Also, I do need to add the disclaimer that there is some mild language in this. I don't always put language in my writing, but I am of the firm belief that sometimes in order to make stories and characters real, they need to retain their raw and at least semi-unfiltered quality. Not to do so feels dishonest to me. If you walk around in the world today, you're going to hear it and especially in a correctional facility - ANY correctional facility - its going to be all around you. And sometimes, to make your point, you have to be able to hear the ugly truth, see the puckered scars and taste the grit to be fully immersed in the 'real' world you're creating for characters you hope will be as real as anyone you might see walking down the street. I didn't go out of my way to make things over-graphic or effusively profane, but I'd certainly give the writing a strong PG-13 rating - particularly with where I see the story heading. I know not everyone would agree with my thinking on the matter, but, its my writing style, and I'm always working to polish it, and I'm just plain far too stubborn to budge on this one. So - just so you know...
********
There was a loud electronic crackle and it was this preliminary sound that drew Anaya from unconsciousness. It was always the precursor to ---- "Good morning inmates!" Anaya groaned and threw an arm over her face as the falsely cheerful voice blasted from the loudspeaker outside in the cell-block. "Its a new day and a new opportunity for reform! Put on your game faces and fight through the raging hormones and violent urges and all that tosh. The manual says that its never too late to change, but in the case of most of you, I won't get my hopes up." The voice trailed away with its predictably sardonic down note. Anaya forced herself up slowly and slid her legs over the side of her cot as the voice continued. "So, incorrigible inmates of tomorrow, get your worthless bums to the mess hall as soon as your cell door opens and you've been cleared from inspection." Anaya finished pulling her sweatshirt down over the regulation black tank-top and sighed. Another day in Whitefield Detention Facility for Delinquent Teens. She dropped her head in her hands briefly and sank her fingers into the shoulder-length black tendrils. Crimson veins of color were filtered among the untidy mop of hair but even they lacked their defiant luster in the draining glare from the fluorescent lights overhead.
She had little time to dread the coming day of negativity as the buzzer sounded and the lock released from her cell-door. She stood and moved blearily just outside the bars for inspection. As the block guard methodically made her way down to her frisking each girl briskly before moving on, Anaya glanced at her fellow delinquents. They all had the same sleepy, distant expressions as she, but she was too familiar now with how quickly the drowsiness was erased for defiance with these girls to believe it safe. As though to reinforce this, one particularly large girl a few cells down from hers looked over at her and sneered openly. Anaya knew the girl. Her name was Josie and she was one of the oldest girls in the facility. She was also the largest and meanest and she had taken a particular dislike to Anaya from the first day she'd arrived. She flashed Anaya the finger then smoothly changed the gesture into the motion of brushing her hair back as the block guard glanced in her direction. Anaya looked away inwardly strategizing how best to avoid Josie after mess that morning. She did not outwardly feared anyone, but physically she was no match for Josie's gang of six and had sported a few too many black eyes and bloody lips to prefer further close contact.
The block guard reached Anaya and she cringed as the guard lifted each arm and felt in her armpits, under her breasts and every uncomfortable potential hiding spot she had. She ought to have been used to inspection by now, they were given several times a day, but she still hated the blatant incursion on her personal space. She hated being touched period, and the guards were not especially gentle.
The guard finished the routine inspection then forced Anaya's head back and pressed her mouth open. Anaya allowed the guard to prod the inside of her mouth briefly, then snapped her teeth shut just as the guard removed her hand. The guard pulled her fingers back sharply and slapped Anaya's smiling face. Anaya was still grinning mockingly as the guard walked on even as she held a hand to the reddening hand-print on her face. It had been worth it. The guards didn't usually check the inmates mouth, but Anaya had earned this special privilege shortly after arriving at the facility by producing a bobby-pin from the inside of her cheek that she'd used to slice open Ida's cheek. She would have done far more damage than that, but the guards had reached her too quickly. Ida still bore the scar on her face, Anaya still bore the scars from the guards billy-clubs to her back. It had been a few months and the bruises were mostly gone, but certain muscles twinged sharply when she moved a certain way and Anaya suspected that there had been some deeper damage done. The scars were thin lines on the pale surface of her skin where it had broken and bled from the clubs ridged handles. Despite the beating she'd endured, Anaya considered this memory a personal victory. It had taken four of the guards to remove her from Ida's burly frame and to beat her into unconsciousness as she'd fought them. Ina had never dared to bother her again. Josie was not so smart but unfortunately always appeared with several of her large friends to assist in beating on her.
After inspection, the girls were herded in a single-file line to the mess hall (two feet separating each one at all times of course). Anaya carried her tray to the farthest spot of the wooden bench as she could get from the other girls as she always did and picked dismally at the tasteless regulation food. She was unsure if the gray mush was supposed to be oatmeal or grits but for all the flavor it contained, it mattered little. She sipped her Tang. She ate only because she needed the energy to defend herself. The other girls gave her space and paid her no mind as they shared amused looks with each other considering the announcer's dry British wit over the loudspeaker as he read the list of scripted inspirational quotes and interspersed his own snide comments. The girls were allowed to talk, or at least the guards didn't care enough to stop them, but they did so very quietly at their own table and their hushed voices were white noise to Anaya as she kept her eyes trained on the plastic tray she ate from.
Anaya's skin was so white beneath her screen of raven and red-streaked hair that she looked perpetually sick, but somehow still pretty - or so her friends had always told her. Her lashes were as dark as her hair and she had rose-bud lips, delicate features and green-hazel eyes. Normally she would be sporting multiple facial piercings, eyebrow, nose, and lip as well as multiple black gothic necklaces, but as these were metal they had been deemed possible weapons and taken away when she was admitted. They'd even taken her tongue piercing which irritated her more than the others because worrying it with her teeth had become a habit and her mouth just felt empty without it. Adults, guards, and fellow inmates only saw the perpetual glare that she wore now that marked her as incurably rebellious and dangerous, but she was also young and trauma and life had not yet been able to erase this tell-tale mark on her face though they had done a number on her insides. Anaya had donned her punk-goth clothes and kept her hair and makeup as she had to keep people away, and until coming here to the facility it had worked well. Her few friends had adorned themselves similarly, but often remarked at how beautiful she was even with the punk-goth accessories. Anaya herself had not cared about beauty. She still did not. Here, clothes and belongings were all regulation and uniform and stripped the girls of any personal sense of identity or expression anyway.
The only way to distinguish oneself here was through the hierarchy of violence, as Josie and her friends did, or through being released to an adult facility. Anaya had actually attained a pretty high reputation by beating the living shit out of Ida so early upon her arrival, but unlike the others, she did nothing to portray pride in her own fighting skills. She did not threaten others unless they forcefully provoked her, and she did not accept or welcome lackeys. She simply.... was. What they did not know was that Ida and now Josie only forced the violence from Anaya. Yeah, she could fight, and win if the odds were right. Yeah, she could even put Josie in the infirmary for a week if she were alone, or probably kill her if she wanted. But she didn't fight by choice. The truth was, she didn't care about fighting and rising to to the top of some internal respect roster one way or the other. She didn't care about trying to be distinctive or noticed in here at all. She didn't care about much. She had enough trouble fighting off the demons in her own mind and from the haunted swamp of her memories to care about anything else. She kept a tight reign on the anger unless it was forced out of her and then, yes, she was pretty damn lethal. The fact that she was otherwise petite and vulnerable looking only added to the impression she had made on that point. None of the other delinquents had managed to create such an intimidation factor as early as fifteen, and while not actively promoting it, Anaya was at least happy that it kept most of the others away. She took pride only in the nervousness of the guards around her knowing of her documented ferocity.
When they reached the warden's office, Clarice knocked on the closed door and she heard the low voice say imperiously, "Enter." Clarice swung the door open and she was pushed hard from behind. Anaya staggered a step or two, then moved forward. From behind the large mahogany desk Anaya could see a cloud of blue smoke rising from the warden's comfortable chair which was facing away from her and created a thin black wall. The warden often stared out at the detention grounds as though hoping for a random escapee to appear so he could give the order to shoot. His voice issued forth, heavy and oily. "Did she resist?"
"No." Clarice said, and though the woman was probably the meanest of the screws (1) 'screw' is a slang term for prison guard ), there was a tremor in her voice as she addressed Warden Grey.
The plush leather desk chair swiveled around and the very tall, almost gaunt-looking warden appeared. His hair was steel gray, his eyes ice blue and very, VERY cold. Calculating. Anaya knew his voice to be both imperious and emotionless at the same time. He reeked of a wealthy upbringing and dressed accordingly in tailored pin-striped suits, immaculate ties, and patent leather shoes. He set his cigar aside on a silver ashtray and steepled his fingers in front of him surveying Anaya cooly. "Miss Rowe." Anaya felt a shiver move up her spine at his voice. "Please come in. Have a seat." He gestured grandly to a hard, but brilliantly varnished chair in front of his desk.
Anaya went to the chair knowing if she did not obey, she would be physically forced to. She did sit, but only on the very edge of the chair. Her eyes did not move to inspect the room, or the guards stances, or search for possible escape roots, which was unlike her. If nothing else, she had always been extremely observant. But Warden Grey commanded attention like an admiral on a ship and even she was not immune to his intimidating spell. "Leave us." He commanded the guards likewise never taking his eyes from Anaya.
Anaya looked up briefly as the guards silently filed out. This was unexpected and she was unsure whether to feel relieved or even more frightened. Looking back at the warden, she forced her features to settle back into calm defiance though inwardly her heart has risen into her throat. She had spoken to this man only once before, but it had been long enough to leave a chilling impression of arrogance and cruelty. Nothing he did was unplanned or remotely kind.
The warden's expression did not change though neither had any illusions that her momentary break of eye-contact had gone unnoticed. Warden Grey allowed a heavy silence to lengthen as he stared at her simply to heighten the tension. He was gratified to see the hardened expression on her face break slightly as the muscles in her face involuntarily twitched. Anaya suddenly believed that the man had some preternatural sense where he could hear her heart thundering and smell the cold sweat on her palms.
Finally, he spoke, sliding a folder across the desk to her as he did so without removing his gaze. "We have received the doctor's report from the hospital. I thought you might enjoy reading it." Anaya hesitated, then reached out to open the folder. She would never admit it, even to the warden, but she had been fearing how bad the damage was for weeks. She had never imagined it would take this long for the police to release and send the report to the jail. As she flipped open the folder and her eyes began to scan it quickly, the warden picked his cigar back up and resumed smoking noting the fervency in her eyes. Snatches of the doctor's report imprinted on her mind like flashes from a camera. "...multiple contusions and lacerations.... broken cheek-bone and nose...several stitches to the lip and jaw...jaw dislocated..." She felt tears prick her eyes but was unable to prevent them. "...deep puncture wound to the left rib-cage...lung has a shallow puncture...internal bleeding...fluid in the lungs..." She felt her hands trembling and hurriedly closed the folder and placed it back on the desk. She clasped her hands in her lap and did not lift her eyes to the warden's again.
"The police had the report sent over to emphasize to us the seriousness of your crime." The warden stated. His explanation was unnecessary. She'd been expecting this since first interrogated after the altercation. "It was also sent to the judge before the sentencing, but you were aware of that. It took several weeks for the proper procedure to secure the documents release here. Your step-father was particularly stubborn about giving the permission, though I cannot for the life of me imagine why... Can you?"
Anaya said nothing nor did she look up at the warden's words. Her eyes were fixed steadfastly on her clasped fingers and she noticed with some dismay that they were very white. She tried to unclench her grip on herself, but found her fingers too cold and stiff to do so. His words did penetrate however, and she wondered too. My step-father, Martin...he hesitated to give them another reason to extend my sentence? Last Anaya had seen of her stepfather he had been white-faced with rage and was being held back by the police from attacking her as the cuffs were being secured.
"Miss Rowe." The warden's voice made her look up at last. "Tell me." He blew a long stream of smoke from his mouth which obscured his face. "What could a mother do that was so terrible to prompt such a vicious attack from her daughter?" Somehow his eyes penetrated right through the smoke giving them the appearance of a predator's glowing at night.
Anaya's eyes slid away as her mind went back to her childhood phantom screams echoing in the darkness of her mind. But she did not reply.
The warden suddenly stood and her attention was immediately jerked back to him. She watched him move around his desk to her chair. He slowly began to circle her and then stopped directly behind her. She could not look at him, but felt his cold, long-fingered hands rest on her shoulders. How could his hands be so cold when the room was so warm? She could feel the chill through her sweatshirt.
Grey lowered his head and smoke directly into her ear in a taunting whisper. "Was she so cruel Miss Rowe? Did she scold you for fighting at school? For beating up a little boy six years younger than you? Did she take exception to your hoodlum friends or your vandalism, the constant calls from the police?" Anaya fought hard to suppress her shudder, and closed her eyes tightly as he relayed back to her only a small fraction of her rebellious actions. "Was she very perturbed at how you treated her new husband and step-daughters? The scars you gave the eldest daughter's beauty pageant face?" Anaya could still see the red streaks coursing down Elsa's face like macabre tears, hear how she had screamed. "Did it matter too much to her that her only daughter spat in her face?" Though it sounded the most tame of the actions he'd reminded her of, this last was the most painful to Anaya. She believed it had wounded her mother more than any of the other things and Martin had been absolutely irate after... it was the only time she believed he would raise a hand to strike her... but he didn't. She jumped as she felt the warden's cold fingers touch her cheek and almost lovingly caress a yellowing bruise.
The warden was enjoying the affect he was having on this young delinquent that no one else seemed able to intimidate. He lifted his hands and returned to his desk a tiny smile on his face as he saw Anaya take a shaky breath and work very hard to regain her composure. "I have a job for you Miss Rowe." For the second time already he had surprised her. Her eyes were questioning. He stood in front of his chair and reached into a desk drawer producing a large, leather-bound volume. "I am a firm believer in letting the punishment fit the crime, or, in your case, meting out punishment that is equal to the severity." He slammed the book down onto the desk in front of her. Anaya saw the words 'Holy bible' glistening on the cover. He came around the front of his desk and sat on the corner. His blood stirred as he looked at the young, fearful eyes watching him from below. "After all, bad little girls cannot go unpunished. Spare the rod and spoil the child." Without looking, he slid a picture out of the front cover of the Bible. Glancing down at it, Anaya saw herself. It was a picture she had allowed her friend Sara to take on request as she was an aspiring photographer. They had run away to the beach one weekend.
* * *
(6 weeks later...)
(6 weeks later...)
Anaya paced inside her cell like a caged lion. The cell block had gone eerily silent and it did nothing to lessen her agitation. She went to the bars again and gripped them tightly. "Come on, open the goddamn door, we've been in here for three days!" There was no response whatsoever. She shook the bars once in frustration and returned to her pacing. "Christina!" She called to the next cell.
There was a rustling and then a weak, "Yeah?"
"Did you hear anything while I was asleep?" Anaya asked.
"No." The other girl replied. "There hasn't been a thing...Anaya, what is that smell?"
Ignoring the question, Anaya sighed in frustration and chewed on her lower lip thinking hard. There had to be a way to get out of here. Whatever was going on outside the bars of the cells had happened quickly. At first, the number of guards had dwindled significantly. There were fewer checks, few escorts. Within a few days meals and exercise yard privileges had been skipped. Anaya certainly hadn't missed her weekly 'meetings' with the warden, which she naturally despised, but she had missed the regular meals. Some of the braver girls, including Anaya, had questioned the guards about this, but received only an icy stare. Then finally, three days ago, no guards had showed up at all to release the delinquents for morning checks. They had water from the faucet, and the small toilet, but no food. Anaya's stomach cramped painfully and she winced. Sweat beaded on her brow and ran down the small of her back in rivulets. The air conditioners had stopped working at the same time the guards disappeared. It was May in Arizona. The detention center had quickly become like an oven and it was only due to the water faucets and plumbing still functioning that had allowed the girls to survive heat stroke.
Then, from somewhere out in the cell-block there came the sound of shuffling feet. Anaya flew to the bars and hollered. "Hey! Let us out! Someone, over here!" The shuffling feet paused for a moment, then she heard them again coming closer. She turned her face as far to the right as she could to see whomever was coming and after several moments, she saw a disheveled form. It was Warden Grey. His tailored suit was dirty and wrinkled, the shirt untucked, the jacket gone. His tie hung untied and he was missing one shoe. If his suit was in poor condition however, he was worse. His skin was ashen, dark circles ringed his eyes, he was unshaven, and so gaunt now that he looked skeletal. His eyes were glazed and jaundiced and most of his shirt was soaked with his sweat. Anaya took an involuntarily step back as Grey's eyes came to rest on her and he began moving in her direction. "Warden Grey...?" She asked hesitantly. The warden fished in his pocket and produced a set of cell keys, but he did not reply. He tried to unlock her cell door but his hands were shaking so badly that he nearly dropped the key-ring. Anaya found herself unsure now whether she wanted her only barrier between herself and this man opened, but she had little option. In desperation, she picked up her pillow as the only possible weapon. Maybe she could leap on him and suffocate him if he attacked her.
The key finally turned in the lock and it seemed to take all of the warden's strength to slide the heavy metal door open. He staggered into the cell and shuffled towards Anaya who backed up as far as she could away from him. "Miss... Rowe..." His words were slurred and raspy and Anaya could smell whiskey rolling off of him in waves. Grey cringed in pain and put a hand to his side and Anaya saw blood seeping through his clothes. "...Us...punished...for your... sins..." His grey features contorted in anger and he reached one arm towards her. Anaya's heart raced painfully. When his fingers were no more than an inch from her face, the warden collapsed, not gracefully or slowly, but with heavy finality. Anaya gasped and fought for breath. She stood quite still for a long time staring at the fallen man at her feet.
It was Christina's voice from the cell next door that roused her. "Anaya," She heard the other girl sitting up. "What's going on?" Anaya did not reply, but stepped next to the prone body and reached down to the limp hand that still grasped the key ring. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, and she grabbed the keys quickly, then stepped over him and ran from the cell.
"The warden's dead." She told Christina as she unlocked the cell. Christina exited and moved to look in at the warden's still form. "Did you see what he looked like?" Anaya asked in horror. Christina simply nodded dumbly. After several moments, Anaya finally recovered herself and told Christina briskly, "We've got to get out of here. Find out what's going on. And we need to gather some food." She wiped her brow on her sleeve. "And water."
"What about him?" Christina asked indicating the warden.
Anaya face tightened in rage. She lashed out and kicked him viciously in the side. Even as Christina gasped, Anaya spit on Warden Grey's fallen form. Christina started to say something, but Anaya cut her off. "Leave him." She turned away. "Let's go."
There was a rustling and then a weak, "Yeah?"
"Did you hear anything while I was asleep?" Anaya asked.
"No." The other girl replied. "There hasn't been a thing...Anaya, what is that smell?"
Ignoring the question, Anaya sighed in frustration and chewed on her lower lip thinking hard. There had to be a way to get out of here. Whatever was going on outside the bars of the cells had happened quickly. At first, the number of guards had dwindled significantly. There were fewer checks, few escorts. Within a few days meals and exercise yard privileges had been skipped. Anaya certainly hadn't missed her weekly 'meetings' with the warden, which she naturally despised, but she had missed the regular meals. Some of the braver girls, including Anaya, had questioned the guards about this, but received only an icy stare. Then finally, three days ago, no guards had showed up at all to release the delinquents for morning checks. They had water from the faucet, and the small toilet, but no food. Anaya's stomach cramped painfully and she winced. Sweat beaded on her brow and ran down the small of her back in rivulets. The air conditioners had stopped working at the same time the guards disappeared. It was May in Arizona. The detention center had quickly become like an oven and it was only due to the water faucets and plumbing still functioning that had allowed the girls to survive heat stroke.
Then, from somewhere out in the cell-block there came the sound of shuffling feet. Anaya flew to the bars and hollered. "Hey! Let us out! Someone, over here!" The shuffling feet paused for a moment, then she heard them again coming closer. She turned her face as far to the right as she could to see whomever was coming and after several moments, she saw a disheveled form. It was Warden Grey. His tailored suit was dirty and wrinkled, the shirt untucked, the jacket gone. His tie hung untied and he was missing one shoe. If his suit was in poor condition however, he was worse. His skin was ashen, dark circles ringed his eyes, he was unshaven, and so gaunt now that he looked skeletal. His eyes were glazed and jaundiced and most of his shirt was soaked with his sweat. Anaya took an involuntarily step back as Grey's eyes came to rest on her and he began moving in her direction. "Warden Grey...?" She asked hesitantly. The warden fished in his pocket and produced a set of cell keys, but he did not reply. He tried to unlock her cell door but his hands were shaking so badly that he nearly dropped the key-ring. Anaya found herself unsure now whether she wanted her only barrier between herself and this man opened, but she had little option. In desperation, she picked up her pillow as the only possible weapon. Maybe she could leap on him and suffocate him if he attacked her.
The key finally turned in the lock and it seemed to take all of the warden's strength to slide the heavy metal door open. He staggered into the cell and shuffled towards Anaya who backed up as far as she could away from him. "Miss... Rowe..." His words were slurred and raspy and Anaya could smell whiskey rolling off of him in waves. Grey cringed in pain and put a hand to his side and Anaya saw blood seeping through his clothes. "...Us...punished...for your... sins..." His grey features contorted in anger and he reached one arm towards her. Anaya's heart raced painfully. When his fingers were no more than an inch from her face, the warden collapsed, not gracefully or slowly, but with heavy finality. Anaya gasped and fought for breath. She stood quite still for a long time staring at the fallen man at her feet.
It was Christina's voice from the cell next door that roused her. "Anaya," She heard the other girl sitting up. "What's going on?" Anaya did not reply, but stepped next to the prone body and reached down to the limp hand that still grasped the key ring. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, and she grabbed the keys quickly, then stepped over him and ran from the cell.
"The warden's dead." She told Christina as she unlocked the cell. Christina exited and moved to look in at the warden's still form. "Did you see what he looked like?" Anaya asked in horror. Christina simply nodded dumbly. After several moments, Anaya finally recovered herself and told Christina briskly, "We've got to get out of here. Find out what's going on. And we need to gather some food." She wiped her brow on her sleeve. "And water."
"What about him?" Christina asked indicating the warden.
Anaya face tightened in rage. She lashed out and kicked him viciously in the side. Even as Christina gasped, Anaya spit on Warden Grey's fallen form. Christina started to say something, but Anaya cut her off. "Leave him." She turned away. "Let's go."
* * *
Anaya and Christina moved to each individual cell releasing their fellow inmates who, for all their normal meanness and attitude now seemed as timid and frightened as little girls. Christina told them excitedly all about Warden Grey's death and his appearance while Anaya remained silent and cold. "I wonder what killed him?" One of the girls asked.
"He was shot." The girls all looked over at her. It was the first she had spoken in several minutes.
"How do you know that?" One asked in surprise.
"I looked while you started letting the others out." She said her face and tone expressionless. The girls looked at each other, then at Anaya with unease. Under normal circumstances, they would view her cool detachment with respect, but as things were right now... "We need to be careful as we find our way out of here." She paused with keys in hand as she faced the last cell that remained to be open. Josie.
"Hurry, I need to get out of this place, I'm starving!" Josie urged. When Anaya froze, Josie slowly looked up at her face. "Anaya... please?"
The rest of the girls had formed a small huddle behind Anaya and they stared at her now too. It had been no secret the treatment Josie and her gang of six had given Anaya since she'd arrived. The rest of Josie's gang were already released and looked at Josie uneasily. Josie was frightened by the icy blackness in Anaya's expression. "Ana--" He words were cut off as Anaya jerked the key in the lock then turned to walk away before any of them could open the door. The girls looked around at each other uncertainly again, but Anaya was making no effort to wait up for them. Wordlessly, Josie left her cell and the girls, including Josie, followed her without question.
* * *
It was an unpleasant trip out of the prison. They had been fortunate in finding an entire pantry's worth of dry and canned goods and they had packed as much as they could carry thanks to some the camping knapsacks the institution stocked for occasional nature forays for the girls. At the time, the girls had hated those trips. The center had meant those hikes to be character and discipline building, but the girls had hated the bugs and the sun and the heat and that the guards had often made them run for miles with no rest. Anaya had viewed this place much like boot camp but with less freedom and with no sense of higher purpose. But in any case, the packs were certainly coming in handy now. Josie was commissioned (well, ordered really by Anaya) to carry the most, including a large water thermos strapped to her back. They had passed multiple bodies covered in fly larva and decaying in the
cloying heat. If their stomachs hadn't been so empty, they would
undoubtedly have lost their lunches. As it was, some of the girls
continued to dry heave for the next hour. One girl, part of Josie's gang, had been unable to consume any food before continuing towards the exit and had collapsed in the reception area. The others had been unable to revive her. Anaya had made the difficult decision to leave
her. The girls had not liked this, however delinquent they might be they had developed a strong sort of pack mentality already and determined not to leave any of their own behind. But Anaya convinced them they'd had no other choice. None of them were medical technicians and the first-aid kits they'd
acquired had nothing to treat heat stroke and dehydration. IF they didn't get out of the building and find their way to safety, they might as well lay down beside her and give up too. Many of the girls cried. Anaya had
remained detached as she watched them say their farewells to their fallen comrade and used the distraction to remove the syringes of anti-venom from the kits and placed them
covertly in her own pack. She wasn't sure why she did it, but figured for some unknown reason the syringes might come in handy. If nothing else, the needles would come in handy as weapons. She led them on.
The other girls were pale and trembling as Anaya swung open the detention center door to the yard beyond. The hot Arizona sun slammed into them like a fiery wall and the girls gasped and several moved back into the building to shield themselves from the heat. Anaya turned on them in anger. "Stop it!" She reached out and scrubbed the tears off the nearest girls face. "You'll dehydrate faster!" Anaya had found her own belongings as well as the other girls and mercifully had changed out of the sweat-shirt and pants into cooler clothing. The warm clothes were packed away and on their backs. The nights were still cold. Anaya had not wanted to don the same clothing she'd worn in Warden Grey's picture, but they were what she had been brought here in and all she had. She'd happily replaced her piercings and other jewelry despite knowing they would be uncomfortable in the sand and heat outside. Her dark eyes scanned the yard outside for other human traffic, but the detention center was outside of the city limits and there hadn't been much out here to begin with. Heat shimmered off the ground in dizzying waves and she squinted her eyes against the bright glare. They were fortunate that it was only May. In another few weeks the temperate would easily soar to over 100 degree Fahrenheit. As hot as it felt with the sun beating down on them after virtually no exposure for two weeks, she guessed it to be no more than the mid 90's. But they'd have to find shelter - and soon.
The other girls were pale and trembling as Anaya swung open the detention center door to the yard beyond. The hot Arizona sun slammed into them like a fiery wall and the girls gasped and several moved back into the building to shield themselves from the heat. Anaya turned on them in anger. "Stop it!" She reached out and scrubbed the tears off the nearest girls face. "You'll dehydrate faster!" Anaya had found her own belongings as well as the other girls and mercifully had changed out of the sweat-shirt and pants into cooler clothing. The warm clothes were packed away and on their backs. The nights were still cold. Anaya had not wanted to don the same clothing she'd worn in Warden Grey's picture, but they were what she had been brought here in and all she had. She'd happily replaced her piercings and other jewelry despite knowing they would be uncomfortable in the sand and heat outside. Her dark eyes scanned the yard outside for other human traffic, but the detention center was outside of the city limits and there hadn't been much out here to begin with. Heat shimmered off the ground in dizzying waves and she squinted her eyes against the bright glare. They were fortunate that it was only May. In another few weeks the temperate would easily soar to over 100 degree Fahrenheit. As hot as it felt with the sun beating down on them after virtually no exposure for two weeks, she guessed it to be no more than the mid 90's. But they'd have to find shelter - and soon.
* * *
Anaya tossed another short branch onto the
campfire and wrapped her arms around her knees. The desert night was
quiet and despite the trauma of the day past, she felt her mind
unwinding just a bit. Even if the world had gone to shit, this was her
first taste of freedom in several very long months. She tilted her head
back and let the dry, gritty breeze pass over her face and ruffle the
soft tendrils of her hair. For just a few moments, she determined not to
allow herself to think of the day, the weight of sudden leadership
thrust upon her, of the decaying corpses, the stench, the warden, the
girls, or anything else. The air may be oppressive out here too, but the
air was free.
She heard some of the girls stirring and knew that those who had managed to fall asleep did so restlessly. Their minds would not so easily forget. Anaya had made it a practice to forget and to shut away feelings she did not want to feel. They were not so lucky. Thirteen girls, including herself, and all of them delinquents that most of the world had hidden away in Whitefield Detention Center for Delinquent Youth. They were fortunate to have broken out of the building with all the staff dead. She would much rather strike out on her own, but for the moment it was more prudent to remain in a group. They did not yet know what dangers they faced and there was some truth to the phrase, 'Safety in numbers.' Besides, she couldn't carry the water cooler and other gear herself. Her tongue felt thick again and she took a precious sip of water from her bottle and rolled the liquid around her mouth to saturate every crevice. Night-time in the Arizona desert. It was not her first night out here and it would not be her last. She would plan what to do later and fill in the girls at dawn. For right now, she was just going to relax and enjoy the soft hiss of sand as it sifted over the rocky ground and brushed at her skin like ever-moving feathers.
She heard some of the girls stirring and knew that those who had managed to fall asleep did so restlessly. Their minds would not so easily forget. Anaya had made it a practice to forget and to shut away feelings she did not want to feel. They were not so lucky. Thirteen girls, including herself, and all of them delinquents that most of the world had hidden away in Whitefield Detention Center for Delinquent Youth. They were fortunate to have broken out of the building with all the staff dead. She would much rather strike out on her own, but for the moment it was more prudent to remain in a group. They did not yet know what dangers they faced and there was some truth to the phrase, 'Safety in numbers.' Besides, she couldn't carry the water cooler and other gear herself. Her tongue felt thick again and she took a precious sip of water from her bottle and rolled the liquid around her mouth to saturate every crevice. Night-time in the Arizona desert. It was not her first night out here and it would not be her last. She would plan what to do later and fill in the girls at dawn. For right now, she was just going to relax and enjoy the soft hiss of sand as it sifted over the rocky ground and brushed at her skin like ever-moving feathers.
* * *
"Get up." Anaya said abruptly as she nudged the
girls with her foot. "Let's go, we're moving." Once the girls had
awakened and picked up their packs again, Anaya began a brisk pace
northwest. She opened an energy bar as she walked and gestured for the
others to do the same. She ate quickly and without stopping.
"Where are we going?" Christina complained.
"Into the city. We'll have the best chance of shelter and provisions there. And we can find someone to ask what the hell is going on."
"Phoenix!" Josie snapped. "That's got to be thirty miles from here! At least!"
Anaya turned sharply, her eyes cold. "You have a better suggestion?"
"Yeah!" Josie retorted right back. "We go back to the detention center and wait."
"Wait for what?!" Anaya said. "For someone to think to come and check on us in the middle of the desert? For our parents to come and save us?" Anaya's voice was mocking and bitter at the same time. "If they cared about us, they wouldn't have sent us to that place to begin with. You really think they're going to go out of their way to find us now?"
To this, Josie had no reply. Anaya had known she wouldn't. She had heard enough about Josie's family to know that they cared nothing for her. Josie's sentence to go to Whitefield had more to do with her parents trying to save themselves the bother of dealing with her than any attempt to rehabilitate her. Anaya's mother and step-father, well.... her mother was probably still recovering from the beating she'd given her, and Martin... She forced her mind away from that thought and began walking again. They stopped once when midday approached and rested for a few minutes. Anaya allowed them to drink and eat a little trail-mix and fruit, then she pushed them onward again at a quick pace. The sun beat down on them mercilessly, but Anaya knew the best thing to do was to keep moving and get as far as they possibly could that day. Sweat beaded on her brow and her shoulders were aching from the straps of her pack. Josie was sweating profusely and Anaya knew that they would have to stop again at sundown. Until then, she pushed them forward like a drill sergeant ignoring the mumbled complaints and the tears.
Finally, as the sun was beginning to set once more, they moved off of the road and Anaya made a small fire again. The other girls collapsed as she retrieved some cans of soup and a small sauce-pan from one of the packs and began warming it for them. As it cooked, she looked up at the desert sky and its multi-hued beauty. The clouds were a mix of midnight blue, sienna, and lavender and they melted together on the horizon. She heard a coyote cry in the distance... and far-off, some weird, keening cry that she could not identify. It sent shivers up her spine. She glanced about at the others, but they seemed not to have noticed anything. Suddenly cold though the air had not yet chilled, she wrapped her arms around herself and moved closer to the fire.
"Where are we going?" Christina complained.
"Into the city. We'll have the best chance of shelter and provisions there. And we can find someone to ask what the hell is going on."
"Phoenix!" Josie snapped. "That's got to be thirty miles from here! At least!"
Anaya turned sharply, her eyes cold. "You have a better suggestion?"
"Yeah!" Josie retorted right back. "We go back to the detention center and wait."
"Wait for what?!" Anaya said. "For someone to think to come and check on us in the middle of the desert? For our parents to come and save us?" Anaya's voice was mocking and bitter at the same time. "If they cared about us, they wouldn't have sent us to that place to begin with. You really think they're going to go out of their way to find us now?"
To this, Josie had no reply. Anaya had known she wouldn't. She had heard enough about Josie's family to know that they cared nothing for her. Josie's sentence to go to Whitefield had more to do with her parents trying to save themselves the bother of dealing with her than any attempt to rehabilitate her. Anaya's mother and step-father, well.... her mother was probably still recovering from the beating she'd given her, and Martin... She forced her mind away from that thought and began walking again. They stopped once when midday approached and rested for a few minutes. Anaya allowed them to drink and eat a little trail-mix and fruit, then she pushed them onward again at a quick pace. The sun beat down on them mercilessly, but Anaya knew the best thing to do was to keep moving and get as far as they possibly could that day. Sweat beaded on her brow and her shoulders were aching from the straps of her pack. Josie was sweating profusely and Anaya knew that they would have to stop again at sundown. Until then, she pushed them forward like a drill sergeant ignoring the mumbled complaints and the tears.
Finally, as the sun was beginning to set once more, they moved off of the road and Anaya made a small fire again. The other girls collapsed as she retrieved some cans of soup and a small sauce-pan from one of the packs and began warming it for them. As it cooked, she looked up at the desert sky and its multi-hued beauty. The clouds were a mix of midnight blue, sienna, and lavender and they melted together on the horizon. She heard a coyote cry in the distance... and far-off, some weird, keening cry that she could not identify. It sent shivers up her spine. She glanced about at the others, but they seemed not to have noticed anything. Suddenly cold though the air had not yet chilled, she wrapped her arms around herself and moved closer to the fire.
The next day was even more taxing for the girls. Still wearied from the previous days forced march and having not slept at all well on the desert floor (except for Anaya who had camped out here on her own enough to be comfortable with it), they began stiff and sore and hot. The sun burned over-head like a task-master cracking his whip against soft flesh which was red and blistering in its gaze. They had no sun-screen and their faces and exposed skin were on fire. Anaya wished now that she had thought to take the prison guards caps when they'd left. They were poor protection from the sun, but poor protection was better than none at all. She also regretted that she had not delegated out the watch in shifts. She had covered most of the night herself only sleeping for two hours or so. That would be a mistake she would not make gain tonight.
In the distance, the craggy face of rock bluffs rose and fell like a chalky brown sea, foam tops uneven and rounded. Looking up to the east she could see indentations in the rock face, red hollows pocking its surface. There was stonework and detail in the caves and she knew them to be Pueblo ruins. The cut rocked ranged in color from yellow to blue, to red, and everything in between. Had she been alone and the circumstances different, she would have made her way up to those caves and rested in the cool shadows as she had done often in the past few years in the rocks near her home. Even still the prospect was appealing. She looked back at Josie who she could hear breathing heavily. Josie's face was bright red and Anaya knew she would not make it much farther without a rest. The other girls were looking worse for wear too. She swore softly. If only she were alone, this would be so much faster and easier! She thought for not the first time of setting out on her own in the night, but that would be to virtually abandon the other girls to death. None of them aside from her had any hiking or outdoor survival experience. With the possible exception of Tina, one of the more in shape girls who had kept up better than the others, the girls had been kept the last several years of their lives either in temperature controlled environments like the detention center or in the cool air-conditioning of their homes and rarely ventured out into the heat. Anaya might be ferocious and angry when provoked, but she was not cruel. Not yet anyway.
* * *
(Much later, there will be a biker bar scene in this.)
* * *
Song by: Anaya Rowe
I don't want to see
The light burns my eyes
I'm alone here in the twilight
Watching the daylight die
Cold creeps in with the slow-dying day
I will remain out here alone
I know no other way
Too close to the fire I had dared to tread
It left me burning, dying and dead
Fireproof now, I will not wander again
But wander alone, not wondering when
Memories are mine to cherish
Like sweet cyanide in my veins
Misery my own to hold
In my own hand the tattered reins
I cannot forget you
Brief, sweet slice of life
Your hold on me the sharp edge of a knife
But never again will I walk on such precarious shores
I am all closed shutters and tightly locked doors
Do not reach to hold my hand
And please do not weep
It is in a cold bed that I will forever sleep
My secrets I will always, always keep
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