Free Oscar by Unknown Page B

passengers.
    ‘Dump her in the van! Sit on her if you have to.’ shouted the lead guard, who had been watching the drama unfold from a distance.
    Her escorts took their orders literally. All three men sat on her, crushing the air out of her lungs. The lead guard made his way round to the back of the van to close the doors.
    ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he bawled at the others. ‘Get off of her,
now.
’
    They jumped up quickly and took their seats for the journey, leaving her belly down on the cold metal floor.
    She turned her head as much as she could and gazed upon her captors, her eyes seething. She was no longer frightened for her future—she was angry.
    ‘Keep your eyes down, Scarsberg—or I’ll pluck them out of their sockets.’ one of the guards squawked.
    She turned her head back towards the floor. After a few seconds, she looked towards the other side of the transport’s interior. The van’s engine revved into action, shunting forward violently as it started its journey to London.
    #
    Miriam was being watched constantly. She hadn’t moved a whisker since the journey began. She stared at her metal surroundings with a look that could only be described as deadly, visions of mayhem circling her scarred mind.
If only I could move
, she thought to herself.
    Her body had cramped up and all she wanted to do was roll onto her side. The ankle restraints were rubbing against the cloth of the labour camp-issued orange boiler suit, chafing the skin on her legs.
    She began to shuffle around and grunted angrily, much to the annoyance of the guards sat over her.
    ‘Stop that!’ the senior guard shouted, giving her a vicious clip in the ribcage with the heel of his boot. She let out a muffled scream as she felt one of her ribs crack under the force of the blow.
    ‘Get back on your stomach, Scarsberg.’ he snarled. ‘Stay bloody still—or I’ll put a bullet in your brain.’
    She fought her way back onto her stomach, not wishing to incur any further injury. What she had really wanted to do was make one of them snap, in the hope that they would kill her before her execution.
    #
    The journey to Hyde Park was coming to its end. The guards readied their prisoner for disembarkation on arrival. The crowds had already begun gathering in the distance to witness the spectacle of a high profile execution. She listened to them as they chanted faintly in the distance. She couldn’t make out what they were chanting, but it couldn’t be anything nice; they sounded like they were baying for blood.
    ‘Hear that, Scarsberg? That’s for you, that is.’ the lead guard sneered. ‘I have another surprise, a special treat for your birthday.’ he paused.
    Her eyes widened in horror, her mind frantically wondering what could be worse than being burnt alive.
    ‘Your sentence has been changed slightly. You are now going to face the punishment for high treason.’
    Miriam knew what that meant. There was only one punishment for high treason—and that was to be hung, drawn and quartered. The current government favoured medieval execution techniques over more lenient forms of punishment. She would be the first female to have to go through the painful procedure, and it wouldn’t be the quick death she had desired.
    The van came to a standstill just beyond the crowd of people, the chanting even louder now. She stared at the rear of the van as two of the guards gripped her underarms, ready to lift when the doors swung open. The third guard stood behind her, ready to lift her feet off the floor. She would be carried out the same way they had carried her in. She could hear the words of the chant now, and it wasn’t what she expected: it was a defiant chant aimed at the government, and not at her. The people would regard her as a martyr after this day, and the chant reflected that.
    ‘Down with the government! Free Miriam Scarsberg!’ was the chant, and the patrolmen policing the event could only stand and listen; the crowd