by Isamu Fukui
It was the only thought Tack had time for before the bottle burst a few feet above the ground, spewing its fiery contents everywhere. A moment later, the streets, soaked in combustibles, lit up like a lantern. Smaller fires touched off bigger ones until the whole block took light. Gasoline inside the tightly packed cars ignited, causing a chain of explosions to ripple throughout the streets. Through the blazing inferno, terrified and pained screams ripped through the air, and angry red tongues of flames stabbed upwards into the darkness. As fire devoured the lives below, Tack shut his eyes and turned away. Opening them again, he saw that the other kids were all also determinedly averting their gazes, instead staring up at the twinkling starry night.
Except for Zyid. Of them all, only he still gazed down at what he had wrought. His eyes were wide and intensely determined as they mirrored the flames below, but as Tack glanced at him, looking for more reasons to hate the boy, Tack instead saw pain, an incomprehensible pain twisting Zyid’s face as he stared unflinchingly downwards. That pain, more than anything else, made it even more difficult for Tack to imagine avenging himself upon his sister’s killer.
Whatever it was that Zyid saw there in that street on that night he forever kept to himself. When Zyid finally looked away and silently led all the Truants back to the hideout, Tack took another look at the leader’s face. Seeing only the usual emotionless expression, Tack found it hard to imagine that the pain was ever there.
16
WITHOUT MERCY
You cannot count on mercy—yours, Tack, or theirs!
We must act without mercy.
Tack sighed and leaned against the tiled wall. Mercy—it was the only thing that his new mentor and his old seemed to agree on. Tack had spent the past few weeks as if in a trance, spending most of his time trying to sort out the mess that his life had become. In between confused episodes, he felt as though he were a limp puppet made by Umasi, with Zyid now pulling the strings. Ever the master puppeteer, Zyid had spent much time filling Tack’s head with advice and instructions that conflicted deeply with Umasi’s teachings. Tack felt torn on the inside; he had come very close to accepting Umasi’s words before joining the Truancy, but Zyid’s tended to be overwhelmingly persuasive. Tack had spent an entire dazed afternoon trying to figure out how to fit “do not seek to take life” alongside “restraint is a weakness” and not feel some confusion.
Tack looked briefly through the glass front doors of the school; the evening sky was just beginning to darken outside. He shifted restlessly. For the past half hour he had been crouched outside the door of a principal’s office in a school that he had never been to before. Ever since the bulk of the Truancy had grouped together Zyid had been pulling Tack’s strings with increasingly frequency, sending him on all sorts of unsavory missions, most of which involved ending the life of any Enforcer or Educator Zyid might name. And Tack had done so flawlessly.
And yet, every time Zyid told Tack what a good job he had done, some suppressed corner of his mind rose up and asked him why he obeyed.
Tack never could find an answer.
He knew that he wouldn’t be experiencing any less horror if he hadn’t become Zyid’s puppet; Truant parties went out regularly now, and skirmishes with Enforcer patrols were becoming more common every day. Tack didn’t see much of his old Truant acquaintances anymore; Zyid always kept him close. This in particular made Tack feel uncomfortable; the feeble conscious part of him felt like he was betraying Suzie, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop serving the Truancy.
Tack sighed again, his thoughts shifting. His discomfort had been compounded by the fact that Zyid wasn’t keeping Noni as close as he used to, something she obviously blamed Tack for. Not only did she avoid looking at him, but she avoided his presence entirely. Tack really wasn’t entirely sure why that bothered him, especially when it was the least of his worries, but the aftermath of their duel had left him feeling immensely guilty.
Tack suddenly rummaged around in the pocket of his jacket absentmindedly, more for the sake of concentrating on something material than anything else. His hand gripped the bottle inside his pocket firmly when it found it. The particular mission that Zyid had sent him on was very unusual, and Zyid had impressed upon him that it was especially important. For the first time since Tack had entered Zyid’s service, he was being asked to capture a target alive, and even more unusually, the target wasn’t an Educator but merely the principal of the District 6 School. Tack wasn’t sure what Zyid wanted the man alive for, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t anything pleasant.
Tack looked around the ground floor of the school, checking idly for signs of other people. There was relatively little security here after hours; the Educators had begun to devote lots of resources to protecting their own and no one else. There had been only one guard present behind the circular security desk, and he had remained fast asleep even when Tack shot the lock on the front doors and entered the school. Tack had used his sword to make sure that the guard wouldn’t be waking up, just in case, and then had proceeded to the room whose number Zyid had provided. Zyid had told him that the principal for this school would be working late, and sure enough, light issued forth from the thin crack under the door, and faint sounds of movement could be heard.
Tack had decided that the best course of action would be to wait for the principal to leave the office himself, and so he waited, crouched outside the door, with a brown glass bottle in one hand and a cloth in the other. Suddenly, the sound of activity inside the room increased, and Tack decided that the principal was finally preparing to leave. Tack gingerly unscrewed the bottle he held and soaked the cloth with the liquid contained inside. Avoiding breathing the fumes in, Tack screwed the cap back on the bottle and then held the cloth in his right hand, keeping it a safe distance away from his nose and mouth.
A few tense moments passed, and then the light under the door went out. Tack stiffened and prepared himself as the sound of footsteps approached the door. Then the door swung open, and the short, squat figure of a man stepped out, clutching a suitcase. Tack immediately sprang forward, using his left arm to bring the man into a headlock, and then using his right to smother the man’s face with the towel. The man dropped the suitcase, struggled and yelled into the cloth for a few moments, and then went still. Tack acted quickly, tossing the bottle and cloth aside, and then dragging the man’s rather heavy bulk behind him. Fortunately for Tack, the principal’s office was on the ground floor, not too far from the main doors. Pushing open a door with his foot and grunting slightly as he heaved the man outside, Tack dragged his burden over to a black car that was parked nearby.
The backseat door swung open, and Zyid stepped out. As they silently lifted the principal into a sitting position in the backseat, Zyid murmured quietly.
“Did the ether work?” he asked, rather unnecessarily.
“Yes, sir,” Tack answered quietly.
“Good.” Zyid nodded. “Get in the passenger seat.”
Zyid opened the passenger seat door and ushered Tack inside. Tack sat down, buckled himself in, and then shut the door. As he turned to look at the driver, he froze; Noni sat next to him stiffly, gripping the wheel, determinedly looking forward. Tack noticed that her scarf was wrapped tighter than ever around her lower face.
“We’ve picked up our guest.” Zyid clapped a hand on the unconscious principal’s shoulder, ignoring the tension in the front seats. “Now let’s prepare to entertain him.”
Tack knew better than to ask what the “entertainment” would be or where they would be performing it, but Noni had apparently been briefed, at least on the latter, since she turned the keys and hit the gas without hesitation.
“Once he is restrained at the site, I will need the two of you to keep a watch on him,” Zyid said briskly, rolling down his window so that he could enjoy the rushing air. “When he wakes up, I want you to call me.”
Zyid nodded at and tossed a cell phone over to Tack, who caught it and quickly slipped it
into his pocket.
“Where will you be going?” Tack asked.
“For a bike ride,” Zyid said, his voice suddenly taking on uncharacteristically weary tones. “I feel like visiting an old friend.”
Tack turned to look back at Zyid carefully. The Truant leader had an almost sickly look, as if he was preparing to do something horrible. But as soon as Zyid noticed Tack looking at him, his face quickly smoothed out again. Tack glanced over at Noni, who he knew couldn’t have seen what he had but must be as skeptical of Zyid’s last pronouncement as he was. Tack understood, however, that they both knew better than to question Zyid about it.
Noni suddenly shifted in her seat, and Tack realized that his attention seemed to be making her uncomfortable. Tack tore his gaze from her and looked forward, leaning back in his seat. He wasn’t sure that Zyid really had any friends. For that matter, he wasn’t sure that anyone inside that car did.
Except, perhaps, for the principal, who was still resolutely asleep, blissfully unaware of his companions and what they had in store for him.
* * *
“Well, now this is a most unexpected visit, Zyid,” Umasi said, shutting his book and looking up from his seat behind the lemonade stand.
Zyid ignored Umasi’s inquisitive look and slid neatly off of his bike, which he left lying on its side in the street. He walked forward to the front of the stand, directly across from Umasi. It had been fifteen minutes since he’d left Tack and Noni behind in a safe place far from District 6.
“Before you get defensive, Umasi, I’m not here as the leader of the Truancy,” Zyid said wearily.
“Really?” Umasi raised an eyebrow. “Then what are you here as?”
Zyid took a deep breath and shut his eyes, as if bracing himself for a life-threatening experience.
“Your brother.”
Suddenly the entire atmosphere changed, and Umasi’s expression grew cold and furious. There was a moment of frozen silence; then Umasi reached up and swept the sunglasses from his face, regarding Zyid through narrowed, dangerous eyes. Zyid looked back calmly, having clearly expected such a reaction.
“You aren’t my brother anymore,” Umasi said harshly. “You yourself told me that years ago.”
“I admit I’ve done little to deserve the title.” Zyid sighed. “But you only truly appreciate things when you lose them; you know that. I’ve missed you.”
“Since when have you ever been sentimental?” Umasi asked scornfully.
“I must be getting old,” Zyid said flippantly, prompting a bark of laughter from Umasi.
“You blew up a Disciplinary Officer only a few blocks from here,” Umasi said viciously. “What kind of message does that send me?”
“That I have responsibilities to my people?” Zyid suggested. “I’m not here to argue, Umasi; I just want to talk.”
“So you stroll in here, claim to be my brother again, and expect to be welcomed with open arms?” Umasi demanded. “And don’t try giving me the look; it stopped working since we left school.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Zyid protested.
“If you’re my brother, tell me the truth,” Umasi demanded. “There’s a purpose to everything you do. You’d never come all the way out here just to tell me you’ve missed me. Why are you really here?”
Zyid shifted uncomfortably as Umasi glared at him relentlessly, sunglasses still in hand.
“I’m in the neighborhood on business,” Zyid said finally. “I really did want to see you, and I’m due to meet up with my two assistants in a nearby district soon. I just decided to stop by to see how you were doing.”
“You’re meeting with assistants? Who’s dying today?” Umasi asked sardonically.
“No one, though I won’t deny that you wouldn’t approve of what we’re going to do.” Zyid frowned, now looking vaguely anxious.
“Well, I’m not going to give you an excuse to detail your acts of depravity,” Umasi said. “And I thought your only assistant was Noni. What happened? Did she become expendable?”
“Noni is still in my employ, but my new assistant is just as good, perhaps even better,” Zyid said, glad for a new topic of conversation. “He joined recently, and he didn’t even need training. His name is Takan, if you’d care to know.”
Umasi froze. As his eyes scanned Zyid, he quickly composed himself, extinguished his anger, and put his sunglasses back on.
“Takan?” Umasi repeated carefully.
“Yes,” Zyid said, suddenly suspicious. “Why? Do you know him?”
“No, I can’t say that I do,” Umasi lied smoothly. “I was just under the impression that Noni was irreplaceable, at least as your most valued subordinate.”
“No one is irreplaceable,” Zyid said stiffly.
“Even you?” Umasi raised an eyebrow.
“Even me. Why? Thinking about taking my place?”
“Yes, yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking about,” Umasi said sarcastically. “You know how much I love the Truancy.”
“That I do,” Zyid mused.
Suddenly, a melodious tone issued forth from Zyid’s pocket, and annoyance flitted across his face. Withdrawing his cell phone, he flipped it open and thumbed it on before bringing it to his ear.
“Is he, already?” Zyid murmured into the phone. “All right, I’m on my way.”
Zyid switched the cell phone off and then turned again to Umasi, who was now observing him with visible interest.
“Well, dear brother, as good as it was to see you”—Zyid gestured resignedly towards his pocketed cell phone—“I’m now running late.”
“Please, don’t stay on my account.” Umasi waved his hand dismissively. “I suppose you’re free to come back whenever you want, considering you’ll do so anyway if you really want to. That said, I don’t expect I’ll see you soon.”
“Oh, you never know,” Zyid said wistfully, turning to grab his bike. “Good-bye, Umasi.”
“Take care of yourself, Zyid,” Umasi called.
Umasi watched as Zyid mounted his bike and rode around the corner, and out of sight. As he did, Umasi bent his head deep in thought, muttering quietly to himself.
“Well then, he’s no longer my responsibility,” he murmured. “I wonder if Zyid will find him any easier to control than I did.”
* * *
“Thank you for helping to keep watch, Noni; you may leave now,” Zyid said loudly, drawing immediate attention as he slid down into the massive pit of a construction site.
Tack looked quickly at Noni, who was now staring at Zyid with hurt in her eyes. Tack was almost glad to see it there, since they had been completely empty for a long time. She and Tack had stood guard together outside the concrete room, one of many, under the tangle of piping and support beams that were the beginnings of the basement for an incomplete building. Having nothing to look at except shadowed plumbing, the unconscious principal, and the others, Tack had inevitably noticed that Noni’s eyes were not icily intense, as they used to be, but uncharacteristically dull.
The next thing Tack knew, Noni averted her gaze and climbed swiftly out of the pit. Zyid strode over to Tack and gestured for him to follow as he entered the crude room that he’d been guarding. Tack obligingly followed, shooting one last look at Noni’s retreating form. As he turned his attention towards the room they were now in, the first thing Tack noticed was the dim lighting, which was just enough to illuminate the filth and rust caking the surface of the entire room. The second thing he noticed was the principal he’d abducted earlier.
Zyid had taken no chances with the prisoner before he left to supposedly visit his friend, Tack saw. The man was blindfolded and strapped down onto a stretcher, directly underneath a rusty water pipe. The man stiffened as he heard footsteps, and Zyid cast him an unusually grave look. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if preparing himself, and then gestured Tack towards a valve in the corner. Tack understood and immediately took his place there, silently gripping the valve. Zyid nodded in approval, then w
alked to stand beside the captive.
“Hello, Mr. Flint!” Zyid said cheerily, as if greeting a favorite teacher.
“What is this? Who are you?” Mr. Flint demanded, turning his head towards the voice.
“My name is Zyid, sir, and you might call this my classroom,” Zyid said in a voice filled with irony.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Mr. Flint asked, struggling to maintain his brave face.
“Oh, I just brought you here to have a little pop quiz on current events,” Zyid replied, walking over to Mr. Flint’s side. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, Mr. Flint.”
Zyid removed the man’s blindfold. Mr. Flint blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim light. His eyes widened as they spotted Zyid.
“You’re just a kid!”
“Not the kind that you’re thinking of,” Zyid said cheerfully.
Mr. Flint looked suddenly relieved. Kids. That’s all they were. He could deal with kids.
“Young man, you’d better untie me right now or you’ll be in serious trouble,” he warned, assuming his most authoritative voice.
The cold chuckle that came in reply was not what he’d expected.
“You’re incorrigible, Mr. Flint,” Zyid said icily. “However, as I said, we have a test to take, and if you leave now you’ll get a zero. And we both know what happens to people who get zeroes on their tests, don’t we? They are … disciplined.”
Mr. Flint looked surprised. This child’s satirical response was disturbing to him. The idea that performance on a test could affect his very immediate life felt strange to him, and yet it was vaguely familiar nonetheless.