Little Brother

It will be humane. There will be real food. No interrogations. Visits from your family.
    "Just because the DHS is out, it doesn't mean that you get to just walk out of here. What's happened here is that we're getting rid of the bizarro-world version of the justice system they'd instituted and replacing it with the old system. The system with judges, open trials and lawyers.
    "So we can try to get you transferred to a juvie facility on the mainland, but Marcus, those places can be really rough. Really, really rough. This might be the best place for you until we get you bailed out."
    Bailed out. Of course. I was a criminal — I hadn't been charged yet, but there were bound to be plenty of charges they could think of. It was practically illegal just to think impure thoughts about the government.
    She gave my hands another squeeze. "It sucks, but this is how it has to be. The point is, it's over . The Governor has thrown the DHS out of the State, dismantled every checkpoint. The Attorney General has issued warrants for any law-enforcement officers involved in 'stress interrogations' and secret imprisonments. They'll go to jail, Marcus, and it's because of what you did."
    I was numb. I heard the words, but they hardly made sense. Somehow, it was over, but it wasn't over.
    "Look," she said. "We probably have an hour or two before this all settles down, before they come back and put you away again. What do you want to do? Walk on the beach? Get a meal? These people had an incredible staff room — we raided it on the way in. Gourmet all the way."
    At last a question I could answer. "I want to find Ange. I want to find Darryl."

    I tried to use a computer I found to look up their cell-numbers, but it wanted a password, so we were reduced to walking the corridors, calling out their names. Behind the cell-doors, prisoners screamed back at us, or cried, or begged us to let them go. They didn't understand what had just happened, couldn't see their former guards being herded onto the docks in plastic handcuffs, taken away by California state SWAT teams.
    "Ange!" I called over the din, "Ange Carvelli! Darryl Glover! It's Marcus!"
    We'd walked the whole length of the cell-block and they hadn't answered. I felt like crying. They'd been shipped overseas — they were in Syria or worse. I'd never see them again.
    I sat down and leaned against the corridor wall and put my face in my hands. I saw Severe Haircut Woman's face, saw her smirk as she asked me for my login. She had done this. She would go to jail for it, but that wasn't enough. I thought that when I saw her again, I might kill her. She deserved it.
    "Come on," Barbara said, "Come on, Marcus. Don't give up. There's more around here, come on."
    She was right. All the doors we'd passed in the cellblock were old, rusting things that dated back to when the base was first built. But at the very end of the corridor, sagging open, was a new high-security door as thick as a dictionary. We pulled it open and ventured into the dark corridor within.
    There were four more cell-doors here, doors without bar codes. Each had a small electronic keypad mounted on it.
    "Darryl?" I said. "Ange?"
    "Marcus?"
    It was Ange, calling out from behind the furthest door. Ange, my Ange, my angel.
    "Ange!" I cried. "It's me, it's me!"
    "Oh God, Marcus," she choked out, and then it was all sobs.
    I pounded on the other doors. "Darryl! Darryl, are you here?"
    "I'm here." The voice was very small, and very hoarse. "I'm here. I'm very, very sorry. Please. I'm very sorry."
    He sounded... broken. Shattered.
    "It's me, D," I said, leaning on his door. "It's Marcus. It's over — they arrested the guards. They kicked the Department of Homeland Security out. We're getting trials, open trials. And we get to testify against them ."
    "I'm sorry," he said. "Please, I'm so sorry."
    The California patrolmen came to the door then. They still had their camera rolling. "Ms Stratford?" one said. He had his faceplate up and he looked like any other cop, not like my savior. Like someone come to lock me up.
    "Captain Sanchez," she said. "We've located two of the prisoners of interest here. I'd like to see them released and inspect them for myself."
    "Ma'am, we don't have access codes for those doors yet," he said.
    She held up her hand. "That wasn't the arrangement. I was to have complete access to this facility. That came direct from the Governor, sir. We aren't budging until you open these cells." Her face was perfectly