Truancy Origins (17 page)

He
killed
an
Enforcer
!

 

R
othenberg ran through the crowd, ignoring the angry complaints of the civilians that he bumped into as he pressed his radio to his ear. Now that he was a safe distance away from that damned demon child, his fear had faded, replaced by outrage and anger. What the hell had happened back there in that alley? His partner . . . dead? An Enforcer? Killed by a boy? A kid? An inferior?

Impossible! Unthinkable!

But it had happened.

Except no one seemed to believe it.

“Can you please reconfirm the suspect's description, sir?” the voice on the radio asked patiently.

“What in education's name is wrong with you?” Rothenberg bellowed. “I told you twice already! It's a teenage boy, black clothes, long black hair, and dark eyes! Is there something wrong with your hearing? Did you lose your ear in the line of duty?”

“No sir,” the voice said. “An ambulance is on its way. Can you tell us how badly is your partner injured?”

“How bad is he injured? How bad is he
injured
? He's dead! That's how bad he's injured, you idiot! Dead! How many times do I have to say it?”

“So this young boy just sprang up from the shadows?” The Enforcer on the other end could not conceal his skepticism. “And he killed your partner, right in front of your eyes? With just a knife?”

“Now you're getting it!” Rothenberg shouted. “It took you long enough! Where is that damned backup?”

“We've sent a call out for all District 5 officers to head to your location, sir,” the voice said. “We've also posted a lookout for the suspect you described—”

“Just the District 5 officers?” Rothenberg roared. “I can count those on one hand! Listen to me, idiot: Get every last Enforcer in the entire lower half of the City down here! We're going to sweep every inch of Districts 7 and 8! We're going to find that kid even if we have to burn those districts to the ground! That's an order, do you hear me? Get
everyone
down here
now
!”

There was a pause.

“Chief Truancy Officer Rothenberg, sir, please stand by. We're transferring your communication.”

“Transferring? What?”

Rothenberg growled angrily as a click on the other end indicated that he was now talking to someone new.

“Listen up, you uneducated fool!” Rothenberg snarled. “If this doesn't concern getting every Enforcer in the City down here at my disposal, then I don't want to hear it!”

There was another pause, and then Rothenberg felt both his anger and ego deflate rapidly.

“CTO Rothenberg,” the new voice said darkly. “This is the Mayor.”

Rothenberg gulped, a motion that made him look like a goldfish gasping for air.

“My apologies, Mr. Mayor,” Rothenberg said, bringing his voice back under control.

“Save your apologies for later, Rothenberg,” the Mayor snapped. “I need to see you in my office, immediately.”

“But I didn't know that it was you, sir!” Rothenberg protested. “The man I was talking to didn't tell me who he was transferring me to!”

“Stop that blubbering, I'm not going to fire you,” the Mayor said.

“Then . . . why do you want to see me?”

“It's about the . . .
suspect
that you claim attacked you.”

 

Z
en swiftly bore Noni through the dark alleys of District 8, heading towards the closest hideout that he had been able to find that day. As he walked, he contemplated how unnaturally light she felt. He wasn't sure exactly how much she weighed, but it couldn't have been much; it was like carrying a feather. That was fine with him, though, as it made carrying her all the easier.

Zen began to consider his earlier actions, debating whether or not it had been a good idea to tip off the Enforcers and Educators so early on. He had done so mainly for two reasons. First, he was sure that his father would get Umasi to spill everything that he knew anyway. And secondly, it had been hard to resist the opportunity to give those men what they deserved. Still, the Enforcers would be on high alert now, looking for him specifically. He would have to tread carefully.

Zen spared a glance down at his live burden—barely live, at that moment. She wasn't quite skin and bones just yet, but she wasn't far from it either. Not only that, but her clothing also seemed painfully thin for the weather; if she didn't starve to death, she quite possibly would've frozen to
it. And then there were the fading bruises all over her body.
Someone
had mistreated this girl before the Enforcers, Zen noted. It was surprising, really, that she was still alive.

She was tougher than she looked, Zen concluded. In time she might become physically formidable—but Zen had a hunch that her mental and emotional wounds ran deeper than her physical ones.

Zen now began to wonder why exactly he had been compelled to bring her along with him. She wasn't an enormous burden, and could become a useful asset in the future. But on the other hand, no matter how light, she
was
a burden, and a significant responsibility, and he wasn't even sure that he'd feel guilty if he left her behind. He was finding it hard to feel guilty about anything of late.

Zen looked back down at Noni once more. Her dark hair was filthy and matted and hadn't been cut in a while. Her abject thinness left her looking disturbingly gaunt. She was dressed in rags and hauntingly pale. But despite all that, Zen was certain that under better circumstances she had the potential to look pretty . . . and yet he knew decisively that he possessed no physical attraction for this bedraggled girl. So then what was it?

Perhaps it was just curiosity, Zen postulated. Or perhaps some part of him was still capable of sympathy, and wouldn't allow him to leave her to die. Perhaps he needed an assistant—someone he could trust, and who would in turn trust him absolutely. That would fit. Zen could no longer count on his brother, but something about Noni made him feel confident he could count on her.

Whatever the reason, Zen decided then that he would accept her well-being as his responsibility. This was no casual decision; whenever Zen resolved to do something, he always saw it through to the end. He would take this traumatized victim, lying helpless in his arms, and he would see her become someone truly powerful—someone who could outlive him.

 

A
re you absolutely sure that's what the child looked like?”

Rothenberg suppressed a growl, frustrated at having had to repeat his story for maybe the tenth time over the past few hours. If he had been anywhere but here, in the Mayor's Office, he probably would've thrown a tantrum. Merely being in the presence of the Mayor had sent a chill down Rothenberg's spine. Then again, that might've just been the air-conditioning, which had bafflingly been kept running even at the onset of winter.

“Yes, sir.” Rothenberg nodded. “I'm positive.”

“And you're telling me that he
killed
an Enforcer?”

“Yes, sir, my partner,” Rothenberg said, leaving out the embarrassing detail about how the boy had used Rothenberg's own knife to finish the job.

The Mayor sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he leaned back in his chair. Rothenberg said nothing, but watched the Mayor confusedly. He had met the Mayor only in passing before, but the City's leader had a reputation for being tough and unyielding, not weary and feeble. What's more, Rothenberg couldn't even begin to imagine what the Mayor's personal interest in the murderous boy was.

“Do you have any children, Rothenberg?” the Mayor asked suddenly.

Rothenberg frowned, wondering what
that
had to do with anything. The question made him uncomfortable, largely because he never ceased wishing that the answer were no.

“I keep one son, sir,” Rothenberg said. “His name is Cross.”

“Cross,” the Mayor repeated idly. “That's a fine name. Well, Rothenberg, you know what it's like to be a father, and you've already met
him
in person. Whatever else can be said of you, no one disputes that you have a knack for getting things done. I'm going to entrust you with a very secret, very important task.”

“You can count on me, sir,” Rothenberg promised immediately, sensing an opportunity for a promotion.

“What you learn now cannot be repeated to any other individual,” the Mayor said, looking sternly at Rothenberg. “There are absolutely
no
exceptions. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly, sir.”

The Mayor regarded Rothenberg for another moment, as if second-guessing his own decision. Then the Mayor shook his head and picked up a sheet of lined paper from his desk and held it outstretched. Rothenberg
accepted it, and quickly realized that there was a note scribbled on the paper. The Mayor watched calmly as Rothenberg's eyes widened as he read.

“Are you beginning to understand why I've called you here?” the Mayor asked dryly.

“The boy that attacked me . . . you think it was one of your
sons
?” Rothenberg exclaimed, still examining the paper with disbelief.

“The description you provided matches that of Zen, who is mentioned in that note that his brother left behind,” the Mayor explained as he folded his hands together to stop them from shaking. “It seems that he discovered an Educator secret, and has reacted . . . rashly.”

“So we proceed in hunting him down and killing him?” Rothenberg asked eagerly, if a bit foolishly.

“Out of the question,” the Mayor snapped, glaring at Rothenberg. “I've already instructed the Enforcers to ignore your report and your prior orders. Officially, this ‘attack' never happened. If anyone asks, the story is that you had a few too many drinks when you made the call—your temperament at the time would certainly support that notion.”

Rothenberg's nostrils flared like a bull's, but he kept his silence as the Mayor continued glaring steadily at him.

Before the meeting, the Mayor had pulled up Rothenberg's records and discovered that the man had a history of aggression problems dating all the way back to school . . . where corporal punishment had been used to curb his violent tendencies. The Mayor envisioned the Enforcer as a sort of hound dog—useful for fetching things, but it had to be kept on a short leash, lest it kill rather than track.

“Let's get to the point,” the Mayor said. “I want you to locate and arrest the boy who attacked you, but he must be brought back to me
unharmed.
I cannot emphasize enough that this whole thing must remain secret. No one can know that he's missing, and no one can know what he's done.”

“You want me to handle this all by myself?”

“Of course not.” The Mayor snorted. “You'll have
all
the Enforcers' resources at your disposal. Just ask for anything, and you'll get it. But remember, no one, and I really mean
no one,
can know what your agenda is.”

“What about the boy who wrote this letter, this”—Rothenberg looked down at the paper once more—“Umasi. What about him?”

“I expect that
he'll
be back in a day or two,” the Mayor said confidently. “It's Zen that I'm worried about. But if you can bring in both, that'll be even better.”

“And what happens when I succeed?”

“
If
you succeed,” the Mayor emphasized, looking Rothenberg straight in
the eye, “I'll see to it that you get promoted all the way up to Chief Enforcer. Just remember that if anything happens to either of my sons, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“Don't worry, Mr. Mayor,” Rothenberg assured. “I'll bring them both back unscratched.”

“You better, Rothenberg,” the Mayor said, turning his chair around so that his back faced the Enforcer. “Or you'll wish you never graduated from school.”

 

S
o, how is it?”

Noni looked up at her rescuer, who was now placidly sitting across from her. She imagined that he was talking about the canned soup that she had, very tentatively, been sipping. For some reason, she felt secure in the boy's company, intimidating and dangerous though he was. But even so, she couldn't stop her spoon from shaking as she tried to answer.

“It's . . . good . . .” Noni managed to reply as she brought another quivering spoonful to her mouth, thinking that it was the best thing she had ever tasted.

Noni had awoken in an unfamiliar room, someplace warm, resting upon something soft. It was dark, and she wasn't sure if it was night or day. She was confused at first, not knowing where she was or how she'd gotten there. But soon it all came back to her—the boy with the apple, the angry men, the knife. Noni shuddered. But then there was the other boy, the one who had hurt the men, the one who had stopped them from hurting her! But he wasn't there when she awoke.

She had felt scared then, all alone in the dark on a makeshift bed of rags, wondering if she'd been abandoned again. She clutched her blanket to herself, staring into the darkness with wide, unblinking eyes, twitching at every shadow, every creak of a floorboard, imagining a massive man with a knife coming for her again. But then her rescuer had returned, bearing proper bandages and stinging ointments and other things he used to treat her wound. Now it was bound up and didn't feel so painful anymore. He had mended her other cuts too, but more than that, his presence alone made her feel better somehow. Here was a monster more frightening than all the others . . . but this one was on
her
side. Scary people had never been on her side before, but now that one was, she felt safer than she could ever remember being in her whole life.

Now she was eating canned soup that he had warmed over the stove. She was so used to being cold that the warmth had felt strange to her at first, though it was immediately welcome. She thought that it was chicken soup
of some sort, but it seemed so long since she'd tasted real food that she'd forgotten what it was like. But already she was feeling more
alive
than she had ever since . . .