The
Apollo Project
Brittany E. Brinegar
J.E. Brinegar
BRITT LIZZ PUBLISHING COMPANY
Copyright © 2020 Brittany E. Brinegar & J.E. Brinegar
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9798628533673
Table of Contents
Iteration One
Chapter 1 – When the Sky Turned Green
Chapter 2 – Big Sky Camping
Chapter 3 – Overboard
Chapter 4 – When the Sky Turned Green (Again)
Chapter 5 – Lifeboat
Chapter 6 – The Birds
Chapter 7 – Escape From the Sea
Chapter 8 – Lost and Found
Chapter 9 – I See Dead People
Chapter 10 – Killer Bees
Chapter 11 – Fire and Ice
Chapter 12 – Caribou Crew
Chapter 13 – Not in Kansas
Chapter 14 – Collecting ‘Firewood’
Chapter 15 – Abandoned
Chapter 16 – Live Together...
Chapter 17 – Barbecue
Chapter 18 – Fishy
Chapter 19 – The Shootist
Chapter 20 – General Store
Chapter 21 – Recreational Vehicle
Chapter 22 – The Hunter
Chapter 23 – Meet Nate Campbell
Chapter 24 – El Dorado
Chapter 25 – Night Watch
Chapter 26 – Uninvited Help
Chapter 27 – Vanished
Chapter 28 – Follow the Leader
Chapter 29 – The Hive
Chapter 30 – A Little Less Conversation
Chapter 31 – Hi-Yo Silver
Chapter 32 – Twister
Chapter 33 – Shopping Spree
Chapter 34 – Meet Me in Montana
Chapter 35 – Lousiana Woman
Chapter 36 – In the Soup
Chapter 37 – The Others
Iteration Two
Chapter 1 – The Old Switch-a-roo
Chapter 2 – Trust Issues
Chapter 3 – The A-Team
Chapter 4 – One of Us
Chapter 5 – We All Have Trust Issues
Chapter 6 – Blowup the Clown
Chapter 7 – I Hear the Train A-Coming
Chapter 8 – London Fog
Chapter 9 – Schoolhouse Rock
Chapter 10 – Rundown
Chapter 11 – Frankenstein
Chapter 12 – Electric Slide
Chapter 13 – The Bridge
Chapter 14 – Cliffhanger
Chapter 15 – Zapped
Chapter 16 – Going Rogue
Chapter 17 – Hitchcock Nightmare
Chapter 18 – Puzzle Pieces
Chapter 19 – Lighthouse
Chapter 20 – Powwow
Chapter 21 – Whatever Happened to Kelly
Chapter 22 – Whatever Happened to Travis Wayne
Chapter 23 – Beacon of Hope
Chapter 24 – Flapjacks & Theories
Chapter 25 – In the Room
Chapter 26 – Radio Tower
Chapter 27 – One Is Light, One Is Dark
Chapter 28 – Radio Breakthrough
Chapter 29 – Tomorrow Is Another Day
Chapter 30 – That Rascally Ranger
Chapter 31 – Last Call
Chapter 32 – The Hunting Party
Chapter 33 – Squints
Chapter 34 – Silver and Gold
Chapter 35 – Smoke and Mirrors
Chapter 36 – True Grit
Chapter 37 – Last Stand
Iteration Three
Before the Sky Turned Green
Clear Blue Sky
Little Sister
Phase Two
Recall Procedure
Iteration One
Green Skies
Chapter 1 – When the Sky Turned Green
Tom
Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.
Red sky in morning, sailor's warning.
The handy poem was a rule of thumb used by sailors since the dawn of time. But what if the sky was green?
Choppy waters tossed the fishing boat, threatening to pitch the ragtag passengers overboard. Waves crashed and lightning struck the radio antenna. The hum of electricity was palpable. The boat captain paced the deck, eyes heavenward as if challenging the storm.
“We’ve got ourselves a mean one, boys.” He looped an arm through the staircase railing as ocean water splashed his face. His boat crew huddled in the control room, fearing the beast. “Sailors? You bunch of sissies. This is a sight you won’t soon forget.”
Captain Scarborough charged to the top deck as the storm intensified. Clouds concealed the sky and reflected the sea-green waters. Balancing atop the boat like a paddleboarder, the captain acted as a lightning rod.
“Get inside, you’re gonna get yourself killed,” Tom Cassidy warned. He ducked below deck with his fellow passengers, hoping the captain and crew heeded his warning.
The waves sloshed onto the deck. The boat pitched one last time before rocking to a stop like a sudden jolt when wearing a seatbelt. An absence of light during the middle of the day worried the Navy man. Muted sunshine returned with the silence.
“Guys, the electrical storm is over.” Tom stuck his head outside, scaled half the steps and peered at the Gulf of Mexico.
Clouds dissipated and chlorophyll-filtered sunshine surrounded the open water. The chartered fishing boat featured all the latest accommodations but squeezing nine people below deck in the storm was unnerving. As a natural leader, the group counted on Tom for guidance. The freak of nature event knocked him for a loop, but he kept it inside and presented a calm exterior.
“What happened out there, Hibbert?” William Davidson’s clown feet pounded the steps and he motioned for Jeremy Hibbert to join him. Once on deck, Davidson shouted, “Where’s Captain Scarborough?”
“You okay, Barb?” With an easy motion, Tom reached and hugged her as she met him on the steps, her white Keds squeaking with the water blown into the boat.
She tugged him below deck. “How long did it last? My neck hurts but it doesn’t feel like whiplash.” She brushed the wispy brunette hair across her shoulders and massaged the area underneath her peach and white striped boat neck shirt.
“Weather anomalies have been known to create pain. Oddly my neck has pain as well.” Hibbert, the meteorologist who worked for Davidson Communications had yet to join his boss on deck. Hibbert frowned and pounded two fingers on the face of his watch. “I don’t know how long it lasted. My watch is damaged beyond repair.”
“Went on for ten minutes,” Tom said. “Craziest thing. I never saw anything like this on Naval ships.” He spent most of his fifty-one years as a helicopter pilot in the Navy. Now retired, he tagged along on a gulf coast vacation planned by his girlfriend, Barbara Sanders.
The late summer adventure started as a bonding exercise for Barb, her daughter, and Tom. Davidson, the ex-husband who tagged along, stuck his head into the hatch. “Come on, Hibbert, help me with the situation.”
Hibbert sloshed to the steps, mumbling and shaking his watch. “Odd.”
Taking the steps two at a time, Tom arrived topside and spied Hibbert clutching the handrail. Davidson, with his hands on his hips, glared as he removed his Clark Kent glasses from his full face. His getup was transported straight from a Land’s End Catalog. He wore expensive, brand new, army green cargo pants which unzipped to shorts. He completed the ensemble with a fancy light blue fishing shirt, a big-brimmed Aussie hat, and marine blue boat shoes. “I can’t find the captain or any of those nitwits working for him.”
Scanning, Tom settled on th
e pilot’s cabin and bolted. Davidson shadowed him with Hibbert at a reluctant pace, swaying.
“Strange smell in here,” Tom said. “Residual discharge from the storm?”
Davidson consulted Hibbert. “Could lightning electrocute a person and make the body disappear. Could it obliterate a human being?”
“I suppose.” Hibbert held a handkerchief to his nose. “I don’t know if…” His eyes darted to the equipment cluster. “There’s nothing on this radar.”
“Looks like the computer is fried,” Davidson boomed. He smacked the side of the monitor. “Give me a minute, and I’ll check my weather app.” His eyes narrowed as he extended the phone to arm’s length to read the Apple screen. “It’s not working.”
“No signal?” Tom leaned to see the blank screen. “Huh, you lost power.” His khaki shorts held his cell phone, the flip variety without an internet connection. Running a hand through his thick, silver hair, he opened his at the same time as Hibbert.
Hibbert’s voice squeaked. The British accent already carried an effeminate tone and the squeak didn’t help. “My Apple watch and the synced iPhone are both out as well. This is most odd.”
Below the stairs, Barb elevated her phone. “No one can get a signal, Tom. And my phone is not powering on.”
“Okay, Doc, you’re the weather expert here.” Tom touched Hibbert’s shoulder. “I assume the electrical storm knocked out computers and iPhones?”
“It was a strange, electrical anomaly-type event. I hesitate to postulate.”
“Don’t hesitate, Hibbs. Give me your best guess.” Davidson, a burly man and often a bully put his arms across his chest and squared to Hibbert, chin out. “Come on, what’s going on? I need you to focus here and stop moaning about being seasick or your phone or whatever ailment it is you have now.”
“I’m unsure.” Hibbert winced and fingered the nape of his neck, tugging his bright orange shirt and fishing vest away from his body. “This neck irritation is quite painful.”
From the steps, Andy Robertelli steamrolled Barb with his hefty frame. “Y’all have neck pain? Mine is killing me.” His casual Tennessee accent dripped in a nasal voice.
With a spin, Barb tiptoed and examined Andy’s neck. She stood only five-three but carried herself with confidence, making her taller. The six-year age difference and Tom’s silver hair on occasion fooled others. She could pass for thirty and more than once, they’d been mistaken for father and daughter. His daughter would be amused. With agility, Barb maneuvered the taller man to examine his neck.
“Tom, it looks like his neck was burned by something.”
With a brief examination of Hibbert, Tom shouted to the steps. “Doc here has a burn. It isn’t severe.”
“A burn? My neck is burned?” Hibbert’s voice carried panic. At six-two, he was three inches taller than Tom. The lanky Brit didn’t weigh any more than 160. Though brilliant and with a doctoral degree the man tended to let anxiety reign.
“Tom, Mandy has a burn too. Dixie is clear. Uh, my neck has a burn but not as bad as Andy and Mandy,” Barb said.
Andy’s wife, a home economics teacher worked with Barb. Barb was a principal in the Smelton School District, a small-town east of Memphis. Andy coached football, track, and baseball. The former athlete, only in his early thirties, let himself go and tipped the scales at 275. He loved his wife’s cooking and his stomach stretched the limit of the gray Under Armor t-shirt.
“What is going on with these burns?” Andy removed his Crimson Tide baseball hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Mandy Robertelli rocked on her heels with the swaying boat, tumbling into her husband. Andy moaned with the contact. “Be careful.”
“Sorry, hon. How are you feeling? Is your tummy hurting?”
“This storm didn’t help.” The massive Dagwood sandwich, double order of fries, and two milkshakes didn’t either. Andy bent at the waist and placed his hands on his knees.
Mandy patted his back. “It’ll be okay, hon. Do you want Pepto-Bismol?”
Tom made eye contact with Barb. Mandy coddled her Baby Huey husband and for the most part ignored Gus, their son. Tom mentioned it to Barb when the four of them and Gus attended a baseball game. The kid was desperate for parental guidance, following Tom like a puppy dog with a tennis ball and a game of fetch on her mind.
Gus tugged at Mandy’s sleeve. “Mom.” She didn’t acknowledge right away. “Mom, the storm was cool. The lights were like something from a TV show on Nat Geo. So cool…”
“Not now, Gus, can’t you see your father doesn’t feel well?” She didn’t notice Gus hang his head and stare into the gulf as if he wanted to leap from the side. Poor kid.
Dixie trailed Gus onto the deck, accounting for the rest of the party, sans Davidson’s new wife. Dixie, the seventeen-year-old daughter of Barb and William Davidson, looked like her mother and inherited her father’s height. Her long sandy hair was sun-streaked blond after a summer as a lifeguard. It bounced with her pacing. “What does the boat captain guy say about the danger he put us in?”
Barb locked on Dixie. The close-knit feeling between the two strained during the summer due to Dixie’s boyfriend. Plus, Dixie had a quick and heated temper and did not cower. “We’re not sure where he is.” Barb extended her hand to twelve-year-old Gus. “How about your neck, honey.”
Gus shuffled his feet and dropped his chin. “I’m fine.” He was wiry and tall for his age and the kid wore Tom’s floppy fishing hat.
Stomping along the steps to join Tom, Dixie breezed by her father and surveyed the horizon. “Where did he go? He left us out here alone.” Her robin’s egg blue eyes widened. “What is that smell?”
“It appears the redneck, hillbilly captain got himself fried.” Davidson drifted toward Dixie, but she slithered away, shrugging his arm off of hers. “What is wrong with you?”
“Does anyone remember where they were when the storm hit?” Barb asked. “I recall Captain Scarborough at the stern of the boat.”
The captain featured a gruff appearance. The sparse goatee and hollow, dark eyes made him weary yet menacing. The first mate with flaming hair never quit with the jokes. Tom didn’t care for how Scarborough ran his ship or how the Howdy-Doody guy gawked at Barb, Dixie, and Genevieve.
From the other side, Davidson’s new wife made an appearance. “I saw something on the water.” Genevieve’s caked-on makeup cracked as she talked. Her dyed red hair flapped in the breeze along with the school bus yellow, lacey shirt. The stereotypical second wife of a well-to-do man was flighty, but her wide-set, midnight blue, Hollywood eyes betrayed her act. With fluttering eyelashes, she reminded Tom of the secretary Joan on the popular show, Mad Men. She pointed to the ocean and her diamond hoop earrings shimmered.
Eyes straining in the sun, Tom squinted. He patted his golf shirt pocket for shades and came up empty. “Those are dolphins.”
Genevieve flinched from the railing. “They’re dead.” Her voice squeaked. “They’re burned.”
“Safe to say this was some intense lightning.” Tom beckoned to Hibbert. “What’s your theory on all this, Doc? Has to be related to the storm.”
Hibbert removed the fedora and wiped the long hair from his eyes. With a gulp, he managed a reply. “It is like something I read about a few years ago in Wales. A debunked legend.” He licked his chapped lips. “Does anyone else have a metallic taste in their mouth?”
Tom sniffed. “It smells like a welding shop.”
“The engine is dead,” Davidson bellowed, poking from the cabin window. “I fiddled with the engine, but it is dead and gone. We might not make shore without computers in any event. Cassidy, you were a Navy man. Can you get this boat moving?”
“I fly things and let mechanics get them in the air.” Despite the words, he loped to the engine hatch with Davidson and Genevieve in tow. The faint odor from seconds before now accosted his olfactory senses. “Smells like everything is fried.” He steadied himself on the doorframe of the hatch as his s
tomach recoiled. “Uh, turn around. You don’t want to see this.”
Genevieve shrieked and clomped to the stairs without additional prompting.
Davidson pounded onward before he spun, burying his nose in his arm. “Is it one of the members of the boat crew?”
“Hard to say,” Tom said. He peeked to the deck for the others. “We found something in the engine room. It’s bad. If it’s one of the crew, he’s gone.”
“What about the other crew people?” Dixie slipped on sandals and her long stride reached the railing. “I don’t see any sign of them in the water.”
Despite the serious state of affairs, Tom amused himself as Gus stared after Dixie with an open mouth. Out of his league and out of the league of most boys, she pranced like a young model in frayed jean shorts and a white tank over her red polka dot bikini.
“Be careful, Lefty,” Tom said. “We’ve still got waves kicking us around.” He tagged her with the nickname after watching her play centerfield in a select league. With long legs and athletic frame, she threw and hit as a southpaw.
“Check out those clouds.” Dixie motioned in a wild manner, flapping her arms. To the south, the clouds drifted, but flashes of light like static electricity inside greenish, gray reminded Tom of moss growing on a damp tree trunk. Somewhat like a Texas thunderstorm, but different as well. Dixie threw her arms into the air once again. “That’s bizarre. Are they coming back?”
Andy stumbled behind Dixie, followed by Barb, whose normal calm demeanor betrayed her. The pretty face drooped in a combination of worry and fear. Or perhaps terror. Tom needed to take action to calm the group and do something, anything before the anxiety turned to panic. On the opposite side, Genevieve and Davidson stalked the deck arguing in low voices. Mandy hugged her knees in the yoga pants and rocked, her teeth chattering. Hibbert fiddled with his iPhone and the accompanying rubber watch. Gus gaped with wide eyes. The fishing boat rocked as waves collided against the hull. Another wave, bigger than the previous one, tossed the boat, before crashing into the water.
Tom put his hands on his hip. “Guys, we’re going to get to shore. This open water is dangerous.”
Apollo Project Page 1