Truancy Origins (50 page)

The hall was now littered with the bodies of the Enforcers he had sacrificed and the Truants he had incapacitated, but the exit was within sight. Satisfied, Rothenberg was about to take his leave when a gunshot rang out from the direction he had just come. Rothenberg dived, bringing himself up into a crouch behind the safety of the corner, his pistol bared and his nerves tense.

“Here!” a boy was shouting. “Back entrance, he's here!
Rothenberg is here!
”

With that, a single Truant boldly dived around the corner, pistol in one hand and a radio in the other. The boy frantically let loose three shots, none of which were well aimed, missing Rothenberg completely. In response, Rothenberg calmly raised his pistol and let loose a single bullet. The Truant crumpled in mid-run, letting out a yelp as he fell to the floor. Rothenberg fired a second, unnecessary shot, and then leaped up and made for the exit without so much as a glance backwards.

He was both relieved and disappointed to find that the back alley to the building was empty. Jamming his pistol into his belt, Rothenberg made for the nearest fire escape and began climbing. Years of chasing vagrants had taught him all about how to evade pursuit in the City, though this would be the first time that he would employ such knowledge himself. His blood-lust had been sated for now; his only remaining motivation was survival. As Rothenberg made it onto the roof of a building, the fear of imminent death slowly began to fade, only to be replaced by a different kind of fear as he contemplated the enormity of the disaster that had just transpired.

In spite of himself, Rothenberg groaned as he dashed along the rooftops. The Mayor was not going to be happy.

 

Z
yid, are you all right?”

Zen's head snapped up as he leaned against the wall of the hallway, tiredly rubbing his freed wrists. The door to the interrogation room rested open behind him, the motionless bodies of two Enforcers beneath him—one of them missing a set of keys that Zen had used to unlock his handcuffs. Breathing heavily, Gabriel and two other Truants ran up to him, concerned looks on their faces.

“I'm fine,” Zen said, wincing as he forced himself upright. “There was a slight miscalculation on my part.”

“Rothenberg?” Gabriel asked.

“He was formidable.” Zen nodded, touching a hand to his sore ribs. “Even I underestimated him, after all. But it doesn't matter. He may not be dead, but he's finished all the same. What's our status?”

“We caught them completely by surprise,” Gabriel reported. “It was easier than I ever hoped. Believe it or not, not many of the Enforcers were armed—I don't think they ever dreamed that they could be attacked here.”

“Did we lose anyone?”

Gabriel hesitated, but only for a moment. “Amal is dead. We think he tried to stop Rothenberg from escaping. Two others ran into him as well—they're both injured, but not shot or anything.”

“Have the injured already been removed from the building?” Zen demanded.

Gabriel nodded.

“Good,” Zen said. “Make sure that they're with Frank and the subway group. Get them out of here as soon as possible.” One of the Truants saluted and ran off to convey the order.

“And Amal?” Gabriel asked.

“Leave him.”

“But—”

“He died fighting Rothenberg personally, as admirable an end as any of us could wish for,” Zen interrupted. “Honor his memory, not his corpse. I take responsibility for his death. Now let's go.”

Gabriel frowned, but nodded again as the Truant next to him shifted uncomfortably.

“Conceal your weapons,” Zen said, businesslike once more. “As planned, I will be leading the sewer escapees. Gabriel, you will flee to District 19—split up as soon as possible. Frank will make for the subways, if he hasn't done so already. Go!”

Like the snap of a rubber band, the Truants sprung into motion, dashing through empty halls and past moaning Enforcers until they reached their comrades outside. Gabriel took charge of his group of five and made a run for District 19 just as the sound of approaching sirens reached their ears. Guns were stuffed into backpacks, safely out of sight. Within seconds the Truants had scattered and vanished, leaving the newly arrived Enforcers to gawk at the scene of destruction that had once been their impregnable station.

 

C
heckmate.”

Umasi nodded as Edward stood triumphantly over the board. In truth, Umasi had seen Edward's victory coming several moves earlier, and
had made no effort to stop it. Edward had greatly improved of late, and Umasi felt that his efforts deserved to be rewarded. As Edward grinned down at the pieces, however, Umasi began to question his decision to let Edward win. There was something strange, almost perverse, on the boy's victorious face.

“Is winning so important, Edward?” Umasi asked.

Edward blinked, and the unsettling expression on his face vanished, though for the first time Umasi suspected that it had merely gone into hiding rather than dying completely.

“Of course it is,” Edward said. “If you're willing to settle for a loss, how can you ever be expected to be a winner?”

“Sometimes circumstance deals you a loss, and there's nothing you can do but accept it,” Umasi advised.

“Recognize it perhaps,” Edward conceded, “but accept it? That's for people with no pride.”

“Pride is both a flaw and a weakness, Edward,” Umasi warned. “If there's one thing I've learned from experience it's that no matter how strong and rigid you are, you can always be broken. Only if you are flexible can you be truly invincible.”

Edward fell silent at that, and examined Umasi with an inscrutable expression. Umasi returned the gaze from behind his dark sunglasses. Before either of them could break the silence, a loud bang sounded in the distance, the sound carrying all the way over into the abandoned District 19. Both Umasi's and Edward's heads turned as softer but still distinct cracking noises followed.

“That's District 18,” Edward observed.

“It's him.”

“Your brother's work, Mr. Umasi?” Edward asked, an almost hungry gleam in his eye.

“I can imagine no other explanation.” Umasi stood. “Come, let's see what's going on.”

Edward made no objections as Umasi led him over to the nearest fire escape. Scrambling up onto the rooftop, they saw faint trails of smoke rising not too far off. Unable to see anything else, the two boys stood there and listened to several more minutes of distant gunfire. Then the shots fell silent, and Umasi's expression was grim as they were replaced by sirens.

“Unforgivable,” he muttered.

“And he's practically doing it right in front of you too,” Edward said with convincing sympathy. “Must be harsh.”

“Wait. Over there. Do you see anything?”

Edward peered in the direction that Umasi was pointing, and could not help but break out into a grin. There, visible only as specs in the distance, were a handful of figures hastily climbing over the fence that separated Districts 18 and 19.

“Well, well. It looks like your brother is paying you a visit,” Edward announced, then blinked in surprise. “But how did you know they were there? I thought your eyesight wasn't very good?”

“You just have to listen,” Umasi said darkly, adjusting his sunglasses. “This will not stand. I will not have Truants in my district.”

“We . . . could just ignore them,” Edward said, as though he knew that Umasi wouldn't do anything of the sort. “I don't think they've seen us.”

“This isn't your fight, Edward, and I won't ask you to join me,” Umasi said. “Just tell me how many you saw.”

“Six, and there's no need to shoo me away,” Edward said. “If there's going to be any excitement, I want a piece of it.”

“They will likely be armed, and . . . I've never seen you fight, Edward,” Umasi said, looking over at his friend. “Are you sure that you—”

“Two-time City martial-arts finalist, remember?” Edward said. “I can take care of myself.
Trust me,
” he added as Umasi looked like he might protest.

“Well then, perhaps that's just as well,” Umasi mused after a moment's consideration. “I believe that they're splitting up.”

Edward looked down again and saw that, sure enough, the figures had divided up into two groups of three and were quickly vanishing down opposite avenues.

“Shall we each take a group?” Edward suggested.

“You read my mind,” Umasi said. “I'll take the bunch on the left. You take the ones going right. Be careful, Edward. Don't attack if you aren't sure you can take them.”

“You needn't worry about that, sir,” Edward insisted, his green eyes glittering.

Umasi gave a curt nod, then vanished down one side of the building, the ends of his white scarf trailing behind him. Edward watched him go, smirked, and then moved to intercept his own group. His heart thumped in excitement. At long last, he was going to see the fabled Truancy in action.

 

G
abriel and his two companions moved quietly, though their light footfalls seemed unnaturally loud in the relative silence of the abandoned district. It was probably an unnecessary precaution, seeing as how they were sure that they weren't being followed. Still, it wouldn't do to get careless; they had all been briefed on the dangerous position of District 19,
though with the District 18 station in chaos it seemed unlikely that the Enforcers could surround District 19 in time. No, Gabriel was quite certain that they were safe. Their guns were safely stowed in their backpacks, and once they reached District 20 they could easily pass as students.

Gabriel sighed and spared a glance up at the beautifully clear skies. His eyes registered movement, a glimpse of white, then something huge had dropped amongst them. Before Gabriel could do more than shout in surprise, he was hit hard in the chest, the air flying from his lungs. Another blow sent him crashing to the ground, where he dizzily heard one of his comrades stammer out a single word.

“Z-Zyid?”

The air was abruptly filled with a shrill sound, and it took Gabriel a moment to figure out that the other Truants were screaming. One of them quickly fell silent. Then the other followed suit.

“How
dare
you commit murder on my doorstep?” a furious, unfamiliar voice demanded.

Someone was gagging now, and Gabriel forced his eyes open. There, holding one of the Truants up against a wall by the throat, stood an impressive figure clothed in light colors, the ends of a long scarf flowing behind him. His eyes were concealed by black sunglasses, giving him an enigmatic and dangerous appearance. Though the boy was like none he had ever seen before, Gabriel somehow thought he looked strangely familiar.

“When you first saw me, you believed that I was someone else,” the enigmatic boy was saying. “What did you call me, Truant?”

“Zyid . . . he's . . . our leader . . .” the Truant gasped.

“So, that's what he's calling himself these days?” the boy said. “Where is he? Is he with the other group? Is he here?”

“No . . . not . . . here . . .”

The captor loosened his grip. “Then where is he?”

The Truant turned a little paler at that, but clamped his jaw firmly shut. Gabriel, recovering from the sudden assault, prepared to rise and fight to the death should the stranger tighten his grip again.

“I see,” the boy said softly. “Well then, if you won't betray him, I have a message for you to convey to my brother.”

The captive, clearly thinking that he was in the grasp of a madman, looked more terrified than ever. Something in Gabriel's head, however, clicked upon hearing the word
brother.
Gabriel shakily rose to his feet, his eyes widening in shock.

“I know you!” Gabriel gasped. “You're Umasi! You're Ze . . . Zyid's brother!”

“Correct,” Umasi said without turning around. “You were with us at the District 1 School, weren't you? Yes . . . Gabriel, wasn't it? I remember now. Tell my brother that he is to disband the Truancy within two days, Gabriel, or I will set out to destroy it myself.”

“You're siding with the Educators?” Gabriel said angrily.

“No,” Umasi replied coolly, “I am siding with no one, and the Mayor will learn the difference soon enough.” Umasi released his grip, and the captive Truant slid to the ground, sputtering. “Take your Truants and leave this place, Gabriel. Give up on my brother's mad ambitions. Go home, and you'll never see me again. Otherwise, the next time we meet, I will do whatever I must to protect the people of this City from the likes of you.”

 

W
h-who are y-you?”

“Why does it matter? You're about to die anyway,” Edward replied lazily, advancing upon the prone figure on the ground.

The boy shook in terror as Edward bent down and smoothly scooped up a dropped firearm. To either side lay the already-unconscious forms of the two other Truants that Edward had accosted. Really, it had been almost disappointingly easy. In an effort to draw out the encounter, Edward had given up the element of surprise and allowed the poor fools to fumble with their backpacks for a few moments before his patience ran out. Even with that advantage, it had been over all too quickly. If this was the true strength of the Truancy, Edward thought disdainfully, then it would be all too easy to rub them out if he decided to side with the Educators.

“P-please, no, d-don't!” the boy stammered as Edward cocked the hammer of the pistol. “Please!”

The Truant's eyes were wide in terror, his arms shaking, cringing at Edward's slightest movement. Then, as Edward brought the gun up to the boy's forehead, he abruptly went limp, having fainted completely. It was a truly pathetic display. Edward paused for a moment to reflect on how he certainly wouldn't make any fuss if he were facing imminent death, and was about to pull the trigger when a shocked voice called out.