Prison Nation

by Jenni Merritt

  I felt my body sway in the breeze and clutched the branch beneath me. “Sick of this?” I asked. I felt myself panic at the thought of what his answer would be.

  Reed waved his hand around in the air, motioning to everything around him. “This. The Nation. The constant fear of breaking the law. The need to always work, never knowing what you are working for. Never being in control.” He looked at me, his eyes heavy again. “Fearing that the goodbye you refused to say might have been your last.”

  I could only watch him, the memory of last night flowing in my mind.

  Reed tossed the apple to me. I shot a hand out and caught it before it could fly past. Reed plucked another apple from the tree and stared at it a moment. The dark red skin shone in the bright daylight. Then, slowly, he took a huge bite. Juice sprayed from the apple, the meat bright white as he took a second bite into the crunchy surface.

  “Reed…” I said, alarmed. My eyes scanned the ground beneath me, afraid someone passing would see what he had done. Reed wiped a stream of juice from his chin, carefully chewing and swallowing before looking back into my eyes.

  “Millie, I am sick of not knowing who owns this delicious apple that I am never allowed to eat. I am sick of seeing the people I finally let myself grow close to disappear. I am sick of this fear that sticks to us every single day. There has to be more than this Nation. There has to be.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” He took another bite. I could hear him chewing the apple, his head leaned back against the trunk of the tree. I looked at the apple in my hand. Then looked back over at Reed.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

  Reed sighed and looked over at me. “I don’t know, Millie. I don’t know if I even can do anything.” His eyes searched mine. “I don’t want to risk losing the few things I do have. But there has to be something.” He took another bite, watching me as he chewed. “First thing I know I am going to do. We are going to find out what really happened with your parents.”

  He looked at the remains of the apple in his hand, then let out a slow sigh. Leaning his head back again, I watched as he disappeared into his thoughts, his mouth mindlessly chewing the last bite he had taken of the apple.

  “You were right. Last night.” My voice was almost a whisper. I saw Reed’s eyebrows slightly raise, his eyes watching me. “I do need you.”

  Reed slowly chewed the bite of apple. He let his eyes wander away from mine, deep breaths causing his chest to rise and fall in perfect rhythm.

  “Reed, about last night −”

  “Millie, stop” he said, cutting me short again. “This life we have been doomed to is much too short to hold grudges against friends.”

  I looked again at the apple in my hand then raised it to my lips. The skin was cool and smooth, smelling rich as it pressed against my teeth. I glanced up to Reed once more. Clenched my eyes shut. I took a bite. The apple was crisp, its juices spraying into my mouth and down my chin as I carefully chewed. I didn’t feel myself cringe as I took another careful bite. This apple was different than the ones I had always known.

  Maybe it was because it had been fresh picked off the tree that I sat in. It had never had the chance to soften and brown in its over-filled basket. Captivity and the end never loomed in front of it, stealing away its deep red and sweet juices. All it had ever known was the sun and the breeze and the song of the birds.

  All it had ever known was freedom.

  I leaned heavy against the trunk, finishing my apple alongside Reed. We didn’t talk. We didn’t need to. We knew without saying a word that something had just changed. Something deeper than eating an illegal apple. Something that was about to ignite a change that would landslide our entire lives.

  17

  “You sure?”

  We stood in front of Records, the blocked windows menacing as they loomed in front of us. I stared at them a moment before slowly nodding. Reed reached out and gently took my hand, giving it a squeeze. I felt the spark jump into my body at his touch, his warmth racing up my arm to take me over. A moment later he let go. My hand felt cold and alone where he had just touched it. I folded my arms across my chest, trying to seal in the last spark of warmth from his touch.

  Reed pulled the door open and stepped inside. A bell hanging on the door rang, cutting through the quiet air inside. I paused a moment, listening to its soft lilt in the air before following Reed inside. The door swung shut behind me. I jumped as it slammed back into place, killing the sound of the bell in one swift click.

  Just a few feet away from the door stood a desk. We stepped closer, watching the man behind it motion for us to wait. He was talking to someone on the phone, his voice lowering as we pulled to a stop in front of the desk. He wrinkled up his nose in thought, his dark brown skin stretching across his full cheeks. On his wide nose sat a thick-rimmed pair of glasses, the glass so thick it magnified his eyes to an almost comical size.

  Waiting for his conversation to end, I let myself look around the room. A long table lined the wall to my right, its surface layered messily with old computers and loose papers. The other wall was solid window, all covered with the thick white paper. Nothing hung on the walls. No art, not even color. Just the solid white of a temporary life.

  The white of the Prison.

  The man clicked the phone back onto its base. “How can I help you?” He glanced up at us as he spoke, his words relaxed and easy.

  Reed stepped closer. “I’m Reed Taylor. This is Millie 942B. We were hoping you could help us find records on a past crime?”

  The man took us in slowly. Then he stood, pulling his pants up as his round belly tried to push them down. “Reed Taylor. I’ve heard your name around. Been here some time, eh?”

  Reed nodded.

  “Congrats on that,” the man said. He looked over at me. “I’m figuring you’re the one wanting to know the facts.” He moved forward, a finger pushing his glasses up his nose. Holding out a hand, he waited for me to shake it. I held out my hand and he gripped it tightly, cranking it up and down. “Call me Rick. My mom named me Ricardo, which I always found stupid, being as Ricardo is a Mexi name and I’m a black man.” He smiled at me, his teeth a startling white against his dark skin.

  Moving away, Rick walked over to one of the computers and jammed a thumb down on the monitor button. The computer blinked to life. He motioned for us to sit in the plastic chairs on either side of him, then drummed his thick fingers on the computer keyboard.

  “Crime date?” he asked.

  “Crime date? I… uh… ”

  “Don’t know it? Hmm, okay. Name of the victim or criminals?”

  “Leann and Alan 942B.” My mouth was fighting to go dry. “Criminals.”

  Rick glanced at me a moment, then turned and typed in the names. The computer buzzed indignantly, still waking from sleep mode. After a moment a list appeared on the screen. Rick muttered to himself as he read down cases on the list, finally clicking on one. Another list came up, small paragraphs appearing below each link. Rick opened the first and read it.

  “Let’s see. Leann Summers was charged with Murder 1 and Assault. Alan Summers with Murder 1 and Aiding. Both sentenced with Life. Looks like…” He clicked his tongue, scanning the text that rolled down the screen. “Two men were murdered, deadly intent. The third escaped and was able to retrieve authorities. The accused were appointed their representative, and finally entered a plea of guilty. The surviving man pushed for death penalty, but they were sentenced life with no parole.” Rick paused a moment, thinking. “942B. The Life sentence walk. I thought so. Sound about right?”

  I could only nod.

  “Alright,” Rick said, wiggling his fingers before bending over the keyboard again. “This is where the fun comes in. I don’t do this for everyone, but being as I hear nothing but good about Mr. Taylor here, and you,” he looked at me and smiled, “you just look like you need it, I won’t charge you extra.”

&nbs
p; “How much?” Reed asked.

  “One-fifty. That’s the going rate.” Reed started to reach into his pocket, but before he could grab his money I slammed the cash down on the table next to the keyboard. Reed lowered his hand, his eyes taking in the small pile of bills.

  “It’s alright, Reed,” I said softly. “This is something I need to do.”

  Reed nodded at me, offering me a small smile before turning his face back to the screen. Rick shoved the money into his pocket then clicked on another link on the page.

  “This is weird,” he said, scanning the text.

  I leaned in closer. Most of what appeared on the screen was strange legal wording. I had no idea what it actually said. “What is weird?” I asked.

  “There’s usually a recorded copy of the accused side of the story. Even if they settle, as these two did, there will still be a copy. It looks like they never even made one.” He clicked on other links, his thick lips puckered up in thought as he read the files that popped up. “The copy is nowhere. That’s just… weird.”

  “What’s that mean?” Reed asked, his voice on edge.

  “It means we get to talk to Lady Justice.” Rick smiled again, his fingers already typing fast. Reed glanced at me. I raised my eyebrows at him in question but he just shrugged and shook his head, obviously having no idea what Rick was talking about.

  A box popped up on the screen, asking for a password. Rick glanced at us, then leaned in over the keyboard and quickly began to type in a long password. I wondered if it was ever going to end. Finally hitting the send button, he leaned back and waited. A little clock appeared, its hands quickly spinning. Then the screen went black.

  Rick didn’t seem worried. A moment later, it came back to life, a bright white box popping up. A photo of a woman, her gown flowing over her curved body, a blindfold fastened tight over her eyes, stared back at us. In one hand she tightly gripped a sword. The other held out a set of hanging scales, perfectly balanced.

  “That, my friends, is Lady Justice.” Rick sat a moment, looking at the picture, then happily grunted to himself and started to type again. I had never seen her before. Yet there was something familiar about this woman, something that I knew I should know.

  The computer buzzed.

  Rick mumbled to himself, his fingers drumming on the desktop as he waited.

  “Who is Lady Justice?” Reed finally asked.

  “Lady Justice?” Rick perked up, his eyes focusing again on the black and white drawing on the computer screen. “She used to be a symbol for the justice system. You know: lawyers, judges, courts, all of that. It was the idea that justice is balanced. Those scales are truth and fairness, always balanced and always even.” Rick pointed to the blindfold. “Justice is blind. It is objective.” He pointed to the curved hips of the drawing, winking at Reed. “And man, this justice was hot.”

  Chuckling to himself, Rick leaned back and folded his chubby fingers across his round belly. “Naturally, when the Nation took over, Lady Justice was the first to go. There used to be statues and paintings of her in every courthouse, but now there are none. Pity.

  “Anyway, a while back someone started printing a paper. She called herself Lady Justice. Made it her job to find out the truth about some of the court cases that seemed too simple. Then she would print it for everyone to read. The Nation has been trying to find her for years. Thing is, if you go by dates, this Lady Justice must be over one hundred years old now. Makes some think she is a phantom. Or a saint.

  “When I can’t find information on a case, such as yours, I pretty much know Lady here will have it.” Rick eyed the image again, smiling wide. “Man, what I would give to meet her.”

  The machine finally stopped buzzing, a box popping up on the small screen.

  An image of an old newspaper page had been scanned, framed now in the pop-up window. Across the top a smaller image of Lady Justice appeared, her name printed in block lettering next to her perfect form. Below it, in black and white, was a fading photograph of my parents.

  I felt tears sting my eyes as I looked into their young faces. Though they were disheveled and strange looking, something still healthy clung to the young faces of Alan and Leann Summers. I felt a tear break free, running down my cheek.

  “Whoa. Are you alright?” Rick asked, his eyes wide as he looked over to me.

  I tried to nod, but couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my eyes off of my parents. “She’s fine,” Reed said in a soft voice. “Those are her parents.”

  Rick’s eyes shot to the photograph then back to me. Realization slowly spread on his face, his eyes softening in understanding. “Oh. Okay.” He licked his lips, scrolling the mouse down. “On we go. 942B, right?”

  I nodded, my eyes never leaving the glowing screen.

  Under the image was the same information Rick had already read to us. Their charges, their pleas, then their sentences. It all seemed so cold. As if they were just a number listed, a product waiting to be bought and used up.

  Rick scrolled more. Another image appeared.

  It seemed like a simple photograph of a pile of leaves. A tree trunk framed one side of the shot, a bush filling the other. The dirt had been kicked and turned, footsteps evident around the dried leaves. A number rested in the corner, propped up just like the numbers in the photographs Dr. Eriks had forced me to see before my release.

  All three of us leaned closer. Something seemed strange. The leaves and dirt seemed staged, unnatural. They didn’t flow with the rise and fall of the land. The leaves were pushed into a pile, lines left in the dirt from the fingers that had moved them carefully together.

  We all saw it at once. Reed let out a groan. Rick gasped. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t blink. I desperately wanted to look away, to be anywhere but sitting there in that white office.

  Barely visible to the uncaring eye, a little hand reached through the leaves, its young chubby fingers limply clutching the ripped remains of a dirty, torn blanket.

  | | |

  Getting the pass to visit the prison turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. I didn’t need to fill out any paper work. They already had everything about me on file, including a daily report of my work in the Orchard. It seemed strange that someone, somewhere, was filling out all of that information about me. At that moment though, I didn’t have the time or energy to care.

  While I sat with Lou and learned the rules about visiting, Reed hurried off to find Eddie and Oscar. My mind barely grasped anything Lou said to me. I nodded when I felt I needed to, answered with a word or two at other times. Inside I felt like a tornado had just torn me apart into pieces.

  Lou finally held out a paper for me to sign. His face looked concerned, carefully watching me as I picked up the pen and signed my name along the dotted line. I forced a smile at him. He nodded once, then motioned that I could go. Picking up my copy of the signed paper, I quickly walked out of the house.

  It wasn’t until the door to the house closed behind me that I realized Lou hadn’t scanned my bracelet. I turned back to the door, then stopped. He had been staring directly at it. Lou knew he hadn’t scanned my bracelet. Glancing at the door one more time, I turned and hurried toward the front gate of the Orchard.

  Reed stood next to Oscar’s yellow truck, his hands shoved into his pockets. As soon as he saw me walk around the corner, he straightened. I walked closer and held out the paper. Without a word, he climbed into the driver seat and reached across to open the passenger door for me.

  I climbed in and slammed it shut. Without pausing, I pulled the seat belt across my body and clicked it into place. Reed buckled himself in then cranked the key in the ignition. The engine turned over once then sputtered out.

  “Stupid Dodge,” he growled under his breath. Pumping the gas pedal, he cranked the key again. The engine roared to life, the entire truck rumbling.

  I finally looked around. “No Eddie?”

  Reed shook his head as he backed the truck out of the dirt drive way. “He thin
ks this is something you need to do. Said he will be waiting for us at dinner with extra rolls.”

  A smile tried to tug at the corners of my lips, but quickly died away. I looked down at the small stack of papers in my hand, my fingers nervously rubbing the top sheet. My legs were shaking, my heart racing nonstop. Nothing I did could calm me.

  We rolled through the town. The same people as always ambled around. I saw them differently now though. Through their smiles and laughter, I could see their eyes watching each other warily. They glanced over their shoulders. The mothers always remained close to the carefree children. Every person wandering the sidewalks walked in the same path that they had the day before, just barely avoiding each other until they finally saw someone they could smile at and greet. It was all rehearsed, all well practiced and careful.

  It was all fake.

  We rolled by the Records office. Rick watched us from his door, his magnified eyes barely blinking as we passed. Locking eyes a moment, he nodded at me, his lips set in a tight line. Then we pulled out of the town and turned onto the road that led back to Spokane, leaving the town in our rumbling dust.

  I tried to watch the countryside roll by. The swaying grass used to intrigue me. Now it just looked dead, left to become forgotten in this abyss of a land that led to nothing good. I tore my eyes away and stared at my shaking hands.

  Reed’s hand softly touched mine. His fingers stroked mine a moment then gently intertwined, locking our hands together. I stared at his hand holding mine. He gave me a soft squeeze, and I knew he was trying to offer me a smile, if I would just look back. I only seemed able to stare at his hand.