Truancy City

by Isamu Fukui

  Just then panicked shouts came in over the radio, and Takan strained to listen. He couldn’t discern anything other than that the rebels ahead had run into trouble. Sheathing his sword, Takan dashed forward through the trenches as fast as he could. Scrambling up a chunk of pavement, Takan reached a small two-story building tucked next to taller ones. Several rebels had scaled the fire escape and taken shelter on the roof.

  Takan climbed up after them and was relieved to find Noni there with them. They nodded to acknowledge Takan, though their attention was drawn farther down the street. Takan followed their gazes and groaned. They weren’t far from the Mayoral Mansion now, but three tanks now stood in their way a couple of blocks down.

  “Any ideas, sir?” one of the rebels asked him.

  “I think that’s too much for us to handle,” Takan replied. “No choice—we have to go around them. Try doubling back and taking the Mansion from behind.”

  The rebels looked relieved. “Yes, sir.”

  The troops began descending from the rooftop, and Takan was about to follow them when he noticed that Noni hadn’t moved. She remained crouched near the edge of the roof, staring at the three tanks. Then she reached into her pack and drew out a thermite grenade. In an instant Takan realized what was going through her head.

  “Don’t, Noni, you’d never survive it!”

  Noni ignored him, standing up and marching purposefully for the fire escape. Takan put himself in her way. She halted, glaring at him angrily, and Takan felt renewed guilt as he looked at her. She was covered in bloodstains, even on her face, and the mad look in her eyes spoke of a willingness to attempt anything to satisfy her vengeance.

  Takan knew that look, that feeling. He had felt it control him once years ago on the docks of District 13, on the day that he had sworn to kill Zyid.

  Takan swallowed. “Noni, don’t do this.”

  “Why not?” Noni demanded.

  Her voice was as cold as her eyes as she glared at him.

  “Because I understand now, Noni,” Takan said softly. “I know exactly what motivates you. I was the same way once. I needed revenge so badly that it felt like I wouldn’t survive without it—that it was the only thing I had to live for.”

  Noni looked at him strangely, and Takan could see her begin to waver. He had touched a nerve.

  “I’ve been down that lonely path,” Takan continued, his throat hoarse. “I know what lies at its end, and there’s nothing there but emptiness. It won’t bring him back. It won’t make you feel better. Noni, the past year since I took my revenge has been one waking nightmare.”

  Noni blinked. “What are you talking about, Takan?”

  In that moment Takan realized that Cross was right—if not now, when? He took a deep breath, and felt an enormous burden lift from his shoulders. At last the charade was over.

  “It was me,” Takan said. “I was the one who killed Zyid.”

  * * *

  Cross kicked a rusted school desk aside as he walked forward, his rifle raised. He swept the area with his eyes. The sounds of gunfire came from all around him, yet he couldn’t see the enemy.

  The albino and Cross were together making their way through some ruins—not one of the ones recently created, but older wreckage that had once been the redbrick building of the District 1 School. Four years back the Educators had claimed that the building had been demolished. Cross recalled that it was a big deal at the time, especially for the students who had to be bused to schools in the surrounding districts.

  Over the years the wreckage had remained there, shrubs and grass slowly beginning to grow over it. From the bullet holes in the bricks, Cross guessed that it must have actually been destroyed by the Truancy. This school had been a battlefield. Now, four years later, it was a battlefield once more.

  “Look out!”

  Bullets nipped at Cross’ feet, and he felt the albino pull him safely behind a pile of old lockers. Cross peered around the corner and spotted the soldier, crouched behind what was left of a brick wall. Cross fired back three times, and the soldier dropped.

  Realizing what had happened, three of the soldier’s comrades appeared, and Cross was forced to duck again behind the lockers as they fired at his position. Then more gunfire rang out, and Cross heard the soldiers scream. He peeked out again, and saw Sepp waving back at him, leading a small group he had taken ahead.

  Cross gave Sepp a thumbs-up. Sepp waved, then turned and continued on out of sight. Cross was about to follow him when the albino grabbed him by the shoulder.

  “Wait,” she said. “I hear something.”

  A moment later Cross heard it too—the dreaded roar of helicopters flying low. He and the albino forced some of the lockers open and hid themselves inside just as three helicopters appeared over the hill formed by the ruins.

  The helicopter swooped down upon the rebels caught in the open, firing missiles at their positions. Explosions blossomed all throughout the ruins, further pulverizing the remains of the building. Rubble flew through the air, pattering against the lockers. Through the tiny holes of his hiding place, Cross peered up at the sky.

  The helicopters came around for another pass, but this time the rebels were ready for them. A volley of rocket-propelled grenades streaked through the air. One of the helicopters was hit, spiraling out of control before smashing into the ground in a burst of flame. The other helicopters broke off, searching for easier prey.

  Cross and the albino exited the lockers. They headed up the hill, using chunks of wall and old desks as footholds. Looking up at the top, Cross saw Sepp standing there against the sun, carrying a rocket launcher. He seemed very pleased with himself.

  “Nice work, Sepp!” Cross shouted.

  Sepp waved back at him, and then vanished down the other side of the hill. Cross blinked as the sun got in his eyes.

  “We shouldn’t all go the same way,” the albino suggested. “Let’s go around, they can handle the front.”

  Cross took her suggestion, and they began running around the mound. They picked their way through rotting textbooks and blackboards and all sorts of other rubbish that had been left forgotten over the years. As they rounded the hill, they saw that the Government had made a stand in the courtyard—two Humvees and some infantry were firing endlessly at the rebels, halting their advance.

  Cross crouched behind a corner, firing at the distant soldiers. At this range he couldn’t accomplish much, and it was too risky to try to advance any farther this way. He swore under his breath.

  Then a rocket shot out and collided with one of the Humvees, the force of the explosion knocking some of the soldiers to the ground. Rebel snipers made quick work of the infantry, and Cross breathed a sigh of relief as the gunfire finally ceased. They had cleared the area. They now had a clear path straight towards the Mayoral Mansion.

  Cross looked out at the courtyard where Sepp was now standing with the rest of the troops he had led. He looked almost heroic as he raised his launcher over his head, yelling his triumph to the world. Cross grinned at the sight.

  Then there came a screech of aircraft overhead. Cross dove for cover, the albino alongside him. Cross felt a sudden dread twist his insides, but there was nothing they could do. He shut his eyes tight.

  There was a flash, an enormous roar, then a wave of heat and pressure. When it was over, Cross staggered to his feet and looked out at the courtyard. Nothing remained of Sepp or his group except a smoldering crater and charred corpses.

  Cross felt a lump form in his throat. He had thought he would be numb to loss by now, and yet this one still affected him. It was the impersonal nature of the death. Sepp had been a good person. He had deserved better than to vanish in an anonymous burst of flame. They were supposed to avenge Floe together.

  Cross realized that he was the sole remaining survivor of his squad. A strange dizziness gripped him as the faces of the others flashed before his eyes. He took a step forward, and then stumbled.

  There were firm hands waiting to grab
him. Cross looked up and saw the albino guiding him as she had always done ever since they’d first met. Cross felt strange relief sweep through his body—she at least was still alive, still with him. He was not yet all alone.

  “Don’t lose your focus now, Cross,” the albino said, her eyes appearing red in the bright sunlight. “Just look around you.”

  Cross did as bidden. The area was torn and ravaged by war, but the conflict here was over, moved to other parts of the district. The Government surely thought all the rebels here were dead.

  “This will all be for nothing if you break down now,” the albino scolded. “You have a clear path to the Mayoral Mansion now. This is your defining moment. What will you do?”

  Slowly, Cross nodded. Getting a grip on himself, he returned to his feet. He looked around, then spotted it—one of the Humvees had escaped destruction. It was a little battered but still seemed serviceable.

  “Teacher, can you drive?” he asked.

  The albino smiled. “I can.”

  “Good.” Cross walked over to the vehicle. “Because I can’t.”

  The albino slipped behind the wheel as Cross took his place in the passenger’s seat. There was a hum as the engines started up. Then the two of them were driving on through what was left of the District 1 streets, heading straight for the Mayoral Mansion in the distance.

  * * *

  “Good work, Storm Six—now bring your company around and lay down suppressive fire.”

  Iris pressed the headset against her ear with one hand as she issued orders. Her eyes were glued on the monitor in front of her. The attack had come so suddenly that there had been no time to relocate, and so she was conducting the battle from her study.

  Iris was well aware that she wasn’t a perfect woman. She had emotional vulnerabilities, as everyone did. As a child, before her father recognized her leadership qualities, she had never been any good at acting polite and ladylike at state events. She was also, as her father often reminded her, needlessly stubborn.

  One thing Iris always prided herself on was being calm in a crisis. As situations unfolded and the extent of the damage became obvious, Iris only got cooler and more collected.

  “Storm Six, do you have visual on the target?”

  “Negative—too much damn dust!”

  Iris frowned. The dust clouds were also making it difficult to track the rebel troops via satellite. It was impossible to tell how many there were, though Iris thought that she still had enough forces to hold them back.

  Still, Iris was deeply bothered by the extent of the damage to District 1. She hadn’t thought that the rebellion had the resources to pull off such a feat, nor did she expect them to become so desperate as to attempt it. Iris knew they must be betting everything on this attack—if she could break them here, there might yet be a chance to regain control of the City.

  A flash on the monitor alerted Iris that a squad positioned near the old District 1 School had been wiped out. That was a surprise. Iris calmly ordered an airstrike to level the entire area, then sat back and considered the situation.

  The enemy was after the Mayoral Mansion, likely Iris herself. That much was obvious. The naïve rebels probably thought that removing the leadership would end the conflict. The fools.

  Iris sighed and checked the screen again. It was still impossible to tell how many rebels remained, but considering the beating they had taken most of them had to have been annihilated. But with the streets in the condition they were in, Iris couldn’t bring in reinforcements from other Districts. There were very few forces left to stand between the surviving rebels and the Mayoral Mansion—and inside, there was only her and her personal staff.

  A call attempted to come through on the monitor. Iris glanced at it. It was the War Minister trying to contact her for the fifth time that day. The man was probably still wondering what was going on.

  As Iris shut down the transmission, she realized that no matter how this battle ended, her struggle with her father had been lost. After this catastrophe the Potentate would never view her operation as anything more than a total failure. That meant a pullout was inevitable.

  Iris did not give in to despair at this realization, but instead turned her mind to other concerns. She tapped her headset.

  “Colonel Hines, are the Mayor and his son secure?”

  “Affirmative. They’re in the bunker under the Mansion right now, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

  “Tell them to do so immediately.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Iris let out a small breath. At the very least Umasi would be safe now, boarding one of the Mayor’s private trains out of the City.

  The monitor flashed again, and as Iris read the new message her calm composure slipped. Her forces had begun withdrawing from the entire City itself—but not on her orders. Iris slammed her fist on her armrest as she realized that the War Minister must have ordered an emergency pullout after being unable to reach her.

  Iris was about to attempt to countermand the orders when she remembered the soldiers. The casualties her troops had already sustained were horrendous, much more than had been lost in the rest of the conflict combined. Iris knew she had a responsibility not just to protect the City, but to preserve the lives of her troops.

  Iris sighed. She had personally sworn to protect the City to the bitter end, but she could not drag her soldiers into that same, potentially suicidal pact.

  Iris tapped her headset again, issuing an order for Colonel Hines to cooperate with the withdrawal and evacuate the Mayoral Mansion immediately. In the unlikely event that any of the attacking rebels survived and made it to the Mansion, Iris knew she would be risking her life by staying behind. But she also knew that at this point, the only thing really protecting the City was her presence. Leaving wasn’t an option.

  Iris leaned back in her chair, eyes glued to the monitor. Her family was safe, and she had done what she could for her subordinates. She had resolved to stay and fight, and she would do just that.

  And if by some miracle the rebels managed to reach her, she would stop them herself.

  33

  BREAK THE CYCLE

  For Noni, the earth seemed to tremble more from one sentence than from all the rebellion’s explosives combined.

  “It was me. I was the one who killed Zyid.”

  The confession struck Noni like a physical blow. She staggered back, grenade and rifle dropping from her limp hands as she trembled. Her blue eyes were wide as she stared at Takan. The chaos of the battle around them was instantly forgotten.

  Noni steadied herself. “That—that can’t be true.”

  “It is,” Takan said.

  “No,” Noni choked. “No, you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. Takan, who are you trying to protect?”

  A mixture of emotions twisted Takan’s handsome face. There was remorse, guilt, and relief all at once as he spoke.

  “All this time, I’ve been trying to protect myself,” he said. “I’ve even let others sacrifice to protect me. But no more. I’m ready to face what I’ve done. I killed him.”

  For a moment Noni stood there, shaking. Then she let out a cry of anguish, drawing her knives.

  “Why?” she screamed. “Why did it have to be you? Answer me!”

  There was pain in Takan’s eyes. “He killed my sister, Noni!”

  Noni was stunned at that admission. The final piece fell into place, and suddenly everything made horrible senses. How long, she wondered, had Takan walked among the Truancy intending to take revenge on its leader? How much of it had been an act? Tears began to fall from Noni’s eyes, and before she knew what she was doing she had lunged at Takan with knives outstretched.

  Takan was shocked—by the tears more than her attack. He drew his sword to defend himself, blocking Noni’s blade.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, Tack!” Noni wailed. “Zyid … he’s gone … I’ve already lost him … and now you … you’re going to have to die too!”

&nb
sp; Noni slashed at Takan with her other knife, but with her mind in chaos her aim went askew. Takan easily sidestepped the assault, making no move to counterattack.

  “I don’t blame you for wanting me dead,” Takan said quietly.

  “I don’t want you dead!” Noni shrieked. “I loved him, Takan … and I loved you too! I loved you, and now I have to kill you!”

  Noni attacked Takan more wildly, with both knives. Takan parried her careless blows, but the action was mechanical. His full attention was on her agonized face and her tears.

  Takan swallowed. “If you don’t want to, you have a choice, Noni—”

  “No!” Noni screamed as she lunged. “I don’t have a choice, don’t you understand? I made a promise!”

  The two Truants locked blades, and their eyes met. Takan did understand. He knew exactly how it felt to be torn between two loyalties. It had been him in her place once, before the cycle had turned. Suddenly, he realized what he had to do.

  Takan had taken his revenge. Now it was time for Noni to take hers.

  “Then keep your promise, Noni.” Takan took a step back. “I won’t stop you. It’s your turn to carry Zyid’s legacy now.”

  Takan lowered his blade, spreading his arms, silently offering Noni his life. With a shaking hand, Noni raised one of her knives. The two of them looked at each other again, pain and determination on both their faces.

  Then Noni burst into tears, collapsing against Takan. Takan swept her up into an embrace, his own eyes too numb to cry. For several minutes the two remained that way even as the sounds of battle roared around them. Had a sudden hurricane swept down upon them the two would not have budged.

  As Noni continued to sob into his chest, Takan remembered his duel with Zyid, and how differently that had gone. Finally he understood what the Truancy’s old leader had done for him. Zyid had been strong enough to fight Takan to the last—to allow Takan to kill him without guilt.

  Takan had never truly defeated Zyid. Zyid had given his life to calm Takan’s soul.