The Day Earth Died

6. The Sott Paradox

Sulphur from the incoming train polluted the air. Mum, despite not voicing it, was choking because of the strong, putrid odour. She had a very acute sense of smell, consequent to her blindness. I removed the scarf she had knitted me from my backpack and wrapped it around her face to cover her nose. She hummed in relief. Like in every Recruitment period, petty testosterone fights took over the streets. Some threw punches, others kicks. Women and children tried to run away. Choosing which two family members you'd choose to feed was hard. It broke families apart. Sons against fathers, and uncles against cousins. Blood coloured the dried-up mud. The Recruitment gave fathers a reason to beat their elder sons for not enrolling and to blame their wives for not raising their children "well".

It was in those moments I was glad I didn't know my father. I never wanted him in my life. Not in such a patriarchal society. Mum had never spoken about him and just kept quiet when I, as a child, asked her about him. Growing older, I understood. I didn't have to know who he was. If he didn't matter to mum, then he didn't matter to me. Mum was enough for me.

We kept walking and avoided the fights as much as possible. We had almost reached the train station when a terrified screech rang in my ears. I turned my head towards the sound. It came from a house near the closest intersection—the Sott's house. It didn't take me long to make a choice. The train was nearly here; the officers would scour the streets to stop the fights and mum would be safe then. I pulled her to the side of the street and made her sit in a fairly isolated corner.

"The officers will be here soon, just stay until then. I'll be right back."

Before she could answer, I bolted across the street. I threw my hood on to hide my face. In seconds, I had whammed the door open. The scene taking place in front of me was gross, and shameful, and, above all, just sad. Shawnee's father was hitting his wife with his bare fists, in front of his sons' eyes. Linea was on the floor too with a black eye. Amell tried to stop the fight but only got punched and pushed off in return. Their mother's face was drenched in dark, almost black, blood. She wasn't even moving anymore. Only the boys noticed me; the father was too crazy with anger to react. The table was broken, the floor stained red and some crockery shattered. I was fuming. Shawnee screamed at his father to stop, sobbing. The man let go of the woman's limp body and turned to face his sons, rage burning in his eyes.

"Piece of shit." He raised his hand to hit his younger son.

"Hey, asshole!" I yelled at him.

The second he was distracted, I struck his face. His jaw crunched under my fist and as gross as it was, it felt good—it felt right. Surprisingly, it was enough for him to stumble to the ground, barely conscious. I kneeled next to Shawnee and Amell's mother, my fingers on her neck. Her pulse was there, but it was weak. I couldn't even smell sulphur anymore, just fresh blood. Shawnee joined me, still crying.

"Is she okay, sir?"

It wasn't unusual for us to help out one another when the Recruitment brought fights with it. Whoever dared to help out could barge into fights and take their stands. Some were for the patriarchy, some bore with it and some were against it. We rarely had occasions to regard it, directly or not. Amell's left shoulder was popped out of its socket and Linea was trying to put it back into place. Shawnee being accustomed to such violence so young wasn't shocking, yet I knew in my heart it should have been. I bent down to his ear.

"She'll be okay, Shawnee. Linea can patch her up. Help your brother get ready for the Recruitment, I'll see you later." His eyes sparked with surprise at my familiar voice.

"Mal?" I smiled at him and jogged back to the streets, watching the pine house shrink away.

The Sott's were a family of eight; six children in total. Three of them were girls. The oldest son had been a government officer for four years and chose to feed two of his sisters. His sisters were nuns; with the climbing amount of orphans, they were too important to be left starving and Amell was aware of that. Judging from his father's reaction, Amell didn't choose him. And judging from who was assaulted, Shawnee wasn't chosen either. He had once told me about his father's tendency of gatekeeping all the foods from the Rationing, so Amell's choice made sense. I supposed his father heard something he wasn't meant to.