Apollo Project

by Brittany E Brinegar

  In a blink, the buzz stopped. Silence surrounded them. Reagan lowered her weapon. A massive swarm of bees hovered above their heads. “Run!”

  Chapter 9 – I See Dead People

  Tom

  Motioning with a closed fist signal for everyone to stop the trek, Tom steered Hibbert from the others. “Doc, we didn’t land on Dauphin. The island is five miles long. Even if we landed on the extreme western side, we would’ve hit the narrow section and found the highway by now. We’re somewhere else.”

  Davidson elbowed into the conversation pointing to the swampy impediment in front of them. “I’m not sure we hit one of the islands. I’d say we’re on the mainland.”

  “Perhaps.” Hibbert meandered toward the ocean as the sun slipped through the mossy haze. “We could have blown off course further than I thought.”

  “There’s a wildlife refuge on the Alabama-Louisiana border,” Tom said. He shut his eyes to picture the map. “I’d say it is eight or ten miles to get through it. We’d have to go north and cross a lot of water.”

  Barb joined them. “When we were in the water, I assumed the green color was light reflecting off the ocean. But my opinion has changed on land. This isn’t natural.”

  The menacing enemy sky stalked them. Inside the massive green goo, way in the distance, lightning flashed. Tom studied the unfamiliar flashes, radiating much brighter and less ragged as if it emanated from a steady light source. “We aren’t where we thought.”

  “Do you notice what I do about the sky?” Barb pointed to the steady light inside the haze. “My military experiment theory isn’t looking quite as farfetched. The sky is not normal.”

  Davidson spun Hibbert by his shoulder. “Hibbs, what’s your take on this thing?”

  Hibbert shivered, his stringy ice-blond hair sweeping into his eyes. “It’s evil.”

  “Thanks for the scientific evaluation. He’s a regular Stephen Hawking.” Dixie stalked to the group and dropped the superhero backpack belonging to Gus.

  With a grunt, Davidson pivoted to his daughter. “This is one of those situations where a child should be seen and not heard. Let us figure this out without your smart tongue.”

  “It seems like the storm is all around us. If we move away from the water, perhaps we can get away from…” Tom halted as snowflakes whipped from the sky. “Let’s head north.”

  “Where did Andy go?” Genevieve popped into the huddle next to her husband. “I saw him a second ago.”

  As the snow and wind gained traction, Tom squinted to protect from the stinging blizzard. The odd snowstorm dumped the frigid moisture, but the remaining area reached at least ninety degrees. “I’ll go find Andy. Barb, get everyone moving due north. If you reach a stream or lake or any kind of pond, veer to the west to go around. I’ll catch up.”

  Gus shuffled with Barb and didn’t show ill effects from losing his mother and now zero reaction from his father disappearing. Retracing steps, Tom tried to recall when he last saw Andy. Two hundred yards down the beach, he spotted tracks from the Nike sneakers of the rotund coach. Tom shadowed the tracks until the trail dissolved into heavy, damp woods. The snow melted in spots and stuck in others. After five minutes, the blizzard halted, but the wind grew angrier. Within seconds the hurricane strength gale, much like a turbine engine, whipped through Tom’s clothes. He held onto the largest tree he could find and fought his way to the north side, shielding himself from the massive southern gusts.

  When the wind subsided, Tom found himself staring into the eyes of Mandy Robertelli. “This is nuts.” He inched toward her but she stood her ground. She didn’t budge, but he didn’t reach her location. He wiped the moisture from his face. This was not a hologram, but a three-dimensional form. “Talk to me.”

  She offered no reply, only the goofy half-grin. Tom stood his ground and waited. He took one step and then another. One more. She stayed twenty feet away from him. He chucked a baseball-sized rock at the form. It missed. He heaved a second rock. The form remained in place, thirty feet away.

  “If you throw another rock at me, I’ll shoot you.” The masculine voice made Tom hesitate. His steel-blue eyes found Andy Robertelli with a 9mm pistol.

  “Andy? I thought you were an animal. This green haze is playing tricks with depth perception.” Tom high-stepped through crunchy underbrush and a dusting of snow. “Why did you disconnect from the group?”

  “I don’t know. It seemed like you were going the wrong way.” He tucked the gun into the stretchy waist of the coaching shorts.

  “Where did you get the gun?”

  “From Davidson’s bag. I predict he won’t be happy it’s missing.” Andy leaned on a tree and wiped the sweat from the brow of his hat. “He seems like a bit of a control freak.”

  “My take, too.” Tom shuffled and put an arm around Andy’s clammy shoulder. “Let’s get you to our group.” He didn’t see Mandy anywhere. “Say, you didn’t spot anybody else out here? Maybe an animal looking like something else?”

  “I didn’t see anything of the sort,” he said. “I’m going to wait. I’ll give the Coastguard an idea of where we came from. You can lead them to where we lost Mandy, right?”

  “I can, but with all of the strange things going on, you’d be better off sticking with the group.”

  “I’m spent, Tom. After this marathon hike, I’m about done. I can’t go any further. I’ll wait by the lifeboat.”

  Tom cleared his throat. “What about the storm? The sky?” He pointed. “This anomaly is not something occurring in nature. Our best bet is to get away from it as soon as we can.”

  “Mandy’s not dead. If you get the Coastguard, we can find her. I’ll stay.”

  “What about Gus?”

  “He seems to prefer you anyway.” Andy huffed and crossed his arms. “Ungrateful little twit. I could never stomach him. Especially when his mother isn’t around.”

  “Okay.” Tom directed Andy toward the beach. “You can smell the ocean when you get closer. When we find somebody, I’ll get them to you.” Tom hesitated. “Do you know how to use the weapon?”

  “Point it and pull the trigger,” Andy said.

  “It is more complicated. Maybe somebody who has extensive training in firearms should handle it.”

  “You?”

  “I was a pilot in the Navy for twenty-five years and I took advantage of all of the firearms training.”

  “Seems like you should’ve brought your own pistol.”

  “Maybe. But it isn’t yours either.” Tom squared as Andy backed away and touched the gun in his waistband. “If either one of us needs the gun, I know I’d have a better shot at using it the right way.”

  “Nine-tenths, Tom.”

  “What?”

  “Possession is nine-tenths of the law. Think I’ll hold on to it.”

  Tom pivoted, confident he could take the gun and debating the repercussions if he did. “Alright, but for God’s sake, be careful with it and don’t shoot yourself. Or anybody else. When we get to civilization, I’ll send someone for you.”

  Chapter 10 – Killer Bees

  Reagan

  Tiny needles stabbed into Reagan’s back as they charged through the forest. Kelly took the lead with Jon hovering. Granddad staggered between a jog and a brisk pace, his bum hip not allowing him to run faster. Trying to shield her from allergic stings, Reagan placed an arm around her sister.

  “I'm slowing you down,” Annabeth mumbled.

  Reagan peered into her sister’s swollen face. Her worst fears confirmed. One bee sting could send Annabeth to the hospital. No telling how many she endured in the last few minutes. “I'm not going anywhere.”

  “We found the shack,” Kelly called from a few yards ahead.

  One-by-one they squished into the shack. Annabeth collapsed on the floor. Her pulse raced and she found it difficult to breathe. Jon shinned his flashlight. “What happened to her?”

  “She’s allergic to bees.” Reagan rummaged through her backpack until she foun
d an epi-pen. She injected Annabeth and waited. Several tense seconds followed before Reagan breathed. She put two fingers on her sister’s wrist. Her pulse steadied but she was unconscious. “She’s not fully responding to the epinephrine. The ranger station isn’t far from here. We need to get help.”

  Jon rubbed the black stubble on his jaw. “I understand you want to help your sister, but what about the swarm of killer bees outside this door?”

  Kelly opened her fanny pack. She extracted a lighter, a pocket knife, a bandanna, and a travel can of hairspray. “I’ll handle the bees.”

  “Let’s make a stretcher to carry Annabeth.” Reagan grabbed a rake and shovel from inside the shack. With a swift kick, she snapped off the unnecessary heads. “We can use this as the frame. Jon?”

  “Listen, I’d like to help but I have a job to do. My partner is stuck on the road somewhere without any cell service.”

  “Have you already forgotten Annabeth saved your life? She was the only one capable of pulling you to safety. You owe her.”

  Jon placed his hands atop his head. “What can I do?”

  Reagan threw him a roll of duct tape. “Wrap the tape across the poles. Like this.” She demonstrated the first few wraps before returning to check on Kelly. “How’s it coming?”

  “Hairspray and fire. Two things bees hate. Even giant mutant bees.”

  Reagan knelt next to Granddad and Annabeth. “Are we doing the right thing going to the ranger station?”

  Granddad brushed the hair from Annabeth’s face. “It’s closer than the car.”

  The distance wasn’t the only factor. Reagan worried the cars weren’t safe. Otherwise, Travis Wayne would have returned. She scribbled a quick note and taped it to the shack door for Travis Wayne in case he found their trail.

  “Is this sturdy enough?” Jon asked, indicating the crude, makeshift stretcher.

  Reagan tested its strength. It wasn’t ideal, but it would hold. Jon and Reagan eased Annabeth into the stretcher. Kelly cleared the path from bees and Granddad helped where he could. The stress of the past few hours ate at Granddad. Reagan winced at the sharp pain in her neck and now shoulder blades, imagining the pain felt worse on Granddad’s older body. They made their way through the dense forest at a steady pace. The bee’s presence diminished, but a faint buzzing warned they weren’t gone.

  As Reagan attempted to ignore the nagging pain, she tried to determine what caused the burn mark. Was it possible she, Granddad, Travis Wayne, and Jon were struck by lightning? Why were the marks at the same spot and of identical shape?

  Chapter 11 – Fire and Ice

  Tom

  Most of Tom’s day involved chasing the group. It was late afternoon when he caught them, but the haze made it difficult to pinpoint the exact time. He dabbed sweat with a red bandana and called across a ridge.

  “Thank God, you’re okay,” Barb said. “Is Andy with you?”

  “No, he wants to stay by the boat and wait for the Coastguard. Everybody okay over there?”

  “Dad sprained his ankle,” Dixie said. “It’s pretty bad.”

  Eager for the reunion, Tom skated the steep bank of the ravine. Muck smudged his shorts. He stomped across the creek bed, not bothering to avoid the muddy puddles. His calf muscles strained as he scaled the other side. A snowball blasted into his chest.

  Gus snort laughed. “You’re dead.”

  Tom patted him on the shoulder. “Your father’s gonna be fine, son.”

  Barb steered the kid, offering the last of her trail mix. Dixie folded her arms and stood next to Tom, about an inch shorter. Dixie’s scowl zeroed in on the kid. “He is seriously messed up. He stumbles around with an asinine laugh and blank eyes.”

  “Be easy on him, Lefty. He lost his mother and his father isn’t supportive. Let Barb take care of him.”

  “Yeah, she’s always good at taking care of somebody.” Dixie twirled.

  Squatting on the ground with snow packed on his ankle, Davidson grunted. “She was probably going to say Barb takes care of others better than she does her own family. Probably why I divorced her.”

  “How’s the ankle, Davidson?” Tom asked.

  Davidson’s wife bent to check the ankle and Davidson glared at Tom as Genevieve’s plentiful cleavage came into view. Davidson shooed her away. “I’ll be fine. Let’s keep moving.” He hobbled a few steps toward Hibbert.

  The brilliant meteorologist parked his lanky frame near a rock and twisted his neck to the sky. “This tree is radiating heat. A massive amount of heat.”

  The tree drew Tom’s hand like a plate the waitress told you not to touch. “It is hot, but it doesn’t burn.”

  “Oh, it’ll burn if you hold it more than a second. I estimate this at well over two hundred degrees.”

  “Jeremy, this is your area of expertise.” Barb wielded a gentle hand to focus him. “It snowed, a tree is too hot to touch, we’ve experienced massive winds and strange electrical storms.”

  “And I saw a dead woman,” Genevieve said. She swiveled her head to Tom. “Me and Tom both did.”

  Hibbert narrowed beady eyes behind round glasses and studied Tom’s face. “You saw Mandy too?”

  All eyes landed on Tom. Except for young Gus, who poked at the tree and giggled. Tom cleared his throat. “Maybe I did. But this green haze messes with depth perception, sounds, vision, and keeps us from having a completely clear head. When I found Andy two hours ago, I could’ve sworn it was Mandy.”

  Barb shook her head at Genevieve. “Let’s talk about this weather first. Jeremy?”

  Massaging his temple, Hibbert shut his eyes for a few seconds. “The heat is getting worse. I’m dripping wet. And I can’t explain it at all.”

  “Hibbert, listen to me.” Davidson hopped two steps. “You’ve got the brains here. You must have a theory?”

  “Doctor Whiny Butt is right,” Dixie snapped. “It’s getting hotter. I mean scorching.”

  “Let’s move away from these trees,” Tom suggested. “Toward the water.” Perspiration beaded on his forehead and his body lathered with sweat. With Davidson’s arm looped around Tom’s neck and shoulder, they fought onward. “Go fast guys.”

  The heat from the ground burned through Tom’s boat shoes. He pointed Dixie and Barb to a clearing as the heat behind them torched the trees. Miniature flames leaped from the surrounding trees. The fire burned in a stream to the west. Shoving through the clearing, the group dodged falling, burning limbs from the tops of cypress, cottonwood, elms, and white oak trees. The smoke hovered overhead in the treetops. Davidson employed a hop and skip maneuver on his busted ankle. He grimaced in pain as Tom dragged him.

  A massive limb near the treetops, burning from both ends toward the middle, cracked in half and zeroed in on Gus. Tom tried to reach the kid, but Barb beat him to the punch and shoved young Gus to safety. The burning limb pinned Barb’s ankle. Quick-thinking Dixie dragged her mother from under the limb. The crackling and snapping of moisture in the burning wood drowned the conversation as Tom led the pack over an embankment to a marsh. He waded through the thigh-deep marsh as the treetops sizzled and crashed around them. The churning water boiled, engulfing them until they were chest-deep.

  With a clearing thirty yards away, he shouted, “Get to the flat spot where there aren’t any trees.” He helped Davidson for a few seconds before the hefty guy broke away and swam. Tom high-stepped, splashing to aid Genevieve and Gus.

  Stumbling to the shore, Tom collapsed to his knees with a racing pulse. A shimmering, reflecting headlight snapped his focus to the mission. With the sizzling of the fire fading behind them, they streaked toward a ditched, rusted Ford truck.

  “Finally, the answers to our prayers,” Genevieve sang.

  Finding the door open and a key in the ignition, Tom squeezed behind the wheel and cranked the key. “No dice. Let’s get some distance from the fire.”

  Darkness didn’t stop them from navigating the road in a direction Tom called east. No stars helped guide him
and the disorientation of the burning marsh kept him from knowing for certain. Barb’s tote did not make the trip across the marsh, but Tom’s waterproof bag did. He had reading glasses, a knife, and an old baseball t-shirt. Not exactly the survival kit Barb carried.

  At rest, Hibbert pointed to the fire three miles behind them. “The fire is concentrated in one area. Perhaps it is burning out.”

  “It’s good and bad,” Tom said. “We’ll lose our light.”

  “I have a flashlight.” Davidson shuffled and swung his Land’s End backpack from his shoulder. He dug through the bag and handed the light to Tom, as he burrowed for something else.

  “Light doesn’t work Davidson. What else you got in there?”

  “I had a SIG Sauer P226.” With a loud exclamation, Davidson dumped the contents of his fancy backpack.

  “A what?” Barb exhaled. “A gun, I’d guess.”

  “It has a stainless-steel slide, front cocking serrations, a Nitron finish, a fiber optic front sight, and a short reset trigger. It is a lightweight gun packing a punch.” Davidson eyed the others and settled on Tom. “Okay, Cassidy, when did you pocket my Sig?”

  “Andy must’ve taken it from you.” Tom didn’t elaborate on Andy’s bragging. “He had a 9mm pistol with him.”

  “And you didn’t question him?” Davidson bellowed.

  “We can’t shoot this crazy weather, Slick.”

  “You messed up leaving the sack of crap back there and you messed up not getting my gun.” Davidson limped closer and poked Tom’s chest. “Listen here, Cassidy.”

  Barb put herself into the middle before Davidson received a short left to his nose, a nice target. “Stop.”

  Tom eased away and sighed. “She’s right. Us squaring off won’t help.” But he set his eyes into a stubborn stare. “FYI, pal, I’d clean your clock in a heartbeat. Don’t test me again.”

  Dixie darted into the huddle with a burning branch. “Let’s start a fire on the road and wait until morning to keep going. Genevieve, the girl scout, can tend the fire and earn another merit badge.”