Rough hands lift me out of the back of the van, and I try to squirm or struggle inside the body bag to tell these two they’re not handling a corpse. I manage to flex my hands a bit, curling the fingers in to form fists, but I still can’t move my arms. The thought of Weizack and his chummer dropping me in fright and cracking my skull on whatever is under me if I move flashes briefly through my mind. I could end up needing a body bag for real then, but I have to try and make them aware of me.