Prison.com: Prologue

The Prison.com: Prologue
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/p/my-stories.html

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Sammy put the binoculars down in the passenger seat of her car.  "Ok," she said to herself, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to do.  She slowly timed the other car's motion in her head, pulled hers out of park, and let it roll forward to block the small access road.  The gate on the passenger side slid open, revealing an oncoming car that had slammed on both the brakes and the horn the moment the driver saw Sammy parked sideways.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" the man driving said as he leapt from his car.

"Samantha Tanaka, Mr. Porter McCarthy.  I'm with the Courier-Gazette.  You are Porter McCarthy, right?  You certainly look like your old videos, Mr. McCarthy."

"What?" stammered the man, suddenly confused by this ambush.

"The videos, Mr. McCarthy.  The ones you made for your old website?  The ones with all the women you tied up and tortured?  I'm sure that our readers would be very interested to know the kind of person who bought up so many of the old farms over here, don't you think?"

McCarthy's face drew up into a fierce glare as Sammy pulled out some photos and spread then on the hood of his car.

"I assume that's why you used all of these shell companies to disguise who was doing all that buying, isn't it?  It wouldn't be to protect yourself from some of the outstanding judgements against your old company, would it?"  Sammy tossed out a series of letters and court records as well.

"Look," McCarthy began, shoving the papers and photos back towards Sammy, "All of the claims were resolved, and I've moved on from all that unpleasantness.  I'm just trying to start fresh, and my lawyers advised me that this was the best way to do that.  The last thing I wanted was some asshole reporter shitting all over things before I could even start anything."

"Start up what exactly, Mr. McCarthy?" Sammy asked, failing at keeping a smirk from forming on her face.

"Start up my new company!" he shouted, clearly getting more flustered and angry.

"This wouldn't be another torture porn site, would it?  Are we going to have an influx of transient drug addicts showing up in town because of you?"  Sammy saw McCarthy twitch, and for a moment she thought she might have pushed too far.

He leaned over to put his hands on the hood of the car, and used the moment to take a deep breath.  Sammy could see a few crumpled photos where his hands were when he stood back up.  "We always tried to find local people, and we never worked with anyone that we knew had drug problems.  The new plan will be much better, and there's no way we'll have anything like that one girl happen again.  I never would have pushed her that far if I knew she had shot up before we started."

"What new plan would that be, Mr. McCarthy?  Care to explain things now, or would you rather wait until my story is published?  I would certainly hope your lawyers got everything right.  I don't think that the county prosecutor likes it when people try to be sneaky about things."

"You b..." McCarthy started before catching himself.  "Back your car up, let me turn around, and I'll show you what we're going to do. Would that smooth things over a bit and make your story a little less antagonistic?  Is that what you want?"

"I only want to make sure that I can present our readers with a fully informed perspective about what our newest large land owner is planning on doing.  Surely the safety and quiet of our community is why you wanted to move here, isn't it?

Sammy could see him fighting to keep his anger under control.  "Just follow me, I'll quickly show you what we're doing, and if you're determined to libel me in your story, then you'll get a chance to see how good my lawyers are."

As the cars danced around, Sammy giggled to herself.  She loved it when she could crack people like that.  As she followed him through the gate and down the gravel path, she could look out over the wide farmland.  It had been planted and harvested, both of which must have been done since the sale of the land.  "Maybe he is just opening a farm," she thought to herself.

An hour later, Sammy was bored listening to him explain "phase 1", and how the fully organic farm worked, how the fields were to be divided between various fruits and vegetables, and how he's spent time lining up sales contracts with local restaurants.  They were walking back to the barn that they had parked next to, when he suddenly turned towards a small concrete shed that marked the opposite side of the vague parking area.  "But you don't care about I'm planning on keeping the soil nitrogen at suitable levels without dumping tons of fertilizer generated by burning even more tons of natural gas, do you?" McCarthy asked, jolting Sammy out of her agricultural boredom.  She followed intently as he unlocked the door of the shed, flipped on some lights, and then pulled a ring on the floor, revealing a set of stairs spiraling downwards.

"Um, what the fuck is this?" Sammy asked, stunned by the sudden change in the conversation.

"This is 'phase 2', which I was hoping to have going by now, but there's always something getting in the way."  He started down the stairs, and Sammy followed, their footsteps clanging on the metal steps and echoing down into the ground.  "See, the actual reason I moved here is that my daughter lives around here, and so this seemed like the best place to buy some land and retire.  Phase 1 was always my goal, but she convince me that phase 2 would be a good addition, and after she showed me the numbers, I had to agree."

They reached the bottom of the staircase, and he used a second key to open the heavy door they led to.  He swung it open, and then felt along the wall to try and find the light switch.  Sammy stood in the doorway, trying to make out any details in the darkness ahead.  The lights finally flicked on, and Sammy's mouth dropped open as she saw the room that stretched in front of her.  It seemed to be about twenty feet wide, with high ceilings.  Although there was an empty space by the door she'd walked through, beyond that was a large iron barred cell that stretched the full height of the room.  Sammy walked closer, and saw that the room stretched far into the distance, with a line of similar cells dividing it in half.

McCarthy continued, smiling himself now that Sammy was the one shocked.  "Her idea was that the old site failed because of the scope.  We only had one girl, or a few at a time visiting.  This is easier, but means everything rides on getting each scene right.  However, if we had a lot of girls in at the same time, then one bad scene doesn't matter.  Plus, with cameras being so cheap now, we can record all of them at the same time, and leave it to the audience to monitor them all.  No one can sneak out to shoot up if there are ten cameras watching them all the time, with an army of bored guys at home following the feeds."

"How...?" Sammy started, confused by the scale of things.

"There's room for what, 93, 94 cows here?  Each one will get a mat to sleep on and we're going to set them all up with those Japanese style toilets that fit in the ground.  We still need to get the plumbing finished, but there will also be a shower nozzle overhead, so keeping them here shouldn't be too much trouble."

"Where do you think you'll find so many models to shoot?  I don't see how increasing the number of workers makes any sense!"

"This is the brilliant part, and one of the many reasons my daughter is the best business person around.  She came up with the idea of putting the space up for people to book, like a hotel.  A few forms, some idea of what is off limits, and she's pretty sure there will be a lot of people who'd like to take a week or two for a vacation.  She's suggested it to a few friends who think it would also be great to help them stop smoking and other things like that, and I think she's just getting started.  In any case, having a lot of the content made for free, by people who are paying you to help you make it;  that certainly helps the bottom line quite a bit."

On the drive back to the office, Sammy tried to figure which of the photos she'd taken was more likely to get a spot next to her story.  The sunny field full of strawberries, or the cold concrete and steel cell buried underground.

sammy_808@live.com

http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/p/my-stories.html