Truancy Origins (47 page)

“Behind that door may wait all the Enforcers in the City,” Zen announced, “but the stairway is narrow and they can only come one at a time.”

The banging on the door increased in volume, and the Truants tightened their grips on their weapons as they hung on to their leader's every word, his calm rationale lending them confidence.

“Five Enforcers or five hundred, it will make no difference; push onto the stairs, and retreat to the roof.”

A series of deafening gunshots rang out, and deep dents appeared in the door. The Enforcers were trying to shoot their way in, but the Truants were ready for them now.

“Some of us will die here today, but if it's your time to go, then there's nothing to do but make it theirs as well!”

There was a final thud against the door, and it budged slightly, pushing
back the furniture that had been pressed against it. The head of an Enforcer peered in through the tiny crack, and then fell away, pierced by a bullet as the Truants let loose a vicious volley. The Enforcers redoubled their efforts to push open the door, and with a loud creak the furniture finally gave way and the Enforcers burst into the corridor. They were met with a withering storm of gunfire, but more Enforcers stepped over their dead comrades and into the hall. A few Truants crumpled as the Enforcers returned fire, but after another volley they fled back into the stairwell and began radioing for backup. Over the thundering of footsteps in the stairs and gunshots from the lower floors, Zen stood up, holstered his pistol, and swung his crowbar.

“NOW!” he yelled.

Zen charged into the stairwell, slamming his crowbar into the nearest Enforcer's face. The Enforcer let out a yell of pain, and Zen kicked the man in the chest, sending him crashing down the stairs into his comrades. Other Truants immediately ran out into the stairs and began firing down on the prostrate Enforcers.

“Tell the Truants on the other floors to fight their way into the stairwell and onto the roof!” Zen bellowed at Frank over the chaos.

Frank retreated back into the hall to relay the orders. Zen reached inside a hidden pocket of his windbreaker and pulled out a brick-sized loaf of some solid white substance. It was crudely shaped, as though it were made in a bread mold, and had a match sticking out of it. Zen pulled out a lighter and lit the match, then dropped the brick down the stairwell. A moment later there was a small explosion, and the entire stairwell began filling with thick white smoke. There were shouts of surprise, and through the smoke Zen bellowed his orders in case Frank had not yet managed to spread the word.

“THE ROOF! GET TO THE ROOF!”

The call was soon echoed by a dozen voices, and not all of them were Truants. The Enforcers now knew what they were up to, and a mad upwards rush began, no one able to see through the smoke. Shots fired wildly everywhere, Truants and Enforcers alike toppled and fell, providing obstacles for the others that were ascending. At the very top of the stairs, Zen found his way blocked by a pair of Enforcers who had gotten there before him. Before they had identified him as an enemy the crowbar had struck one upside the head, bringing him to the ground. But the other had already raised a gun before Zen could react, and for a moment he felt sure that he had made a deadly blunder.

Then something darted through the air and buried itself between the Enforcer's eyes. It was a knife. As the Enforcer crumpled backwards, Zen
spun around to see Noni charging up the stairs, wielding knives she'd taken from the supply room, a number of Truants from the lower floors following in her wake. Zen felt a brief surge of pride, and then kicked open the door leading to the roof. A few Truants charged in ahead of him, and instantly fell to the ground; as Zen had suspected, more Enforcers had beaten them to the top. Not to be discouraged, the surviving Truants burst out of the thick smoke and into the open air of the roof en masse. Only a half dozen Enforcers were lying in wait, and after a few moments of vicious gunfire, they all lay dead. As Zen wiped his crowbar, he shouted instructions to all the other Truants.

“Drag the dead out of the way and secure the entrance to the stairs! We'll wait as long as we can for the other Truants, but if an Enforcer comes through, shoot it!”

The Truants moved the bodies of both friend and foe, and then took positions all around the open door. A few tardy Truants emerged, sputtering from the smoke, but right behind them came a number of Enforcers, who were cut down before they could return fire. For a moment it looked like they were safe; there was no other way onto the roof, and with the narrow chokepoint of the door they could hold off an army with their handful of survivors.

Then, over the din of the firefight, Zen heard a loud beating noise, and was seized by dread. Spinning around, he saw the helicopter just as it came into view above the rooftop. The helicopter itself had no weapons, and Zen could see right through the cockpit window. The pilot was unarmed, the chopper not meant for combat. Still, as other Truants turned to see what was going on, the mere presence of the flying machine seemed to inspire terror in all of them. Even Zen was worried, but he wasn't yet sure why. Then the helicopter seemed to tilt forward, its rotor head nearly skimming the rooftop. Zen abruptly realized what it was about to do, and in that moment made his own decision.

The other Truants scrambled for cover as the helicopter advanced, haphazardly attempting to slice them with its rotor head. Zen felt rather than saw Noni standing by his side even as imminent death roared towards them. In a clean, fluid motion, he drew a bottle with a rag stuffed in its neck from his windbreaker, lit the rag with his lighter, and then hurled the bottle at the oncoming helicopter. A second later the bottle burst into what looked like liquid flames, and suddenly the entire helicopter was alight. The helicopter banked upwards, flew shakily over the entire block, then plummeted out of sight some distance away, leaving behind a trail of smoke.

Noni let out a muffled gasp of delight, but Zen felt no elation, no sense of satisfaction as he turned around to face the ongoing battle. The helicopter
was down and out, but the damage was already done. The Enforcers on the stairs had managed to establish a hold on the roof after the Truants had scattered, and now the firefight had resumed. Zen knew that more Enforcers would be charging up the stairs at that very moment, and that it was only a matter of time until they were hopelessly outnumbered. Making a hasty decision, he joined the other Truants who were crouched behind large metal vents. Noni followed, and Zen was satisfied to see Frank among the other survivors.

“This building is close enough to others to safely jump across to another rooftop,” Zen said. “When I say go, we will all scatter. Everyone head for a different building, hide if you can find a safe place, reach the living districts if possible, and return to District 15 eventually—it's been fortified. Stay off of the snow; it'll betray your trail. Good luck, and GO!”

Zen timed his command to coincide with a brief lull in the fighting. The Truants scattered in all directions, Zen and Noni fleeing down onto a rusty old fire escape and into an abandoned brownstone. Though there was no sign of pursuit, Zen felt a dark feeling growing in his gut as they fled. This had once been a hideout of over thirty Truants, and the survivors had numbered less than a dozen. Zen felt no sadness, just frustration and anger. He had underestimated Rothenberg and his Enforcers, and the Truancy had paid the price. This was their first defeat, and Zen swore that it would be the last that Rothenberg would ever score against them.

 

T
ie.”

“Pardon me?”

“Three move repetition. That means a tie.”

Umasi blinked and looked down at the board, their previous moves flitting through his head. Edward was right. They had been playing chess with a set that Edward had brought the previous day, and this was the first time that Umasi had failed to win. He'd had the upper hand, but allowed himself to get careless, not even paying attention as he followed Edward's king with his bishop back and forth. Umasi offered his hand, not at all displeased at having snatched a draw from the jaws of victory. On the contrary, he was happy for Edward, who had confessed to being a novice at the game.

“Well played, Edward,” Umasi said. “I've had a couple visitors before you, but I must say you're shaping up to be the most dangerous student of them all.”

“You did well yourself, Mr. Umasi.” Edward shook the proffered hand, satisfaction on his face.

“Would you like to go again, or shall we call it quits?”

“I think that a tie is a good note to end on.”

“I can't argue with that. You've improved markedly since we started playing.”

“Well, I've gotten to know your style.”

“True. An unknown adversary is more intimidating than a familiar one.”

Edward raised his eyebrows at the mention of intimidation, but said nothing as Umasi poured them both another cup of lemonade. It had been several days since Umasi had first hit it off with Edward, who had since proven himself at every turn to be a fast learner and an academic, if not his intellectual equal. During their first conversation at the stand, Umasi had listened in fascination as Edward had recounted his numerous scholarly achievements, enough to put Umasi's own to shame. Umasi pitied Edward in a way, ignorant as he was of the truth behind the City's schools, and yet he seemed so content that Umasi could not bring himself to shatter the illusion. Besides, Umasi could hardly be critical, as he had once taken pride in academics himself. Instead, Umasi had expressed their mutual affinity for learning, and Edward had returned the next day with a pile of various books that now rested beneath the lemonade stand.

Umasi would never have called Red or especially the nameless vagrant
unintelligent, but necessity had forced them to focus their wits on survival while Edward seemed content to focus on expanding his knowledge. Edward's unusual sharpness was also compounded by a certain competitiveness that vaguely bothered Umasi. Upon finding out that Umasi knew how to play chess, Edward had brought the set the next day and now seemed almost obsessed with winning. To be sure, Edward seemed to bear his losses well, but Umasi could tell that they irked him by the angry look in his eyes and the way his jaw set at the end of each match. Umasi dismissed this as Edward's drive to improve. After all, Edward was nothing if not respectful, even taking to calling Umasi “mister.”

In between games or intellectual discussions, Umasi and Edward would share information that was much more precious to the two of them. Edward was always keen on hearing more of Umasi's history, though Umasi recounted his life story selectively and cautiously. He was still wary about revealing the whole thing to anyone. For his part, Umasi was always eager to hear more news of the City, which Edward supplied both with verbal summaries and gifts of newspapers. Nothing in the papers indicated anything out of the ordinary, which had set Umasi somewhat at ease.

“So, what was it like, living with the Mayor?” Edward asked.

“Less exciting than you'd think,” Umasi replied. “He was busy with work more often than not, and whenever I spoke with him he was just my father, not the Mayor.”

“Yeah, but getting to live in the Mayoral Mansion, with so much important stuff going on around you,” Edward said, “I'd have traded my entire life at the orphanage for five minutes with the Mayor!”

It almost seemed as though Edward knew more than he was letting on, but before Umasi could question it, Edward's words reminded him of something.

“Edward, why not tell me about your own life?” Umasi suggested. “You mentioned that you live at the orphanage. I admit that that sparked my curiosity.”

In the time they'd known each other, Edward had struck Umasi as a singularly emotionless individual. Aside from the rare glints of frustration behind those green eyes, Edward seemed perfectly at ease in everything he did or spoke about. It was disconcerting, and Umasi was curious about what might be hiding beneath the shell. Umasi was almost certain that Edward would be hesitant about revealing his own past, but to his surprise, Edward replied almost immediately, as though he'd rehearsed it a hundred times before.

“My parents died when I was seven years old,” Edward said. “I don't really remember them that well, but I'll never forget the night they died.”

“If you're not comfortable—” Umasi began, but Edward waved his words away.

“It was their anniversary. My parents left me at home to go out for dinner. I wanted to come too, but it was their night and . . . and they left me with a babysitter,” Edward said, his voice shaking now. “And they never came back. At first I thought they were late. The babysitter tried to put me to bed, but I refused to sleep until I'd seen them. The night dragged on and the babysitter left, I was all alone. And then the Enforcers came to my house, and told me there'd been a freak car accident . . . that three people were killed, and two of them were . . .”

“I'm sorry,” Umasi said quietly as Edward's voice trailed off.

“And then I was sent to the orphanage, and the matrons were nice enough for a while. They never paid me much attention until the school got excited, of course, but at least they let me alone. Later I got placed in foster care and . . .” Edward swallowed. “It was terrible. My foster parents would get drunk and beat me for the smallest things, and my foster f-father would threaten m-me with a g-gun, and I missed m-my r-real parents so ba-badly . . .”

Edward stopped, apparently unable to go on. Umasi felt pity for the boy, and at the same time felt honored that such terrible secrets were being shared with him. Edward took a few deep breaths to compose himself, and then continued.

“Eventually, the Enforcers locked my foster father up, but that only made it worse when he got out,” Edward said bitterly. “Finally . . . just last week . . . some Enforcer named Rothenberg came along and brought me back to the orphanage.”