Truancy Origins (19 page)

“So, mister, if you're to be our commanding officer, what should we call you?” the boy named Amal asked. “You never did tell us your name.”

“My real name will be kept secret for obvious reasons,” Zen explained. “Until I devise a permanent alias, you may refer to me simply as ‘Z.' ”

“When are we going to see some action, Z?” the one named Aaron asked.

“It would be wise to avoid direct confrontations with the Enforcers for now,” Zen said. “But we will be exploring District 13 tomorrow to find some alternative hideouts—these Enforcer patrols are quite inconvenient, and I think that the docks can offer promising shelter.”

The Truants all nodded mechanically at this. Zen wasn't surprised that there weren't any more questions just yet. The previous day they had been at home with their families, and now here they were, plotting armed rebellion against the institution of school. It must have seemed somewhat absurd, if not surreal. The boy named Max had his eyes glued to the floor now.

But most of the other Truants had begun to mill about, talking among themselves, getting to know each other better. Gabriel was the only one of them that Zen had known from school, but they were smart enough not to act chummy with each other; it would give the impression to the others that Gabriel was a one-man member of an elite. And that sort of separatism was dangerous.

Zen was confident that the five newcomers, Gabriel included, were likely
to shape up well. He had selected this first group very carefully, as the beginning could make or break the entire future of the Truancy. The students he'd chosen not only had a history of “disrespecting authority,” but many of them had useful talents as well. With that in mind, Zen approached a dark-haired Truant sitting alone in a corner.

“You, Aaron, is it?”

“That's right.”

“You're good with electronics, correct?”

“Good enough to get me into the City-Wide Science Talent Search,” Aaron said gloomily. “But not good enough to save me when I got nailed for plagiarizing. In humanities, not science,” he added quickly, catching Zen's eye.

“What would it take for you to make . . . say . . . an explosive trigger?”

“Not much. A TV remote. Maybe a radio. Hell, if you got me, like, a washing machine timer, I could rig up a time bomb. I can't help as much with the explosive part, though.”

“This apartment building is safe and relatively large—there's plenty of junk lying around. I want you to salvage whatever you can. In the meantime, we'll be combing the abandoned districts very soon. We'll get everything you list and more,” Zen promised. “As soon as you have enough to start working, I want you to prepare as many triggers as possible. Do you think you can rig up proximity explosives?”

“That'll be harder, but—”

“Work on it. I'll get you any raw materials that you need. Are there any particular tools you'll require?”

“Well, it'd be nice to have—”

“Draw up a list, get it back to me as soon as possible,” Zen said briskly. “We don't have time to waste, my friend. The Educators have no idea what we're up to, but sooner or later they're going to figure us out. When that happens, I want it to be too late for them to stop us.”

“I'll do my best,” Aaron said, looking Zen in the eye. “Who knows? Maybe now they'll appreciate my talent.”

In response Zen gave a curt nod and a grim smile. Zen had picked his comrades well after all. While Aaron's ability would prove to be the most useful in the immediate future, the majority of his handpicked rebels could contribute some sort of specialized work. Any who couldn't would be assigned to patrol duty, scavenging parties, and scouting work. Eventually, however, Zen knew that the latter would have to outnumber the former. He had his specialists, but he would soon need soldiers.

Zen had lately been giving increasing thought to the vagrants of the
City. Obviously, few of them would be suited for specialized work, but they were tough, subtle, and had an intimate knowledge of the City streets. If he could just insure their loyalty, they would make perfect soldiers. Zen resolved that he would work on that.

“Hey Z, who's that over there?” Gabriel asked, snapping Zen out of his revereie.

Zen followed Gabriel's finger until his eyes came to rest upon the small figure, half-covered by blankets, in a corner that no one had noticed until then.

“Her name is Noni,” Zen explained as few other Truants glanced at the corner with interest. “She was attacked without provocation by the Enforcer that I killed. She's still recovering from her injuries, but when she's healthy she will join us.”

Noni rested quietly in the corner, though she eyed the newcomers with trepidation. Now with all eyes on her, she began shivering violently, a reaction only partially due to the cold.

“Are you sure she'll be up to it?” Ken asked skeptically. “Fighting, that is. I mean, she doesn't look too good to me. How bad is it under those bandages?”

At that pronouncement, Noni's shivering doubled, and she shut her eyes as she pressed her arms and legs to herself even tighter. A few of the Truants began to look alarmed, but Zen acted swiftly before the girl could become any more distressed.

“Gentlemen, for your very first, and admittedly very inglorious mission as Truants, I would like you to help move some boxes downstairs,” Zen said. “You'll find the supplies in the main hallway—everything that I was able to sneak in past the patrols. Kindly take them down to the basement.”

The other Truants didn't argue, and quickly filed out the door, which Zen took to be a good sign. A few of them cast curious glances at Noni on the way out. The frail girl was now a pitiful, shivering lump under the blankets. As soon as the last of the newcomers filed out the door, Zen shut it and walked over to Noni, drawing something out of his coat.

“Their intentions were good, but obviously you don't like that injury being spoken of or seen. You also don't seem to like the cold much,” Zen observed, to which Noni nodded. “I have a solution to both those problems.”

Noni's shivering abated slightly as she looked up hopefully at Zen, who then showed her the item he had taken from his coat—a large, black scarf. Zen swiftly wrapped the scarf around Noni's head so that it completely obscured the lower half of her face from the nose down. The injury was concealed, and what's more, Noni now felt much warmer.

“Thank you,” Noni mumbled from behind the scarf.

“Thank me the day you're ready to take that off,” Zen said, gesturing towards the scarf.

And with that, he left the room, leaving Noni alone to ponder his words.

 

U
masi staggered along the streets of District 13, leaning against the buildings to his left for support. His ears and fingers had become painfully cold, alternating between stinging and numbness every few seconds. His cheeks burned from the chill, and his limbs had all gone sluggish, their injuries from the day before numbed by the cold. He was still decently clothed, as his two attackers had neglected to take his jacket, but even with it on the cold seemed to seep right through to his core. Umasi shuddered, both from the weather and from the knowledge that winter had only just begun.

But even worse than the cold was the hunger. It had long since ceased to ache in his stomach, becoming a dull, numb sensation instead. It enfeebled his motions, clouded his head, and blurred his vision worse than it already was. Umasi would've liked nothing better than to just lie down and rest right where he stood, but he had a feeling that if he did, he would never get up again. So Umasi forced himself to continue moving, wandering through District 13 in a daze.

Right now Umasi was struggling to reach the border of District 12, a living district where he might be able to find some food. District 13 was a long way off, and he had no real hope of making it, though he had no choice other than to try.

Suddenly, as Umasi stumbled around a corner and the border came into sight, he froze. Umasi's glasses had been shattered beyond repair, and his vision clouded by hunger, but his eyesight was still good enough for him to make out what was unfolding in front of him. Two blurred figures were viciously attacking each other, a box containing what appeared to be an entire pizza pie lying forgotten beside them.

Umasi's other senses swiftly kicked in, and over the intoxicating scent of food, he realized that the two vagrants, a girl and a boy, were talking as they fought.

“You and the rest of Chris' pukes can all go to hell!” the girl snarled, punching the boy square in the belly.

“If we do,” the boy wheezed, clutching his stomach as he slammed his shoulder into her, “it ain't gonna be you that sends us there!”

“I got this fair and square!” the girl shrieked, gesturing at the pizza box as she was knocked backwards by the blow. “You touch this, and the rest of us will kill all of you!”

“We ain't scared of you!” the boy jeered, advancing upon his foe. “What's this I heard 'bout one of your guys getting whacked the other day?”

“I was there; your kid had a knife!” the girl spat, swiftly slamming her elbow into the boy's face. “None of you can fight for shit unarmed!”

“Tha's funny, 'cause we ain't got no knives, and it wasn't us that killed any of you jackasses,” the boy said, grabbing his injured face with one hand while blocking a punch with the other. “But I'm about to, right now!”

“Well then you're off to a pretty pathetic start, aren't ya?” the girl taunted, lunging forward as she threw another punch.

At that moment, Umasi almost shouted out a warning, for he could tell what was about to happen from the boy's pose. As the girl lunged, the boy suddenly lurched forward to meet her. Her fist connected with his chest, but the boy just grimaced and took the blow, both of his own arms lashing out in an instant. A moment later the boy had the girl by the throat. Umasi stood transfixed in horror as the girl thrashed about wildly, kicking, flailing, trying to pry her assailant's hands from her neck. The boy's arms shook with strenuous effort, his face contorted in ruthless determination. The girl began making the most horrible sounds Umasi had ever heard, an increasingly faint gagging and hissing as her last breaths escaped her lungs.

Only when the girl fell silent and her movements ceased did Umasi shake himself from his trance. In that moment, something snapped inside of him, just as when he had fought back against his two assailants. But this time, he became the attacker. Roaring to announce his presence, Umasi lunged at the other vagrant, who immediately spun around in confusion. Umasi might have been starving, but the other boy had just finished a fight to the death and was barely standing himself.

With strength that he never knew he had, Umasi tackled the boy, slamming him down onto the hard asphalt. Momentarily stunned by the impact, the boy could not react as Umasi slammed his elbow into the boy's face the way the girl had done. Reeling from the blow, the boy flailed out with his fists and feet, but Umasi barely noticed as he rained punch after punch upon his victim's head. Snarling with fury, the vagrant forcefully rolled them both over so that he came out on top.

Umasi, however, never allowed the boy to exploit that advantage. He swiftly slammed his forehead up into the other vagrant's face, and something cracked sickeningly as the boy let out a scream of pain and rolled off of Umasi. Umasi showed no mercy, standing up and kicking the other boy while he was still down. The vagrant ceased shouting and clumsily shot to his feet, glaring at Umasi, his face a crimson mess.

The vagrant charged at Umasi in a frenzy, but instead of lashing out with his fists as Umasi expected, he instead clamped his jaws down upon Umasi's shoulder. Umasi roared in outrage and lunged forward, driving both of them to the ground, though Umasi's fall was cushioned by his
opponent. Not letting up for an instant, Umasi then drove his fist into the other vagrant's already bruised belly.

That did it. The other vagrant let out a moan and writhed pitifully on the ground. Suddenly realizing what he was on the verge of doing, Umasi shot to his feet, staring at the other boy in horror. Abruptly noticing Umasi's absence, the other boy scrambled to his feet and staggered away as fast as he could, his hands covering his bloodied nose. Umasi was left alone, gasping for breath on the lonely street.

Clutching his shoulder, Umasi slowly approached the fallen girl who had been left behind. He searched for a pulse, though he knew that he would not find any. It was the first time that he had looked upon death, and yet it already seemed as though they'd always known each other. Umasi hugged his arms to his chest, and his shivering intensified. There was something about witnessing the awful finality of it all that chilled him worse than any blizzard could. Who had the girl been? What had driven her to this end? What else might she have become had the circumstances just been a little different? Umasi didn't know, and never would, and that thought filled him with unspeakable sadness.

Then, in that darkest and coldest moment, Umasi remembered Zen's casual words, spoken in passing.

So is killing, but hey, people still die.

Bizarrely, Zen's voice dried his tears and lifted his spirits. The girl's story had ended, and there was nothing he could do about that now. But Umasi still had yet to see his own story, his mission, through to the end. Glancing over at the pizza box, now lying abandoned on the sidewalk, Umasi felt a rumble in his stomach. He crawled over to it and began stuffing himself. He ate and ate and ate, until he was sure he'd be sick if he ate another bite.

Umasi grimly closed the box, saving the remaining slices for later as he walked back towards the riverside. He felt drawn towards the docks and their view of the open water, freezing wind notwithstanding. The sun was setting now, and the skies were a dark blue streaked with fading rays of yellow. Umasi imagined that it would look very scenic, reflected in the water.