Chapter 56 "The Maze"
Ember
The four of them shuffled into a line, backs against the concrete wall of the loading area. Ember was between Jade and Mika, close enough to hear Mika's quiet, hiccupping sobs.
Rivera walked down the line, studying each of them like livestock being evaluated.
"Welcome to Baxter Correctional Facility for Women," she said, her voice carrying easily in the enclosed space. "I'm Sergeant Rivera, and I'm going to explain how this is going to work. You're about to be processed into this facility. That means photographs, fingerprints, medical screening, and housing assignment. This process will take several hours. During this time, you will follow instructions immediately and without question. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," they mumbled.
"I can't hear you."
"YES, MA'AM," they said louder, more in unison.
"Better." Rivera clasped her hands behind her back. "Let me be very clear about something. This is not a hotel. This is not a rehabilitation center. This is a correctional facility. You are here because you committed crimes. You are here to serve your time. If you follow the rules, keep your head down, and don't cause problems, your time here can be manageable. If you fight us, if you cause trouble, if you think you're special your time here will be hell." She paused, letting that sink in. "Any questions?"
Silence.
"Good. Officer Hayes, take them to intake."
Another officer stepped forward shorter, stocky, with grey hair and tired eyes. "This way. Single file. Keep your spacing."
They shuffled forward, the chains making that awful sound with every step. Through a door that required a key card to open. Down a corridor painted institutional beige with fluorescent lights that buzzed overhead.
Ember tried to memorize the route turn left here, straight ahead there but it was useless. Every corridor looked the same. Every door was identical. This place was designed to be a maze, impossible to navigate without permission.
They stopped at a room marked "INTAKE."
"Inside. Sit on the benches. No talking."
The room was sterile concrete walls, metal benches bolted to the floor, that same harsh lighting. There were already two other women there, both in the same grey jumpsuits, both looking as miserable as Ember felt.
Ember sat down next to Jade, her chains rattling. The metal bench was cold even through her clothes.
Time passed. Ember wasn't sure how long there were no clocks, no windows to track the sun's position. Could've been twenty minutes. Could've been an hour.
One by one, women were called into an adjoining room. Carol went first. She was gone for what felt like forever, then returned looking exhausted and was led away by a different officer.
Then it was a woman Ember didn't know older, heavyset, with a look that suggested this wasn't her first time in prison.
Then Mika, who was still crying.
Then Jade, who shot Ember a look before she went. Something like good luck or maybe this is fucked or maybe just acknowledgment that they were in this together now, whether they liked it or not.
And then it was just Ember, sitting alone in the intake room with the buzzing lights and the cold bench and the knowledge that every step forward took her deeper into this nightmare.
"Winters!"
Ember's head snapped up. Officer Hayes was standing in the doorway.
"Let's go. Processing."
Ember stood, her legs stiff, and followed Hayes into the next room.
It was set up like a medical examination area sterile, cold, with bright lights and the smell of disinfectant so strong it made her eyes water. There was a counter with a computer, a camera setup in one corner, and what looked like medical equipment on a rolling cart.
Two officers waited both female, both with that same expression of professional detachment.
"Stand on the mark," one of them said, gesturing to a piece of tape on the floor.
Ember shuffled forward until her toes touched the tape.
"Face the camera."
The camera flash was blinding. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Turn to your left."
Flash.
"Turn to your right."
Flash.
"Face forward again and hold this." An officer handed her a placard with a number on it. 847392.
Flash.
"Put the placard down. Hands on the counter for fingerprinting."
They'd already done this at the police station, but apparently the state needed their own records. Ember placed her hands on the electronic scanner, watching the screen as each fingerprint appeared loops and whorls that were supposedly unique to her, that would be stored in databases forever, marking her as a convicted criminal.
"Step over here for vitals."
Height. Weight. Blood pressure. Temperature. The officer taking her vitals was efficient but not unkind, her touch impersonal but not rough.
"Any medical conditions we should know about?"
"No."
"Allergies?"
"No."
"Medications?"
"No."
"Are you pregnant or think you might be pregnant?"
"No."
"When was your last menstrual period?"
Ember had to think about it. Everything had been such chaos. "Maybe... two weeks ago?"
The officer made a note. "Any history of mental illness? Depression, anxiety, anything like that?"
"No," she said quietly.
Another note. "Any history of self-harm or suicidal ideation?"
"No."
"If that changes, you need to tell staff immediately. Understood?"
"Yes."
The medical screening was quick, professional, and deeply uncomfortable. But at least they let her keep her underwear on, which was more dignity than she'd been afforded at the police station.
"You're clear," the officer finally said. "Officer Hayes will take you to supply."
Supply was another room this one lined with shelves containing stacks of grey uniforms, linens, toiletries. Everything was institutional, generic, designed for bulk distribution rather than individual comfort.
An officer behind a counter consulted a tablet. "Winters, Ember. Size?"
"Um. Small? Medium?"
The officer looked her up and down, then grabbed items from the shelves. "Two uniforms. One size medium, one size large for layering. Two pairs of socks. Two pairs of underwear. Sports bra looks like you're a small. One pair of shoes what size?"
"Seven and a half."
"We've got eights. They'll fit." She added canvas slip-on shoes to the growing pile. "One bedroll that's your mattress, pillow, sheets, and blanket. One toiletry kit soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, shampoo, and five menstrual pads. You get a new kit monthly. Anything else you want, you buy from commissary with your own money. You got money?"
"I... I don't know."
"Well, you better figure it out. Commissary's Wednesday. If you got nothing in your account, you're shit out of luck until someone deposits money for you." She shoved the pile of items across the counter. "Sign here acknowledging you received everything."
Ember signed with a pen chained to the counter.
"Hayes, she's all yours."
Officer Hayes gathered up Ember's supplies her arms were too full to carry it all herself with the chains still on and led her back into the corridor.
"You're in Unit B, cell 2-17," Hayes said as they walked. "Your cellmate is already there. She's been here a while, so listen to what she tells you. Makes life easier."
A cellmate. Ember was going to be sharing a tiny cell with a complete stranger. For years.
They went through more locked doors, each one requiring Hayes to swipe her key card. Up a set of metal stairs that clanged with every step. Down another corridor lined with cells, some with doors open, some closed.