Marital Law
Marital Law
D.W. Brown
Copyright © DW Brown 2019
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Marital Law
D.W. Brown
For my daughter, Sidnie Brown. You have overcome so much already, and I'm very proud of you. Your asthma can't stand up to the drive and desire contained inside your incredible heart.
Chapter 1
The air outside smelled of freshly turned earth, the flowers off in the distant field adding in a mix of lavender and jasmine. This was where I thrived, where I was meant to spend the majority of my time. I felt at one with the outdoors. My life was complete: happy, healthy parents, an amazing sister, food on the table, and I was well on my way to successfully completing the final test for adulthood.
Even though the majority of the land had been torched during the war, its resilience was something for which everyone in Providence was thankful. The earth provided us much needed sustenance during the times when hunting failed to yield a meal.
Having been raised in this new way of life, I had only heard stories of how things had been before the war. The loss of electricity, gas, oil, and refineries had effectively set the world back into the stone ages.
My mother, Sonia Rashellus, had often whispered exciting details of the old days to me and my sister, Adeline. Of course, she was just a child herself during the war and only knew of such things because of her mother before her, and so on. The Great War had occurred over fifty years prior —completely changing life on earth.
“It was a glorious time, girls. The food selection alone was staggering, people lived in beautiful homes, drove vehicles the size of our entire house, and whenever the desire or need arose for something, you simply went to the store or ordered it and they brought it right to your doorstep. Oh, how I’d love to go back to that time! If you wanted something, you could always find it via this worldwide search thing called the “internet.” Oh, how I wish we all could’ve seen those days, “Sonia Rashellus had said.
As a young girl I had loved the stories of the old times, although it was unnerving to try and listen to my mother's tales for fear that someone would overhear her and turn us all over to the Munford Order Monitors.
The monitors were the new world police force, minus the goals of rehabilitating and returning the lawbreakers to live a normal life. They were known for their brutality—their utter disregard for human life. They commonly executed people in the streets as a deterrent of future deviations from Munford Law.
Regardless of the threat from the monitors, my sister and I often begged mother for more of her “old days” stories. We envisioned ourselves as princesses in such a land: bathing every night, eating so much food we felt like throwing up, trading a plastic card for new clothes, and actually going potty inside the house—on something called a toilet. It was hard for us to wrap our minds around, and even harder to believe that men were actually the head of the household at one time.
An incident occurred shortly after I’d turned twelve that forever crushed the stories and my dreams of life ever returning to that of long ago. A close cousin of mine was caught with an old photo that her mother gave her. It portrayed the old days, a time where young girls actually got to be little and grow up without worrying about providing food and fighting to keep her future husband.
My cousin, Ellen Reyes was a young, carefree, sixteen-year-old with a strong dislike for Munford Law and all things Marcella Olivia Munford (MOM). She wasn’t liked by the people of Providence thanks to her failure in the forest six months prior.
Most of her time was spent touting the photo about, telling those closest to her about how much she longed to live in the old days, and how she was against having her mother choose the man Ellen would spend the rest of days with. She desired to be courted, to be swept off her feet, just like her mother’s mother before her.
People in the new world had no loyalty towards one another; life was about pleasing MOM and avoiding the long reaching arm of her monitors. If only Ellen had been everyone else under Munford Law, she might've avoided where she ended up.
The police normally showed up in groups of three or four when they planned to arrest someone, but to everyone's surprise, twelve officers came to take Ellen away that day. They were dressed for battle: shields, face masks, arm, elbow and knee pads, and steel plates covered every inch of their bodies. It was overkill, to say the least. One would get the impression that Ellen was on the most wanted list—the worst criminal Providence had ever seen.
I watched as the monitors wretched the photo from Ellen's hand and tossed her to the ground. Defiant to the end, Ellen struggled to get back on her feet. Even with her strength, her efforts were equivalent to watching a baby doe attempting to escape from the mouth of a lion.
It was hard for me to completely see the action, because the monitors had formed a circle around their target, and the one in charge towered over the young girl with his foot in her back. They shouted accusations against Ellen, both the monitors and the gathering crowd of people. It was a scary, brutal site, and one that I would never forget.
Maneuvering through the onlookers, I made my way to the front just as Ellen was forced back onto her feet. She was bleeding from numerous spots on her face, and her right eye was swollen almost completely shut. Ellen couldn't seem to fully stand upright. The way she clutched her ribs made it evident she'd received many blows there as well.
Before they led her away, Ellen made eye contact with me. With her good eye, she managed a wink. Even with all the pain and fear, no doubt ravaging her body, Ellen wanted me to know she would somehow be okay. But it didn't work. I knew the reality of the matter: those who were taken prisoner by the monitors were never seen again.
That is, unless you counted the dead bodies often left in the street as a deterrent to future criminals.
After Ellen was taken, my family and I never again mentioned the old world; fear of Munford Law had killed that dream.
****
Shortly after turning fourteen, I came across Caleb down by the water closest to my childhood home. We happened to be at the same river, albeit for very different reasons. I had just speared my first wild boar and was drawing water to clean the animal; Caleb, washing clothes for his family.
I barely even noticed the older Caleb at the time, because I had more important things to tend to. Munford Law required young girls to mark their first big game kill with a celebration of music and the customary drinking of the blood ceremony.
Since I had a family of four, including myself, I drained off four heaping cups of the boar's blood, before gutting and butchering the beast. With a large hunting knife, I meticulously cleaned the animal, separating the edible meats from the fur, entrails, and hoofs.
Opening the lid to the wooden wagon that I’d pulled the animal to the river on, I tossed the food inside. A small partition divided the meal for the ceremony from the bait for future kills.
Curious, Caleb made his way over and glanced over my shoulder at the bloody massacre. Wincing, he quickly turned his head and said, “That's disgusting. I can't believe we actually eat that stuff.”
Rolling my eyes, I speared a hind quarter of the now separated animal and waved it in
front of Caleb's nose. “What's wrong, the sight of a little blood too much for you?”
Turning quickly, Caleb ran back over to where he'd left the clothes he'd hand washed, and said, “That's not funny, Sidnie! Keep that stuff away from me!”
It was hard not to laugh at the older boy. Teasing the males who lived near me was one of the highlights of my long days. None of them had much of a stomach for killing, even less for skinning an animal.
“Oh, come on, Caleb. It's just a dead pig. You don't complain when it's dinner time.”
“That's different and you know it. When it's on my plate, I don't have to look at its brains and guts. I could never do what you just did to that poor animal.”
“That poor animal will feed my family for a week. Besides, it's not your place to worry about such things. You just focus on keeping your parents' house clean and helping your father cook disgusting animals like this pig of mine.”
“I will happily take that over what you girls do anytime,” Caleb replied as he reached down and policed up a handful of clothes. Before he left he glanced back at me and said, “Congratulations on the kill, Sidnie. I’m sure your momma will be proud.”
Smiling, I said, “Thanks Caleb. And good job on the wash. I know your father is getting up in age, and your help is needed now more than ever.”
Noticing the worry, sadness, and doubt in Caleb’s eyes, I kicked myself for mentioning his aging father. The man would be taken soon, and Caleb would likely never see him again. Caleb’s mother was much younger than his father and they’d had Caleb when the old man turned forty-eight, so Caleb would at least have his mother for a few more years.
As Caleb turned to leave, I couldn't help but notice his sharp features. He was tall, a little chunky, and there weren't too many males in Providence with blond hair and green eyes. None with the cute smile and chubby dimples that Caleb possessed.
Most suitors today wanted a man with delicate hands and a little fluff around the waistline and chest, to soothe their future children, so I knew Caleb would be in high demand. My mother would decide my future husband, as was custom, but I couldn't help but consider the possibility of Caleb.
****
The ceremony was considered my official coming of age, my initial steps into adulthood. I only had one more test—the capture of a member of the Forest Dwellers—when I turned fifteen. I had spent countless hours preparing for this dangerous mission, because many before me never returned.
We were required to encamp at the edge of the forest, spy on the dwellers, and when the opportunity arose, snatch one of them and turn them over to the monitors. If you failed, you had to wait four weeks, before you could go back and try again. During that time, you spent countless hours retraining and honing your skills. The process wasn’t complete until you were either successful or you yourself were captured. Fortunately, I had some time until I turned fifteen; I still had much to learn.
According to MOM the forest dwellers had turned against her, against all of Providence, nearly fourteen years ago. They were said to have committed numerous crimes against the Capitol, as well as the citizens of our community. The list was lengthy: theft, murder, treason, even fraud. If the stories are true, they are an extremely violent group, bent on enlisting anyone and everyone into their maddening world—their unjust cause.
One of the stories in particular, had occurred back when I was only seven years old. It was said that one of our female warriors had been lured into the forest by a mysterious letter. The letter told the woman that she needed to go throughout the community and gather up as much food as she could and bring it to the edge of the forest. There, she was to give it to one of MOM’s order keepers, who would see to it that it was taken to the sick and aged.
The letter went on to say that the dwellers had intercepted the most recent food resupply convoy and had left the people in dire need. It was signed Marcella Munford, so the woman who received it, not only took it seriously, she quickly gathered enough food to last the entire winter.
As the story goes, the dwellers were waiting for the woman, along with the three others that had accompanied her in this effort. The dwellers beat them, took all of the food, and disappeared back inside the forest. As a result, many in Providence went without food that winter.
Another story involved the monitors being ambushed and slaughtered on their way back from Providence east, on a mission to distribute clothes to those in need. Fifteen monitors were murdered, and their bodies left at the gate of the Capitol.
This latter story was a little hard for me to believe, because I’d never heard or seen a time when clothes were ever given to anyone. If MOM ever distributed anything, not a soul in Providence South was aware of it. Part of me hoped the Capitol would give away some clothes, because mine were in pretty bad shape. This normally didn’t bother me, but holey clothes in the winter months make it hard to keep warm.
I think the story that made me the angriest at the dwellers was how they’d attempted to assassinate MOM. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why anyone would want to harm the one person who’d given us all so much, had given the world so much. Her leadership was the only reason Providence even existed at all. She was a brilliant woman, a master strategist and from what I’d been told, a fierce warrior in the arena. The latter was still in question for me, since no one had ever physically seen Marcella Munford in battle.
From the time I began my training, I swore to protect MOM at all costs. I was willing to give my life for hers. Secretly, I hoped I’d get a chance to avenge her; that I’d find the dwellers that had attacked and kill them all.
If I had my way, there wouldn’t be a forest. Often I wondered why MOM didn’t just burn it all down, smoke them out. Later I learned that a fire of that proportion would annihilate all of Providence as well, because we had no means of controlling or stopping such a blaze.
Chapter 2
That entire next year, I trained harder than ever before. My days consisted of: thirty minutes of sprints all throughout the town, pull-ups for fifteen minutes, push-ups, and sit-ups. After I reached muscle failure, I would eat, head down to the pond to swim for an hour, and then it was off to the woods behind my house for more hands-on training.
My mother had set up a small survival course on the back side of the property, which consisted of numerous targets begging for my spear, and just about every possible trap the mind could imagine. I maneuvered my way through that course ten times a day, bringing me to the point of exhaustion. And then I slept and did it all again for the next six days.
My life was good. I had strong, supportive friends, a loving family, and my strength and skill with the spear virtually guaranteed no one would beat me in the arena. I felt confident I'd be able to marry and protect the man chosen to be my homemaker. With each passing day my confidence enlarged. I would be ready for my day in the forest; I would be successful. At least, that's what I thought.
During my most recent hunting excursion, I happened to venture out a little further than usual into the woods behind our property. I'd been tracking a small rabbit for the better part of the afternoon, and had an arrow notched and ready to kill. I preferred my spear for hunting, but its sheer size was just too much for smaller game. Add in the fact that rabbits and such were too low to the ground, it just increased the chances of missing the target.
Just as I released my arrow in the direction of its heart, a loud thrashing noise erupted just on the other side of the animal. The rabbit sped away as fast as its tiny legs could carry him, and I was left wondering what might be coming my way.
My heart thumped wildly. My mind raced. As I looked around and realized just how far I'd ventured, I kicked myself for blindly going after the tiny meal.
The tall weeds off in the distance appeared to part, making way for whatever was coming towards me. The wind picked up pace and the air grew thick with a foul stench. A stench of death, my mind screamed.
I knew I should’ve run, but my legs were rubber. I sl
owly notched another arrow and took aim in the general direction of this madness.
Suddenly, I caught sight of something running towards me. I initially thought it an animal, but unless my eyes had gone over to the dark side, I'm fairly certain it was human, or something similar. The thing ran on all fours like an animal, but its frame was longer, its body a pinkish color with open sores all over. The thing looked ghastly, and vicious at the same time. Its head, a mixture of a lion and a human, held the only hair on the creature and it was long and black. The thing had a mouthful of teeth, long and sharp like a shark.
Whatever this thing was, it definitely wasn’t of this world. My mind began to question whether or not I would be able to dispense of this madness, or become its next meal.
Hearing movement from behind, I spun around, praying the entire time there wasn’t one there as well, trapping me inside their kill zone. I had been stupid. I had walked right into their trap. The figure emerged, and my heart thumping grew louder. She was running towards me, her spear raised, poised to fly. It was Kaylee, my best friend. Getting to my feet, I turned and took up position alongside Kaylee. Just as quickly as the thing had come at me, it suddenly disappeared.
Kaylee and I stood looking dumbfounded at each other. “What—what was that?” she managed.
“I, I don't know. One minute I'm hunting for dinner, the next I'm being hunted. Did you see it? I mean, did you happen to see what it looked like?”
“It was hard to make out much. Just a large animal, maybe a bear,” Kaylee offered unconvincingly.
We were at the period in our life, in our training where we both tried to hide our fear, but there was no way to disguise our pounding hearts and the raw emotion on our faces. We both had seen something, something evil, but to our credit, neither had backed down. I clasped my hand on Kaylee’s shoulder and said, “You are a good friend, Kaylee. I’m thankful you came when you did.”