Mile Zero Read Online Free PDF

Another ambulance screeched to a slow roll, dispersing the crowd as it came to a stop before the rope, its blue rooflight whipping a brilliant blur in the sun, back doors flinging open, stretcher-bearers jumping to the ground.
    “He’s alive!” Justo grabbed the closest ambulance attendant by the lapels of his white frock, shouting above the siren. “I want him! Take him directly to the city jail. Not to the hospital! He’s mine! Understand?”
    The frightened attendant nodded and jumped down into the boat, helping the stretcher-bearers lift the limp body onto the stretcher.
    “Tamarindo!” A tall Coast Guardsman, the metal insignia of a Captain’s badge pinned to the starched blue collar of his shirt, bellowed Justo’s surname as if it were a command for a dog to heel. “What do you think you’re up to? You’re not taking anyone, anywhere. This is a Coast Guard matter.” The Captain stepped over the rope, flanked by uniformed men with revolvers and handcuffs swaying from jutting hips. “You don’t have any authority here.”
    Blood rushed to Justo’s face, bloating it disproportionately in the hot sun, he felt he looked as hideous as the
paysans
pulled from the boat. He turned on the Captain standing between his protectors. “I’ll tell you what’s going on.” Justo struggled to control his voice, slowedit to a low growl. “You don’t get your ass off this dock I’m going to
bust you
. Immigration law states any alien seeking political asylum has the right to an attorney. You interdicted this boat in violation of international law. Just because you did it doesn’t make it legal. I’m taking the boy.”
    “What kind of nonsense are you talking? You know our routine. We wanted to get this boat in to the closest shore point in order to save lives.”
    “You made a mistake. Should have taken the boat around to the Coast Guard dock. I’ve got jurisdiction here and I’m busting the boy for involuntary manslaughter.”
    “Tamarindo, you’re stepping into a government problem where you don’t belong.”
    “A crime has been committed and the perpetrator is on city property. I think he killed everybody on this boat to survive.”
    “That’s not the issue. You don’t know any more than we do about what happened at sea. There will be an inquiry into that. Look at the pathetic kid. He’s not even eighteen, so you don’t have the right to book him in your jail.”
    “You got a birth certificate stating his age?”
    “Listen, I don’t want to argue the point. It’s absurd for you to think—”
    “Justo!” the ambulance attendant shouted from the boat. “The kid’s trying to say something.”
    Justo jumped into the boat. What there was of the emaciated body was strapped to the stretcher, an IV needle stuck into the faint blue print of a vein in the crook of the boy’s arm. Justo knelt next to the stretcher, kneaded the boy’s bony hands clenched into feeble fists. The boy’s swollen lips cracked open, gasping for meaning.
    The ambulance attendant looked questioningly at Justo. “What’s he saying?”
    “Creole. He’s speaking Creole. Got to get somebody who understands it. Might be the last thing the boy ever says. Don’t move him.” Justo surveyed the crowd pushing against the rope barricade. Mother Mary, there must be someone. Yes, there was someone. An answer to Justo’s quick prayer. There he was, standing at the back of the crowd. The guy was a rummy and a bit of a weirdo, but he sometimes interpreted at court trials for Cuban and Haitian refugees. The drunker the guy was, the better interpreter he was, spoke in tongues,leaning so close to the lips of the person he was interpreting for it reminded Justo of Judas about to kiss sweet Jesus.
    “St. Cloud! Get down here!”
    St. Cloud slipped under the rope barricade, hopped into the boat. He thought the boy was dead. The boy smelled dead.
    “Don’t be squeamish!” Justo shouted above the wail of more sirens. “Put your ear to