Conscience (The Bellator Saga Book 2) (2 page)

If memory served, she was lucky to be alive. Possible nasal reconstruction was the least of Caroline’s concerns. “They used the butt of a handgun. Multiple times. And I think there may have been some stomping involved too.”

Maureen stared down at the duffle bag and didn’t say anything.

“It’s not your fault,” Caroline said softly. “I’m sure you’ve done what you could with regard to my medical care.”

Maureen cleared her throat, shaking off whatever had been bothering her. “Maybe if we’d all paid a little more attention, we could have prevented all of this.”

Caroline stood up. “Not much we can do about it now.”

“Shifts have switched over. We’re in the wee hours of the morning. Time to make a break. You ready?”

Caroline smiled at her, stretching again as best she could. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Then let’s roll.”

The Hospital

They were almost to the door when Maureen spun around, almost knocking Caroline over. “We maybe should talk about this first. We have to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

Caroline was a little concerned that she’d forgotten they hadn’t discussed a course of action. She also hadn’t noticed a gun. “Please tell me you’re armed.”

“You think that’s necessary?”

Had she been living under a rock? Caroline shook her head. Her thoughts were still slow to come and her normally solid logic failed her. “You’re kidding, right?”

Maureen looked a little offended. “Those people out there can be trusted. I know the night nurse. Nora’s a good person.”

Like that mattered. “Does she know what you’re planning to do?”

“I haven’t told anyone about this. And I didn’t exactly seek her out when I arrived. But she’ll turn a blind eye, I’m sure.”

“You know your staff better than me,” Caroline said. “I’m surprised there aren’t any law enforcement officers out there. I assumed the feds had someone camped outside my door.”

“They said they’d be coming later this morning to transport you.”

“And you believed them?”

“Did I have a choice?” Maureen sighed. “Look, I was just out there five minutes ago and the nurses were the only people milling around. At this hour, they aren’t always that alert.”

Maureen clearly didn’t appreciate the gravity of their situation. Caroline had a very bad feeling about this.

“If we get caught, you go down too,” she said.

Maureen blanched but smiled anyway. “I know.”

“So we’re just gonna make a break for it?”

“Can you think of a better idea? How else are we going to get out?”

Without firearms, they didn’t have many options. “You have a point.”

“We’ll slip down the stairs.  They’re only a few feet across and to your left when you leave the room. Come on.”

“Maybe you should do a check first,” Caroline said. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she caught an eye roll.

“Fine.” Maureen peeked her head out the door.

It only took a second, maybe two, for a uniformed man to drag Maureen out into the hallway and shove her into another soldier’s arms. He heaved open the door and laid eyes on Caroline. “Well, what do we have here?”

Her heart sank. They couldn’t even get off the floor before getting caught. Not that they’d had an elaborate escape plan, but still. Fifteen feet to freedom, and of course they were sitting ducks. Again she wished for a gun. Loaded or not. Operational or not. She’d kill for a goddamn butter knife. A spork, even. Dental floss.
Anything.

“Thank you for getting here so quickly.” Nora smiled at them. “Told ya she was ready to bolt.”

Maureen struggled in the soldier’s grip. “You bitch. I fucking trusted you.”

The smile turned into a sneer. “Lesson learned, Dr. Savage. Don’t trust anyone.”

Caroline glanced toward the stairwell just across from her door. Not even fifteen feet. Ten. A momentary sprint if the hallway were empty and she were at full strength. No way out, not without a distraction. They were surrounded. Almost all of the men had their guns drawn.

“Run,” Maureen whispered, breaking free and swinging her duffle bag at the soldiers.

Caroline pushed past the soldier in her way and took off, but only made it a few feet before she was tackled to the ground. Her legs were weaker than she thought and the hallway was narrow. She had no place to go.

“Terrible medical advice, doctor,” one of the men said. “That traitor can barely move.”

A third man, who appeared to be an officer, grabbed Maureen by the neck and yanked the duffle out of her hand. “We had a feeling you’d sell out, just like this one here. Good thing Nora kept an eye on you for us.”

Caroline had to give her credit. Maureen appeared pissed not scared, her mood confirmed by her words.

“Oh, bite me, asshole,” she said.

The officer forced her to the floor until she was kneeling. He pulled his firearm out of its holster and announced, “Let this be a message to the rest of you.”

He pressed the gun to her temple and pulled the trigger, and in a split second the smarts that had gotten Maureen Savage through her entire academic and professional career were splattered against the wall.

Caroline struggled against the soldier who had tackled her, her eyes now focused on the lifeless body still bleeding out onto the floor. “Jesus Christ,” she yelped. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

The soldier slammed her head to the floor and she started screaming. How naïve she’d been. She realized that the horror she encountered in the woods was just a taste of what these people were capable of. She hadn’t wanted to think about it but the evidence was right in front of her. Caroline kicked and clawed at the man holding her down, trying to crawl her way down the hall. The others rushed over and helped pin her against the wall, inches from where blood and brain matter dripped disgustingly to the floor.

The one who had the strongest grip on her spoke first. “Man, this lady’s a lot tougher than she looks. I don’t think you all drugged her enough.”

“Savage told me to let her wake up,” Nora said. “What the fuck was I supposed to do? You people should be happy I called you before they got out of the building.”

“You’ll get your bonus. Be patient.”

Nora smiled. “Yeah, that little piece I got the last time around suited me just fine.”

He let go of Caroline and rose to his feet. “Keep it up. I’m sure there’ll be more troublemakers coming your way, and not just doctors. Don’t have to limit it to your workplace either. Any time you see dissidents, we wanna know about it.”

“For sure,” she said. “What else can I do for you all today?”

The soldier laughed as his colleagues continued to struggle to keep Caroline pinned to the wall. “Maybe a sedative? She’s a scrappy little bitch.”

The nurse laughed. A grating noise. “Wouldn’t have thought it, her being all high class and shit. Guess they can always surprise you.”

Caroline tried to weasel her way out of their grip, the adrenaline pumping through her, but it wasn’t enough. Every time she gained an inch, she lost two.

Nora returned with a very large, painful looking needle. “This should knock her out for a while. You boys got big plans?”

“She’s gotta take a little ride first.” The soldier came over to help his struggling comrades, slamming Caroline’s head into the wall.

Caroline closed her eyes, trying to regain her bearings. Nora was now kneeling in front of her.

“Hold her steady,” Nora said. “Wouldn’t want to get an air bubble in there and ruin all your hard work. You want her alive, right?”

The soldier fell silent and exchanged a look with his colleagues, now deferring to his commander. Caroline would have found the weird hierarchy fascinating if she weren’t eye level with a giant syringe.

“For now,” the officer said.

Caroline glared at the nurse. “Was it worth it?” she asked. “Worth it to drive a nicer car and have more spending money? Worth it to sell out your country and send good Americans to their doom?”

Nora plunged the needle into Caroline’s forearm. “What a politician you are, with your flowery words and your hypocritical bluster. You’ve got a nice flair for the dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” Caroline spat, still trying to fight the men pinning her down.

Nora pulled the needle back out. Her sneer returned. “It’s worth every fucking penny, you privileged cunt.”

Caroline hated that word.
Cunt
. Fuck reclaiming language. The nurse meant it as an insult of the worst kind, and she opened her mouth as Nora withdrew, ready to throw every profane insult she could at the woman.

Before she had a chance, she was out cold.

The Fed

When Caroline woke up she was aware of movement. Rough movement. She blinked. Even her eyelids hurt.

She was in the back of a transport van, shackled to a bench. Alone. Her facial splint was gone, as was the tape on her ribs. The latter revelation proved to be highly unsettling.

It was quite cold. She didn’t know if that meant she was still in the Northeast somewhere or if the bastards driving the damn thing had decided to turn the air on and freeze her to death. There were no windows, no way to signal to anyone, including the driver.

She was wearing short sleeves because assholery evidently extended to clothing selection for inmate transport. Yet another unsettling revelation, with what were surely more to follow. The outfit she’d been wearing hadn’t been good enough for wherever they were taking her.

She glanced over at her left arm and gasped. She’d forgotten them holding her down at the hospital as she struggled in terror, having no idea what they had in store for her. She now had crude numbers etched into her skin – 1479. She rubbed at them, which did nothing. The area surrounding the marks was red and puffy.

Fuck.

She had a small tattoo on her ankle – her cop friends used to tease her about it, saying it was her cute little princess tat. The defense attorneys she worked with told her that regardless of its cartoonish qualities, it gave her street cred. And now she had black ink permanently imprinted on her skin, done as poorly as some of the lesser quality prison tattoos she’d seen.

A tat. It was just a tat. A small thing. It could be removed someday. At least they’d done it when she’d been unconscious. She laughed at herself. Like she was ever going to be making plans for the future. Although if they’d knocked her out to give her a tattoo, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Always the Pollyanna, Gerard. Better let that shit go now.

She closed her eyes, picturing Maureen’s mangled body on the floor next to her in the hospital. They’d shot her in the head. Without warning, without any real provocation. Caroline had never seen anything that graphic save for photos and videos. So few people left who were willing to do the right thing…and they were being exterminated one by one. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, trying not to imagine why they’d be willing to kill anyone in their way in order to get to her.

She took inventory of herself. She felt the same way she had when she’d woken up in the hospital. Her ribs hurt. Her head hurt. Her entire body hurt. But she knew…she would
know
if they’d done anything else to her. If they’d touched her inappropriately. She would
have
to know. Right now she had no indication that they’d done anything other than violate her body with some ink and a needle. And strip her down to that poorly fitting bra and loose pair of undies. She preferred not to think about it that much. Not that she’d ever know for sure but…

She looked down at the silver cuffs around her ankles and wrists. Standard for prisoner transport and court appearances, although she was fairly certain that it was illegal to secure them to the floor while vehicles were in movement.

Oh, and they’ve been so willing to abide by the rules so far. Don’t focus on their reckless violence, homicidal tendencies, and totalitarian behavior. No, get upset about a technical violation.

How many times had she sat in a courtroom watching defendants being paraded in by United States Marshals or local sheriffs, shackled from head to toe? She’d always search the faces of the men and women she prosecuted, wondering if they felt anything when they had those restraints placed upon their bodies. If they felt their human dignity starting to fade. Or if they became so accustomed to the chains that their response to them was almost automatic.

Caroline would calmly flip through her files, occasionally glancing up at the people whose fate was largely in her hands, taking for granted her own freedom of movement. Her own discretion. Her own authority. Occasionally she’d ponder it on a deeper level, wondering how she’d react in the same situation. Would she rebel? Would she claw and scream and refuse to relent? Or would she obey, be docile, and meekly acquiesce?

She smiled to herself. It had taken four men to hold her down in the hospital. Fuck them all. They had no authority over her. She wasn’t a federal prosecutor anymore and this wasn’t her America. This was a rogue government with no moral or legal right over her. If they wanted her to give up her self-respect, they’d have to strangle it out of her. Or sedate her first. Even then, she wasn’t going down without one hell of a fight.

The van rumbled on and she started to feel queasy. She didn’t even have enough room to put her head between her knees. She’d never been one to get carsick but she’d never been tossed around the inside of a transport van, either. The driver started making a series of sharp turns. They were likely close to arriving at their destination. Without a watch she had no concept of time, and she had no idea how long she’d been out before they’d put her in the back of the van. But she couldn’t have been awake for more than five or ten minutes.

The van squealed to a sudden stop. The rear door opened and the harsh sunlight reflected on the snow temporarily blinded her. She tried to shield her eyes with a shackled hand, but it didn’t matter. Three men climbed into the back of the van, blocking out the light.

“Well, well,” one of them said. “Our little celebrity has arrived.”

Caroline glared at him as he began to remove her cuffs from the bench. What could she do to defend herself if he tried anything? What would they expect? What could she get away with?

“Don’t try anything,” he said.             

She knew better, even if she’d been pondering otherwise. That little excursion in the woods had taught her that. And they all had sidearms. An interesting observation. She had a hunch that their aim wouldn’t be all that bad at close range, and they surely wouldn’t shoot to kill. They’d shoot to cause unbearable pain and permanent disability. She was still valuable enough to keep alive.

Pick your battles.

Caroline sat back, compliant, as he shackled her wrists back together and removed the chains around her ankles. He lifted her to a hunched standing position. Her legs were asleep and she lurched forward into another man’s arms.

The first man laughed. “I think she likes you, Fischer.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Fischer asked. When the first man laughed, he frowned. “That wasn’t meant to be a joke, Cameron.”

“My mistake,” Cameron said. “Guess we’ll have to ask the last stripper who gave you a lap dance.”

“Suck it.” Fischer pulled Caroline closer to him and laughed meanly. “Now, sweetheart. I’m not your type. Don’t you have a jealous husband?”

Caroline told herself to keep her damn mouth shut but couldn’t help herself. She’d pick her battles, but she couldn’t be expected to choose wisely all the time. Whatever sedative that remained in her bloodstream weakened her ability to control her anger. “Fuck you.”

Fischer dragged her out of the van and she tumbled to the ground. He heaved her to her feet, slapping her across the face.

“Be nice,” he said. “Your life’s gonna get a lot worse once you go inside there.” He yanked her toward the gray building the van was facing. The other two men climbed out of the van.

“Let’s go,” Cameron said. “Book her in.”

They reached the back door and the first man buzzed them in. Fischer dragged her into a long hallway where a young man in blue sat at a computer.

“Hey, Gary,” he said. “Got a fresh one for you.”

“Inmate name?” Gary asked.

“Caroline Gerard,” Cameron announced, sounding a little too proud of himself.

“McIntyre,” Caroline added. She had no idea why she wasn’t controlling herself better. She was going to get the shit beaten out of her, and soon.

“What was that?” Gary asked.

“Caroline Gerard
McIntyre
,” she corrected. “If you’re going to detain me without probable cause and deprive me of any number of my constitutional rights, the least you can do is get my fucking name right.”

Gary turned to Fischer. “She’s a feisty one, eh?”

“She’ll lose that soon enough,” Fischer said. “We’ve already placed our bets on when she’s gonna start bawling like a little girl, begging to go home. We done here?”

“Yeah.” Gary gave Caroline a mocking smile. “Cellblock 5. Presidential Suite 27.”

Fischer pushed her down the hall. “It’s not really a Presidential Suite. In case you were getting your hopes up, sweetheart.”

“Now all my dreams are shattered,” she said. “And stop calling me sweetheart, asshole.”

He laughed. “It’s too bad you’re such a treasonous bitch. I suspect I’d enjoy having a drink with you.”

They took a meandering path down several hallways until they reached an unusually quiet area. Steel doors. Barred doors. Heavy doors. All up and down the hall. She and her escort were the only two people around.

Fischer withdrew a set of keys from his pocket, unlocking the door in front of them. “You get some privacy,
sweetheart
,” he said, making sure to emphasize the term. “That is, in terms of other inmates.”

Ah, yes. She’d be sure to mention that perk on the comment card. This guy was 100% certified asshole. “I told you to stop that,” she said.

He shoved the door open. “You think you have the right to make demands now?”

Fuck him. If she let them push her around in the beginning, they’d never let up. “You don’t get to call me sweetheart.”

Fischer pushed her forward into a cold, dark room that Caroline could see was plainly marked with the number 27. He shoved her up against the wall by her throat, and she gasped for breath.

“Let’s get one thing straight, lady,” he said. “I can call you whatever the fuck I want. You read me?”

She nodded the best she could, coughing for air. Fischer quickly yanked her further into the cell by her handcuffs. The sudden movement jarred her, and she cried out.

Her response made him grin. “Seems to me that you’re not fully aware of the position you’re in right now. Maybe you need to be a little more scared.” He punched her in the face, propelling her backwards onto the bed.

Caroline covered her head in case he was going to hit her again. His gaze fell to the small scar on her left arm. The one she’d forgotten about, since it was several years old. Barely noticeable anymore. He fingered the scar and she tried to draw back. She winced in pain, the blood dripping down her face. Fischer pulled his hand away, staring at the scar again. His lips turned up in another cruel smile. This guard thrived on the pain and humiliation of others. Another troubling notation for her mental file.

Maybe she needed to stop keeping track of her unsettling observations.

“That’s a little badge of honor for you, right?” Fischer didn’t wait for her to answer. “You’re gonna have plenty more of those by the time we’re finished with you.” He pulled out a baton and cracked her across the temple. She could swear she heard him laughing as the room faded to black.