The Longest Road (Book 3): The Other Side

by A. S. Thompson

  Feeling his body squish undergentlepressure, Alex gulped. “Shit.”

  Twin Lakes, Nevada

  December 1, 2009

  0900 hours

  The thousand thread count cotton sheets reeked of sex- courtesy, in part, of the naked body sleeping peacefully next to him.

  Albert Stone lay on his right arm, recollecting the wild fornication engaged in hours before. He watched the small goosebumps rise on Julie’s skin as he ran his fingertips gently over her nipple, then down her stomach and under the sheets where they played with her vagina.

  Her quiet moans were extremely arousing, and as much as he wanted to continue, business was the greater priority. So, he slid out of bed and sauntered naked to a closet on the far side of the room.

  "Morning," Julie said, smiling as she rolled around in the sheets.

  Facing toward a built-in mirror, Albert remained silent as he placed his legs through a fresh pair of dress slacks.

  "Last night was fun...and that thing you did with your tongue and fingers," Julie said, pausing. A shiver ran through her body one-thousandth less than the ecstasy she experienced last night. "Whatever it was, was unreal..."

  Julie strolled over to Albert as he buttoned up a white collared shirt. She wrapped her arms around his stomach and pressed her cheek against his back.

  "Even if all that talk about going to Las Vegas wasn't true, I still enjoyed last night."

  Albert finally spun around and faced her. "It was true. I will be back in seventeen minutes. So get dressed."

  "Really?"

  “Yes.”

  Julie’s lips curled into a tight smile, and then she slowly dropped her knees, hands dragging seductively along Albert’s back until they arrived at his waist. Then she placed her index fingers into his waistband and ran them forward. She popped off the button and had the zipper halfway down when she asked, "We have time for a quickie, right?"

  Effects of a heightened sex drive haven’t lessened, Albert noted, and despite his desires, he grabbed her hands and flicked them away. At the door, he turned around and said, "We will have plenty of time in the helicopter for that. Now get dressed and be ready to leave in sixteen minutes."

  ***

  "Now this is what it should be like," Albert stated matter-of-factly. He walked the length of the vaccine processing machine, observing each step as it ran smoothly and efficiently. At the end, he picked up one of the hundreds of thousands of pink glass vials and examined it in the light. "You are going to change the world."

  "Good morning, Dr. Stone.”

  Beth Arnold’s voice caused a flare of irritation within Albert. He placed the vial of Ambrosia back onto the conveyer to be packaged. "I would say very good for you since the machine is up and running again."

  "We are on pace to have every truck loaded and on their way before 8 P.M. local."

  "Four hours behind schedule but that will have to do. Follow me," he said, brushing past her.

  Albert’s heels clicked against the smooth concrete warehouse. The forklift drivers and other workers slowed, paused, and otherwise avoided his path altogether.

  As Albert passed the line of structural pillars and neared the trucks, his face wrinkled in disappointment.Do these idiots even consider efficiency?

  "Let me ask you something, Ms. Arnold," he said, though it wasn't much of a request. "Does anyone in this facility think?"

  "I'm sorry, sir? I'm not sure as to what you are referring."

  "Look. The trucks are facing the pallets which are coming from the west. That means with each pass, they are adding an extra ten-seconds of loading. I won't dare stress your brain with that simple multiplication, but know your crew is adding an extra and unnecessary fifteen minutes to the already delayed departure times."

  Beth rolled her eyes. “I would like to think that my crew is performing their jobs efficiently, and that it was the drivers who failed to consider this."

  Albert snorted. "Speaking of, I do not see the drivers. Where are they? Why are they not with their vehicles? They are under specific orders to treat the trucks like their own lives."

  "Dr. Stone, they are on the other side of the wall," Beth assured, pointing past a stone partition; the space served as a break area for the warehouse personnel. “Please follow me.”

  Two drivers sat in fold-up chairs surrounding the tables, another two leaned against the wall, while one was lying on the ground with hands wrapped around his head. They all wore matching black uniforms with the LIFE logo embroidered on the chest. They carried gun holsters on their thighs, dependent on hand preference. Some had beards, others clean shaved. Some were bald, others stuffed unkempt hair under hats. Not all faces were scarred from battle wounds, but each one suffered from boredom.

  “Volunteers.”

  Albert’s word captured their attention, but it was his presence that inspired the Guardsmen to fall in line, or perhaps it was fear of who he was and what he was capable of.

  Though no emblem featured rank, one man with a name tag reading "Marco," stepped forward and spoke. His accent was distinct and indicative of an Italian New Yorker.

  "Dr. Stone. We're all ready to roll. We were told we would be on the road by-"

  "I am aware of your estimated time of departure, I coordinated it," Albert snapped. He hated Beth Arnold, but he despised the Guardsmen. "It has been adjusted slightly, but that is not why I am here..."

  He began walking along the row of them and continued.

  “I am here to make certain that every one of you understands what you are doing, the route you are taking, and more importantly, the responsibility you have undertaken. You have volunteered for this task and will be rewarded generously upon its completion..."

  A pair of Guards bumped knuckles, nodded and smiled, fantasizing how they would spend their riches.

  “As you were instructed, you are not to leave your vehicles at any time. Yet, all of you have.”

  “Sir, the trucks are just right over there.”

  Albert stopped in front of the man who spoke; the Guard named Peterson who, after seeing Albert’s twisted scowl, immediately regretted speaking. “That caveat applied the moment you set foot in the truck. With the exception of urination, defecation, and fueling, you are not to step away from the truck until reaching your destination…”

  Peterson raised his chin and avoided further eye contact.

  “The cargo is your responsibility, and ifany of it gets damaged or destroyed, you and you alone will be held responsible, and you will answer to me personally. Believe me when I tell you that I can be quite creative when it comes to discipline. Now, do any of you psychotic inbreds have any questions?"

  Marco was hesitant to speak. "The guys and I were just discussing security.”

  "What about it?"

  "We was thinking that one lead car with five guys might not be enough. What if we run into those things?" Marco pointed at the man at the end and continued, "Swanson told us that those things travel in packs."

  "It's true," Swanson declared, adjusting the wavy hair under his hat. "A few months back, I was heading from HQ to DC and our convoy ran into a fuckin' mass o' them. Had to'a been a couple hundred of them on the interstate."

  Albert positioned himself in front of Swanson; the Guard was unable to meet Albert's piercing stare.

  "Are you afraid of them?"

  "No, naw, just sayin."

  "The designated teams of five will be more than sufficient. If there is a problem, your transmitters are preprogrammed with a direct line to mine. If any unforeseen problems such as a flat tire or natural disaster arise, or ascary group of infected is encountered, you will contact me at once and I will recalculate your route accordingly. Is that understood?"

  Each rough face nodded.

  "Good. Remember, anything at all."

  ***

  Albert called the elevator and waited in front of the doors. "I'm going to be gone for the next few days," he said, cycling through notes on his smartphone.


  "Where are you going?" asked Beth.

  "That is none of your concern. I will be taking four Guards with me and test subject number four. I have one finalexam to administer."

  A quiet ding indicated the elevator's arrival.

  "Sir, excuse me, but right now? I don't mean to question you, but now seems like a very critical time."

  It is a critical time, but boring, he thought.

  The trip to Las Vegas was not on the agenda, but there would be nothing to do until the trucks arrived at their destinations. Part of him wanted to be at Headquarters to watch Liz punish Daytona, but the other part romanticized of a weekend getaway with a beautiful girl on the top floor penthouse at the MGM Grand. Even for Albert, the comparison was easily analyzed. The only obligation he had to observe was Liz's command/request that he stay at the Farm until the trucks depart, but they would be leaving in a matter of hours.

  A head start can’t hurt, and sunset in Las Vegas is far more appealing.

  Albert entered the elevator and spun around. "One last note," he began, eyes narrowing. "There better not be any more problems, but in the event there is, youwill contact me directly. Otherwise, LIA will report it to me, isn't that right, LIA?"

  "Yes, of course, Dr. Stone," the artificial intelligence stated from a speaker panel underneath the floor choices.

  The elevator doors attempted to close, but Albert's body occupied the threshold. "If I hear from LIA, it will not end well for you. I would say I don't forgive easily, but I don't forgive at all."

  Twin Lakes, Nevada

  December 1, 2009

  0900 hours

  "Where's everyone?" Steve asked, stepping inside the RV.

  West sat alone at the kitchen table, reviewing his notes. "You're the first one back. We will begin once everyone returns. I believe Alex, Lisa, and Nick are resting. Matty is working on the speech, and Ally, Kelly, and Eddy should be outside loading weapons."

  "I noticed," Steve said, lifting his shirt. He used the soiled clothing to wipe the sweat from his forehead, as the trek back had been demanding. He passed by Marilyn who was busy cooking a wild turkey that Nick tracked, spotted, and killed.

  "Finally, some food not from a can. Smells good, doesn't it?" she asked, cheerfully stirring the pot.

  "Hey, Steve!" Jenny said, sitting in the driver's seat.

  Cards in hand, Christopher waved from the passenger's seat but went back to playing Go-Fish.

  "Ya, it does. Hey, guys," Steve said, not looking at any of his greeters.

  Arriving at the bunk over the driver's cabin, Steve reached into the corner, hand searching for a replacement T-shirt. The first object his fingers stumbled upon, however, was a hairbrush.

  Sarah’s, Steve thought, knowing it by feel alone. Still, he pulled it into view and stared at the rounded design and the web of hair tangled in the bristles.

  “Steve, if you’re not too tired, I could use someone to bounce ideas off.”

  Steve snapped out of a trance, and then slid the brush aside. “Ya, sure, West. Give me a sec.”

  As Steve changed out of the soiled shirt, though, his necklace came off with it.

  Jenny discarded her winning hand and scrambled to pick it up. "Steve, you dropped this," she said, pinching the ring.

  Searching for a replacement shirt, Steve looked down and saw Jenny holding the band. He hurriedly and impolitely snatched it from her grasp. “Um, thanks.”

  "Why do you wear it?"

  Fortunately for Steve's pride, his face was blocked as he changed into a clean flannel, or Jenny would have seen his lips tremble and his brow furrow with sadness. He put the necklace around his head and stuffed the ring and chain underneath the shirt. "It's nothing."

  Steve went to open the refrigerator, but what was said next caught him off guard.

  "Damnit! Stop lying!”

  Marilyn's eyes widened. Even West looked up, shocked by Jenny’s boldness. Both sensed the awkwardly tense moment, but only Marilyn attempted to diffuse the situation. "Christopher, why don't you and Jenny go wake up Nick for lunch. He's sleeping inside the Yukon."

  "Okay, come on Jenny," Christopher said, waving her out the passenger door.

  "I'm not going anywhere," Jenny declared defiantly. She took a step toward Steve. Then another one, and then another one. "I want to know why you lied to me last night and why you're lying to me right now."

  "I-I'm notlying."

  As Jenny closed the void, the awkward tension grew larger, especially with the onslaught of unanticipated questions.

  “Then I don't get it. Did I do something wrong? Why won't you look at me? Why are you ignoring me? Why won't you talk to me about her?”

  Steve was speechless, petrified.Please Jenny! Don't make me think about it! he thought, wanting so desperately to remain detached.

  But the strong-willed fourteen year old would not allow his callous indifference.

  “I don't- I mean you haven't- it's not like that-”

  "You were going to ask Sarah to marry you weren't you? That's what that was, a wedding ring, wasn't it?"

  Face hidden behind the refrigerator door, Steve said nothing.Please Jenny. It's too soon. Just leave it...

  "Jenny, can you please do what I asked and go with Christopher?"

  "No, Marilyn, you're not my mom, I don't have to listen to you. I'm talking with Steve. Steve, why won't you talk to me about Sarah? Every time someone mentions her name, you get like this. She died, it hurts bad…”

  Liquid lines ran from sad eyes, but she did not wipe them away.

  "That doesn't mean you have to be like this. You don't get to shut your friends out, it's not fair..."

  Fair? Sarah being killed by some fucking low-life, piece-of-shit thug wasn't fair!Steve screamed inside. A flair of anger caused his jaw muscle to bulge.Calm down, Steve. You're not going to yell at her.

  "My dad made me go to a therapist once," Jenny continued. "The woman told me that I had to talk about everything that bothered me or made me sad. She said that would help, and it did..."

  Steve heard about Jenny's past from Sarah. He learned how Jenny's mother abandoned her when Mark decided the military was more important than marriage. How Mark was always away and Robert was busy with college and football and partying. How Jenny never really had any friends until Sarah came back to care for her grandmother.

  Steve closed the door and stared at Jenny’s chest; he was unable to meet her eyes, which were now dripping tears.

  "For me, this virus was the best thing that ever happened, and I know that's horrible of me to say, but it's true. I finally got my family back together again, and even when my dad was busy running things, and even when Robert was busy getting high with his friends," she paused as the sniffles and choking feeling caught up with her, "I still had my family. I saw more of them in those months than I ever did before..."

  Steve gave it sincere thought. At the Eye, Mark and Robert had both died. Jenny had Sarah and Josue, but a few days ago, both had been murdered.

  She really has no one. At least you have Alex.

  "I loved Sarah. She was my best friend. She was like a sister to me. I know you loved her too, and she loved both of us and we loved her. You weren't the only one who cared about her. You weren't the only one who lost her...”

  Steve's mind flashed to the happiest and saddest memory of Sarah. It was in Jones' cabin when she accepted his marriage proposal, then moments later as she passed on to the next world.

  "I-I know,” came Steve’s first words, but the memory replaying again and again caused him to clam up.

  Steve's chest rose and fell. Familiar feelings that he once thought were dead and buried, ones he hoped never to feel again, seemed to surface briefly like blips on a sonar screen. As quickly as they came, faster they were crammed back down into their coffins.

  Finally, Steve’s eyes dragged upward until they met Jenny's, and for a long moment, he stared through her glazed lenses, into her desperate soul.

  “I know you
did,” he replied, but to Jenny's disappointment that was all he was willing to say. He wasn't ready to have that conversation. He wasn't sure if he would ever be.

  "We need to talk about it, Steve. We need to talk about her!"

  Steve could feel the pressure of the spectators' eyes staring at him, waiting for the answer he would give the girl.

  But Steve's mind was blank, or perhaps it was overloaded with emotion.

  At some point during Jenny's passionate divulgence, Travis had opened the door. Behind him stood the Secret Service Agents, Ally, Kelly, Eddy and Matty, all of whom bore similar expressions of "We should come back later."

  Fortunately for Steve, West caught notice of their return. He stood up and calmly said, "Jenny, I am truly sorry, and I don't mean to marginalize your situation, but we have to start the meeting."

  Jenny’s lower lip quivered as she breathed through her nostrils. She didn't acknowledge West verbally, instead, she waited for Steve to say something.

  But nothing happened.

  "Jenny," Marilyn said, tenderly. She hoped her question could diffuse some tension or at least prompt action. "Would you like to help me set the lunch outside?"

  Jenny shook her head. "No."

  Steve was almost certain the head shake was in disapproval of him.

  "I'm staying here. I want to hear the plan. I want to be involved, and I want to contribute," she said, hopping up on the top bunk.

  "Can I stay too, mom?"

  "Absolutely not," Marilyn answered, handing Christopher a pot of rice to carry out. "Jenny, I really think you should come with us."

  Jenny crossed her arms stubbornly. "I'm fine here."

  "It's okay, Marilyn. She can stay as long as she observes only," said Steve. He looked up at Jenny, who seemed to be frowning less.It might not be a smile, but I'll take it.

  "A war room is no place for children," protested Marilyn.

  With the slightest hint of an attitude, Jenny's response was blunt and intransigent. "I'm not a kid anymore. I'm fourteen now. I need to grow up."