Apollo Project

by Brittany E Brinegar

  “Oh heavens,” Hibbert said.

  Tom braced. “Hang on, guys. This one looks big.”

  For ninety minutes, the raft tossed to and fro, up and down and almost capsized. Genevieve’s scream punctured the air as the outflow stopped. As Tom focused his eyes, with sunlight piercing the greenish sky, Mandy Robertelli perched in the raft. In the same spot where she disappeared the previous evening.

  None of the others detected Mandy’s abrupt appearance. Only Tom and Genevieve. As Genevieve yelped about Mandy in a hysterical, shrill scream, Tom snapped a couple of pictures of Mandy. The woman sat on the edge of the boat, not wet or harmed. As Barb and Davidson tried to calm Genevieve, Tom closed his eyes. None of the others saw her. She’s right there. He opened his eyes and she leered at him, fluffing her coiffed, hair.

  “Mandy.”

  “Tom sees her too.” Genevieve staggered away from Davidson’s arms. “Can’t you people see her?” A crack of lightning stopped Genevieve’s pursuit.

  A wave tossed the boat. Mandy flickered like an old television screen needing the horizontal hold fixed and faded away before Tom’s eyes. “This odd thing we’re in is making us all do and see stuff. Let’s get to shore.”

  Genevieve screamed once again. “She’s gone. She was right here.”

  “I see the shore.” Andy sprung from his spot guarding the bottom of the boat and pointed. “I sure didn’t see my dead wife, but I see the shore.”

  Chapter 6 – The Birds

  Reagan

  The return to camp lingered deeper into the night. Navigating through the dark woods proved almost impossible, especially with Reagan’s flashlight wavering on and off. It was a scene straight out of a horror movie where the hero banged on the grip as it flickered.

  As they reached the clearing Reagan’s boot crunched. She knelt and poked at the object with a stick – a dead bird. She pointed her beam at their campsite. Hundreds of dead birds encircled their camp as if denied entry by a magical barrier. None landed any closer than five feet from the edge of their campsite. Travis Wayne shifted closer to investigate.

  “What happened?” Annabeth choked and recoiled.

  “I’m glad we were in the cave,” Kelly said. “That could have been us.”

  “They’re all cackles.” Travis Wayne massaged his jaw. “I’d expect to see flycatchers, jays, a warbler, or a raven. They’re common this time of year. Every dead bird is a cackle.”

  “What does it mean?” Reagan asked.

  Travis Wayne shrugged at the green sky.

  “I’ll start the fire,” Granddad said raising his hand. “You kiddos check the phones.”

  Reagan stumbled to her tent and returned with the waterproof bag of phones. She thumped the glass screen protector. “I’m not getting any power on mine.”

  “Nothin’ here,” Travis Wayne said tossing his Samsung phone aside.

  “Mine is powering up,” Kelly said in a singsong voice. “Who should I call?”

  Reagan’s first thought was to her father. With his connections, he might have more information on the crazy Montana weather.

  “Ghostbusters,” Granddad said in-between blowing on the fire.

  “Not helping.” Kelly didn’t take her eyes off the device. The apple logo popped onto the screen. “Is it frozen?” She tapped the screen and it went black. She clicked the power button but nothing happened. “Okay, this is strange.”

  Travis Wayne jogged to his tent and returned with an AM radio. “No signal y’all. Static.”

  “What do we do?” Annabeth threw her lanky arms into the air.

  The fire roared to life and Granddad motioned for the group to join him. “Why don’t we fry up some eggs and bacon and discuss our next step. It’ll be light in a half-hour.”

  Kelly and Annabeth shuffled to the fire.

  Reagan lingered with Travis Wayne. “How quickly can you make it down the mountain to our cars?”

  “Half hour if I hustle.”

  “I don’t like this.” Without thinking Reagan rubbed her neck.

  “There a reason you’re hiding?” Travis Wayne pointed at his neck.

  “I don’t want Granddad to worry about me. He’ll tough it out when it’s him but if he knew I had it, he’d baby me.”

  “What do you want me to do at the cars?”

  “I'm not sure it’s safe. Before we all leave the mountain, I’d like to know what’s out there.”

  “I'm on it,” Travis Wayne said.

  “There’s a flare gun in the back of the pickup. If there’s trouble fire a red flare. If we’re safe to follow, fire a blue,” Reagan said.

  Travis Wayne bobbed his head. “Will y’all see the flare through the haze?”

  Reagan swallowed and ignored the metallic taste in her mouth. “I sure hope so.” She crossed her arms. “You still carry your Glock?”

  He lifted his black and white striped shirt to reveal his holster. “I’ll be back.”

  Reagan pattered to the fire and controlled the skillet. “Scrambled?”

  The tension left Granddad’s shoulders. “Thank goodness, Ms. Pak-man was burning the bacon,”

  “I didn’t even put the skillet over the flame,” Kelly claimed. Her head swiveled. “Where’s Travis Wayne?”

  Reagan cleared her throat. “Collecting firewood.”

  “What’s the plan, Reagan?” Annabeth asked. “After we attempt to eat breakfast we’re heading home, right?”

  “The sun will be up soon. We’ll decide then.”

  Chapter 7 – Escape From the Sea

  Tom

  The coastline stayed in their view but the lifeboat made little progress. An hour passed. Mandy returned with a goofy face and gawked at Tom. Genevieve caught Tom’s eye but said nothing. Mandy wobbled and vanished. Tom set his mind on the target – the shore – confident on land, every bizarre event would make sense.

  With arms burning from the constant rowing motion, the eight trudged from the raft to a sandy, seaweed infested beach. No Mandy ghost disembarked as Andy hit the shore first. Davidson stomped to the beach. He raised his cell phone in the air spinning for a signal. Dixie and Barb carried near-comatose Gus as Hibbert spilled to shore.

  Genevieve clutched Tom’s hand. “You saw her too.”

  “I don’t know what I saw. With this odd weather and what’s in the air, maybe the power of suggestion made me believe I saw her. We’ve been through a trauma. Let’s sort it out and not jump to any wild conclusion.”

  Barb steered him to a private conversation. “She wasn’t lying. She saw Mandy. It was in her eyes.” After hesitating, she leaned on Tom. “And in your eyes. I didn’t spot her, but I believe you and Genevieve did.”

  Davidson helped Genevieve and pointed a finger with groomed nails at Tom. His deep voice could narrate a show on the History Channel. “Which way to help, Navy man?”

  “I don’t know exactly where we are. We sailed from Gulf State Park and we drifted west.” Tom wheeled to Hibbert. The meteorologist remained on his knees. “Hey Doc, how far west could we have gone in the fifteen hours we were in the ocean?”

  Rubbing his temples, Hibbert struggled to his feet and hobbled. “Dauphin Island is my guess. Drifting twenty-five miles from where we embarked makes sense to me.”

  “Sounds right,” Tom said. “If we’re on the western edge, we should head east and find some houses. Barb and I made a drive out here a few weeks ago.”

  Davidson snarled and glared eastward. The lightning remained over the ocean but drifted from the land and the hazy green marked the sky. “If I recall, Dauphin Island is only a mile, maybe a half-mile wide. If we’re there, we can find somebody to get us to civilization.” He flipped his phone into the air and caught it. “Somewhere this phone will work.”

  Tom’s body wrecked with exhaustion from many hours on the strange ocean, but he could not stop until the group made it to some semblance of civilization. The others wandered the beach attempting a cellphone connection. He searched his bag for sungl
asses, cheap ones bought at Walgreen’s. Dixie and even Barb made fun of his sunglasses from time-to-time and he offered a faint smile at the faux arguments on the merits of nice ones versus the likelihood of losing them.

  “What’s amusing, Cassidy?” Davidson put his arms on his hips and jutted his chest.

  Resisting the urge to clock him, Tom bit his lip. “I had a fleeting wish for my cheap sunglasses. I misplaced them.”

  “Hmmmph. Glad your mind is on important things.”

  “Tom is squared away, Dad,” Dixie said. “I’d follow him way before anybody else in this group. No offense, but when things go crazy, I’d rather follow someone who hasn’t spent the last twenty years chained to a desk.”

  “Now listen here, young lady. If there’s something on our little trip across this island, some sort of disagreement between me and anybody else, I expect you to fall in line behind me.” Davidson protruded his chin as he attached pricey Ray-Ban covers onto his black-rimmed glasses. He slipped the case into the fishing shirt, glistening with the ‘out of the store’ sheen.

  “Speaking of the sunglasses,” Tom said. “I find my eyes hurt from this greenish color of the sky. Do your high-priced shades help the glare?”

  Shielding his face, Davidson searched the sky and the water. He shuffled his marine boat shoes through the sandy beach and contemplated the other direction. “A bit, I guess. But you’re right. This does hurt my eyes.”

  Hibbert leaned into the conversation. “I lost mine and my eyes are starting to hurt. I lost everything.”

  Barb, Andy, Gus, and Genevieve circled and added comments about the sky and various headaches and eyestrains. With a motion of his hands, Tom called for silence. "Alright, whatever this is, it is in our best interest to move out and find a place with cellular reception.”

  “Will the Coastguard go out and look for Mandy?” Andy’s voice cracked and he covered his messy blond hair with the University of Alabama hat. He fought tears.

  “They will. And the sooner we contact the Coasties, the better.” Tom set his jaw. “Whatever it is we stumbled into, I’m sure of an investigation.”

  “They won’t believe our story,” Barb said in her calming voice. “They’ll presume we went crazy. I’m at a loss to explain what we saw. Jeremy has twenty years’ experience with weather phenomenon and can’t explain what happened. We should be careful about how we present this when we get in touch with the Coastguard.”

  Davidson rocked on his heels. “Barb has a point. I’ll say straight out they’re going to investigate our missing member and the fried crew. They’ll have questions and probably interrogate each and every one of us.”

  “You’re missing my point entirely.” Barb flashed her ‘don’t test me’ teacher scowl at her ex-husband.

  Tom stepped in. “Our best option is to trudge east and find somebody. If Hibbert is right about us landing on Dauphin Island, it won’t take long.”

  Leading the way, Tom carried his bag and Barb’s heavy bag on his shoulder. Barb held Gus by the hand and steadied him as she and Dixie shadowed. Davidson, Genevieve, and Hibbert slogged along somewhat parallel, but forty feet to his right. Andy lumbered well behind the rest. The beach faded, but instead of finding civilization four miles to the east, the group encountered a swampy forest.

  Chapter 8 – Lost and Found

  Reagan

  Reagan gulped a bottle of water but could not shake the metallic tang. Two hours earlier she sent Travis Wayne to the cars at the bottom of the mountain. If he fired a flare, she didn’t see it.

  Kelly buckled the pink and black fanny pack around her waist. “I can’t believe you let him go alone.”

  “Reagan was looking out for the group,” Granddad said. “Travis Wayne is a capable young fellow.”

  “Then where is he, Tucker? He left over two hours ago. It shouldn’t take him long to hike down the mountain.” Kelly fidgeted with the drawstring on her floppy black hat.

  The jungle haze lingered and an eerie chill swept through the camp. Reagan slung her Remington rifle over her shoulder. “We probably missed his flare. We were supposed to follow after he gave the ‘all clear’.”

  Kelly clapped her gloved hands in silent agreement. “Alright, let’s hit the trails.”

  Dead cackles lined both sides of the trail for several hundred yards. Granddad tapped his cane on multiple trees. Each wore the exact scorch mark.

  “That’s weird, right?” Annabeth asked. “All these trees have the same burn mark.”

  “Maybe we traveled through the wardrobe to Narnia.” Kelly dug fingernails into Granddad’s arm.

  Granddad thumped Kelly’s weaponized nails. “Narnia? I don’t see any centaurs or talking lions. This is more like Middle Earth.”

  “You’re nuts, Tucker. Besides, I would much rather be in Narnia. It’s a better fictional universe.”

  Granddad stroked his beard. “And yet the Lord of the Rings franchise has made many more movies and won Oscars. They made what, three movies in Narnia?”

  “Save the argument for Comic-Con.” Reagan motioned the group forward. “Let’s go, Geek Squad.”

  Annabeth crouched to tie her shoe. “Hey Reagan, look at this.” She dusted a piece of black material buried in the dirt near a steep drop-off.

  “A backpack?” The initials J.L. embroidered the strap. Reagan opened the bag and rifled through its contents. “An empty backpack.”

  “Is someone there? Help,” a faint voice called.

  “What was that?” Kelly scrambled to the side of the trail. “Travis Wayne?”

  “I don’t think so.” Annabeth inched forward. “Who’s down there?”

  “Jon.” The sputtered words strained. “I can’t hang in much longer.”

  Reagan put a hand to her neck. “He’s dangling off the side of the cliff.” She opened her pack and produced a rope. “We’re throwing you a rope, Jon.” She knotted one end to the tree before casting the other.

  “It isn’t long enough.”

  Reagan’s face whitened as she peeked over the side of the mountain. Jon hung onto a narrow ledge, thirty feet below. She could repel to the ledge and pull him to safety. Her vision blurred and the mountain spun. She stumbled into Granddad unable to admit her silly fear of heights.

  “I’ve got this.” In record time Annabeth rigged a harness and clipped on. “Travis Wayne and I were planning to go climbing.”

  “Are you sure you can pull him up?” Granddad asked.

  Annabeth’s copper pigtails bobbed. “I'm deceptively strong.” She stood to her full height, five-eleven. “We can’t stand here and argue. Granddad has his bum hip, Reagan is afraid of heights, and the guy is twice Kelly’s size.” Before anyone could argue, Annabeth repelled with a grace normally evading her clumsy feet.

  “We’re sending help, Jon,” Reagan called. Her hands trembled as she gripped the rope. “Be ready to haul her and Jon to the top.”

  In a few seconds, Annabeth’s feet connected with the ledge. She fell to her knees and gripped Jon by his wrists. He latched on and they scrambled to the ledge. Both released a sigh.

  Reagan closed her eyes, thankful her sister was alright. “Hold on Agnes and we’ll pull you up.”

  Annabeth chuckled at the affectionate old lady nickname. She clipped in. “We’ll toss ‘em the rope and I’ll help those weaklings haul you up.”

  After several minutes Annabeth and Jon landed on solid ground. Jon raked a hand through his dark military hair. “I'm glad you all came when you did. Besides a sprained wrist I'm fine.” His hand drifted to his belt and Reagan spotted a holster.

  She dropped her gear and cocked her rifle. “Who are you?”

  Jon’s brow furrowed and he showed his empty palms. “My name is Agent Jon Little. I am with the ATF.” He motioned to the badge on his belt.

  “Even says so on his windbreaker.” Granddad didn’t hide his amusement.

  “What are you doing here?” Reagan asked lowering her gun.

  Jon rubbed his nec
k. “My partner and I were chasing a fugitive. We had car trouble and the storm hit.”

  “A fugitive?” Kelly’s brows arched. “Like Kate Austen?”

  “I was going to guess Richard Kimble,” Granddad offered.

  Jon’s hazel eyes glared at Granddad and Kelly. “What are they talking about?”

  “Ignore them. Everything revolves around television with those two,” Reagan said.

  Jon dusted his slacks. “I dropped my Glock into the ravine.”

  “You mentioned a storm?” Reagan wondered if he experienced similar weather abnormalities.

  Jon shivered as a cold gust cut through his jacket. “Lightning came out of nowhere. Worst I’ve seen.”

  “Shouldn’t we be more concerned about the fugitive?” Annabeth asked. “What did he do anyway?”

  “Illegal firearms dealer. We have a team of people looking for the fugitive. I wouldn’t worry.” Jon winced as he touched the base of his neck. “I must have hit my head on something.”

  Kelly tiptoed and yanked Jon’s white collar. “Identical to Travis Wayne and Tucker.”

  “Who and who?” Jon asked.

  Reagan made introductions. “We were hiking down the mountain to regroup with Kelly’s husband Travis Wayne.”

  “Mountain?” Jon untucked his dusty white polo. “Where are we exactly?”

  “The western side of Glacier National Park. A few miles from Bowman Lake,” Reagan answered.

  “That doesn’t seem right…”

  “Shh,” Granddad said. “Do you hear something?”

  A buzzing noise put Reagan on alert. With each passing second, the buzz grew louder. “What is it?” The low hum intensified. The deafening sound pierced their ears. Reagan placed her hands to her ears as a warm, sticky substance seeped. She searched the green haze but couldn’t locate the source. The buzz came from every direction.

  Jon reached for the holster and a gun that wasn’t there. “Give me your rifle.”

  Reagan shrugged away from him and clutched the rifle. What caused the infuriating buzz? A splitting headache formed at the base of her neck as she marched. The collective buzz like nails screeching across a chalkboard tingled her spine and she cringed. Could a person pass out from the debilitating noise?