Domestic Enemies: The Reconquista Read Free Page B

locking it behind them with a dead bolt. She pulled off her sunglasses, revealing startling ice-blue eyes, made more so by the contrast to her raven hair.
    “I’ve prepared a wonderful salad for us, and I can fix you almost any kind of deli sandwich you’d like.  But first I think you’d like to clean up, and take a real bath—am I right?”  Linssen cocked an eyebrow, almost winking, and smiled knowingly at Ranya.  Detainees were permitted only cold showers, twice a week, in the open barracks latrines.  Shaving legs and underarms was not possible, and shampoo was a rarely seen luxury. “I’ve gone to central supply and drawn you some new uniforms.  I really don’t think you’ll be going back to the fields.”  The warden was now beaming continuously, obviously in anticipation of more than a leisurely luncheon.
                 Ranya looked around the living room and adjoining kitchen, absorbing the soft homey touches, while noting the absence of evidence of any family.  There was a calendar on the wall by the open kitchen door, and she noted that it was Friday, the 20 th of June—not that this had much meaning in the camps.  She asked, “Why are you doing this for me? I don't understand.”  But Ranya did understand.  She hoped that Linssen would have news of her son, and she guessed what Linssen wanted in return. In spite of her five years in detention at hard labor, Ranya knew that Linssen was attracted to her.  The warden had regularly checked up on her, and always used her first name.  Ranya was 27, and although the summer sun and bitter winter cold had aged her a bit beyond her years, she still had a face and a figure which made most of the guards, male and female, follow her with their eyes.  The meager prison diet kept her slim, and the field work kept her fit.
    “Ranya, do you think I like the way detainees are treated in D-Camp? I don’t!  I try to make the conditions as…tolerable as I can.  But I don’t set policy!  And our budget—oh, our budget!  It’s still set in dollars, as if that meant anything these days…  That’s why the farm and cattle operations are so important to us—we could never get by, otherwise.  Anyway, I’m hopeful that the Civil Emergency will be lifted soon, maybe after the election, and you’ll all be released!  Amnesty!  But it’s a political decision, and I have nothing to do with it.  Nothing.  You know, I’m just a tiny cog in the machine.”  Linssen half-smiled wistfully.  “In fact, I’m almost as much of a prisoner out here as you are…”
    Ranya’s reply was cold and matter-of-fact.  “We’ll never be released. I was sent here for three years ‘detention,’ that’s what the judges said at my first Article 14 hearing.  But after my three years were up, they just tacked on another three.  No hearing, no nothing.  In five years, I’ve never seen a lawyer.  I’ve never sent or received as much as a phone call or a postcard. How can they ever release us, when they don’t even admit they have us in detention?  When they don’t even admit these camps exist?”
    “It’s the Civil Emergency, and when it’s over, I’m sure there’ll be an amnesty.”
    “I don’t think it’ll ever be over.”
    “I don’t believe that.  I can’t believe that!  But neither of us can do anything about it—we have to play the cards we’ve been dealt.  In the meantime, I can…I can make life a lot better for you.  You went to the University of Virginia; I went to VPI…we have a lot in common, you know!  You almost graduated, and someday I’m sure you’ll be able to finish your education.  But for now, I can move you into the admin section. You’ll work inside, in air conditioning! And I can move you to the trusties’ barracks…they have some privacy; they even have their own washer and dryer. It’s really not so bad there.”
    “I guess I should be grateful…even though…”
    “Yes, I think so too…and we