The Longest Road (Book 3): The Other Side

by A. S. Thompson

  The thud resonated into the room causing Liz to step back.

  “Do not worry, Ms. Baron. The glass is twenty inches thick. It would take thousands of pounds of force to cause the glass to crack, let alone rupture.”

  “I would ask you if you were certain, MIA, but I know the level of your intelligence. I will say that if the engineers who designed this were still alive, I would have them very painfully disciplined for constructing the feeding portal so closely to the glass. Idiots and their lack of foresight.”

  “Ms. Baron,” Jenna Morgan said timidly as she opened the door.

  “One moment,” Liz replied, walking toward a box and pedestal that seemed out of place in the far side of the room. Liz unclasped and placed her pearl necklace inside the filing-cabinet sized safe. After, she closed the glass front, and then the safe automatically initiated its closing protocol whereby the flooring directly underneath opened up and the pedestal lowered inside before the tile pushed back sealing the hiding spot seamlessly. “What is it, Jenna?”

  Waiting patiently, Jenna pushed her square rimmed glasses closer to her face. “Ms. Baron, there’s been an incident. I think it’s best if you come take a look.”

  ***

  Without changing from her sleeping gown, Elizabeth Baron sat in a comfortable black leather chair, custom designed to fit her body's specific shape and ergonomic spinal support.

  The stone encased Control Room was naturally chilly, but whenever Liz was present, automatic heating initiated and the room maintained a precise seventy-four degrees Fahrenheit.

  A tray of breakfast was prepared for Liz: sliced fruits, scrambled eggs hot off the skillet and two slices of raisin toast topped with butter, cinnamon, and sugar.

  Servants set down sparkling silverware on top of a crimson linen napkin. After they poured a glass of fresh squeezed, heavily pulped orange juice, they stood back and waited quietly.

  Despite the creature comforts, Liz was not happy. She was pulled away from her morning routine to deal with an unknown emergency.

  "What do we know?" Lizzy said, entering the room. Her movements were sluggish and heavy bags hung under her eyes. Carrying a cup of coffee, she descended the ten steps, and made her way to the circular table.

  "The Farm is offline but nothing further. I am having MIA pull up satellite imagery, but they are not yet in orbital position."

  "Backup data?"

  "Downloading now, Ms. Baron," answered a soft, female voice from above.

  "Albert?"

  Liz answered before MIA could. "Still nothing."

  "Out of contact? That isn't like him," Lizzy mumbled.

  "Where are we at with the foreign contacts?"

  Lizzy finished ordering a breakfast mimicking her mother’s but substituted orange for grapefruit juice.

  "I spoke with all of them earlier. I assured them distribution and testing were on schedule. I think they all understood my message as to what insubordination would bring," she said, referencing the severed heads.

  "What a glorious morning," Daytona Briggs praised as he strolled in through the command room doors. He simultaneously yawned obnoxiously and went into a full body stretch. "And what seems to be today's problem?"

  Lizzy blew on her coffee and whispered, "Besides your face?"

  "I do not have time for your attitude, Daytona," Liz replied acidly. She did not bother looking up from her tablet.

  "Oh, good morning, cunt," Daytona said, acknowledging his sister's presence with an insult rather than eye contact.

  "Morning, douche bag.”

  Before taking a seat, Daytona placed his breakfast order with Jenna. "Whole wheat bagel, lightly toasted with jalapeno cream cheese. Protein shake, not with milk, which you idiots always seem to fuck up. Make sure you make it with water and go ahead and throw in some fruit too. Surprise me."

  “I will relay that to the help.” Jenna turned to Liz and asked, "Anything else, ma'am?"

  Liz was deep in thought, and her reply of "no" was done so with the flick of her wrist.

  "Were you planning on actually being productive today, brother?" Lizzy asked, sitting across from Daytona. "I'm still waiting on your security service plans and layouts for the overseas operations. Were you going to get to that or just fill your time raping that poor black girl..."

  Daytona opened his mouth to rebut, but Lizzy wasn't finished.

  "And by poor black girl, I don't pity the woman who told the President about our plans and caused our Blue Springs operation to fail. I also don't mean poor black girl for having to endure the torture you inflict on her to find out what she knows; the bitch deserves every ounce. I mean poor black girl who has the incredible displeasure of your small, pathetic excuse of a dick inside her repeatedly."

  "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather enjoy my breakfast beforethis,"he replied, foreshadowing an impending verbal fight as he moved his hands back and forth from him to her.

  Daytona was accustomed to their time together: the banter, the cursing, and the sheer hatred of each other's existence. There was never a meeting that did not involve verbal abuse; it hadn't come to physical, yet.

  "But so you know, I have been busy at work. That reminds me, I should probably wipe this blood off my hands before I eat."

  Daytona walked up the stairs and followed the rounded curvature of the room until he arrived at the wet bar. He washed his hands vigorously, dried them off, and then noticed the glass containers of various alcohols. "I think a little rum will go nice with my bagel. Hey sister, you want something?"

  Before she was given enough time to answer, Daytona finished his sentence, smiling. "Kidding, I fucking hate you. You're a psychotic bitch."

  Lizzy held up her middle finger.

  "Daytona, sit down and shut up," Liz ordered. "MIA, call Albert again!"

  "Yes, Ms. Baron. Connecting now."

  In front of Liz was a large a black screen. Projected onto it, were the silver colored words "LIFE CORPORATION: Helping you live the life you were born to live.”

  Taking a seat, Daytona took a sip of rum and coke. "So tell me again why I had to be here?"

  Liz didn't feel the need to answer her son's question. Instead, she asked, "Where are we at with Ms. Finley?"

  Daytona swiveled in his chair like a carefree child. "These chairs are ridiculously comfortable. Did you kill some baby seals for this leather or what?"

  Liz's head turned quickly to her son. Her eyes were piercing, deadly on their own, without any sort of threat. "Daytona…I asked you a question. As I'm sure you can tell, I am neither in the mood, nor willing to put up with any of yourshit at the moment. I asked you here because there has been an incident at the Farm, and as head of my company's security, you need be present to assess it. Furthermore, I asked you a question as to the results of your interrogation of Ms. Finley. If you cannot answer that question, or if you feel the need to continue making a childlike ass of yourself, feel free to withdraw from your title, leave the facility and my good graces. Is that understood?"

  Daytona stopped spinning at once.

  "Yes. I am here and ready to help assess the situation. As to your question regarding Shanna, I believe I found out everything I needed to know."

  "Does that include how you still can't find the clitoris, even when the woman is bound?"

  "Lizzy," Liz grumbled. She loved and hated the sibling rivalry. When it interfered with business, though, she hated it.

  "Sorry, mother.”

  Daytona extended his middle finger and mouthed the words "fuck you." When Liz looked back his way, Daytona made it appear as though he was running a hand through his blond hair.

  "Care to elaborate, son?" Despite Liz’s inflection, the question was an order.

  Famished and driven by the sweet scent of his recently served breakfast, Daytona lifted the bagel to his mouth but stopped.

  "Take one bite of that bagel before answering me and you will not be leaving this room by your own free will, or by your own two feet."


  Daytona had the sweet and spicy taste of jalapeno cream cheese caress his tongue. It was so close, so easy to taste one morsel, but he opted not to test his mother. He dropped the bagel on his plate but licked his fingers just to spite her.

  "Ms. Finley informed me that the only person she told our plans to was President What's His Face. Additionally, she said that the President informed only the commander of the Marines and the head of his Secret Service, so they could develop a workable scenario to arrest us, like they tried to do…"

  Daytona used his hands to mimic shooting as he relived the moment when he shot the President, and his Guardsmen completely dominated the Marines and Secret Service.

  "Shanna assured me that no other members of the government were told. President Whatever was planning on contacting the other bunkers but never did. So, in my professional opinion, it is my conclusion that she provided us with the truth and everything we needed to know."

  "Are you certain?"

  "Yes," Daytona answered. He pulled out his phone and slid it over to Liz. "I was very, very persuasive."

  Liz swiped through the pictures; intense scenes of physical and chemical torture.

  "Albert Stone located, Ms. Baron,” MIA said, adjusting the video feed. “You are connected."

  The helicopter pilot answered the video call. "Hello, Ms.-"

  "Get me my son."

  Moments later, Albert's face was captured in the cabin of the helicopter.

  "Hello, Mother."

  "Albert, darling, finally I get a hold of you."

  "Hey, bro," Daytona said, chewing a mouthful of the long-awaited bagel.

  Albert sneered. "What'sshe doing here?"

  "Lizzy just flew in."

  "I came in to assess and document the Blue Springs debacle for our foreign contacts," Lizzy added unnecessarily.

  To both answers, Albert dragged his fingers under his smooth chin. "Interesting."

  "I have two questions for you," Liz continued. "First, where have you been? Second, what happened and why did I receive an emergency broadcast from the Farm?”

  "Technically, those are three questions."

  Elizabeth Baron slammed her fist down on the table. "Damn you and your technicalities! I asked you questions, son. You would be better served to not waste my time and answer me."

  "Ya, bro," Daytona started to say, but paused to slurp down his shake. "What happened? Did the family saint fuck up for once?"

  “Oh, fuck off, brother."

  "Albert, whatever you do, do not lie to me," Liz said staring intensely into the video camera.

  "I was in Las Vegas performing field tests," answered Albert.

  "What sort of testing?"

  "I would tell you, my dearest sister, but I'm afraid your cognition would be unable to handle the input."

  "To translate, you're a stupid bitch," Daytona smiled. "Bitch was added of course."

  "Good one, brother."

  "Children," Liz said in a way that stopped the bickering. "Now Albert, if I recall correctly, and I'm certain you will tell me otherwise, but did I not instruct you to remain at the Farm until the trucks departed?"

  "You did."

  "When you get back here, you can explain to me all about what your field testing comprised, until then, we have further matters to discuss."

  "As to your second and third questions," Albert began, looking away momentarily. "I will answer them out of order. You received the emergency signal because the Farm has been completely destroyed."

  "Joking is your idiot brother's department," Liz said coldly.

  "Whoa, hold on," contested Daytona, but was silenced by his mother's finger.

  Lizzy took the opportunity to regain any lost admiration. "I thought we were only supposed to have one idiot in the family. Are we surrounded by idiots, mother?"

  "It might appear so. Now, Albert, enough with the jokes."

  Albert's Adam's apple moved up and down, but his face had remained expressionless. "I am not joking with you..."

  He went on to relay the information that was told to him by Mr. Butler. By the end of his account, Liz's face had twisted into a wicked frown, and the large vein on her forehead pulsated with rage.

  “I am uploading all the information I have,” Albert said, swiping his handheld device.

  "Ms. Baron, the files are ready," declared MIA.

  "Play them."

  The large screen split and began to show salvaged footage from security cameras inside the Farm. Liz controlled which videos to highlight and examine.

  The entire sequence of events lasted only minutes, but the multiple feeds clearly showed the face of Craig West and each accomplice. The last seconds of the footage followed the men down the corridor leading to the southern exit on the first floor. From there, the point of view changed to an outdoor camera which captured the men as they hurried to the fence line. Then, a bright white light flashed in front of every camera before the signal cut out.

  Liz was beyond words, so Lizzy spoke for her.

  "What is the exact operational state of the Farm? Is there any way for production to continue?"

  "Would it help if I repeat the words completely destroyed? I know it must be difficult for someone with such a small brain. Here, I'll say it slower, and maybe you can pick it up. Completely destr-"

  "Shut up! Everyone!" Liz screamed. She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. Her shoulders lifted with each heavy expansion and contraction of her diaphragm.

  After a moment, Albert broke the silence. "I guess it was a good thing that I was away testing, otherwise, I would have died in the blast."

  "Maybe you should have," Lizzy mumbled at first, then raised her voice. "After all, you and your brother are epic failures."

  "Hey, what did I do? I was back here!"

  "You really want me to answer that?” Lizzy said, setting down her fork. “Okay, here it goes. Try to keep up. Had it not been for your moronic arrogance, Sergeant Major Craig West would not be alive. Had he been dead, like you weresupposed to see to, he and his cohorts would not be able to infiltrate and blow up the facility..."

  Daytona began to sink into his chair.

  "Furthermore, you are in charge of security, which I've told mother from the beginning, was and is a complete joke. And your 'Guard,' the men you claim are the best of the best, somehow managed to be taken down by a retired Delta Force operator. What does that say about your men? What does that say about you, brother? I'll tell you...your security team needs refreshing and the only thing you were decently good for were assassinations and even then you failed."

  "See it's not my fault. The issue was security. My presence would have had a three percent impact on the situation."

  "Then there's you, Albert," Lizzy said cutting him off. "You are tasked with maintaining general operational oversight and one hundred percent responsible for all things relating to Ambrosia. This stage of the operation is critical, and you have failed, but your failure does not end there. I believe you once said West's life was, and I quote, inconsequential. Your lack of accountability has amounted to the destruction of our Ambrosia processing plant. I'd say that your one saving grace is the one and only truckload of Ambrosia that did manage to escape. Despite that tiny victory, both of your failures may have seriously crippled this operation."

  "Oh, fuck you," both brothers said in unison.

  "Ya, what do you do over there in Europe? Sip on martinis and wait for us to do all the heavy lifting?"

  "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even have an infection or a cure. Not to mention my invaluable oversight."

  Lizzy straightened up and waited for her brothers' rants to end. When they did, she asked, "Would you like to know the difference between you and me?"

  "Despite your kiss-ass attitude?”

  “Tell me, sister, when was the last time you got laid? You need it."

  "Really? Both of you are going to say that? This coming from the king of ass-kissing and a boy who rapes women when he's not occupied wr
estling with his friends? Good ones. Top notch insults…The difference between you and me is this. Everyone can do well when everything is going according to plan. Then there's the people who can't take the pressure and they buckle. That's both of you. Then there's the people like me who get their shit done and are forced to clean up after people like you..."

  The bickering continued until Liz finally spoke.

  "That's enough! Lizzy is right. You two idiots have seriously compromised this phase. I expect this from Daytona, but not from you, Albert. Not you."

  Albert decided to hold back the fire on his tongue. "May I speak, Mother? I have some important information I know you would like to hear."

  “The idiot wants to say something. How cute," Lizzy jeered.

  "One of our scientists, Wilson Crowley, was abducted by Sergeant Major West-"

  "And why is this important?"

  "If you let me finish, sister, you'll understand. Dr. Crowley is important because he has valuable intelligence on West and his compatriots."

  Liz leaned forward and her eyes narrowed. "What kind of intelligence? Get him."

  After sliding the door shut, Wilson Crowley said and regretted saying, "Good morning, Ms. Baron."

  Liz's expression was anything but pleasant. "Does it appear to be agood morning, Doctor Crowley?"

  "I-um, no. Sorry?"

  "Here's how this is going to work," Liz said, leaning back in her chair. "I will ask you a series of questions and if you get them right, you get to walk away. If not, well, you're dead. You'll have to excuse my bluntness, as I don't have the time to provide you with a euphemism to explain my point gently. Is that understood?"

  Dr. Crowley nodded.

  "I got one," Daytona blurted. "If not, you will wish you were inside the building when the bombs went off. Hah!"

  "Alright, that's it! I have had enough of you, Daytona! Leave now!"

  "Oh come on, Mother!"

  "At once! Consider it a time-out. Do not make me ask you again."

  Albert watched Daytona pout as he marched up the steps. "Good, now the grown-ups can talk."

  "And you can leave as well."

  "Leave? What are you talking about? Leave where?"