by Isamu Fukui
Tack braced himself for an attack, but as Zyid drew near, he suddenly and swiftly spun around so that his black windbreaker snapped impressively towards Tack. Acting reflexively, Tack struck, slicing through the thin fabric—and nothing else. As Zyid completed his spin, his foot lashed upwards, striking Tack’s hands with shocking precision. Tack’s sword flew up out of his hands just as Zyid’s sword arced towards Tack’s waist.
Tack had no choice but to stagger back clumsily—unarmed—as Zyid’s blade came an inch from cutting him open. Losing his balance, Tack fell backwards, crashing into a cluster of trash cans. Zyid seized his opportunity and jumped forward with his sword raised high above his head, aiming to bring the blade crashing down upon Tack with the full force of gravity.
The reflexive action that put Tack in his unenviable position now saved his life, closing his hand around something metallic. As Zyid’s blade descended on him, Tack swung the garbage-can lid that he’d grasped above him as a sort of makeshift shield. Zyid’s sword crashed upon the lid with a tremendous clatter, but did it no noticeable damage, and Tack was back on his feet in an instant, clutching the lid tightly.
“Interesting improvisation,” Zyid complimented, nodding at the trash-can lid.
“Why, thank you,” Tack said with mock politeness, lunging forward to swing the lid at Zyid.
Zyid laughed as he easily dodged the attack and struck at Tack with his sword. With similar ease, Tack blocked the sword with the lid, and then proceeded to attempt another zealous but ineffective swing. The problems of fighting with a trash-can lid soon became obvious to both combatants; it was easy to block blows with, but it was simply no good as a weapon. Even Zyid began to show signs of frustration as his sword clanged off of the lid for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. Acting decisively, Tack leaped back a few paces, and then hurled the lid towards Zyid.
As Zyid knocked the lid out of the way, Tack dived for his sword, sliding it into his hands as he gracefully rolled to come up into a crouch. A twinge of annoyance flitted across Zyid’s face, but even so, he darted towards Tack without any hesitation or sign of weariness.
“Getting tired?” Zyid asked shrewdly as he slashed swiftly at Tack’s neck.
“Never,” Tack lied, parrying the blow and lashing out with his foot.
“Well then, it looks like we have a long fight ahead of us,” Zyid observed, sidestepping the kick and swinging his sword at Tack’s legs.
“Definitely,” Tack agreed, leaping backwards to avoid the attack.
Now that they were locked in combat, Tack felt a reckless confidence and daring that he wasn’t familiar with, motivating his muscles even as weariness set in. He found it unusually easy and even encouraging to accept conversation in battle, and the more that Zyid’s talents were shoved into his face, the greater Tack’s willingness to respect those talents grew. None of this, however, prevented Tack from doing his best to cut Zyid to pieces.
As Zyid leaped sideways to avoid a particularly fierce attack, he suddenly froze and stared at the mouth of the alley. Wondering what could possibly be distracting the Truancy leader, Tack paused as well. Then he heard it: the sound of hushed voices and heavy footsteps approaching the alley. Tack and Zyid glanced at each other and lowered their swords, instantly coming to a nonverbal agreement; they would not allow their duel to be interrupted.
As the footsteps drew closer, Zyid swiftly moved to an unturned trash can, positioning it so that it faced the mouth of the alley. Waiting until the voices sounded like they were right around the corner, the Truancy leader gave a forceful kick, and the trash can shot down the alley, clattering noisily every bit of the way. A second later, three tall, dark figures came into view—just in time to have the trash can slam into one of them.
Surprise. “What the hell—”
Revulsion. “Truants!”
Anger. “Shoot them, you idiots; shoot them!”
By the time the first shots rang out, Tack and Zyid were already a good distance away, not even having waited to watch the progress of the trash can. Tack had become quite experienced in running during his life as a Truant, and he sped down the alley faster than he’d ever thought he could. Tack quickly passed Zyid, who didn’t seem to be quite so concerned; the alley was extremely dark, and they had a healthy head start. Only an extremely lucky shot could hit them, and, as it turned out, the Enforcers were not lucky.
“Where to?” Tack panted.
“The subway,” Zyid said decisively. “There’s nothing they can do once we board a train.”
Tack wasn’t in a mood to argue, and followed Zyid down the street towards the subway station that they’d exited before. As he ran, Tack looked up at the sky and found it to be pitch-black, with the orange glow of the dim street lamps serving only to cast the shadows of their surroundings. It was an impressive and frightening feeling, to be under an endless blanket of vast darkness, with only the most subdued light to illuminate the rough concrete beneath their feet. Unfortunately, the light was not subdued enough.
“There they are!”
“Bastards are heading for the subway!”
“Damn,” Zyid breathed as gunshots began echoing throughout the empty street.
Tack was feeling fairly worried himself; they were as good as unarmed, and one of the pursuers had already managed to hit a mailbox that Tack had just run past. Tack chanced a look backwards, and saw three figures a fair distance behind, though still too close for comfort. As the three passed under a street lamp, Tack thought he caught a glimpse of blue Enforcer uniforms, which really didn’t tell him anything that he hadn’t already assumed. Turning forward again, Tack almost fell down the subway stairs before he skidded to a halt; they were already here; had they really been running that fast?
Zyid, however, hadn’t looked back and didn’t pause at all, instead sliding smoothly down the silver handrail without hesitation. Cursing, Tack leaped down the stairs two at a time in pursuit. They soon reached the turnstiles, where both boys found themselves absentmindedly scanning the bar codes on their arms. The turnstiles quickly and predictably refused to grant them access, informing them that they were both truants. Tack and Zyid spared each other a mutual grin, and then Zyid planted his hands on either side of the turnstile and swung himself over while Tack crouched low to duck underneath. Behind them, the familiar sounds of gunshots rang throughout the ominously empty terminal, and Tack could hear bullets ricocheting off of the bars that separated them from the stairs.
Reaching the second flight of stairs leading down to the platform, Zyid again smoothly slid down the handrail. Tack attempted to imitate him, but couldn’t quite pull it off, crashing gracelessly to the ground at the bottom of the stairs. Picking himself up and rubbing his bruised shoulder, Tack dashed after Zyid, who was now running along the platform. Suddenly, a growing rumbling and a pair of increasingly bright lights in the dark tunnel ahead brought a smile to Tack’s lips; this would be the first time he actually got lucky with subway arrivals. Sure enough, a moment later a train clattered into the station, sliding its doors open.
Zyid darted inside the nearest car, and Tack quickly followed suit. Behind them, they heard furious shouting as bullets slammed into the exterior of the train and shattered one of the windows in the car, but the doors had already slid shut, and the train was already in the process of lurching forward. Tack grasped one of the vertical metal poles in the car to steady himself as the train picked up speed, and as he caught his breath, he felt his heart rate return to normal. Watching patiently in front of him stood Zyid, who had opted to hold on to one of the handlebars hanging from the ceiling.
“We seem to have lost them,” Zyid observed, turning to gaze at Tack with a glint in his eye.
Knowing what was about to come next, Tack straightened up stiffly and gripped his sword tightly. Looking steadily over at Zyid, Tack nodded grimly.
The next thing he knew, Zyid had released his handlebar, lunged forward, and swung his sword horizontally in one fluid motion. Tack
released the pole and leaped backwards as Zyid’s sword slammed into the pole but missed its target. Tack was about to lunge forward himself when the train suddenly lurched to a halt, flinging him onto his back. Zyid used the train’s momentum to push himself forward past the pole, slashing downwards at Tack as the doors to the car slid open.
Tack rolled aside as Zyid’s blade struck the filthy floor, and then looked up in surprise as he saw several adults and even a few children rush into the car, promptly freezing in their tracks to stare at the sight of the two Truants. There was a moment of suspended shock as the newcomers gaped stupidly, a moment that was soon shattered by Zyid’s angry voice.
“Get out!” he barked.
Silence.
“It’s a madhouse out there; we’ll be killed!” a man protested, protectively gripping the shoulders of a girl that appeared to be his daughter.
“If you stay here you’ll be killed,” Zyid snarled pitilessly, brandishing his sword.
The message got through, and the civilians reluctantly backed out of the car as the doors slid shut. As the train lurched forward again, Tack took the opportunity to spring to his feet, aiming a slash at Zyid’s head. The blow was parried almost lazily, and Zyid followed up with a swift stab. Tack sidestepped the assault, then turned to dash towards the pole. As Zyid pursued, Tack suddenly sheathed his sword, grasped the pole, and used it to swing himself around, kicking out with his feet to catch a surprised Zyid in the chest.
Zyid staggered backwards, and Tack followed up by grasping the ceiling handrails on either side to swing himself forward, lending his next kick tremendous momentum. This time Zyid was sent sprawling across the floor, and Tack lunged forward, drawing his sword and bringing it forward in a diagonal slash at the ground. Zyid used his own sword to parry the blow, then leaped to his feet and grasped the left handrail to swing himself forward as his right hand brought his sword around in a powerful arc at Tack’s neck. Tack was forced to leap backwards to avoid the blow, and Zyid tightened his grip on the handrail as he raised his feet to plant them firmly on the side of the car. Zyid now hung menacingly from the ceiling, looking as if he were in the process of literally walking up the wall.
Tack lunged forward, aiming a slash up at Zyid. Zyid knocked the blow aside with his sword, and stabbed downwards at Tack, who tilted his head aside just in time to avoid being skewered. Tack slashed upwards again, but Zyid steadily parried the attack and swept his sword downwards with enough reach to force Tack to drop onto his back to avoid the blow. Zyid seized his opportunity and released the handrail, bringing his sword down upon Tack’s vulnerable figure. It would have been a clean kill … had the train not shuddered to another sudden halt at that same instant.
The sudden stop drove Zyid backwards as he released the handrail, sending him crashing to the floor with his sword inches away from Tack. Tack rose to his feet as the doors slid open, suddenly finding himself staring at stunned and frightened faces. In no mood to argue with civilians, Tack swung his sword fiercely in their direction, coming nowhere close to hitting them but feeling a sort of grim satisfaction nonetheless as they tripped over each other in their haste to back up.
“And stay out!” Tack called.
The doors slid shut again and Tack turned to find Zyid facing him grimly. Without a word or warning, Zyid lunged forward just as the train lurched forward, swinging his sword at Tack’s chest. Tack parried the powerful blow with some difficulty, then barreled forward elbow-first, slamming forcefully into Zyid. Zyid staggered backwards first, and then leaped backwards again as Tack slashed furiously at him. Tack was beginning to feel the strain of weariness pulling at him as the fight dragged on, and was resolved to end it as soon as possible.
Zyid had other ideas, however. As Tack slashed at him repeatedly, he didn’t even bother to parry, instead leaping steadily backwards until his back was to the manual sliding door that separated this car from the next. Reaching behind his back to slide the door open, Zyid backed up to stand on the dangerously unstable and exposed juncture between the two cars. Tack hesitated for only the briefest of moments before he plunged forward. Zyid forcefully moved to shut the door so that it slammed into Tack’s already-bruised shoulder, and then swung his sword at Tack’s exposed head.
Tack was forced to fling himself backwards to land on his back inside the car. The door slid shut again, but not before Tack caught a glimpse of Zyid turning to dart through the door to the next car. Tack growled and rose to his feet, sliding the door open to follow. As soon as he stepped out, however, the train hit a curve and nearly flung him off the edge onto the speeding tracks below. Looking at the door to the next compartment that still remained shut, and wondering what kind of greeting Zyid was preparing there for him, Tack decided to withdraw into his car, where he promptly flung himself into the nearest seat to catch his breath.
Moments later, the train came to another halt, and Tack leaped to his feet and over to the closest doors, which promptly slid open. Tack dashed out onto the platform and rushed towards the next car, only to see Zyid dart out of it and run towards him, his sword drawn back in preparation to swing. Tack gritted his teeth and met the attack head-on, bringing his own blade around in a powerful arc as the train doors slid closed. The swords clashed forcefully, though the noise was soon lost to the sound of the train leaving the platform, and the two Truants upon it, left behind.
As Tack and Zyid parried and slashed at each other, they soon became aware of strange, disturbing sounds that seemed to flit down from the street. Tack swore he could hear screaming, and gunshots, and the distant, horrible roar of flames. Remembering the dire words of the man in the train who had been with his daughter, Tack suddenly felt a chill shiver up his spine, and he was seized by a sudden dread. Leaping backwards to avoid a horizontal slash by Zyid, Tack turned and ran for the nearest stairs.
Tack rushed up the stairs, leaping up three at a time. He heard Zyid following behind him, but for the moment all thoughts of the battle had left his mind. Tack leaped right over the turnstiles and dashed up the second flight of stairs towards the darkness of the surface, the terrible sounds growing louder all the while. As Tack burst up aboveground, he froze still, looking around in horrified disbelief. The district that had housed the news station hadn’t been attacked, and had remained relatively unscathed. The district that Tack now stood in, whatever district it was, had received the full force of the blow, and Tack thought that the word madhouse seemed to describe it well.
The blanketing darkness in this part of the City had been thoroughly pierced by dozens of flashing stoplights, glowing street lamps, upturned cars with their headlights still glaring, and hungry, insatiable fires. Blackened skeletons of once-great skyscrapers now blazed ceaselessly, yielding a dark smoke onto the darker skies. Gunshots rang out continuously, and dark figures silhouetted by the flickering flames moved about, fighting, shooting, dropping motionless to the ground. The stench of burning flesh that had come to permeate Tack’s nightmares now drifted freely through the air, and Tack was almost glad that the darkness concealed much of what he knew daylight would reveal to be a slaughter. The screams that burst through the night belonged to children, adults, the elderly, and the newly born; bullets and fire had no regard for age.
Frozen in a horrified trance, Tack sensed rather than saw Zyid draw up to stand behind him, but the Truancy leader made no motion to attack him. On the contrary, Zyid soon seemed to be even more rigid than Tack himself. The two Truants gazed around in the horror of their design, and slowly, Tack turned to look at Zyid.
“Was this what you wanted?” Tack asked bleakly, his voice barely audible over the screams.
Zyid made no answer, but the flickering light of flames revealed a face that Tack could see was wracked by horror, shock, and pain. But above all, as Tack glared at Zyid, it was as if a twisting, growing, parasitic guilt was eating away at the Truancy leader’s conscience.
Zyid didn’t respond, and so Tack looked back at the unfolding scenes of horror.
Suddenly, something caught his eye: past four lanes of traffic a vast area that seemed oddly secure from the madness surrounding it. No ominous skyscrapers burst from the ground to flirt with the sky, no hellish screams yet emanated from it, and the fires had left it untouched. Distant, twinkling pale streetlights, entirely unlike those that lined the sidewalks, seemed to beckon Tack forward, which was when Tack realized, with a jolt, that the lights illuminated a trace of green.
Trees. So it was a park, and judging from the size, not just any park. It was the Grand Park, which could only mean that Tack and Zyid now stood in District 20 …
Or at least what had become of it.
27
THE FALL
In better times, and under the full light of day, the four lanes of traffic that Tack and Zyid now stood by were crammed with honking cars as citizens went about their business around the City. The only people in uniform were the students traveling to and from school and the unarmed officers who peacefully directed the vehicles at this crucial traffic juncture. The skyscrapers reached up not into gaping darkness but into cheery blue as the images of clouds reflected off of the buildings’ windows. The emerald sheen of the park was clearly visible under the bright sun, and pedestrians flocked towards it looking for nothing more than peaceful recreation.
Knowing what District 20 had once been and seeing what it was now filled Tack with a hopelessness and sorrow that he hadn’t thought he was still capable of feeling. It took every ounce of conscious effort that he still possessed to keep from sinking to his knees under the gloating darkness of the heavens. As Tack heard Zyid shift next to him, his despair gave way to anger, and Tack turned to glare at the Truancy leader.
“You. You did this,” Tack accused over the sound of gunshots.
“Yes, Tack,” Zyid admitted resignedly. “I did this.”