Conscience (The Bellator Saga Book 2) (33 page)

The Fed

Caroline woke up howling his name, reaching for a warm, protective body that wasn’t there. When she remembered where she was, she wrapped her arms around herself and began to cry.

She wept in her cell often. Tried not to make it too loud or too obvious. It was never cathartic or healing but she did it anyway, as quietly as possible. A private act that she didn’t want to share with the men who spent their time monitoring her every move. She’d cry for her children, though it hurt too much to think about them for more than minutes at a time. For her friends, especially the ones she knew she’d never see again. For any number of dreadful things that had happened.

But tonight, she cried for Jack.

She didn’t sleep again for the rest of the night. Didn’t want to get up when the lights came on. She stayed curled up in a ball on the bed. For once she hoped to remain in darkness. It was easier than confronting reality.

When he entered her cell Fischer yanked Caroline to her feet.  “Another day in paradise,” he said.

Caroline glared at him. She had no more energy to hold her tongue. “Oh, I can’t wait to find out what you have in store for me today. I hope it involves more broken bones and psychological and physical torture, because that’s really been the highlight of my stay at this resort so far.”

“Your attitude is still sorely lacking. And you aren’t fooling anyone with your false bravado.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You can scream his name in your sleep all you want. He isn’t going to save you. Your white knight isn’t going to come in here and rescue his princess. So give it up.”

She shuddered as he pulled back. Were they even watching her at night, in the pitch black? Were they in her cell?

“I’ve got a little surprise for you. You enjoyed the last one so much that Mr. Murdock arranged for another visitor.” Fischer went back out into the hallway and shoved a trembling woman into the cell. “Enjoy.”

She gasped as the woman lifted her head up.

No. No, no, no.

This was not supposed to happen. They were supposed to be far away. In Minnesota, in Canada, in Europe, anywhere but here. Caroline fell to her knees on the floor, bringing shaky hands to the woman’s face. “Jenny?”

Jen looked around, confused. “Where am I?”

Caroline couldn’t think of an answer to that question that wouldn’t result in Jen recoiling in terror. “With me,” she whispered.

Jen locked eyes with her. “Caroline? What happened to you?

“Don’t worry about that. What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Canada.”

“We got stopped in International Falls.” She started to cry. “I think Eric’s uncle sold us out. We never made it to Ottawa.”

Well, yeah. Caroline had figured out that much. And she was torn between a disturbing elation at seeing someone she knew, someone she cared about…and the realization that if Jen was here, it would not end well.

Jesus Christ, how many familiar faces were in this place? Or on the run, one step away from capture? The parade of agony continued. Jen had been brought here for an inevitable demise. The guards were getting desperate, though.

They’re going to run out of people soon
.
I don’t have many friends left.

What a sobering thought. She closed her eyes, remembering Ellen’s screams. She shook her head. She was not to burden Jen with it.

Caroline studied Jen’s clothes. They were dirty. Ragged. And the deep reddish brown stains could only be one thing. She shuddered as the other woman continued to cry, and turned so that Jen was facing the light. She was bloody and bruised from head to toe.

“Calm down,” Caroline said softly. “It will be okay.”

“The hell it will,” Jen snapped. “You’re going to sit here and tell me that, when I can see the condition that you’re in? When I know what they’ve already done to people I love?” Her voice broke and she stopped.

Jen wrapped her arms around herself, shifting away from Caroline, who decided to start rubbing her back anyway.

“Are you thirsty?” she asked. “There’s a sink in the corner. I assume it’s safe. I haven’t gotten sick yet.”

Jen didn’t respond, but began to shake violently.

“Jenny,” Caroline whispered. “Please talk to me. I need – I just want to talk to you.”

“About what? Want to relive old times? Maybe talk about what it was like when we had control over our lives?”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay. And neither are you.”

“It might not be this way forever.”

“You think we’re gonna get out of this?” Jen asked. “Jesus Christ, Caroline. I can see your face. How long have you been someone’s punching bag?”

“I don’t know,” Caroline said. “I don’t know what day it is or how long I’ve been here.”

“You think it’s gonna end, don’t you?”

Caroline closed her eyes. “It has to. One way or another.”

“
No,” Jen corrected. “You think someone’s going to end this, get us out of here. Don’t you?”

It was painful to be reminded that she was in the presence of someone who knew her so well. Who loved her. “Is it wrong to hope?”

“When there’s nothing left to hope for, yes.”

“Don’t say that, Jenny.”

“There’s no good left in the world. Haven’t you figured that out? California and Texas cut bait. No one is going to stop this.”

Caroline thought of the doctor who had tried to help her.
Maureen
. Her name was Maureen. It seemed important to her to remember a name instead of just a title. “There will always be goodness in the world.”

“No,” Jen said. “Everyone’s out for themselves now. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better.”

“They’re not. There are still small acts of revolution to be had.”

Jen scowled. “That time will never come. I know what you’re thinking, Caroline. But all your sappy movie moments, all your inspirational quotes, all your idealistic visions of a greater nation aren’t real life. At all.”

It had always boggled her mind how Jen could correctly analyze her words and read so much into them. “These things happen in real life,” Caroline said. “Not just in the movies. Tiananmen Square. The democracy movements in the Middle East. The overthrow of the communist regimes in Eastern Europe. People quietly fighting for change.”

“That’s not going to happen here,” Jen said bitterly. “We’re complacent. Always have been, always will be. We threw together a document that was far too advanced and far too perfect and after almost two hundred and fifty years we’ve gotten used to being the beacon for the rest of the world. We don’t know any better. We’re like dandelions in the wind. We’ll latch onto something for a few seconds and then blink and the moment is gone. It’s over, Caroline. It never started.”

Jen had never been a bleak person. But her words were stark, depressing. “What happened to you?” Caroline asked.

“I could ask you the same fucking question. Maybe being in here has made you batty.”

There was no doubt of that, but Caroline hoped a bit of her sanity remained intact. She shook her head from side to side and Jen laughed. At her. Jen was laughing at
her
. Jen had never laughed at her before, not really. It made Caroline feel ashamed.

“There is no humanity left,” Jen said. “It’s all been snatched away. God knows how they managed to do it so quickly. Maybe we’ve been primed for this longer than we thought. I stupidly hoped we’d put up more of a fight.”

“There are good people left,” Caroline insisted.

Jen grabbed her arm. “Yeah, and they’re all in here sporting tattoos. Lambs for the fucking slaughter.”

Jen was no cynic. Caroline had never heard her talk like this before. “There’s a rebellion,” she whispered, hoping the guards weren’t listening in. “There are people fighting to stop this.”

“No, there isn’t,” Jen said. “The states that seceded are perfectly happy to leave the other forty-eight alone in exchange for not being bothered. Just like every NATO country, every disaffected and apathetic citizen, every person who’s somehow still allowed to live as long as they don’t mess with the status quo. There’s nothing left.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And neither do you. You don’t know what it was like driving across the country. It was surreal. It appeared normal, but it was like there was this weird film over everything. Nothing was quite what it seemed. But I noticed one thing – you don’t mess with the government and they won’t mess with you.”

“As long as you’re not gay, or rich, or an atheist, or a member of a minority group.” Caroline grew frustrated. “Have you forgotten about Katie?”

As soon as she said the words, she realized the obvious. Jen was alone. Where was Eric? And where was Kathleen?

No matter, for the mere mention of the name was enough to snap Jen back to attention. “Don’t talk about her!” she shouted.

Caroline’s stomach churned as a wave of nausea swept through her body. “Where’s Katie?”

Jen shoved away from her, leaning against the wall.

“Where’s Katie?” Caroline repeated.

Jen put her head in her hands and started rocking back and forth, humming to herself.

“Where’s Katie?” Caroline yelled. She yanked Jen’s head up, the pain in her broken fingers forgotten. “Tell me where she is, Jenny.”

Jen bit her lip. “No,” she said. “No no no.” She stared at Caroline, her eyes vacant.

Caroline tugged at Jen’s shirt. “Tell me what happened.”

It took a minute. A little more prodding. A few soothing words, a reassurance that Caroline, her friend, was here with her and they’d both be okay. A dirty lie, especially considering Jen’s previous statements, but it was enough to make her start rambling. At first Caroline couldn’t make out what she was saying. She could only hear bits and pieces through hiccups and sobs. A hail of gunfire as Eric tried to ram his way through the border stop. The bullets ripping through him when he reached for their weapons. Jen and Katie being yanked out of the car and hustled onto a plane. Being shackled together inside a transport van. Katie being given some highly offensive ultimatum, and resisting it all the way.

Caroline grabbed Jen’s upper arms. “What did they tell her? What kind of ultimatum?”

Jen took another heaving breath. “They called her names. Bad names.”

It was like talking to a child, constantly having to repeat herself and speak slowly. “What kind of ultimatum?”

“They have programs. Secret camps if you’re…not straight.”

One rumor Caroline hadn’t wanted to believe. The idea of a government camp conjured up images too disturbing to perceive as real. “Because she’s gay?”

The question broke Jen out of her daze, and she looked at Caroline as if she were quite unintelligent. “Of course because she’s gay. Jesus, Caroline.”

“What happened?”

Jen cradled her head in her hands. “She refused to go.”

Of course she did. “And then what?”

“She landed in my lap,” Jen said.

That was a strange transition. “Excuse me?”

“They gave her one more chance, put a gun to her head, told her she had to see a psychiatrist. And she rattled off exactly how she felt about their bullshit conversion therapy crap and they…got rid of her.”

Jen had blood under her fingernails. In her hair. All over her, from head to toe. How had Caroline not noticed that before?

“She landed in my lap,” Jen repeated.

Caroline shook her head. Kathleen was fine. She was in another part of the building, in another cell. No, that wasn’t like her. She would have done more. Jen was mistaken. She’d fought off all those assholes and made a run for it. Kathleen was safe. And she’d come back with a boatload of rebels and get the two of them the fuck out of there. “Where’s Katie?” she asked.

Jen tugged at the sleeves of her shirt, rubbing the material together. “She was in my lap, and I couldn’t move, and I was screaming at her to get up. There was all this blood and bits and pieces of bone, and they left her there for a really long time even though I was screaming, and then they finally took me out of the van.”

Jen was rambling again. She’d keep rambling unless someone knocked her to her senses. Caroline slapped her face, ignoring the sting radiating through her mangled hand. “Where’s Katie?”

“She’s dead.” Jen started crying again. “How many times are you going to make me say it?”

Caroline didn’t have time for grief, but she could fit a little rage into her calendar. White hot, blinding, frenzied rage. Someone had to pay for this. Someone had to die. How could she trick an agent into coming back into her cell? She was ready to tear someone apart with her bare hands. Did she have anything she could throw, or break? She could tear her bedframe apart and make a shank and stab the hell out of all of them. Watch them bleed to death. Cut their dicks off and shove them down their throats. It wouldn’t be nearly enough justice, couldn’t satisfy her need for retribution, but it was a damn good start.

Caroline started pounding on the wall, staring at the camera. She didn’t care about the pain in her hands. It was all relative now. Her voice was clear and strong, ringing through the cell. “Come in here, you bastards! Fucking cowards!”