Lighthouse Island by Paulette Jiles

Author:Paulette Jiles
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Keep to the white line, a policeman said. He herded them along with light taps of his club. Nadia stared straight ahead at the policewoman sitting behind the computer screen. One side of her face felt tight and hot as it bloomed into a great bruise.

I have to get out of here, I have to get out of here, the words set off galloping through her head like a film clip of wild horses. How do I get out of here? By being nobody.

But then all her records said she was somebody.

Nadia tried to hear what was being said to the policewoman but hundreds of voices made a wall of noise. Prisoners crept past sweeping and their brooms raised dust clouds. The high ceiling sagged with hanging electrical lines and ripped patches of plaster.

The policewoman behind the computer monitor at the head of Nadia’s line lifted a cup of coffee to her lips without taking her eyes off the screen. After speaking with each woman in turn, she indicated with a quick gesture for her to go to another area. Names were being called. Brown, Margaret! Ortiz, Jane! A good-looking young woman clutching a string bag of market purchases stood shaking in front of the line. She had fine blond hair under a bright flowered head wrap.

The policewoman squinted at her and then said to a guard, Take this one for a screen test. She’s got a good TV face. The policewoman rattled at the keyboard. Try her out for trial and execution.

A guard told the girl, This way. He took her by the arm and led her toward a high, broad doorway where a man in a suit and tie sat behind a desk. Beyond the desk Nadia saw daylight, outside light. The doorway out of this place.

The girl held on to her string bag and cried out that she wanted her arrest on record, weren’t they going to identify her? She had her ID, right here, please. The guard shoved her ahead and the women in the line turned and stared at one another.

Nadia was now standing at the front of the line.

Right hand here, the policewoman said. She tapped a pad beside the screen. Hurry up. Are you deaf, goddammit?

Nadia placed her hand on the gray pad and it was slightly warm as if it were made of flesh. The pad turned green at the bottom edge and then the green color rolled up and under her hand and took her fingerprints.

The policewoman had not taken her eyes off the screen. Huh, she said. Then she shrugged and said, Your name is Sandra . . . no, Sendra Bentley.

Nadia said, That’s correct.

You are employed at the Urban . . . The policewoman paused, and then leaned forward to look at the screen and then began again. The Urban Geospatial Utilization Institute under the Department of Nonutilized Urban Housing.

That’s right, said Nadia. Her bruised face was still and she did not miss a beat.

Research.

Yes.

Research, ah, the Anthem Advisory Council.

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