Internment(56)

It’s all a cosmic joke.

I learned about the Red Cross visit to the “model” Nazi concentration camp Theresienstadt when I visited the Holocaust museum in DC on a trip with my parents. The prisoners there received “special privileges”—they didn’t have their heads shaved; they wore regular clothes; they were even “paid” for their forced labor and could use the fake money at a café and thrift stores the Nazis set up in the camp. There were classes and parks for the children. When the Red Cross was there the kids were forced to put on a musical. It was a sick hoax, and the Red Cross bought into the Nazi propaganda. The camp passed the inspection with flying colors. Afterward, many of the prisoners at the camp were eventually sent to Auschwitz or other extermination camps. Most were killed.

If the Red Cross thought Nazi concentration camps were fine, they’re going to think this place is a fucking utopia.

I scan the protestors for another glimpse of David, but I can barely see past the fence. Between the line of Exclusion Guards on the inside and the cops in formation on the outside, I can’t see a thing. But I hear the protestors: “The people united will never be defeated.”

Jake catches up with Ayesha and me to escort us back to our block, but Ayesha and I are not returning to our Mercury Homes. We’re meeting up with Soheil, Nadia, and Nadeem at the rock garden. With the Director’s attention elsewhere and the drones quiet for the day to make the Red Cross visitors more comfortable, this is a rare moment we need to take advantage of.

“We’re good from here, Jake,” I say, expecting him to walk back to his post.

“You’re meeting the others, right? I’m coming along,” he says.

Ayesha looks at him. “How could you know that? We only decided that among ourselves, like, thirty minutes ago.”

“I heard Soheil talking about it to one of his friends as the crowd scattered. You’re not being cautious enough. Not by a long shot. That won’t end well. Trust me.”

We look at each other. Ayesha shrugs. “I guess he knows pretty much everything anyway.”

When Soheil sees the three of us arriving at the garden, he taps Nadeem on the shoulder and says something to Nadia. They turn to face us.

“It’s okay,” I say. “He’s cool.”

Soheil looks at us. “I don’t know what you mean. I thought we were going to hang out. I didn’t realize we had to do it under armed guard.”

Ayesha puts her hand on Soheil’s arm. “It’s fine. He knows.”

Soheil turns and kicks a rock, then watches it sail toward the Midway and roll to a stop, dust rising and settling in its wake. “What are you two thinking? He’s the enemy. He’s a guard, and don’t think for one second he won’t shoot us if he is ordered to.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I won’t. Not even if I’m ordered to. You have my word. And I’m not turning you in. I’m here to help you,” Jake says.

“And why should we believe that?” Soheil is incredulous. He should be. He’s being smart.

“Because he’s telling the truth,” I say. “He saved David and me. He took another story I wrote and hid it before the Director could find it on us, and he gave it to that blog. He put himself on the line for us. So, yeah, I’m saying we can trust him.”

“The Inside Mobius blog posts have gone viral, and the clip of Layla with the Director, too,” Jake says. “Every media outlet is covering them, and Anonymous put out a warning to the administration, threatening to dox them all if they don’t close the camp down. There’s even an Occupy Mobius website that’s covering the protest and putting out daily calls to action, and they’re starting a podcast on-site—Voice of Dissent.”

Ayesha hugs me. “You did this,” she whispers.

“It wasn’t me,” I say. “It was all of us.”

Ayesha winks at me. “It takes a village to raze a camp.” She gets a grin from Soheil.

“Fine,” Soheil says. “I’ll go along, but I don’t like it.”

Nadia adds, “But if his ass is on the line, what’s to prevent him from turning us all in to save himself?”

“What’s to prevent any one of us from doing that?” I ask. “It’s not like we’re trained to withstand torture.”

“I wouldn’t give anyone up,” Soheil says, “no matter what they do to me.”

Nadeem, who is maybe a couple of years older than Soheil and also plays soccer with the little kids on the Midway, puts his hand on Soheil’s shoulder and says, “Listen, man. You’re my brother, and I believe you mean that. But torture? No. None of us can hold up to anything serious. Didn’t you read about what they did to those guys at Guantanamo?”

“I won’t turn you in. Any of you. And I have SERE training,” Jake says.

We all look at him. I shrug and raise my palms. “I don’t think any of us know what that means,” I say.

“Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape.” Jake speaks in short clips. I can imagine him barking those words in response to an order.

“So that means you won’t give in to torture?” Nadia asks, and crosses her arms.

“There’s no guarantee. SERE is only training. I’m sure I could sustain some level of duress. Every human being has a breaking point, but you have my word that I will resist.”