Just My Job - II

Molly scratched desperately at the window as the van pulled away. She saw Zachary waving and trying to tell her something, but her heart was beating too fast to comprehend anything. How could she have been kicking a bottle cap around the bar five minutes ago and now be separated from her sister?

She threw herself on the cold metal floor of the van and began to cry. As her crying became louder, so did the baby's, until the noise was deafening.

"Quiet," shouted one of the ICE officers, banging on the metal separating the driving compartment from the mobile prison.

"Morons," whispered Molly as she picked up the baby from the stroller.

"Don't worry, baby. My sister will sort this out, and we'll be home soon.

These horrible men don't scare us!" But saying these words out loud made Molly realize she was scared. She had never been so frightened in her life, and she began to cry again while she hugged the little cub.

"I can't just call you baby," said Molly. "Maybe I should call you Cutey Cute. That's a good name. Although, maybe your name should be Smelly Smell, as you have done a stinky poo."

Molly held the baby at arm's length. She could see the diaper was bulging; it looked like the baby leopard had the bum of a hippopotamus.

"Let's try and sort this out," said Molly.

She rummaged through the stroller's storage basket.

"We have a clean diaper, some wet wipes, and a little soft mat for you to lie on. Now, I'm sorry, Cutey Cute, I've never done this before, so I might make a mess, but let's try."

Molly held in her tears and put Cutey Cute on the mat. The little leopard stopped crying and stared at Molly with her big blue eyes. "I'm very scared, Cutey, but I'm going to try and be brave for you!"

Molly struggled to take off Cutey's clothes. There were poppers in places she didn't expect, a hole for her little tail that seemed too small, but eventually, she was down to the swollen diaper.

Molly held her nose, then realized it was a two-handed job as Cutey was wiggling about, kicking herself off the mat.

She pulled the fastening tape, and the diaper fell open.

"Gross!" yelled Molly, covering her nose. "How did all that come out of you? It looks like it weighs more than you do."

Cutey giggled and began to kick her bare legs up in the air.

Molly picked up the heavy diaper and looked around for an appropriate place to put it. In a panic, she threw it onto the metal seat welded onto the wall of the van.

She wiped the young leopard clean, careful not to get her little tail dirty.

Then, quite pleased with her work, she strapped the new nappy onto the baby and redressed her.

"Looking good," Molly said as Cutey snuggled into her shoulder. "This van pongs, though; I hope we're there soon, wherever 'there' is."

Little Cutey went to sleep on Molly, which, although Molly was scared, made her smile.

"I'll look after you, Cutey Cute," she whispered as the van came to a stop.

Molly began crying again as the door opened; she tried to keep her sobs silent so as not to wake the baby.

"Look at my van!" shouted the ICE officer. "There's poo all over the seat and the floor! I'm going to have to clean that up, you little brat."

Molly glared at him. "Shhhh," she said, flicking her eyes towards the sleeping cub. "It serves you right, anyway."

She walked away from the angry boar, and two other boars walked her toward a ten-foot-high, mesh wire fence topped with barbed wire. The boar pressed a button, and a gate opened; they all walked towards a big, factory-like building.

Molly's tear-filled eyes widened as they entered the building. Inside, there were hundreds of children, a few crying, but most lying down, wrapped in silver foil blankets. Thick mesh wire segmented the vast space into smaller areas, each twenty-five meter square section filled with over thirty kids.

"Go there," said an officer, gently pushing Molly toward a desk.

"Hello," smiled a tired-looking cow. "What language do you speak?"

Molly wasn't expecting the question. "The language you are speaking,"

she managed to answer between sobs.

"Great. Let's get you processed," said the cow. "Name?"

"Molly Leap."

"Age?"

"Nine."

"Mother's name?"

Molly thought about this. Her real parents didn't know she was there, so she said her sister's name, "Monica Leap."

"Where are you from on Skull Island?"

"I'm from Peace City. I shouldn't be here."

"Sure, sure," said the cow. "What about her name?" She pointed at the baby.

"I don't know," wept Molly.

"Kid, don't play games. Tell me her real name, and then maybe you'll see your parents again."

"I call her Cutey Cute. I mean, Cutey Leap."

"Fine, take these." The cow handed Molly two silver foil blankets, and she turned to the waiting ICE officers. "Put them in pen nine."

The officers marched Molly and the sleeping Cutey to a holding cell half-full of children. A few looked up as the officer opened the door, but they didn't acknowledge their two new cellmates.

Molly shuffled to some free space on the floor, laid down, put Cutey on top of her, and continued to cry.

"I hope Zachary gets Monica out soon so they can rescue us," she whispered to the baby.

Monica looked out the small window at the back of her steel box. She saw Zachary pull out his phone and look at it before the van turned a corner, and she wondered if she would ever see him again. I wish we were relying on someone other than Zachary to save us, she thought. He might start smoking cigarettes or chatting to someone and forget about us.

Monica kicked the wall nearest the ICE officers in the front of the van.

"I'm a Nation-X citizen. Why have you detained me?" she shouted.

"Be quiet!" one of the officers shouted back.

"No," she said, kicking the van again. "Why are you even deporting these poor people?"

"Shut up," came the reply. "There are many terrorists in Nation-X; we are deporting them to make everyone safer."

"Terrorists? A baby and a nine-year-old? You idiots wouldn't know the difference between a terrorist and a tomato." She kicked the wall again.

"Take me to my sister; you can't do this to us!"

"Shut up."

"I won't shut up. Kids separated from their parents can get toxically stressed, and it can impact the way their brain develops and lead to post-traumatic stress disorder. You are causing this, you jerks!" She gave the metal wall a final left-footed whack before she gave up, exhausted.

They pulled up to the detention center, a separate company ran the adult compound. It looked like a long white tent, maybe two hundred meters long. The same two officers that had thrown Monica into the van came to extract her.

"Take me to my sister, jerks!" she yelled as they pulled her out. "You are complicit in causing psychological distress to thousands of children. You are abusing children for a paycheck!"

"We are just doing our job," said one of the boars.

"Saying that doesn't excuse what you are doing! It might not have been your idea, but you are doing it!"

Monica continued to shout while they processed her and pushed her into an adult version of Molly's small, fenced prison.

"All of you know what you are doing is wrong. If you all stop pretending it's okay, you can do the right thing!" she yelled as they locked the door.

"Eurgh, moral-less idiots," Monica screamed as she found a space on the floor and flopped down, wrapping her foil blanket around her knees.

She looked around her. There were about twenty adults in her section, most lying down with their eyes open. The cells went as far as Monica could see. The sound of adults quietly crying sent a shiver down her spine.

Couldn't we all revolt and escape? Monica wondered before spotting some armed guards.

"Eurgh," she huffed again.

"You," came a voice next to her. "It's you. But, where is my baby?"

Monica knew who she was about to see. She turned her head and looked into the watery eyes of the yellow-headdressed leopard who had abandoned her child at the bar, what seemed like months ago.

"Hi." Monica looked at the lady, unable to imagine what she must be going through.

"My baby! Where is my baby? Is she safe?" Her eyes begged Monica for good news.

"I'm sorry, I failed you. Your baby, along with my sister, got taken by the ICE officers about ten minutes after they took you."

The woman sobbed; Monica put an arm around her.

Monica allowed herself to close her eyes for a few minutes while she processed the events of the last few hours.

The next thing she knew, an ICE officer was at the gate to their holding cell, shouting, "Jerpimi. Jerpimi Jacks. Where is Jerpimi Jacks?"

"I am Jerpimi," said the leopard in the yellow headdress, standing up.

"Come with me," said the officer, opening the gate.

The lady looked back at Monica as the officer marched her away.

Monica stood up and leaned against the cold fence. I can't sit here doing nothing. What can I do? I wish I could talk to Zachary. This was impossible; the ICE officers had taken all her possessions, including her phone, when they processed her.

She looked around at the other prisoners. None of them looked like they had any clever ideas about how to escape; everyone looked resigned to their fate.

Monica sat back down. A hysterical crying sound made her swivel around; most people didn't even move. The lady, Jerpimi, was being dragged back. The guards pulled her up to the gate, unlocked it, and she slumped onto the floor of the cell.

"Jerpimi," Monica said as she approached her. "What happened?"

"I'm to be deported back to Skull Island. They refused my application to stay." She used her headdress to wipe away tears. "I don't know where my baby is."

"She's with Molly. We can get them to help find her, and I need to find Molly too."

"I don't know if I want to find her," sobbed Jerpimi.

"What?" asked Monica.

"Her name is Futey. She was born in Nation-X, so she can legally stay,

even if I get deported. The area I live in on Skull Island is so dangerous I don't want to take her there. That's why I left her at your bar. It was the hardest decision I have ever had to make, and I only had a few minutes to decide as the ICE officers were scooping up all the Skull Islanders from our neighborhood." Monica hugged the weeping woman. "But, I feel like I will die if I don't see my baby again. Her life will certainly be better in Nation-X.

It's so hard!"

I need to think of something, thought Monica.

"Monica Leap, Monica Leap," shouted the ICE officer.

"I'll be back," Monica whispered to Jerpimi as she stood up.

The officer smiled awkwardly at Monica. "This way, please, madam." Monica followed the ICE officer past the hundreds of forlorn immigrants in their mesh cages.

"How can you do this to these people?" she spat at the officer.

"I'm just doing my job, madam," replied the boar.

"Is that all you people can say?"

"Please go in here, ma'am," he said, guiding Monica into a small brick building next to the vast tent.

"Monica Leap," said a monkey in a police uniform as Monica entered. "I'm Officer Kelly, and this is ICE Officer Biggins." He pointed to a boar who was standing next to him. "We have investigated a report from a gentlemen at your bar, and it turns out you are Monica Leap, a Nation-X citizen."

"I know that. You don't need to tell me who I am, thanks," she said, her voice getting louder. "Where is my sister? You better not have hurt her!"

"On behalf of Midland Police and the ICE unit, I would like to offer our most sincere apologies for the confusion we have caused today," said the monkey.

"Have you seen the conditions in there? Hundreds of innocent people are lying on a cold floor. They deserve your apologies more than me, or do they deserve to be living in inhumane conditions because they were born in the wrong part of Planet-X? Take me to my sister, now!"

The boar stepped forward, handing Monica her phone and possessions.

"I, too, would like to express my regret at what happened today. Mistakes happen, but I want you to know that my staff were just trying—"

"To do their job," interrupted Monica. "Yes, everyone is blindly trying to do their job without questioning whether the torture and abuse of innocent children and adults is an acceptable career choice. I hope they pay you enough to be able to sleep well at night. If you had a conscience, Mr. Biggins, you would let these people go. Take me to my sister, Officer Kelly,

right now."

Officer Kelly nodded to ICE Officer Biggins and led Monica to his police car.

"It's about a ten-minute ride to the kiddy's detention center," he said, revving up his engine.

The words kiddy, detention, and center sent a shiver down her spine.

Those three words should never meet together.

"Do you have children, Officer Kelly?" Monica asked.

"Two beautiful daughters, ma'am," he replied.

"Then how can you stand by while parents are being taken away from their young, innocent children?"

"Well, Nation-X is trying to protect its citizens, and we are weeding out the terrorists and deporting them."

"You are deporting hundreds of thousands of people each year. Of course, they aren't all terrorists."

"Hey, that's not my department; I'm a good cop, okay?" said Officer Kelly as they pulled into a car park next to a grey factory-like building behind a high fence.

"No, you are complicit in this. You can see what is happening to these children, and you don't stand up to it. A good cop wouldn't do that," said Monica, getting out of the car.

"This way, miss," said the monkey, pressing a button on the gate.

They entered the dismal building, and Monica began to cry for the umpteenth time that day.

"Imagine if your beautiful girls were locked up in there," Monica said to Officer Kelly, pointing at the rows of caged, dispirited children.

The policeman bit his upper lip.

"This is inhumane," she snarled at him.

A tiger in a suit approached them. "Gerry Homer," said the man thrusting out his hand to shake Monica's.

Monica ignored the offer to embrace the tiger's paw. "Get my sister out of here," she said.

"Yes, of course. An officer is collecting her now. I'm the Homeland Security Secretary; I came here as soon as I heard about the mix-up. I'd like to say—"

Monica interrupted. "You are sorry. Just doing their job, blah, blah, blah."

"We are committed to fighting terrorism, we believe—"

Monica cut him off again. "You are creating terrorists, not fighting them.

This, right here," she fanned her arm out, indicating the children. "This is how Nation-X breeds terrorists. These kids don't hate Nation-X; it's much

better and safer than where they came from. But we treat them like this.

Give them irreversible psychological scars; then they begin to hate us. Then they become easily recruited into terrorism. You are creating the problem, Mr. Homer. If you have children but can look at these children and see them as any different, you are an evil man."

Gerry looked at the floor awkwardly.

"Monica," shouted a tiny voice.

"Molly!" shouted Monica, running over to her sister and hugging her.

"Why have you got the baby?" she whispered.

"They think she's our sister; I can't leave her," Molly whispered back.

"Again, I am terribly sorry about the mistake, Ms. Leap," said Gerry Homer.

"You can tell my lawyer how sorry you are. Look at these kids! Sort it out and close this terrorist factory." She turned to Officer Kelly. "Take us back to my bar."

Molly, Futey, and Monica sat in the back seat of the police car. After Molly convinced Monica that she was okay and not too traumatized, they began to whisper to each other again.

"Can we adopt Cutey Cute?" asked Molly.

"I don't think so. She should be with her family. I need to think about what to do. Her real name is Futey."

"I looked after her. I was fearless, just for her!"

"Good girl, Molly. Well done."

"Can we buy her some new clothes?" asked Molly.

"I think the first thing we'll buy Futey is a new diaper."

Molly sniffed the air. "Good idea."

Despite her dirty diaper, Futey fell asleep on Molly, and Molly rested on Monica's shoulder during the drive.

Officer Kelly got out to open the back door for them, outside Monica's Bar.

"Is there anything else I can do for you today, ma'am?" he asked as they got out.

"Get that prison for innocent children closed down. That would be a good start," she said, not looking at the monkey.

As they approached the bar's double doors, they opened, and Zachary came out, cigarette in mouth and a lit match approaching it.

"You're back," he said through his first smokey exhale.

"Thanks for phoning the police," said Monica.

"I didn't know what else to do. Are you all okay?"

"We're a bit exhausted. I'll make some drinks and decide what to do with this baby. Can you grab a packet of diapers from the shop?" asked Monica.

"Sure," said Zachary.

Tyrone Gunter was behind the bar; there weren't many customers, and country music was playing at a low volume.

"Monica! Molly! And a baby!" he shouted. "I was so worried about you."

Monica told Tyrone what had happened and the horrifying scenes she had witnessed at the detention centers.

"That's disgusting. How can they treat people like that?" he asked.

"What'll happen to the baby?"

"The mother isn't sure what to do. If she takes her back to Skull Island, Futey will be in danger. But, obviously, she wants to be with her child. She suggested putting her up for adoption," explained Monica.

"How can a mother possibly make that decision? I'm sure adopted children are at risk here too. Many who go through the child welfare system end up living in poverty. It's hard to know what's best for the poor little thing," said Tyrone, pouring two orange juices and a small cup of milk.

They sat silently, Molly helping the baby lap up some milk and Monica racking her brain for the right path to take.

"Why don't you marry her, Tyrone? Then Jerpimi Jacks can stay in Nation-X and be with her baby," said Monica.

"Marry someone I've never met? Would she even want to marry me?"

said Tyrone, trying to gauge if his boss was serious.

"Just marry her so she can stay; it would be your good deed for the day!"

"I'm not sure. Won't people realize we aren't in love?" asked the gnu.

The door to the bar swung open.

"Futey!" cried a lady in a yellow headdress.

The little baby in Molly's arms began to kick her legs excitedly.

Jerpimi ran over to Molly and took her baby.

"How did you get out?" gasped Monica. "I didn't think we were going to see you again!"

"A civil war has broken out on Skull Island. They can't send us to a war zone, so they granted everyone a temporary protected status."

"Bad news about the war, but good news for you!" said Monica.

Zachary came in with the diapers and gave them to Jerpimi, who went to the bathroom with Futey.

"We need to start a community watch. So many immigrants live near the bar, and they add so much value to the neighborhood. We must fight for them. When an ICE van is spotted, all the business owners should alert each other and go on the street, blocking the deportation."

"Good idea, Monica," said Tyrone. "The civil war will eventually end, and they will try their dirty tricks again. Let's smash ICE and protect our community!"

Monica flicked open her phone and began a We Growl group of local businesses to protect the Skull Islanders who add so much to the community.

"Monica, I can't thank you enough for your help today. It has been a scary, emotional day. I need to take Futey home and rest," said Jerpimi.

Molly burst into tears.

"What's the matter?" asked Monica, standing up.

"I wanted Futey to be my baby sister," Molly wailed.

"You can be her sister!" smiled Jerpimi. "I work in a shop just up the road.

We live above the business, and you are welcome to come around any time you like. You have been so brave today and looked after Futey; she would be so sad if she never saw you again."

The little cub wriggled about in her mother's arm and reached her paws out towards Molly.

"Sister!" said Molly as she took the child and snuggled her into her cheek.

They all said goodbye, and Molly promised to pop round tomorrow.

"And to think the government believes Jerpimi and Futey to be terrorists.

They are the nicest people," said Monica.

"ICE are the terrorists," said Molly.