Truancy Origins (54 page)

 

S
o, another outpost has fallen?”

“District 36 this time. It was a small three-man outpost, they didn't stand a chance. They're sure it was just one attacker, there's been no sign of the other guy that jumped us in District 19. Same deal as usual—crew unconscious, equipment stolen, explosives detonated.”

“My brother always was a stickler for consistency.”

“Aren't you worried about this?”

“Not unduly. Our quarrel is a personal one. If I do not present myself to him, Umasi will seek me out in time. Until then there are much more pressing matters to deal with, such as our imminent attack on the District 1 School.”

“Zyid, you might not be worried, but the other Truants
are.
The worse the gossip gets the more frightened they become. And let me tell you, it's getting pretty bad.”

“You said you were sure that the Truants that were with you would keep their silence,” Zen said.

“I did,” Gabriel said, somewhat defensively. “It's the other Truants that are talking. You wouldn't believe some of the rumors they're spreading around. They think something supernatural is going on, that there's an exact opposite of
you
floating around the City attacking Truants. Someone even suggested that it's your evil twin—jokingly, of course,” Gabriel added, for Zen had raised an eyebrow. “But seriously, who could blame them? I've
seen
him, Zyid. Back when we were at school I never thought you two looked that much alike, but he's different now. He's got the same kind of . . . presence, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I do,” Zen said. “How bad is it?”

“Well, the direct damage isn't irreparable—we've had to withdraw from a couple Districts and we've lost a lot of equipment, but he hasn't killed anyone yet,” Gabriel said. “Still, it's doing a number on our morale. Like I said, the ghost stories they're telling have people spooked.”

“And the solution?”

“Well,” Gabriel said, “the common superstition seems to be that you're gonna have to take him out yourself. And realistically I'm not sure that
anyone else can do it. I never even saw him coming, Zyid. There was a glimpse of white and then we were all down.”

“For what it's worth, I've arrived at the same conclusion myself. There seems to be no other option,” Zen said. “I will have to face him, and the sooner the better.”

“You'll win, right?”

“As to that, I cannot say,” Zen said. “Do whatever you can to quash the rumors, Gabriel. Our plans proceed as scheduled. Now, has Alex made final contact yet?”

“In the best way possible.” Gabriel nodded. “I just met with him myself during his lunch break.”

“If I recall correctly, the two of you knew each other when we were all back at school.”

“He was in the same class, yeah, but I didn't know him well enough to call him a friend.”

“No matter. Back when I first went recruiting I was certain that he would make a good Truant, which is why I had him stay behind for this one most important mission. Speaking of which, have there been any unforeseen complications?”

“No, he said the last of the charges are planted, but he seemed a bit nervous. He said it was kind of sudden for him, that it'd been a while since you first recruited him and he'd been starting to wonder if the whole Truancy thing was for real.” Gabriel snorted, and then sobered up quickly. “Long story short, he's going to see it through, but he's got some last-minute reservations.”

“I can't say that I'm surprised,” Zen said. “Did you explain that no students would be put at risk?”

“No.” Gabriel shook his head. “But I told him that you wanted to meet up with him personally before go forward, and he agreed. He sounded dead set on getting out of there, Zyid. I don't think things haven't gotten much better since we left.”

“I don't think so either,” Zen mused. “Did he agree to the time and place I suggested?”

“Yeah, the first opening-day showing of that new film, in the big District 1 Theater tomorrow, right?”

“Indeed.”

“Any particular reason why you chose that time and place? That's just a matter of hours before we're set to attack, and District 1 might still be dangerous for you.”

“At that time of night, I doubt that there will be much risk, or many
people to overhear us during the movie,” Zen said. “There are also other reasons that I made that choice, but I don't care to discuss those. As always your help is appreciated, Gabriel. Keep up the good work.”

Understanding that he had been dismissed, Gabriel saluted and left. As the door shut behind him, the flower shop was abruptly plunged into silence. Zen brooded in silence for a few moments. Though he had not yet revealed it to anyone, he planned more than just a simple demolition with the District 1 School. With Rothenberg out of the way, he envisioned a massive, decisive battle—one that would teach their enemies fear, and introduce the Truancy to the Mayor in an unforgettable way. So far everything was going according to plan . . . even Umasi.

Zen had not expected his brother to meddle as overtly as he had, and Umasi had made himself an unacceptable variable, a big question mark in the Truancy's future. Zen aimed to correct that, provided that Umasi showed up for the movie. Zen believed that he would. After all, they had made a promise, and neither of them was known for reneging on those. They would be there the next day, and then the day after that the District 1 School would fall. The war between the Truancy and the Educators would begin in earnest, and Zen could be faced with the prospect of fighting both his father and his brother at the same time.

But Zen was determined not to let things go that far, to the point where the odds would be stacked against him. There
was
a way to kill two birds with one stone, to prune all but one branch off the family tree. The only question now was if Zen could defeat Umasi. Zen no longer underestimated his brother, and yet the thought of their meeting did not worry him; it was, after all, inevitable. With that in mind, Zen turned to address the shadow in the corner that had not moved a muscle since Gabriel's report.

“By now, Noni,” Zen said, “I'm sure that a person as smart as you has figured out who exactly my ‘evil twin' is.”

“The boy you beat on the docks.”

“And the boy who would have killed me, were it not for your intervention,” Zen added. “Funnily enough, he actually
is
my twin, though I hesitate to label him as evil. No, he's merely grown up now, just like me. It's a pity that he's become an enemy when at last there is a resemblance between us.”

“You beat him before, you'll do it again.”

“I beat him once, and he returned the favor,” Zen said, walking over to where the crowbar rested in the corner. He picked it up, and seemed to address it as he ran his hands over its surface. “So, we were opposite sides of the same coin after all. Best two out of three, Brother . . . the next flip will decide everything.”

 

•  •  •

 

S
uch a thing to happen to the poor boy, after all he's been through . . .”

“Attacked by vagrants, here, in District 18 no less! Can you believe the nerve?”

“Have you filed a report with the Enforcers?”

“Of course, but you know them. They're too busy doing who knows what to bother cleaning up the vagrant mess.”

“I'm telling you; whoever's in charge over there should be fired. I have half a mind to march up to City Hall myself and tell it to the Mayor.”

“As a matter of fact, I heard that the Chief Truancy Officer lost his job just a few days ago.”

“Really? Well maybe that's why the Enforcers are milling around like headless chickens.”

Edward shut out the adults' conversation as they chattered noisily outside his door. After coming to on a sidewalk of District 18, Edward had dragged himself back to the orphanage, where the staff immediately noticed that he was sporting several prominent bruises. Edward wearily fed them a story about being attacked by vagrants, but most uncharacteristically felt no satisfaction even after they bought his lie and began fussing over him.

Regardless, the staff had insisted on keeping him bedridden, and as a result, Edward had actually missed a few days of school—a first for him, though at the moment he couldn't care less. He kept replaying his fight with Umasi over and over in his head. There was no denying it anymore: somehow, impossibly, he had miscalculated, misjudged, almost fatally. To continue to make excuses would be foolish; Edward had simply underestimated his mentor. The gap between them had been beyond his comprehension, so vast that he, for all his ego, had not even seen it.

Beneath the sheets, Edward's hand tightened around Umasi's sunglasses. They were a memento from the fight, the only physical reminder he had of what had transpired in that basement. As much as he wanted to destroy them, to cast them aside for good, he knew that he couldn't. The sunglasses carried humiliating, embarrassing memories, but they were important nonetheless, for they reminded Edward of his own failings.

Loosening his grip on the glasses, Edward forced himself to consider his options instead. Thanks to Umasi, the idea of entering the conflict now was untenable, and he no longer harbored any delusions about being able to attack Umasi himself; his pistol was lost, leaving him only with the knife beneath the floorboards. The only viable choice left was to wait it out and watch the conflict unfold; watch and wait for the right moment to act. The prospect of enduring perhaps years more of drudgery, living constantly in the shadow of his failure, was appalling to Edward . . . but what else could he do?

Then Edward blinked. If he was to wait, then what need was there to carry around the lessons he'd learned like a burden? Edward came to a decision. He knew a place, a secluded part of District 20's massive Grand Park, where he could bury the sunglasses until the time came when he would need reminders of the past in order to achieve the future of his dreams. He would continue to live as a student for as long as need be, for he was patient, and knew exactly what prizes lay at the end of the tunnel.

Edward smiled in the darkness, slipping the sunglasses onto his face. He had been beaten, but not thwarted. He had not, would not, give up on his ambitions for as long as he lived.

“And I
am
still alive, Umasi,” Edward whispered to no one. “I wasn't the only one who made a mistake in that basement. You'll see. Just wait . . .

“
Just wait
. . .”

 

T
he midnight premier had gotten a decent turnout, though by no means was it sold out. Zen and Alex sat together in the very front row, far enough from the rest of the audience so that their conversation would not be overheard over the noise of the movie. The film itself turned out to be a mindless action flick, though that made it loud and distracting enough to suit the Truants' purposes. His pale visage lit by the flickering screen, Alex looked troubled as he sipped through a straw from a cup of soda. Zen, for his part, kept his eyes fixed on the screen and picked at a bag of popcorn as they conversed.

“I don't want any other students getting hurt, Zyid.”

Zen smiled around a mouthful of popcorn. Pale-skinned and dark-haired, Alex had always been considered socially awkward at school, though Zen had judged that the boy had a good character on the inside. It was satisfying to see that his judgment had been right again.

“Alex, the greatest tragedy that I can imagine would be the murder of one student by another. It is the Educators that seek to turn us against each other, not me.”

“How do you know that there won't be any kids left inside?”

“It's
Sunday,
Alex. And even if there is a student there for some unfathomable reason, if everything goes according to plan the entire area will be evacuated before we detonate.”

“How are you going to arrange that?”

“That is my business. You're going to have to trust me.”

Alex shifted in his seat, but did not contradict Zen. The actors onscreen were now shouting, and both Truants patiently waited for the noise to die down. When Alex next opened his mouth, it was to ask a question.

“Are you sure that the explosives will work?”

“Provided that you placed them correctly—”

“I did.”

“—then yes. Aaron assured me that they are perfect.”

“And the trigger?”

“The remote should be effective within a thousand yards if the cell phone can't get a signal. Use the former only as a last resort, Alex; it's going to be very dangerous to get anywhere near that building.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

Zen casually flicked another piece of popcorn into his mouth.

“There may be a considerable Enforcer presence around the building right before our attack.”

“What?”

The action onscreen had reached a climax, and a series of explosions illuminated Alex's dumbfounded face as the soundtrack thundered in their ears. Zen would have laughed if his sense of humor had been more accommodating.

“Don't worry about it, Alex. The Enforcers will be our problem, not yours. We will force them to retreat into the school. Then it will be your duty to detonate the explosives, unless you prefer that I do the honors. That's all.”

“And what happens after that?”

“After that you return with us, should you choose to,” Zen said. “I understand that your months of uncertainty and isolation in school must have been difficult. I regret that it was impossible to contact you earlier, but if you are successful now I can assure you that your sacrifices won't be ignored.”