all god's orphans

The gate slammed behind them leaving Kite and Millie alone in the large empty cell. For a moment, they simply stood there, looking at the shiny, black payphone stuck to the back wall. After a few minutes, they ambled to one of the metal picnic tables and took a seat on top of it, ignoring the numerous bunks. Neither of them felt like sleeping.

“Maybe we should try to make the phone call.” Kite offered. Millie put her head in one hand and with the other she typed.

“It won’t work. It’s always a man who calls into the station and I doubt you can fake a Utah accent.”

“Who is Utah?” Kite asked, causing Millie to put her machine on the table and hold up her heavy head with both hands.

On the other side of the steel door, Wallace was in a similar pose. Sitting at the picnic table, his head resting atop his clasped hands, he stared through the bars at the phone, willing the bars to disappear. He tried to make himself feel better by noting that Millie’s plan would never have worked. You can’t just call up the desk at a jail and say, “Hey, Bill said to let those guys go.” That’s not how life works. Or, it didn’t used to work like that. Wallace had no idea if that were still true. Despair pressed down on him. He had failed in his mission. He could have prevented so much death if he could have just gotten inside the mountain. He had to admit, his plan had about as much a chance for success as Millie’s, and now they were never going to get to put either into action. He closed his eyes and let sleep tease him.

Kite walked around the cell, taking it all in. On the women’s side of the jail, the bathrooms were separated from the living section by a slightly higher wall and there were stalls for the toilets, but no doors. The men didn’t even get stalls. She ran her hand over the painted bars and felt flakes of paint release their grip as she did so, watching the small, pale green bits fall to the floor. There were thirty bunk beds lining three of the walls with four of the metal picnic tables in the middle of the space. Only one wall was actual block, the rest were bars, affording easy views into the adjoining cells. There’s was the largest, by far.

Millie still sat at the table holding her head and Kite wanted nothing more than to comfort her. She thought about Grey and wondered where he might be, but mainly she worried about Millie. She seemed so alone is all of this. Sitting beside her, Kite took her hand.

“It’s going to be ok.” She told her. Millie gave her a weak smile, letting her know that her effort was appreciated, but ultimately, also pointless. “You know,” Kite tried again. “I’m starting to get used to these jail places.” Millie snorted. It was as close to a laugh as she was capable of getting at the moment.

“Why were you in that makeshift jail when I found you?”

“They said they found illicit materials in my house.” This was something that Millie had not heard before. She had seen the general’s men rounding up people before, but it was usually for something easier to pronounce.

“What kind of illicit materials?” She asked, before it dawned on her. “Do you mean porn?”

“Porn?” Kite asked. Millie blushed.

“Naked videos of people ducking.” Kite was even more confused.

“What is ‘ducking’?” She repeated Millie’s machine.

“Stupid autocorrect.” Millie slapped her machine. “Sex. You know sex don’t you?”

“Ah.” Kite finally nodded. “No. It was a book.”

“A book?” Millie had no idea what she might be talking about.

“Yes. A green book. With golden fire painted on the front.” In an instant, Millie understood. When she had been able to get away to the library, there was a section near the back for religion. She usually avoided that area, not only because she knew more about religion than she cared to, but because that was where the little old ladies tended to congregate. They weren’t even there for the books, which pissed Millie off. They just sat in the little reading circle chatting and soaking up the air conditioning in the summer and the heating in the winter.

Once, she was looking for a book on the history of Hell and she realized that there was a small section of books under the heading “World Religions.” Out of curiosity, she selected one at random. It, too, had been green, along with the ones to the left and right of it. The front was covered in swirly gold leaf and it read, “The Noble Qu’ran.” She had never heard of it and had to ask the librarian what it was.

“That’s the Moslim Bible.” She was told. “Put it back.” The librarian seemed scared of it, as though it had the power to infect all who touched it. Millie had heard of Muslims, of course, but nothing beyond them being terrorists and Middle Eastern. She had never thought of what they might call their Bible and it seemed odd to her that she hadn’t. Her face and heart fell.

“What is it?” Kite asked.

“They arrested you for being Muslim.” She said.

“I don’t know what that is.” She replied. The innocence of her face was enough to threaten Millie’s eyes with tears.

“I know.” Millie told her. “It wouldn’t matter if you did. It would still be unfair.”

“Is that why they are holding us here?” Kite asked. “I heard one of them call us Muslim before.” Millie shot up.

“What?” She typed. “When?”

“In the back of the truck when they were driving us here.” Said Kite as Millie grew increasingly upset. “They were on the radio and I heard them say something about Muslim.”

“Fuck.” Millie poked at the keyboard insistently to make sure that goddamn stupid fucking stupid auto goddamn correct wasn’t going to get in her way. “Listen to me, Kite.” She began, her eyes expanding like the universe. “Listen very carefully. Your life depends on it. If they ask you anything about being a Muslim, you deny everything. Got it? You don’t know anything about Muhammad or the Qu’ran or any of it.” Kite was confused.

“I don’t know anything about it.” She said plainly.

“I know.” Said Millie hurriedly. “But you do know Jesus. Understand?” Kite shook her head. Millie took a deep breath. “The people holding us are Mormon. They don’t get along with people from my neck of the woods and they sure as shit don’t like Muslims. If they ask if you are saved, you say, ‘I’m washed in the same blood you are, brother.’ Understand?”

“That sounds grotesque.” Kite observed.

“Just say it.” Millie typed.

“I’m washed in the same blood you are, brother.” Millie stopped for a moment.

“On second thought, don’t say ‘brother’. I imagine it would freak them out.” Kite nodded. “Second, if they ask anything about Jesus Christ, you are his biggest fan. And Joseph Smith.” She added as an afterthought.

“I am Jesus Christ’s biggest fan.” Kite repeated.

“Don’t say it like that, though.” Admonished Millie, desperately trying to get her point across and failing. “We’re going to have to practice. Who knows how much time…” Before she could finish typing, the steel door opened and the male deputy entered followed by two armed soldiers.

“Let’s go.” He said, lackadaisically unlocking their door. “On your feet.” Kite and Millie stood, clasped their hands, and walked slowly towards the door, fearing the worst. As they stepped into the corridor, Kite turned to the soldier closest to her.

“I am Joseph Christ’s biggest fan.” She announced smiling. Millie hung her head in defeat. The soldiers escorted them through the steel door past the cells where they had placed Wallace, but it was empty now. Where had they taken him?

Without a word, they were led through the station and out the front door to the parking lot. There, a large, white passenger van sat idling with three more armed soldiers standing outside of it. As one of the soldiers reached to open the door for them, Millie just hoped their deaths would be quick and painless.