REMEMBER MY NAME

“Rui? Come here,” my father calls, wisps of black hair tousled by the wind as he uses his cane to point somewhere in the distant forest. Craning my head over a bush, I realize what he’s trying to bring to my attention. Barely visible underneath a thick blanket of fog, next to a cluster of willowy trees, is a deer, roaming around a boulder.

“Yeah?” I mutter in response, attention never breaking away from the animal, who is currently busying itself by chewing on a jagged leaf.

“Take this,” he says, putting a pistol in my hand, the metal cold against my hand. “You need to shoot it.”

A branch crunches when I step backwards, reeling in surprise. “What? You can’t be serious, right?”

“Dead serious. C’mon, we all know I can’t do it. Not in my current state. Once you turn 20 in two days, they’ll start requiring us to bring 1 animal everyday,” he reminds me, using his free hand to swat away the dragonfly buzzing by his ear. Of course, I already knew that. Once every person in a family is 20 or older, they are forced to bring the corpse of an animal to the ritual everyday.

“Dad, that thing’s alive. I can’t just kill it,” I explain, wiping the sweat off my brow. The swamp nearby makes the forest incredibly humid.

“You eat meat, did you just forget about that.”

“That’s different! I don’t kill the meat I eat,” I defend, shoving the gun into his chest, but he doesn’t take it.

“You have to do this, son. Not only for Sutton, but for me as well,” he insists, forcing me to wrap my fingers around the grip. “Remember that.”

Sucks to admit, but I know he’s right. The sooner we can use the corpse of the animal to pray, the sooner dad will get better. Sunyan, the God of health and prosperity needs our loyalty. A decade ago, he had a stroke, and ever since, he has had a hard time moving his left limbs, which is why we need to provide for Sutton Nation as much as we can. Through prayer and sacrifice, we’ll be able to cure him.

“Okay,” I whisper, and I close one eye to increase my precision. I’ve never shot a gun before, but it can’t be that hard, right?

“Careful, son,” he warns me, forcing the gun lower. “You’re aiming too high. If you miss, the sound will scare the deer, and it will run off. You have one shot, and you have to make sure you do it right. Take your time. Observe its walking patterns. Tighten your grip on the weapon. You don’t have to shoot to kill, just shoot to injure, and bam, you’ve gotten your prey.”

Nodding, I got on one knee, the moist soil soft against my shin. As far as I can tell, the deer hasn’t noticed our presence from afar.

Finger over the trigger, I take a deep breath.

Completely oblivious, the deer lays on the grass, nuzzling its nose into a bed of wood chips.

Steadying my trembling hands, I cock the pistol.

The deer tucks in its tail.

Aim.

The wind crackles in my eardrum, charged with a sinister static.

FIRE!

Almost immediately, the recoil stuns me, and I step backwards with my right leg to counter the impact. The firing was so incredibly loud, causing my ears to ring.

The bullet zips at a rate too fast for me to follow, and when I blink, it has already lodged itself in the deer’s eye, blood pooling from the socket. Unable to see properly, it panics, frantically running in circles, in an attempt to process what’s happening. Before it can run away, I fire another time, on its leg, immobilizing it.

“Oh my god, you did it!” my dad rejoices, patting me on the back. “Well done. Now we have to prepare the body properly.

Side by side, the two of us maneuver around a log covered in a layer of black widow spiders that hiss as us as we walk past. With every step, the sweltering heat multiplies by a tenfold, and coupled with the murky green tinted fog, it’s enough to force me to peel off my thin T-shirt, so I’m only in a white tank.

Although we haven’t walked very far, the deepest parts of the forest are a lot different than the entrance. Trees, mostly leafless, tower over us, bits of dead bark swirling around as they fall. Moss and algae creep up the trunks. A bunch of skinny mushrooms, surrounded by puddles, seem to have a mind of their own as they sway to and fro. My white sneakers are caked with damp soot, a few worms sliding between the laces.

One look at the deer I’ve injured, and bile starts to rise in my esophagus.

Its iris is punctured, the wound swollen around the bullet. The shot fire at the leg hasn’t completely penetrated the skin, so I can see parts of the muscle it nipped when it seared off the fur.

Scared, the deer whimpers, withering in pain. Despite myself, I can’t help but feel guilty. After all, I was the one that did this.

“Jesus,” I whisper to myself, wincing at the sight.

“You’re not done yet, you have to finish the job,” my dad informs me, digging into his large pockets for a small blade. “Slit the throat. Three times, one vertical line and one cross. Sutton is very particular about this.”

“I really don’t think--”

“It’s me or the deer,” he replies bluntly, powerfully pushing the knife into my hand, so hard that it cuts my palm. “Hurry up now. We have to go back soon.”

Gulping, I do what’s told, bending down to slit twice to form an X, and one final time for the line. Somehow, more blood gushes from the cut, staining the warm brown fur. Eventually, the creature stops squirming, becoming deathly still.

“Now what?” I manage to say in between coughs.

“The ear. Slice it off.”

Weakly nodding, I hold the body part with my hand, firmly pulling it so I have better access to the point where it meets the head. Willing my hands not to shake, I muster enough strength to fully remove it. Various veins and nerves spew out.

“That it?” I ask, hoping he’ll say yes.

“Yep. Fabulous job, son,” my father grins from ear to ear, “you are now officially a man.”

***

With the corpse of the deer wrapped in a plastic garbage bag, the two of us arrive back at camp. Because it’s currently almost time for the daily ritual to start, the clan members are busy scurrying around, making some last minute touch ups.

Two people holding buckets of water with a stick rush past us, anxiously muttering something about not wanting to upset the Chairman. Most of the women of Sutton have gathered around the well, where the grand dinner table is situated, and silverware is laid out. People from Cabin Yue are at the makeshift fireplace, chucking slabs of wood into the shute. Saena Al-Saud, the leader of Cabin Xing, is facilitating the cooking in the kitchen, and a handful of her friends ease a whole roast pig onto a bed of lettuce and potatoes. Walking along the brick walls are a group of children, helping bring the silver platters of food onto the table.

The Chairman’s daughter, Elektra Vuong, lights blue candles and lines them up in front of a statue of Sunyan. Typical, I expect nothing less from that spoiled little girl--trying to make it seem like she’s contributing, when in reality, she has chosen the easiest task. As a relative of the most powerful man in Sutton, she has special privileges. For one, she’s one of the only people allowed to wear colorful clothes. The rest of us are stuck wearing black and white tunics, thin short, and shirts. And boy, does she abuse that perk, most to rub it in our faces, I’m assuming. Unlike everyone else at camp, she dyed her hair a bubble gum pink color, and today she’s pinned back her bangs with a bobby pin. Thick coal eyeliner is drawn into a wing stemming from her lower lashline.

“Rui? Is that you?” Shirong, one of the adults, calls, looking at the deer in the clear bag. “Jeez, you killed one already. That’s amazing! You’re not even twenty yet, I’m sure the Chairman and Sunyan will be thrilled.”

Finding it in me to return a small smile, I hand him what we’ve hunted. “It’s nothing, really. I turn 20 soon.”

“Oh that’s right! I almost forgot listen, I gotta tell you--”

“Where is he?” a voice booms.

Startled, the two of us turn to face the source of the voice. There, near a streetlight, is Myion Hsieh, who is currently yelling at one of the Chairman’s cabinet members. The man he’s talking to simply shakes his head.

“What do you mean, boy?”

“Where is my dad? He left for Hipica two days ago, and he hasn’t come back yet.”

The cabinet member, who I recognize is Reid Al-Saud, scoffs. “Kid, healing takes time. He’s gonna need more than two days with the Gods to recover.”

“But he told me--”

“No buts,” he insists curtly, “now go draw out the markings on the table.”

Defeated, Myion complies, taking a piece of charcoal from a tin and drawing various geometric shapes.

Snapping back into reality, I clear my throat, directing my gaze at Shirong once more. “What were you about to say?”

Pursing his lips, he smooths out his cloth headband, and just as he opens his mouth to speak, the Chairman strikes the gong with a stick, and the melodic sound ripples.

“I’ll tell you later,” Shirong murmurs, and both of us take our respective places at the table. There are about 100 people in camp, and all the boys sit on one side, while the girls sit on the other. Our seats are arranged alphabetically by first name. Across from me, Saena rearranges a bundle of flowers in the vase so they look more presentable. When she catches me staring at her, she looks away, stifling a laugh.

“Welcome everyone,” the Chairman greets, smoothing out the collar of his gold rimmed tunic, “today we have collected to celebrate and honor our Gods, and the service they have provided us. As a reminder, Reid will go around the cabins by the end of this week to collect your weekly fee. In the meantime, you all know what to do.”

Sitting on either side of me are two boys in my grade, each of which stick out their hands for me to hold. Closing my eyes, we slowly chant our prayers. Stealing a peek at Myion’s direction, I noticed that he’s the only one not following along.

“Very well done, Nation. Really, you all have exhibited an immense amount of courage and dedication,” the Chairman exclaims once we finish. “You are now allowed to eat, but remember only 10 grams of rice per person and 4 grams of meat. The Kool Aid is in the dispenser. Cabin Si, you will have to burn all the sacrifices later, alright?”

Families are randomly sorted into Cabins, each of them with their own cabinet member that oversees the operations. In total, there are 4 Cabins: Si, Xing, Yue, and Ri; each with 25 members. Dad and I are a part of the latter one. The Chairman, his family, and the cabinet are not a part of any cabin, and they have their own section of land that they inhabit. Each cabin owns its own apartment building, and every family gets its own room. Everyday, the cabinet members will tell each cabin their tasks for the day, and usually the adults are separated from the children so they can do the more labor intensive jobs.

Making her way around the table, Saena places trays of food in front of everyone, and we mutter a simple thank you in response.

Picking at my food, I stared back out into the forest dad and I were at earlier. Beyond those willowy trees was a world I never got to explore. I was born and raised in Sutton, but dad and mom had joined a in their 20s, when mom had stage 3 cancer, and they were both seeking guidance. I never got to meet my mom, however, as she went on a trip to heal when I was only a toddler, and never came back. No one knows what happened to her, but dad insists that she’s in a happier place now.

Still, looking out in the distance, I couldn’t help but wonder what life was like outside of Sutton. How would I have been if I grew up with the rest of society instead? Why won’t the leaders here let us explore civilization elsewhere? Would I have been happier?

I guess I’ll never know.