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,