The Summons

Chapter 36

Grandad cleaned up the mess after dismissively insisting that everything was fine and he understood what I was going through. He didn't, we both knew, but as I wiped chunks of potato and green bean from my shirt and swayed on my feet, covered in sick, I knew that no one could know how I felt.

All I wanted to do was sleep and forget what I had done. I reasoned that I'd never feel well again, but sleep would solve the problem at least temporarily. Grandad, I would have thought, would understand and leave me to myself, but the aging man would not let me out of his sight. He pulled me to the back of the house and supervised me changing into clean clothes as if I were still a little boy.

"Sit down," he instructed firmly and pointed to my bed. Troop had followed us into the room and lay next to the pillows and on top of the unmade linens. I did as I was instructed and let Troop nuzzle his face into the crook of my arm. I winced as even his soft nose punched against my bruises. "I take it that happened recently?" Grandad pointed his chin at the injuries now covered by a loose pullover shirt.

"Door," I answered. "I tried to get through and it closed on me. There were alarms going on. I don't think the safety measures were active."

He nodded. I assured him I was okay when I saw the worry lines in his forehead crease more deeply. He sat down on the bed beside me so that Troop was on my left and Grandad on my right—a comforting sandwich. "Listen," Grandad said with a sigh. His voice was quiet and he directed the sound into his chest. Even sitting directly next to him, I barely heard the word. "I know it's not...Protocol."

"Grandad, you don't have to..."

He took a brief look over his shoulder at the door to my room which was closed and then back to me. Troop followed his gaze and Grandad reached across me to scratch between the mutt's ears. He was never affectionate toward any of the dogs but tolerated them because of me.

"My Stricken had set a fire, you remember?" He said the words softly, again like he was speaking to a little boy, and kept his voice low.

I remembered.

"And when I was away, you stayed with your Aunt in District Forty, so you didn't see much about the case. And you were at your studies, so you probably didn't pay too much attention to the Daily Briefing anyway."

"Right," I confirmed. I had been limited to District Forty's Daily Briefing in that week and I hadn't been able to concentrate on any of my studies because my mind was constantly filled with what-if scenarios or what my Grandad was going through at the time.

"Well my gal," he started. There was a catch in his voice and I felt a tiny smile on my face when he used an older term for a woman. As if it would make the memory seem further away and almost nostalgic. "She set a fire to destroy the evidence. I learned that she had thought, at the time, that the monitor would burn up with the house. No witnesses, no problem." He shifted on the bed and tilted his head closer to me. "But you know, I know—the monitors are indestructible. And the footage isn't even stored there, so what was she thinking?"

He sounded angry. He looked frustrated—like he wanted to go back in time and shake the woman he Judged into a sensible person.

"But her husband's mother made the Accusal and there was ample evidence. We spent most of our Interviews just talking. Why she did it, how she did it."

"Why'd she do it?" I asked quickly.

"Abuse. No response from the Agents. Her husband was Marked. Twice. His face was barely human anymore with all the microbots in it. But she Rendered him. That was clear. Right in the same room as the monitor, too." He clenched and unclenches his fists. "He wasn't dead when she set the fire, so...as the law goes..."

"You had to burn her?"

He nodded and his body shook with a disgusted quiver.

"She spent that entire week begging me to consider her Judgement. She didn't deny she'd done it, but she felt she couldn't be blamed for it. She argued, and...well it made sense in a way, that she should have been charged with a lesser crime. That she hadn't actually Rendered her husband. Not in the traditional way. She hadn't planned on it, it wasn't something she actively thought about. It just kind of happened one night."

"But she was...technically...guilty," I reasoned.

"Yes. Technically. In the eyes of the law. However you'd categorize it. Back in those old days..."

"But there were flaws in the old system. Too many to count."

"But in the old days, I wouldn't have had to Cleanse that woman the way that I did."

I shuddered, the weight of his decision, his Judgement, and my own exhaustion making my empty stomach burn.

"We shouldn't be talking about this," I said quietly.

Grandad didn't speak for a long time and Troop had fallen asleep against my side so the only sounds in my bedroom were thick snores and dreamy woofs.

"I just wanted you to know. It could have been worse. Much worse."