CHAPTER ONE

Nyla Ward’s grandmother was born in Pennsylvania. Her mother was born in Mississippi and she in New Mexico. The country was in transition and the Ward women had migrated west to stay ahead of progress, but the wishes of the politicians had prevailed. The direction in which the country was destined to follow was set, but the game was far from over.

The Ward women appeared to be beaten, but their spirit hadn’t been broken. Some days were more difficult than others, but Nyla refused to be the generation who gave up on the American dream of oldthe dream her grandmother had lived, her mother had tasted and she now craved.

Nyla’s vision of the America her grandmother had experienced as a young girl was shattered as she eased her bubble-shaped car off the empty highway and pulled into the scorching lot. She parked and sat for a moment, looking at the drab prison looming before her. The facility emerged from the desert like a barren concrete island surrounded by a vast sea of sagebrush and unforgiving cacti, teeming with scorpions, tarantulas, serpents and other predators of uncertain intent.

The prison looked like a mirage as heat vapors from the desert rose in eerie waves, blurring the lines of the surrounding buildings and landscape. Nyla wished the structure was just an illusion, but it wasn’t, it was her reality. Though she was free to enter and depart the dismal fortress as long as she followed the rules, its existence made her feel shackled and desperate.

“Ignition off. Door unlock. Maximum window tint,” Nyla demanded of her tiny two-door solar-powered vehicle.

She stepped out of the car and was hit by the stifling heat of a typical July day in southeast New Mexico. The wind blew, but brought no relief as it whipped her shoulder-length blonde hair into a tousled mess and scoured her eyes with dust. No matter how oppressive the heat or how uncomfortable the gusting wind, she would’ve rather stood in the elements all day than go into the Facility, as it was known around town.

As Nyla approached the bulky gate, she looked down at the scar on her palm and resentment consumed her. She forced rebellious thoughts out of her head and encouraged herself into a positive frame of mind. It wasn’t an easy task, but one she had mastered.

The gate granted the only access through the wall ringing the Facility. A laser barrier and poison-injecting darts lined the top of the barricade and gate, preventing anyone from attempting to scale the outer wall. To Nyla’s knowledge, no one had ever tried to escape, but she figured the intimidating design had more to do with breaking the spirit of the inhabitants and frightening visitors than preventing anyone from attempting to breach the impenetrable obstacle.

Nyla passed her hand in front of the scanner’s red eye and the solid-iron gate eased open. She entered and cringed as the gate clicked shut behind her. She paused, took a deep breath and followed the path leading to a heavy metal door. At this entrance, she stared into the retinal scanner and pressed her thumb into the mold, waiting for her print to be verified and her iris to be recognized. Within seconds the door opened and access was granted.

She slowly walked the length of the windowless hallway. The corridor was dark and depressing, but climate controlled to provide a gentle transition from the extreme heat outside to the numbing chill of the building’s interior. A familiar musty odor filled her nostrils, making her want to turn and leave the dreary confines of the inhumane space, but duty made her press on.

Nyla always used the short time she was entombed in the hallway to prepare herself mentally. The sound of her own footsteps echoing through the sterile emptiness created such a lonely sensation that she was able to emerge looking relieved and grateful rather than hostile, which was how she actually felt. But, the facade usually lasted only long enough to elicit a moderately polite response from the monitor and was quickly replaced with feelings of loathing.

“Have a seat in the waiting room and I’ll let the attendant know to retrieve Rachel from her cell,” stated the woman behind the glass window.

Nyla wasn’t sure how much longer she could continue to do this, but most of all she didn’t understand why no one else saw how fundamentally wrong the Facility was. The prison held thousands of people who would have been free just several decades ago. Their crimes weren’t crimes. They were simply trying to live the life America claimed to offer and at one time, the country had been exactly that place.

She sat and bowed her head, rubbing her temples, trying to force back the headache she generally got while inside the Facility. Perhaps the fluorescent light was too bright or the air too stale, but no matter the reason, the pain crept behind her eyes as she settled in for the long wait. Nyla imagined the authorities wanted visitors to feel the chill of the windowless room, to contemplate the silence and the dismal gray concrete walls, ceilings and floor. She figured the depressing décor was meant to discourage any free person from breaking the law and having to be incarcerated. The lack of human contact, color, warmth and sound was unnerving, and it provided too much time to think, making the electrocuting sound of doors opening as footsteps approached an almost a welcome distraction.

“You came,” whispered the tiny woman clad in a baggy fluorescent green jumpsuit.

The appreciative voice interrupted Nyla’s dark thoughts. She stood and smiled the warmest smile she could muster when her heart ached so deeply. Nyla wrapped her arms around the woman’s narrow drooping shoulders and held her tight, not wanting to ever let go, but knowing she must since personal expressions of emotion were strictly prohibited.

The woman cried while Nyla held her, the sounds muffled in her embrace. Every visit began the same way, but it never seemed to get any easier. Nyla suppressed her own urge to release the pain and anger bottled up inside and continued to hug the woman until she had her own emotions under control.

Nyla heard the monitor clear her throat, issuing an unspoken warning to break the physical contact. Nyla forced a smile back onto her lips, repressed the evil thoughts swirling through her mind, released the woman and stepped back to the required distance.

“Hello Mother. I’ve missed you.”