Unknown to Daytona and unnoticed by the others, Shanna began to stir awake. She located her earpiece on the floor and inserted it without detection.
“A thought just occurred to me,” Albert interrupted politely. “This hiccup might have worked out better than we could have planned. With the President out of the picture, that opens up the line of succession. All we have to do is get rid of a few more, and we have Norman ready and willing. He will be the person the world rallies behind.”
Liz’s face brightened up and a full smile formed. "I hadn't thought of that. We won't even have to buy the next President. It's poetic.”
“Where do I fit in? What can I do?”
“Daytona, if you weren't my son, you'd be dead already,” Liz snapped. “If you want to be useful, get whatever information out of Ms. Finley that you can. Find out everything she knows, but don't kill her until I tell you, understood?”
Daytona growled but nodded his head affirmatively.
“I want updates from both of you ASAP. That will be all for now,” she said, cutting off her video feed.
Albert stayed on long enough to gloat. “All these fuck ups...you really know how to make me look good, brother. Tootles.”
Shanna pretended to be unconscious when Daytona glanced in her direction.
Daytona set the gun down next to him and pouted.This is fucked. West should be dead. It’s not your fault. But they’re treating you like an outcast. No, worse, like a child.
A call from Miller swept away the dismal thoughts. “What’s the plan, boss?”
If you disobey her order and go back, mom will kill you.
“Boss?”
“Continue on to the LZ. We’ll hop on the jet and fly back to HQ.”
“Ten-four.”
Daytona shut his eyes to de-stress, and in that moment, Shanna successfully grabbed the gun. Hand shaking, she pointed the barrel at Daytona’s chest and shouted, “Put your hands up!”
Daytona was completely surprised, but despite the unfavorable position, not nervous.
Shanna screamed her order again, adding, “Tell the pilot to turn around and take me back to Blue Springs, now!”
Daytona tilted his head. “How about no.”
“W-what do you mean no? I’ll shoot you, I swear I will!”
Confidently, Shanna fired off a round to prove her intent. The forty-caliber round struck the window, but the bullet resistant glass caused the round to ricochet and hit the wall, before finally ending in Daytona’s leg.
“Turn this thing around or the next one goes in your head! I’m serious!”
Daytona grunted in such a way as an average person would associate the level of pain with a paper cut.
Miller had heard the shot and turned on the video feed. “Whoa, what’s going on, boss? Everything okay?”
Daytona used his fingers and pinched out the bloody bullet fragment from his thigh. “Everything is just dandy,” he grumbled, tossing the bullet aside. “Ms. Finley got a hold of my gun and wants to be taken back to Blue Springs or she’ll shoot me. She'sserious. Captain Miller, let's do what she says and turn around, shall we?”
“You better not try anything or make a go at me,” Shanna started to say, but she didn’t notice the wink Daytona gave into the camera and certainly didn’t expect a counter attack as fast as it happened.
Right then, Captain Miller jerked the stick up and left.
As Shanna's body was thrown backward and to the side, Daytona held on to the handle, keeping his body from doing the same.
Shanna's hand hit the wall causing her finger to squeeze off another round. Her shoulder impacted next and dislocated with painful ease. Worse, was the numbing nerve response that caused her to release the gun.
Daytona and Shanna looked at each other, then the unclaimed weapon.
Daytona released the handle and dropped back. Shanna had a better angle to the handgun and caressed the handle, but Daytona grabbed a handful of her shirt and yanked it back.
The fabric ripped, exposing her bra, but Shanna surged forward for another attempt. She wiggled and squirmed her way to the weapon, but Daytona gripped her dislocated arm and yanked again.
Shanna yelped in pain, but managed to claw Daytona’s face.
“Bitch,” Daytona growled, as her nail ripped through the skin over his eye. Out of frustration, he threw her against the opposite wall.
Captain Miller righted the rotorcraft and asked, “Everything all right, sir?”
“Ya,” Daytona confirmed, but not before giving Shanna a kick to her stomach for the inconvenience. “Try anything like that again and you’ll be begging me to kill you, got it?”
Gasping desperately for air, Shanna was unable to respond with coherent words.
Settling back to his seat, Daytona cocked his head to the side and gazed at Shanna’s exposed breast. He had never been attracted to black women, but something about her current state was arousing.
Maybe it was her tight body and curved buttocks, or perhaps it was the way she waved a gun in his face and barked out orders, but something stimulated his sex drive. A vision of him and her involved in an intense sadomasochistic sexual session flashed through his mind.
Biting and licking his lower lip, he enjoyed the mental images.
Moments later, Shanna regained her breath. “Craig will find me again, and he will kill you.”
Hand in his groin, Daytona sat comfortably, ignoring that and the following meritless threats. In fact, he chuckled, saying, “Sure thing, honey.” He removed his shirt and used the fabric to wipe the blood from his face, but that wasn’t the only reason for undressing. “Miller, there might be some movement in the back or maybe even some screams, but don’t worry. You can turn the camera off, or keep it on if you want a show.”
Miller smiled. “You got it, boss.”
“What are you talking about? What does that mean?” Shanna asked nervously, eyes shifting back and forth between Daytona and the video of Captain Miller. Then she noticed Daytona staring at her exposed parts, and she hurried to cover them.
“I don't think I've ever fucked a black girl,” Daytona said, slowly sliding off his belt next. “It's a long trip back to New York and I can use some stress release.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled across the touch screen until he located the camera function.
“There’s no way in hell you are-”
“Oh, this is happening,” Daytona declared confidently. On the phone, he pressed record, and then set the device off to the side. He roughly yanked off Shanna’s outer garments, then he leaned in close behind her ear and said softly, “You can fight all you want and you might even get a good hit in, but it's up to you how many broken bones you want to have. Just know that it's going to happen. Whether you are conscious or not, I'm gonna pop my black cherry, and hey, you might even enjoy it.”
Shanna’s cheek was pressed against the window. As much as she wanted to maintain a tough exterior, she knew she was helpless in her current predicament. Despite the low humming, the cabin felt quiet, almost as though someone pushed mute.
Her lip began to quiver uncontrollably as she whispered, “Craig.”
“He can't hear you,” Daytona said, wiping the tear that streamed down her face. He nodded toward the cell phone camera and finished, “but I'll make sure he sees everything.”
Shanna’s body tightened up as the last of her pants were ripped away from her body.
Daytona leaned back to gaze at her petite almond features. “Mmm,” he mumbled, nearly salivating. He leaned in once again and whispered, “I think I’m really going to enjoy this.”
“Enjoy this!” Shanna exclaimed, slamming the back of her head against Daytona's unsuspecting chin. Two bottom teeth popped out and blood rose from the exposed cavities.
Shanna spun around and tightened both fists. She didn’t care about her naked appearance, the pounding headache, or the dislocated shoulder. She was ready to fight, and ready to go loudly and violently into this nightmare.
&nb
sp; “Fuck,” Daytona cursed, spinning around as the pain stung. Then his anger turned into laughter, and a chill ran through Shanna’s exposed body. “Ah, you bitch. You're gonna pay for that one.”
“That’s just the start.”
“It’ll heal, like everything else,” he replied, apparently more excited and aroused than before. “Tell you the truth, I hoped you’d put up a fight.” He spat a bloody wad onto the window behind him. He stripped down to his boxer-briefs and said, “Now the real decision is which bones I can break and how bruised you can be to still be fuckable.”
“What’s so funny?”
“I just thought of something. I wonder what black women look like with black eyes.”
Shanna tried to swallow but her throat had dried up.
“Now the fun begins," he said, rushing her.
Blue Springs, Idaho
November 30, 2009
1200 hours
The pungent scent of burnt, human flesh was beyond nauseating; so much so that the toxic fumes from plastics and melting synthetic structures were almost welcoming.
With little water on hand to spare and no feasible way to siphon, pressurize and utilize natural water supplies, the flames would continue to burn until nothing but ash and charred bone remained.
The valley of Blue Springs would forever be marked as a valley of death.
A black Chevrolet Suburban, a military supply truck with a nylon tarp covering the flatbed, and the recreational vehicle known as Sweetie were backed up to the circular entrance of Eagle’s Landing. With much to do, groups were formed and responsibilities delegated in order to facilitate the tasks necessary to ensure a timely departure.
While many were busy gathering supplies, some remained deep inside the bunker tending to a separate tragedy.
“Morphine should help the pain,” Charlie said, sliding out the needle from the President’s arm.
The opioid’s effects were near instantaneous. Joshua Tufase’s muscles relaxed, and his body slid down from its elevated position. “Thank you, son.”
“And this should make you a little more comfortable,” Charlie followed, gently lifting up the President’s head to make room for another pillow.
Secret Service Agent David Kim stood patiently by the bedside; unwavering loyalty was a trait instilled early on by his Korean parents. “Anything else we can get for you, sir?”
“No, David,” Joshua started to say, but a cough cut him off. He removed his hand and didn’t bother wiping away the blood that stained his palm. “That will be alright.”
Consumed by mixed emotions, Kim stared at his Commander in Chief, but it was Charlie’s hand that stirred him from the increasing anger.
“Can I talk with you for a sec? Both of you?”
“Fine,” Dennis Clint replied, then leaned down and said, “We’ll be right back, Mr. President. If you need anything at all-”
“I’ll be just fine,” Joshua interrupted, voice weak from the drugs.
Charlie stood with his back to the President. Before he could speak, however, Clint asked, “How much longer does he have?”
“Not much. His body is shutting down. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think he’d last this long.”
The Secret Servicemen glanced back over Charlie’s shoulder.
Joshua Tufase appeared dead already. His skin was ghostly pale. Blood pressure declined slowly but steadily. Recent tests of the pupils showed signs of limited response, and cold beads of sweat streaked down his forehead and cheeks.
“It’s only a matter of minutes,” Charlie continued, “I’d say he’s going off sheer will power, eh.”
“He always was a stubborn Marine.”
Memories caused David Kim to snort and smirk, but after a moment, the gravity of the situation returned and with it, a long, hard sigh. Kim ran both hands through his buzzed black hair and said, “I guess we just make him as comfortable as possible.”
“That was going to be my suggestion.”
“We can’t thank you enough for giving him this much time.”
“It was an honor. I just wish I could have done more.”
“On second thought,” Joshua called out hoarsely, “maybe a blanket would be nice. These damn caves are freezing cold.”
Charlie mouthed the word “shock,” then said, “Go, I’ll look after him.”
Clint nodded in approval.
“Absolutely, sir. Be back in a moment.”
At the door leading into the hall, Kim bumped into West.
“How’s he doing?”
Kim shook his head slightly from side to side. “Not much longer. I’m going to get him a blanket.”
West watched Charlie offer the President a clean towel after a recent bout of coughing. He frowned, pat Agent Kim on the shoulder, and then met the others. “How are you feeling, Mr. President?”
“Like I’m dying,” Joshua replied bluntly. He looked away as a sorrowful thought consumed him. “All those people up there…I never should have confronted Liz out in the open as I did. It was stupid.”
“With all due respect, don’t do that to yourself,” West interjected politely.
The President’s eyes found West’s. For as tough as the man was, Joshua was humbled like a champion who lost the closest of title fights. His irritated eyes were glazed lightly and a tremor ran through his chin.
“You never could have known she would engage in a firefight. You made a call. You did what you thought was right. What she did was on her and no one else.”
Joshua nodded then swallowed his regret and said, “Alright, I’ll spare you the rest of my Dear Diary so we can get on to business. You need to focus on the trucks with the vaccine. If everything is still on schedule, they will be leaving from the LIFE facility tomorrow-”
“Where exactly is the facility located?” West interjected again, this time less politely.
Clint growled and took a step toward West. “That’s the second time you’ve interrupted the President. Do not do it again.”
Joshua held up a hand. “It’s alright, Clint. It’s just a question. Central Nevada, favoring the north west. I don’t have a specific address, but we did make a trip there to check up on the progress of the vaccine. Clint, would you mind getting a map?”
West pointed to an area near the door. “There’s one in the black bag over there, go fetch.”
Clint’s nostrils flared in anger, but he complied.
“The side pocket."
Clint abandoned the main zipper and peeled back the flap. A moment later, he hustled back with a map in hand. Trailing him was Agent Kim, who gently unrolled the heavy blanket on the President’s lap.
Clint unfolded the map and said, “Near highways 305 and the 50, Mr. President.”
Joshua dragged his index finger uncertainly. “It’s around here somewhere, but Agent Clint would know more specifically than I would. Dennis?”
“Like the President said, we toured the facility a few months ago. There won’t be any signs, but it’s there. Right here,” Clint said tapping on an exact location.
West spun the map around to face him. After some internal deliberation, he shook his head. “No, that won’t work.”
“Not your call,” Clint replied with not-so-subtle aggression. “If the President says that’s the plan, that’s the plan.”
“Are you as stupid as you come off?”
Clint stepped up to West’s chin. “You better watch your tongue, boy.”
“Then stop being a drone and think-”
“Whoa, same team, guys,” Kim said, stepping in between the two, but he was shoved away by both men.
“Gentlemen!” The President attempted to shout. The word drained a great deal of strength from the dying man, but immediately stopped the quarrel.
“I’m sorry, Mr. President,” West apologized, “I did not, nor would I ever, mean you any disrespect, sir. What I was trying to get at was that going after the trucks is a mistake.”
Clint opened his mouth, but Joshua�
�s hand silenced him. “I would like to hear why. Go ahead, son.”
West licked his lips. “Look. I know strategy. I was trained by the best to be the best. I understand your desire to take out the trucks, but that is not a viable option for two reasons. First, that will only eliminate a byproduct, not the problem. Second, we do not have the manpower to dedicate toward tracking and taking out the trucks.”
Joshua arched an eyebrow. “What do you propose?”
“The way I see it, there's only one choice, but our window is closing. We need to hit the facility,” West declared, tapping his finger on the map. “If, and I mean a big if, we can make it down there in time we might be able to stop this thing. Cause once those trucks make it to the open road, there will be no way for us to track them. The vaccine’s the key, and we need to stop LIFE from delivering it to the public.”
After West’s conclusion, the room fell silent as all eyes waited for the dying President.
“He’s right. Whatever Liz has planned, it has to do with Ambrosia…”
A violent coughing spell surged through Joshua. He heaved and heaved, causing fresh blood to spew from his mouth and ooze through the compress on his stomach. When the spasms ended, he picked up where he left off.
“When I last spoke with Liz, she indicated a departure date for tomorrow. She was very determined to meet that timeline. Unless their plans have changed, she will adhere to that date.”
The men turned as a knock came from the open door.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Ally announced, entering with Lisa. “We are almost done packing the vehicles.”
Lisa was watching Ally’s lips and reported after. “We made lists of the supplies like you asked for...”
Agent Clint briskly snatched the papers from Lisa’s hand, and while he reviewed the list, Lisa leaned in to West and said, "I'm glad you're still with us."
Clint easily overheard the comment. "Ya, what are you still doing here? Your friends said you were leaving."
The Longest Road (Book 3): The Other Side Page 3
