Truancy Origins (20 page)

But as he walked, all Umasi could think about was the body that he'd left behind. He now wondered if he would ever find his brother, or if he would end up like the girl, his story lost forever—just another whimper in the chorus of screams that was the City.

 

R
othenberg turned up the heat dial on his car dashboard as he drove through a gate leading into District 7. Taking a quick sip of coffee before placing the cup back inside its holder, he leaned back in his seat and proceeded through the empty streets of the abandoned district. In spite of
himself, a smile spread across Rothenberg's face. He felt completely at home here, inside his comfortable car, doing what he loved most—hunting vagrants. Granted, he wouldn't be able to kill the two particular kids he had been sent to find, but at least he would be rewarded handsomely for finding them—rewarded with the realization of all his wildest dreams.

Not to mention that
all
the Enforcers were already at his beck and call. He could certainly get used to that.

The Mayor had been true to his word: No sooner had Rothenberg arrived at Enforcer Headquarters than he had discovered that the instructions to obey him had already gone out. That had been yesterday, and since then Rothenberg had had a dozen separate patrols thoroughly comb the streets of District 8. Meanwhile, Rothenberg had decided to take District 7 all for himself. He didn't actually expect to find the Mayor's sons here by himself, but he felt like doing some private hunting. He was still fuming over being humiliated the day before, first by that brown-haired brat and then by the Mayor's son, and now he had an opportunity to take it out on the vagrants.

Just then, Rothenberg turned a street corner and spotted two shadowed figures running from his patrol car. Though dusk had already settled and the children were hard to see in the dim lighting, it was obvious that neither had a ponytail. The first kid was running very fast, so much so that Rothenberg wasn't sure he'd be able to hit him. The other, however, was weighed down by what appeared to be a hefty backpack he'd slung over one shoulder.

Rothenberg smiled. The Mayor's runaways might be off-limits, but all the others were fair game.

Rothenberg lowered his car window and stuck his head and gun outside, aiming at the slower, clumsier silhouette. He fired once, the gunshot roaring throughout the empty street as the fleeing figure crumpled to the ground with a yelp. Rothenberg let out a cold chuckle, then opened his car door and stepped out to examine his catch as its companion vanished around the corner.

It was a fairly large vagrant boy, and Rothenberg noted with some satisfaction that his shot had caught the kid right in the head. The ragged, filthy child looked like typical street trash to Rothenberg, but there was one thing that seemed out of place: The backpack that the boy had been carrying looked relatively new. It was probably stolen goods, Rothenberg decided as he spun around and began walking back towards his car.

Without checking to see what was inside the backpack, or bothering to do anything about the boy's body lying there, Rothenberg reentered his car,
rolled up the window, and sipped more coffee before resuming his hunt. The vagrant he'd shot hadn't been one of the Mayor's sons, and that was all that the Enforcer really cared about—especially since he wasn't keen on lingering outside of his heated car for too long. After all, the weather had been getting rather chilly lately.

 

T
he day was cloudy and overcast, and yet strangely bright, casting a gray sheen over District 13. The river reflected the gray hue, and thanks to especially strong winds the surface of the water resembled a thrashing sea of living silver. Zen found that he rather enjoyed the sound that the waves made as they crashed against the various docks and piers of the district, but he had little time to appreciate the scenery.

Today was, as planned, the Truancy's first excursion, and though he didn't expect any trouble, it wouldn't do to be careless. They hadn't had any difficulty moving through the districts that stood between District 8 and District 13; they had split up into pairs and looked utterly unremarkable as they walked along the streets. Amal had paired with Gabriel, Max had paired with Ken, Aaron had stayed behind to build triggers, and Zen had taken Noni along with him.

Noni hadn't been very talkative so far, though Zen hadn't expected her to be. She had, however, opened up enough to ask a few questions about their surroundings as they went along. Having food and rest for a change seemed to agree with her, and her wounds were already showing signs of healing. Zen believed that suffering spawned strength, and he was certain that Noni would someday become very powerful indeed. He was, however, beginning to worry that she might become too dependent upon him.

And so Zen kept a formal distance as the two traversed the empty streets of District 13, gray light illuminating their path. Zen discovered a large apartment complex that would someday be perfect for housing hundreds of Truants, and Noni carried a sack filled with materials to return to Aaron. Slowly but surely Zen, with Noni close behind, made his way towards the river—towards the docks, piers, and riverside warehouses that he was sure could offer up useful tools and materials. Everything went exactly according to plan . . . now they rounded a corner and the river itself came into sight. It was there that Zen saw something crouching down by a pier that made him freeze in his tracks.

Satisfying himself that it wasn't an illusion, Zen ordered Noni to remain where she was, and then he strode forward to speak with the person he had never expected to meet again in his life.

 

U
masi had gotten up late, and only then with the greatest reluctance. His body ached, his mind felt sluggish, and his memories of the previous day
had not yet dulled. His dreams, however, had been untroubled for a change. Perhaps that was because his old nightmares were tame compared with the one that had become his life, Umasi thought grimly as he spat in the river to rid his mouth of its bitter taste.

Feeling his stomach grumble in complaint, Umasi wearily reached for the nearby pizza box. He quickly pulled out one of his remaining slices and began sucking on it hungrily like a Popsicle. The slice had very nearly frozen solid from the cold, but Umasi didn't complain; he knew that he was lucky to have it. By the time he was halfway through the slice he was feeling a little better, well enough to pay attention to his surroundings. It was then that he noticed what looked like an indistinct shadow gliding towards him.

Hastily swallowing his latest bite of frozen pizza, Umasi cautiously raised himself into a crouch. The blurred figure drew closer, taking on an unmistakable humanoid shape. Umasi tensed, ready to fight if he had to. But moments later the figure came into focus, and Umasi's jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Zen?” Umasi gaped as the black-clad figure drew up to him, jacket billowing in the strong wind.

For a brief moment, Umasi wondered if he had already gone completely mad, or if his vision was perhaps worse than he had thought. But as soon as the figure opened its mouth, Umasi realized that he was neither hallucinating nor blind.

“Umasi. You look different without your glasses.” Zen's eyes narrowed as he examined Umasi's ragged form. “What are you doing here?”

“I've been looking for you!” Umasi exclaimed delightedly, unable to believe his luck.

“Is that so?” Zen said. “Have you changed your mind then?”

“No,” Umasi said, his smile fading. “I thought I might be able to convince you to stop.”

“Stop?” Zen suddenly laughed at the absurdity of it all. “You came out here at random, completely unprepared, just to try to
stop
me?”

Umasi hesitated for the briefest of moments.

“Yes, I did.”

“You're serious,” Zen observed incredulously. “And how exactly did you propose to stop me?”

“By . . . talking some sense into you.”

“How can you talk sense into me if you're the one that's deluded?” Zen demanded. “Surely even
you
aren't so naïve as to believe that I'd stop now.”

“Wishful thinking, maybe,” Umasi conceded. “But I can't just watch you go through with this. It's not too late, you can just forget about everything and come back!”

“Not too late?” Zen repeated. “There's already blood on my hands, Brother.”

Umasi was stunned. It couldn't be. It had only been a few days, hadn't it? It had felt like years to Umasi, but he was sure that he'd only awoken on the street four times so far. Surely Zen hadn't managed to
kill
anyone in that time?

“You can't mean . . .” Umasi choked.

“Yes, yes, I killed an Enforcer,” Zen said impatiently. “That one truly deserved it, though, I'm sure you'd agree if you'd seen him.”

His worst fears confirmed, Umasi felt an indescribable horror welling up inside him as he remembered the death he'd witnessed the previous day. Suddenly feeling sick, Umasi stumbled back a few paces as he stared at his brother as if truly seeing him for the first time.

“So as you can see, Umasi,” Zen continued, “if you want to get in my way . . . you're going to have to fight me. Are you prepared to try it?”

Memories of dark dreams that he had thought he'd long forgotten flitted through Umasi's mind. Zen was really going to destroy the City. Countless lives might be ended if this
one
were allowed to continue.

When is a threat so great that life should be taken to stop it?

Who had the right to even answer that question?

Umasi abruptly shook his head. “Not me.”

“Still trying to occupy the moral high ground, are you?” Zen raised an eyebrow as he looked Umasi up and down. “By the looks of it, you've become quite the hypocrite in the short time I haven't known you. Or do you mean to say that all of that blood is your own?”

Following Zen's gaze, Umasi stared down at himself, something he hadn't done since he'd run from home. His clothes were already filthy and torn, bruises in various stages of healing covered his body, and scattered bloodstains were clearly visible on his clothes and skin. Some of that blood was his, yes . . . but Umasi realized, with jolt of self-loathing, that Zen was right: He
had
shed the blood of another.

“You see, Umasi, you're not
really
a pacifist. Even you have to fight for something on occasion.” Zen smirked. “You just use that term to hide yourself from reality, to avoid conflict. You're just a coward.”

Zen's words stung Umasi more than either of them thought they would. Umasi felt his fists clench unconsciously as he realized that there was some truth in them. Zen was right. He had been a coward. He was scared of getting hurt, and even more scared of hurting anyone else. All this time he had been running away from his problems, not trying to solve them. He had talked of peace, but had done nothing to achieve it.

Umasi grimaced. His cowardice would end here.

“All right,” Umasi said grimly, “we'll settle this your way.”

Zen looked slightly surprised, but not displeased.

“Didn't think you had it in you,” Zen said as he walked forward. “Let's make this interesting, shall we?”

Umasi tensed as Zen approached, but then watched in confusion as Zen walked past him and towards the docks. Looking around, Zen spotted and picked up two thin metal pipes that had been left lying around. They were slightly rusted, but Zen knocked them against each other and found that they were perfectly sturdy. Tossing one to Umasi and keeping the other for himself, Zen nodded to his brother and walked farther along the waterline. Puzzled, Umasi followed until Zen reached one particular pier that stood out from the others.

This pier had been mostly demolished, with all of the boards that had once made up its surface long since torn away. However, the thick wooden columns that had held up the boards remained, their exposed heads stoically remaining above the water. Years of neglect had not been kind to the columns; the tips of many were broken off, some had sunk to the point of vanishing underwater, and others were bent sideways like a diagonal splinter marring the silver face of the water. The columns were each about two feet thick and spaced about three feet apart.

As a whole, the massive wrecked pier formed a uniquely challenging terrain, and with a growing sense of trepidation, Umasi realized what Zen was up to. As if to confirm his suspicions, Zen elegantly leapt onto the closest pillar, then continued making short hops until he was a good ten pillars deep. Only then did he turn around, both feet planted firmly upon the tiny surface beneath him as he raised his pole towards Umasi.

“Well? Do you still intend to stop me?” Zen leered.

“Yeah,” Umasi answered, suddenly bereft of confidence.

“Then come and get me.”

Umasi took a deep, calming breath, and then stepped forward. As his foot touched down upon the first column, he felt a strange thrill travel up his body. Hopping over to where Zen now stood watching him, Umasi realized that while Zen had made it look easy, maintaining his balance and calculating jumps from pillar to pillar was incredibly challenging. More than once Umasi felt sure he would slip and plunge into the river below, which sloshed about with increasing violence, as though eager to claim the intruders over its surface.

A powerful gust kicked up, and suddenly a fierce wind battered Umasi's body and screamed in his ears. None of this was helping him stay upright, and as he felt the river's cold foamy spray on his face, he realized that he might fall without Zen having to lift a finger. The short poles they wielded
weren't very dangerous on their own, but they were more than enough for either of them to tip the other into the icy water.

Trying not to think about the consequences of losing, Umasi made one final leap, and found himself standing upon the column right in front of Zen. Zen grinned and performed a dignified bow as a particularly large wave splashed behind him, framing his figure with a silvery spray that glittered in the pale light.