defeated, humiliated, restrained in body and spirit by bindings and medication.
He steeled himself. This was going to be harder than he thought.
“Hate me or not, Noni, I need to talk to you,” Umasi said. “I need you to understand why all of this is necessary.”
Her face twitched. “You’re with them. With the Government.”
“Yes.”
Noni began thrashing against her bonds so violently that Umasi took a step back. She screamed in frustration, and her icy blue eyes snapped open to glare accusingly at him.
“You lied!” she seethed. “It was you all along!”
There was pure loathing in that gaze, and Umasi felt his heart sink. She wasn’t right in the head, he told himself. The drugs were confusing her on top of everything else.
“I did not kill Zyid, if that’s what you’re saying,” Umasi said. “Noni, trust me, you would be happier if you could let go of the past.”
Noni’s eyes glazed over, and she slumped back down onto the gurney, exhausted.
“Release me, Umasi,” she mumbled, “and I swear I’ll give you a quick death.”
“That strikes me as a poor trade,” Umasi said. “Listen, Noni, this is for your own good. You have deeper problems than my brother’s death, and we can help you—”
“I will kill you!” Noni’s words were both a scream and a sob. “I’ll kill all of you!”
“Noni, be reasonable—”
“I’ll kill you!”
Umasi sighed and turned his back on her, leaving her to sob angrily on the gurney. He beckoned the doctor over.
“It seems I’m only making things worse,” he said. “Treat her well. Make sure she recovers in full. If she calms down, reward her. Then send her off to one of the camps—put her in an intensive program, under extra security. I’m sure we can rehabilitate her.”
“I’ll kill you!” Noni screeched her new refrain. “I’ll kill you!”
A soldier entered the room and walked up to Umasi, completely ignoring the wailing prisoner on the gurney.
“Sir, one of our teams is preparing to conduct a predawn raid nearby,” he said. “It’s a sensitive matter. One of the parents is an Enforcer. We want to handle this in a way that won’t make the community any more upset. Your presence is requested.”
“—kill you, kill you, kill you, kill you, kill you—”
“I’ll come immediately,” Umasi replied. “Let’s not waste time.”
“—KILL YOU! KILL YOU! KILL YOU!—”
The doctor rubbed his temple and reached for a radio. “All right, that’s enough, let’s get her sedated.”
As Umasi slipped out of the ward behind the soldier, he was passed by two men and a nurse carrying a syringe. Noni screamed louder as they entered.
Then the door swung shut, and all was silent once again.
* * *
As the dawn broke, a depressed and exhausted trio found themselves slogging their way through District 19. Even the normally patient Zen had begun to grumble, and neither the albino nor Cross had the heart to tell him to be quiet—they had, after all, been on the move now for more than twelve hours straight. Both of them were just as tired as he was.
The sky was cloudless as the dawn light began spilling onto the streets, but it brought no joy for the travelers. The sun brought heat, and light meant that they were vulnerable, easy to spot. They hadn’t encountered any soldiers yet, but all it would take was one to raise an alarm.
“They’ve been here.” Cross gestured at the road. “The Government.”
There were fresh vehicle tracks in the street. The crumbling buildings and unmaintained streets of District 19 had allowed a lot of dust to accumulate, and there hadn’t been any rain recently. It was like walking through a desert.
“They must’ve done some scouting here,” the albino said. “I don’t think that they would set up a base after they realized no one lives here.”
“Mom, I’m thirsty,” Zen whined.
The albino reached into her pack and drew out a bottle of water. Zen drank eagerly. As they continued down the street, a warm wind kicked up dust, which mingled with the orange rays of the dawn.
The subject of Rothenberg had not come up since they’d left the apartment, and neither of them seemed to want to broach the subject. Still, his presence seemed to loom over them like a shadow. Cross wondered a lot of things—how Rothenberg got free, what his connection to Iris was, and most of all, how long their ropes would hold him.
Somehow he did not regret leaving the man alive. In the moment when he had held the knife to his father’s throat, he thought that he could see his own face staring back at him. The albino had been right after all.
Following the nameless girl, Cross turned a corner and went down a new street. Halfway down the block, she paused for a moment, looking at a certain spot.
“What’s wrong?” Cross asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just … there used to be a lemonade stand here. I miss it.”
Cross didn’t know what to make of that strange pronouncement, and so he kept his mouth shut as they resumed moving. It didn’t take them long to reach the fence bordering District 20. Exhausted, Cross and Zen slumped against it. The albino rested her hands on her knees, her breath coming in small pants. Cross realized with some guilt that for the whole journey she had been working the hardest.
“District 20 is on the other side,” Cross said, craning his neck up so he could see the top of the fence. “Any ideas where we can take refuge?”
The albino shook her head. “Not unless we stay here in District 19.”
“Look for cover here, then?”
“That would seem to be our best option.”
The albino straightened up, but Cross could see by the droop of her eyes that she was as tired as he felt. Little Zen was now sitting down, his back against the fence, eyes shut. Suddenly the albino tensed and she spun around, the first to detect a stranger standing silhouetted against the rising sun.
What now? Cross wondered.
A vaguely familiar voice addressed them.
“You’ve been searching for a long time. May I ask what you’re looking for?”
Cross blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. He hoped this was not a dream. Framed by the sun’
s rays, Takan stood in the middle of the street, hands inside his brown trench coat. The leader of the Truancy nodded at them.
“Yeah, we’ve been looking for you.” Cross smiled back. “You bastard—how long were you watching us?”
“I caught sight of you awhile ago from a rooftop,” Takan said. “It was a bit careless of you to be out in the open like that, you know.”
“And were you just waiting there in case we came along?”
“’Course not.” Takan scratched the back of his head. “I’ve been coming here a lot recently. It gives me a good view of the area, and I kind of hoped that I might run into Umasi. Fond memories.” The boy spared a glance back in the direction the lemonade stand had once stood.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Four.” The albino curtseyed. “It wasn’t easy to find you.”
Takan smiled at her. “I’d love to hear how you did, actually.”
“There will be time for that later, I’m sure.”
“Indeed. It’s good to see that you’re well, Two.” Takan glanced at Zen, who was now awake and hugging his mother’s leg. “You and…”
“My son, Zen.”
Takan blinked. “Zen? As in—”
“We’ve been traveling a long time without rest,” the albino said, cutting him off. “Do you know of any place we can stay?”
Cross thought that something unsaid passed between them in that moment. Whatever it was, it was gone in an instant. Takan made a bow.
“Of course, where are my manners?” he said. “Come on, I’ll show you the way to my house. It’s easy to dodge the soldiers in District 20—they have predictable patrol routes, you’ll see.”
Cross was sharp enough to tell that Umasi’s two disciples had kept something from him, but he wasn’t sharp enough to know what. At any rate he was too tired to care. He helped boost Zen over the fence. Immense relief spread through his body. The darkness, and Rothenberg, felt a long way behind.
* * *
Floe rolled over on the bed, looking up through the small window that offered a glimpse of the faintly lightening night sky. Next to her, Sepp pulled on his pants. They were alone in the small bedroom they shared inside Sepp’s house. Floe smiled in contentment. Then she glanced at Sepp. He seemed distracted—funny, considering what they’d just finished doing.
Floe sighed. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” Sepp said quickly. Too quickly.
“Men.” Floe snorted. “Why do you always save the regrets for afterwards?”
“Why do you think? Hey—no, that was a joke!” Sepp held his hands up in surrender as Floe raised her fist. “Floe, seriously, this was the best night of my life.”
Floe sighed again, this time vexed at herself, and let her arm drop back down onto the bed.
“Something’s bothering you,” she insisted. “Spit it out.”
Sepp frowned and began buttoning his pants.
“It’s nothing to do with you,” he said. Floe made a small noise of disbelief. “No really, it’s not! I was just thinking about … well, Cross.”
Floe raised her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you were cheating on him with me.”
Sepp laughed. “No, definitely not. I was just wondering—everyone in the Militia was wondering, really—what exactly is the relationship between you two?”
Floe closed her eyes. She’d expected that question to come up sooner or later. She just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.
“He was a childhood friend.”
Sepp glanced at her. “Just a friend?”
“Okay, and maybe a mutual crush too,” Floe admitted. “But it never got further than that, Sepp. I didn’t see him for many years, until we met again in battle.”
Understanding dawned. “You were still a Truant then?”
Floe nodded.
“That’s the reason you defected, isn’t it?”
Floe nodded again.
Sepp whistled. “Sheesh, now I really feel guilty.”
Floe rolled her eyes and threw her pillow at him.
“Sepp, you’re too much of a nice guy sometimes,” she said. “The Cross we know is not the same kid I used to like—a lot changed in the years we were apart. Anyway, I’m attracted to you, we’re here together, so why deny ourselves anything?”
Floe shifted underneath the covers. Sepp looked at her, all other distractions forgotten, and bent down for a kiss. Floe let her eyes flutter shut. The kiss was soft and undemanding, an almost teasing pressure that set her heart racing. She could feel the warmth from his bare chest. In that moment Floe felt that things were perfect, she would have liked nothing more than it to endure forever.
Then she heard the front door crash in. Loud footsteps stormed into the house. Sepp and Floe sprang apart, and as the door to their room burst open they realized that their safety had been a lie all along.
* * *
With one last jerk of his teeth, the thin ropes binding Rothenberg’s hands finally fell away. Rothenberg spit some stray fibers from his mouth, took a deep shuddering breath, and then began untying the ropes binding his legs. With his hands bound behind him it had taken him hours to get loose—he had pressed his knees to his chest, then painfully worked his arms under his backside and legs until he had them in front of him.
Loose once more, Rothenberg staggered to his feet. Far from tiring him out, his struggle for freedom had only made him more determined to make good on his word. Seeing Cross with his own eyes had given him new life. Rothenberg went for the door only to find that the kids had jammed it shut. Chest heaving, he glanced around. His hammer lay nearby.
Picking it up, Rothenberg charged at the door to the apartment. With a single swing the old and brittle wood of the door gave way. Staggering through the hole he’d made, Rothenberg stepped over the splinters and down the stairs. Without even testing the knob, he smashed open the front door. Rothenberg relished the shock traveling down his arm.
Rothenberg stepped outside into the morning light, blinking as his eyes adjusted. There was no sign of Colonel Hines. Rothenberg staggered down the street. Ever since he was a child he had relied on no one but himself—he had no intention of waiting for help now.
Rothenberg urged his legs to move faster. A madness had taken hold of him, lending him unnatural energy. Rothenberg had endured many indignities as a child, as he knew all children of the City were meant to, but he was an adult now. He had earned respect, and he was determined to have it from his own son, if no one else.
“District 19, eh?” he muttered as he stormed down the street. “You’ll never learn, boy. You shouldn’t have talked about your plans in front of me. I’m coming, Cross, I’m coming!”
Rothenberg reached the fence that divided Districts 18 and 19. His legs useless for climbing, Rothenberg swung his hammer instead. The impact smashed a few boards loose, and Rothenberg swung three more times until the gap was big enough for him to slip through.
Stepping into District 19, Rothenberg paused to catch his breath. He grimaced in disgust. The whole district seemed to be full of dust and litter and other muck from the ruins. He looked down and saw that his boots left prints in the dust.
A thought occurred to him. Could those kids possibly have been so careless?
Rothenberg glanced all around him. Then he spotted it, only a block down—a faint but distinct trail of footprints leading deeper into the district. Rothenberg grinned in triumph.
“I’ve got you now, boy.”
Like a hound on the scent, Rothenberg hobbled towards the trail as fast as he could. This was not the first time a trail had led him into District 19. Rothenberg had a memory of prints in snow, leading him to a lemonade stand and terror. Those were events from a lifetime ago, when he still believed in ghosts.
Rothenberg grimaced as he began to follow the tracks. This time would be different. The nature of all his enemies had been laid bare to him, and now there would be nothing to get between him and his wayward son.
23
; FATHERS AND SONS
Cross took his place at the dining table. A bowl of canned soup sat steaming before him, alongside toasted bread and a protein bar.
“About as good a lunch as can be found in the City these days,” Jack—Takan’s father—said as he ladled soup into his own bowl. “I’m glad you lot were willing to share your supplies. I only receive government rations for one person, and it’s pretty nasty stuff.”
Takan smiled in agreement, taking a bite out of his protein bar. The Truancy’s leader was sitting straight across from Cross, dressed in a plain shirt, his trench coat draped over his chair. He looked so ordinary now, Cross didn’t know what to make of it. He’d always known Takan as a ruthless warrior and tactician. Finding out that he was actually on speaking terms with his father had been a bit of a shock.
Cross began eating. He felt refreshed after a comfortable nap in a guest room. He had to admit that Takan had so far been a friendly host, but there was obvious tension in the air. Takan didn’t quite trust him yet, either, hand never straying too far from his sword.
The albino was a different story—she and Takan got along famously. After some banter about their respective pasts, she related the purpose of their journey, and Takan seemed receptive to the idea of a united resistance.
“Actually, my father and I were already thinking about ways to start up a new resistance,” Takan said. “The camps were the last straw for us, as they were for the Student Militia.” He nodded at Cross.
“How easily do you think you can rally the Truants again?” Cross asked.
“It can probably be done very quickly, on a small scale,” Takan replied. “We’ve had to be very careful, but my father tells me that the Government can’t monitor all communications all the time. When the phones went back up I started to form an informal network of sorts, like what I understand Zyid did in the early days of the Truancy.” He looked at Cross. “What about you? Can you gather up the Militia?”
Cross kept chewing to stall for time. He actually hadn’t thought about that. Over the past week his attention had been fixed on survival and their destination. Cross felt the albino’s eyes on him. He swallowed.
“The Militia was forced to scatter very quickly. There was no time to collect contact info,” Cross admitted. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be useful. There are students all over the City now, in the general population and in the camps. If they’re motivated, they can cause all sorts of trouble while we work to reach them.”