Truancy Origins (25 page)

“That was some quick thinking,” Red said.

“Thank you,” the boy replied. “You were impressively fast yourself.”

“Uh . . . thanks,” Red said, that strange feeling of familiarity returning as he examined the boy again. “By the way, have we met before?”

The boy's eyes narrowed, and Red suddenly felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of those dark orbs.

“No, I don't believe we have.”

“Well . . . my name is Red,” Red said, unable to think of anything else. “It was . . . nice working together?”

“That it was,” the boy agreed. “My name is Umasi.”

“Well, Umasi, no offense, but I have to meet up with the rest of my
gang,” Red said. “Or whatever's left of it by now . . . again. Anyway, we'll be better off with two separate tracks in case the Enforcers come around.”

“I was about to suggest that myself.” Umasi nodded as he turned to leave. “Good luck reuniting with your friends. Maybe I'll see you again sometime, Red.”

“Maybe,” Red said, racking his brain for any hint of where he'd seen the retreating boy before.

As the boy vanished from sight, Red shrugged and plunged deeper into the darkened alleyway. At least this time Chris had identified a place for the gang to meet, Red thought. If they'd been scattered again he was sure it'd have meant the end of the crew. Satisfied by knowing that they would regroup, Red didn't bother to wonder how the Enforcers had found the gang in the first place.

It was only long after they had parted ways that Red finally remembered where he had seen someone similar to Umasi before. The boy had dressed better, been cleaner, talked differently, and had longer hair . . . but there was an unmistakable, striking resemblance between Umasi and the boy that Red had seen murder an Enforcer. Were they the same person?

No, they hadn't acted anything alike. Was it just two of them? Or were there perhaps many of them running around? What could it all possibly mean?

Red had no way of answering those questions, but as he arrived at his gang's rendezvous point in the lobby of an abandoned hotel, he felt a chill run down his spine to go along with the bitter pain that had resurfaced in his gut.

 

U
masi munched on a carrot thoughtfully as he walked along the alley. He wasn't sure what nutrients were in the root, and he had never really been a fan of vegetables. Still, he was going to be picky. He really wanted to try some of the meats he had recovered, but most of it was raw and he wasn't sure it'd be a good idea to eat them that way. Wondering how he might get a fire going at all, let alone in the aftermath of a snowstorm, Umasi instead opted to finish his carrot and bite into a hard potato next.

Umasi knew that he could live as comfortably as he wanted with his account card, yet something kept him from returning to society. He had gotten over being humiliated at the docks, and his vagrant appearance didn't bother him either. It was more like he felt at home in the abandoned districts, where only his strength stood between him and death.

After he had awoken from his deathlike trance in the park, Umasi forced himself to his feet, staggered out of the park, and walked through the snowy streets of District 20. He had felt strangely detached, somehow,
from the rest of the world—yet he had never felt more alert and aware in his life. Wandering up towards District 25, he had overheard two vagrants talking about looting a grocery store. Knowing that he probably had to eat soon or never again, Umasi had followed them to the site.

Wiping vegetable juice from his chin, Umasi began gnawing on a wedge of cheese. Not all vagrants were that bad, he'd realized. The brown-haired boy he had teamed up with to escape the Enforcers had been as honorable as could have been expected. The boy could've ignored Umasi's instructions and left him to the Enforcers, but he hadn't—though Umasi had not believed he would. Umasi sensed that under different circumstances, the guy might've been a dependable, upstanding citizen.

Umasi suddenly frowned as he recalled something the boy had told him. He had mentioned that he recognized Umasi from somewhere, but Umasi was certain that they had never met before. Then Umasi froze, halfway through his cheese. There
was
one other person in the City who looked like him, wasn't there? Umasi furrowed his brow, recalling memories of a conversation on a rooftop, of a fight at the piers, events that seemed to have happened a lifetime ago.

Zen had already been spotted by vagrants, Umasi realized. It made sense that his brother would seek their aid. After all, who knew the underbelly of the City better than they? Who had greater reason to hate the Educators?

It was just as well, then, that he would no longer be a vagrant, Umasi decided. The time had come for his wandering to end. He would seek out a place secluded from the rest of the City, somewhere where he could contemplate what to do next, and perhaps he would feel comfortable enough to spend his money at last. With that resolved, Umasi felt as though he truly had died there on that bench in the park. Now he'd gotten a second chance at life, and he didn't intend to waste it.

 

R
othenberg stretched his neck as he walked up the flight of steps. The hunt for the Mayor's children hadn't been going very well at all. The searches had all yielded nothing, and to make matters worse, the boy the Mayor had expected to return home hadn't. The Mayor had been getting anxious, and after their latest exchange Rothenberg felt he needed to relieve some stress. And so he headed home, to his apartment, for the first time in a week. He rarely ever did go home, preferring to sleep at Enforcer Headquarters or even in his patrol car. But every now and then, it was . . . therapeutic, to return to his apartment and remind himself that his methods did work.

Rothenberg slid his key into the lock and turned, slamming it open loudly as he entered.

“Cross, where the hell are you?” Rothenberg bellowed. “Get out here, right now!”

Rothenberg almost smiled at the frantic sound of scuffling as a twelve-year-old boy with short, neatly trimmed red hair rushed out to meet him. The boy's pale complexion was marred by freckles, and he was slightly out of breath as he stood there before Rothenberg. This was Rothenberg's son, though Rothenberg didn't like thinking of the boy that way. To him, every child was either a student or a vagrant, and this student just happened to be his responsibility to discipline.

“Sorry Dad, I—” Cross began, panting.

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?” Rothenberg roared, smacking the boy across the face.

The blow was powerful enough to fling Cross to the floor, where he clutched his stinging cheek and avoided looking at his father, who suppressed a satisfied smile. Cross hastily stood up, wincing as he did so.

“I'm sorry . . . sir,” Cross said.

Rothenberg seized Cross by the scruff of his neck and raised him up like a rag doll. Cross didn't resist, and Rothenberg glowered at him for a moment before sniffing the air exaggeratedly, as a dog might.

“Do you smell anything, boy?” Rothenberg demanded.

“No, sir, I don't,” Cross said confusedly.

“THAT'S THE DAMN PROBLEM!” Rothenberg shouted. “Where is dinner? Why haven't you prepared it yet?”

“I'm sorry, sir,” Cross said, “I didn't know that you were coming home tonigh—”

“Talking back to me, are you?”

Rothenberg punched him in the stomach. Cross groaned and crumpled to the ground, looking extremely small as he forced his jaw shut. He knew exactly what would happen to him if he vomited on the floor.

“Get up, or I'll give you something to really moan about,” Rothenberg said.

Cross scrambled to his feet obediently, his face now inscrutable.

“Go get that dinner ready. It better be fast and it better taste good, boy,” Rothenberg snarled. “I've had all that I can stand of disrespectful children. I'll make sure you students learn your place whether you like it or not.”

“Yes, sir,” Cross said emotionlessly as he spun around and walked to the kitchen.

Rothenberg sighed. He was feeling better already.

Walking over to the dining room, Rothenberg sat down at the table, propping his feet up as he did so. In the kitchen he could already hear cooking noises, and soon he could smell it too. He was pleased that there
weren't any noisy sobs to go along with the sounds of pots clanging and water boiling. His disciplinary methods really were making progress.

Just then Rothenberg's cell phone rang from his belt. Sighing, Rothenberg unhooked the device and flipped it open.

“Chief Truancy Officer Rothenberg speaking. What's the problem?”

“Sir, we may have a lead on that special case you've been working,” the voice on the other end said.

“Oh? Do tell,” Rothenberg said, sitting up straight.

“There was a robbery up in District 25 today. We ambushed a bunch of vagrants looting a grocery store—one of our informants told us about it beforehand. It took a while to get in position due to the weather, though, so we only caught them at it after they'd damn near stripped the place.”

“What's that got to do with my investigation?” Rothenberg demanded.

“One of the Enforcers at the scene swears that he spotted a child who matches the description of one of the suspects you're looking for,” the Enforcer on the phone explained. “We only just found out about it. I thought you'd like to know as soon as possible.”

“Hm . . . could be a coincidence, or it could be the break we've been looking for.” Rothenberg smiled. “Did we capture any other live witnesses?”

“None of the apprehended vagrants survived their wounds, sir,” the Enforcer replied, “aside from our informant, who we turned loose before we knew he might've seen something important. We won't be able to question him until he contacts us again.”

“Well then we're just going to have to go out and hunt down new witnesses,” Rothenberg said. “If we catch one, I'll want to handle the interrogation personally. Rothenberg out.”

And with that, Rothenberg shut his phone off and returned it to his belt. They had a lead. Maybe not a very good one, but at least it was something that he could work with. All hunger forgotten, Rothenberg sprang up from his chair and made for the door, feeling the thrill of the hunt course through his veins. As he exited the apartment, he quietly shut the door behind him without a second thought.

At that moment Cross entered the dining room wearing an apron and holding two dishes full of steaming pasta, sauce, and meatballs. For a few seconds the boy just stared at the empty room, his face still unreadable.

But as he turned around and returned to the kitchen, a single tear slowly slid down his stubbornly blank face.

N
oni whimpered quietly, her wide eyes frantically searching all around the darkness of the room. She wasn't looking for anything in particular, but she knew that there must be all sorts of nasty things lurking in the all-encompassing shadow, things that wanted to hurt her. Several feet away she could hear the steady breathing of the great and frightening creature that had become her guardian and savior, the terror that trumped any monster out to get her. She was sure that there was no enemy, no challenge, nothing that he couldn't overcome.

But he was asleep now, and who was left to protect her?

Tossing around in her sleeping bag, Noni wondered how long she had been lying there, awake and terrified as everyone else slept peacefully. She was just being stupid, she told herself. There was nothing to worry about. Really.

Then she froze in panic as her eyes skimmed over a particular patch of darkness. It looked like all the others. Except that she was sure that she had seen something
move
there. But no, that was silly, wasn't it? How could she see anything move when she could barely see her own hand waving in front of her face? But then again, if something
was
moving, creeping towards her, she would never know until it was too late . . . .

And then something creaked, and a million horrible thoughts about what might've caused it flashed through Noni's mind. Trying to calm herself, Noni rationalized that it was a run-down, abandoned apartment, of course something would creak. But then again,
something
had to have caused the noise . . . and she couldn't know what it was, thanks to this infinite blackness.

Maybe it was just a rat.

Or maybe it was a huge man with a knife.

Noni stifled a squeal and ducked fully inside her sleeping bag, using it like a cocoon to shield her from the night. For many minutes she trembled, her terror overwhelming her. There was no escaping the darkness, the blank canvas upon which her imagination painted horrible images. Not even when she closed her eyes could she get away from it.

Finally, unable to take it any longer, Noni came to a decision. No matter how mad her protector might be if she woke him, it would be better than facing the endless darkness and the infinite horrors it held all alone. Nervously, she crawled out from the shelter of her sleeping bag and over to the slumbering monster near her.

“Sir?” Noni whispered, tapping Zen on the shoulder.

Zen was instantly upright and awake, his eyes darting around the room reflexively. Sensing no immediate danger, he slowly turned his attention towards Noni with such alertness that she wondered if he had actually been asleep at all.

“What is it?” Zen asked.

“I . . . I can't sleep,” Noni said.

Even in the dark Noni could feel Zen's eyes upon her, examining her, scrutinizing her through the shadows. It was a vaguely chilling feeling that raised her neck hairs, but it was oddly comforting at the same time.

“Why can't you sleep?” Zen asked, not stirring an inch.

“The dark . . . it scares me.”

At this, Zen stood up with shocking speed, towering over Noni. In the darkness of the room, Noni was struck by how Zen seemed like a massive shadow masquerading in the shape of a man. The shadow reached down to grasp Noni's hand, pulling her upright with ease, as she offered no resistance.