Apollo Project

by Brittany E Brinegar

  Scotty tussled Mickey’s ears. “How’s it possible? It must be about thirty-five degrees.”

  Granddad massaged Reagan’s hand. “You’re lucky you weren’t burned.”

  “It can’t be that bad.” Jasper marched to the water and splashed his arm inside. Pain filled his face as he rolled away from the water.

  “Glad we got a second opinion.” Scotty activated a double thumbs-up. “Because I didn’t quite believe the first diagnosis.”

  Jasper convulsed his arm and screamed in pain. Olivia tried to help, but he shrugged her away. “What’s the cause?”

  Kelly’s cornflower eyes blinked several times. “There’s an imbalance in nature. This isn’t a natural disaster.” She chewed on her thumbnail. “Maybe we stumbled into a government experiment. My dad’s military. I’ve heard about plenty of mind-blowing experiments.”

  “What technology could cause this?” Granddad asked. “This can’t be manmade. What if we were hit by a meteor? Scientists believe a meteor caused the ice age millions of years ago. What’s to say it can’t happen again?”

  Kelly snapped her fingers. “Or maybe the lightning sent us back in time to before the ice age happened. Back to the Future 1.21 gigawatts style.”

  Jon strung the shotgun over his shoulder. “Speculation isn’t helping anyone. We didn’t travel through time or whatever other nonsense you said. River’s a bust. Let’s continue to the RV.”

  “Do you know something you aren’t sharing, Little?” Jasper shoved a finger into Jon’s chest.

  “No. I don’t want to stay here and entertain conspiracy theories.” Jon glared at Jasper’s finger. “And if you poke me again, you’ll lose a finger.”

  “They aren’t conspiracy theories,” Kelly scoffed.

  “We’re talking science fiction,” Granddad said. “Sure, some of our theories are out there, but I don’t see you offering up anything better.”

  Jon shoved a hand through his military hair. “I don’t care how it happened. Maybe there’s no explanation, ever think of that?”

  “Like on LOST?” Kelly said with disappointment. “I still have unanswered questions after all this time.”

  “I give up.” Jon pinched the bridge of his nose. “You people stay here and debate if you want to.”

  “Take it easy, Horacio.” Reagan shook her head at the river. “We hoped to replenish our water supply, but it’s no longer an option. We’ll press on to the RV.”

  “I want my goose down jacket,” Dawn said quivering.

  Scotty unhooked his backpack and unwrapped his sleeping bag. After a sniff test, he offered it to Dawn. “Not as good as a jacket, but you can wrap in this.”

  “It’s okay,” Dawn said with jazz hands. “You might need it.”

  “I’m fine Meredith, you can have it.” Scotty once again offered the sleeping bag.

  “Dawn,” she corrected. “And I'm fine.”

  “You’re turning blue.”

  Dawn snatched the sleeping bag and thrashed it as if the army green material was infested.

  Scotty tugged on his cap with a crooked smile plastered. “You’re welcome.”

  “Dawn’s a germaphobe,” Junior whispered. “Her library is the most sterile in the state.”

  “We should get moving,” Jon said. “No telling how much light we have left.”

  Reagan handed out energy bars for the group to share. “Lead the way, Travis…”

  A gunshot rang through the woods and echoed for miles. Several screams came from the group as they scrambled for shelter. “Head for the ridge.” Reagan pulled the rifle from her shoulder and scanned the trees. Who was shooting at them?

  Chapter 19 – The Shootist

  Reagan

  Falling into a crouch, Reagan skimmed the treeline, rested the rifle against her shoulder, and squinted into the scope. “I can’t see anything through this haze.”

  She spun her head to the left and the right. Most of the group heeded her instructions to break to the ridge for cover. She spotted Granddad lopping near the tail end, his arm around Kelly. Scotty, Travis Wayne, and Jon stayed to help Reagan, guns drawn.

  “Anyone have eyes on the shooter?” Jon asked in an official cop manner.

  Scotty followed the treeline with a pearl-handled Colt .45 in his left hand. “Nothin’.”

  Two additional shots echoed through the forest. Dirt scattered a few feet from Reagan.

  Jon brushed next to Reagan and blasted his shotgun at the trees. “Go. I’ll cover you,” he said between shots.

  Reagan sprinted after the scattered group. She held the rifle in her right hand and weaved through the woods. Shots rang behind her, but she didn’t turn. Scotty, Travis Wayne, and Jon shadowed. Crisp leaves crunched under her boots. She charged the slick, almost frozen path. As she reached the ridge, she slipped on a patch of mud.

  Scotty yanked her to her feet. “Did you ever run track? Because my nickname in the minors was Flash, and you left me in the dust.”

  “I guess I never had the right incentive.” Reagan dusted her jeans and checked the scared, hunkered faces. “Everyone alright?”

  “Who’s shooting?” Annabeth clutched Mickey in her arms. The well-behaved dog stayed on high alert.

  Granddad sat next to Annabeth and patted her knee. “We’ll be alright.”

  Kelly removed her floppy hat and fluffed her golden hair like a model in a shampoo commercial. “I can’t wait to put some distance between us and the mountain of doom.”

  “What kind of gun?” Jasper’s rough voice grilled. “Could it have been whatever sent the ranger packing?”

  “It was a rifle.” Travis Wayne held a Glock at his side. “I didn’t see where the shots came from.”

  “Maybe someone was out hunting and mistook us for a deer or something?” Olivia tugged on the sleeves of her Mount Rushmore shirt. Junior put a comforting arm on her shoulder.

  “Hunters don’t normally fire off a dozen rounds,” Jasper barked. “I bet you it’s the fugitive stalking Agent Little.”

  “It isn’t the fugitive,” Jon said.

  Jasper straightened, puffing his chest to Jon. “What makes you so sure?”

  Jon held his chin higher. “Back off. Last I checked, I'm the only one here with a badge and authority.”

  They had four guns and probably outnumbered the shooter. Reagan puffed a long strand of hair away from her face. “We can circle back and figure out who’s shooting at us.” Stroking the soft felt on the brim of her hat, she tried to formulate a plan. “I’ll take Mayday Malone and Cop Face. Foxworthy will stay with the rest of the group.”

  “And who exactly are you referring to?” Jasper placed his thumbs through the belt loops on his jorts. “Because with all those cute little nicknames you throw out, no one has a clue what’s going on.”

  Kelly’s gaze narrowed in on Jasper. “At least Reagan doesn’t yell at everyone and cause an all-out panic like you do.”

  Travis Wayne leaned into Reagan. “You gonna need my help tracking?”

  “A cool head should stay and make sure everyone’s safe.”

  Jasper tapped Travis Wayne’s shoulder. “Quit gossiping and tell the rest of us what’s going on.”

  Reagan relaxed the rifle. “Jasper, I want you and Travis Wayne to stay here and protect the rest of the group.”

  “I need a gun,” he said extending his hand.

  “As much as I need a stick in the eye,” Scotty said under his breath.

  Reagan bit back her smart retort. “We don’t have enough guns to start handing them out. Travis Wayne is an excellent marksman. He’s even won a few awards.”

  Travis Wayne snagged the hatchet from his backpack and handed it to Jasper. “Here.”

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” With a curled lip Jasper scowled at the weapon. “I doubt an ax will stop a maniac sniper.”

  “If we come across Walkers swing for the head,” Granddad offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

  “What is with you
people? We’re running for our lives and you’re acting like a bunch of comedians,” Jasper said.

  Kelly put a finger to her mouth. “Lower your voice. I'm fairly certain the sniper isn’t deaf.”

  Travis Wayne’s dark eyes turned to Reagan. “Tracking the snipper might be a safer job.”

  “If you two are coming, we gotta leave now,” Jon ordered. “And try not to step on any sticks. We don’t want to announce our presence.”

  Scotty saluted before falling into line. “Aye-aye.”

  Reagan adjusted her grip on the rifle as she shadowed Jon. They returned to the river path. “Hey Little, shouldn’t we circle behind the treeline?”

  Jon didn’t bother turning. “Shooter’s probably long gone.”

  Scotty ran a hand across his cheek. “Why?”

  “Experience.”

  “Then why did you agree to this trek if you believe the shooter is gone?” Reagan asked.

  “To look for evidence.”

  “I know you can’t talk about an open investigation,” Reagan began, “but why are you so certain your fugitive isn’t behind this.”

  Jon lowered his shotgun. “Jasper is looking for someone to blame. I wanted to shut him down before the accusation spun out of control.”

  “What about your partner?” Scotty asked.

  A muscle in Jon’s jaw twitched. “What about her?”

  Scotty twirled his .45. “Is it possible she was shooting at us? Maybe even accidentally. Not like you can see much through this aurora borealis phenomenon.”

  “It’s not Robin. I left her in our broken-down sedan miles from here. She was sick and in no condition to wander through the woods shooting at people.” Jon stretched his torso. “Maybe it’s your brother we’ve heard so little about.”

  Scotty tilted his head to one side. “Not the most outrageous theory I’ve heard. Hunter’s been known to get a little paranoid. All the dead fish in the river is enough to give anyone a scare.” Jon’s skeptical scowl bore into Scotty. “I'm not saying it’s him but I'm not shooting down every theory.”

  Reagan lifted her jacket collar. “Despite your reasoning, Agent, I still think we should approach the treeline from the opposite side. For all we know, the shooter could be guarding the river.”

  Jon stopped in his tracks. “Why? It’s tainted.”

  “That’s my point.” Reagan’s eyes lifted to the sky. “I don’t want to sound like a conspiracy nut, but maybe some kind of military experiment went wrong. There’s an army base maybe forty minutes from here.”

  “What kind of military experiment could cause this?” Jon huffed.

  Scotty crossed his arms. “You tell us, G-man.”

  “Do you have any theories? If not a military experiment, then what?” Reagan asked.

  “I’ve said before, I don’t like to speculate. I may be a government employee but I’m not hiding deep dark secrets. I chase fugitives for a living.”

  Reagan chewed her lower lip. “Well in your experience, shouldn’t we approach the shooter from the rear?”

  “If I had the resources and a team, we would surround the shooter from multiple angles,” Jon said. “But we don’t have such liberties. And I’d rather not explain to my superiors why I brought along two untrained civilians.”

  “Then deputize us,” Scotty said with a half-grin.

  Jon opened his mouth to respond but his words were cut off by a pop, pop, pop. Reagan dove behind a tree and Scotty slid in behind her. Jon army-crawled to a fallen log and perched his shotgun on the rotting trunk. He scrunched his right eye and put the left to the sights. He waited for several beats before pulling the trigger.

  Reagan knelt to one knee and peeked around the tree. She processed several scans over the area before catching a glisten and movement. “Shooter’s on the run,” she called above the gunfire.

  “I see him.” Jon’s shotgun trailed across the trees and he fired two more shots.

  Before either of the guys protested, Reagan dashed toward the treeline. “Cover me.”

  Jon called after her, but it was too late to change her mind. He provided cover as she escaped into the thicket. She collapsed against a tree as she caught her breath. Reagan waited a moment as silence filled the surrounding area. She put the rifle to her shoulder and peered through the scope. Did she imagine the glisten several minutes earlier? Or did the shooter manage to disappear?

  Snap!

  The sound of a broken twig put every sense on high alert. She tried to calm her shaking hands as she whirled to face the noise.

  Snap!

  Another twig broke and Reagan raced toward the source. With the rifle holstered, she bolted, pumping her arms. Pain seared through the burn on her neck but she pushed onward. A black form whizzed between the trees. She couldn’t determine gender or age, but the trim shooter stood only a few inches taller than her. She increased her stride and managed to gain on the hooded figure. With one last lunge, she flung herself at the shooter.

  Reagan wrapped the shooter in a skillful tackle. She placed a knee on his rib cage and her right fist cocked above his face. She ripped off the black hoody. “Junior? What are you doing here?”

  He closed his eyes and covered his face. “Don’t.”

  “It’s me, Reagan.”

  His eyes flew open and relief washed across his face. “Reagan? You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

  She scrambled to her feet and helped Junior to his. “What happened? Where are the others? Were you attacked?”

  “What? No. They seemed fine when I left. Pops was letting a tiny amount of authority go to his head and waving around the hatchet. They never even noticed me leaving.”

  Reagan jerked her Stetson. “What are you doing out here, Junior?”

  “I wanted to help.”

  “It’s not safe. There’s a shooter out there and you’re unarmed.”

  He pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans. “Not exactly.” He tucked a piece of long blonde hair behind his ears.

  “Where did you get the sidearm? Does your father know?”

  “Of course not,” he scoffed. “Jasper is too trigger happy to be responsible.”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “I found it yesterday at the bottom of the cliff near our RV. It’s pretty dope though, right?”

  Reagan frowned and reached for the gun. She wasn’t an expert, but it looked government issue. Perhaps Jon’s missing Glock? “You found it?”

  “Yup,” he removed the clip. “Loaded and everything.”

  “Maybe I should hold onto it.”

  “Are you kidding me? I found it. It’s mine.” He tucked it into his jeans. “I’ll have your back.”

  “Do you know how to handle a gun?”

  “I’m not some kid. What are you, like a year older than me? I can handle going out with the Delta Force. Believe me.”

  Reagan could name several people in the group she’d rather see armed. But Junior ranked high above his father. “Five guns are better than four.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he said cocking his head to the side.

  Reagan diverted her attention to the other problem. “Did you happen to see the shooter while you were here?”

  His black converses kicked at the dirt. “Nope. Didn’t see a thing. I heard the shots though and tried to follow them. But then yous guys started shooting and I panicked. And when you started chasing me, I was convinced it was the shooter.”

  A whistle rang. “Reagan? You alright?” Scotty called.

  “Over here,” she answered. Scotty plowed through the brush. “Turned out I tackled Junior, not the shooter.”

  Scotty holstered his Colt .45. He didn’t question the matter further but a wide beam spread across his face. “I found the snipper’s nest.”

  Reagan’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Where?”

  “Follow me,” he said skipping. Scotty stopped in front of a large oak tree and pointed. “The snipper was shooting from the tree.”

>   “How do you know?” Junior challenged.

  “The shell casings were my first clue,” Scotty said. “They’re littered all over the area. Most of the shells are concentrated in the tree.” He grabbed a low branch and hoisted himself. He balanced on the branch as if walking a tight rope. “Perfect view of the river from here.”

  “It’s not a very long shot.” Reagan bounced on her tiptoes. “Maybe seventy-five yards.”

  “With good vantage.” Scotty mimed a sniper pose. “No other trees in his site line.”

  “And?” Junior asked not following.

  “A good shot would have hit what they were aiming at,” Reagan said.

  “Meaning us?” Junior croaked.

  “Maybe it was a warning shot?” Scotty said. “Someone trying to scare us off.”

  Reagan leaned against the tree. “It doesn’t make sense. Twelve people and the shooter doesn’t hit one.”

  Scotty knelt in the nook of the tree. “There are cigarette butts here. Maybe ten.”

  “We're looking for a chain smoker.” Reagan twirled her sore feet. “Wonder if Jon’s partner smokes.”

  “Meredith does,” Junior offered. “Been complaining about the pack left in the RV for days.”

  Scotty made a face. “Ew, what’s the nice librarian lady doin’ with a bad smoking habit?”

  “For the millionth time, Meredith is the guy,” Junior corrected.

  Scotty slapped a hand across his face. “Wasn’t he complaining about a missing hat?”

  “And the smokes,” Junior said.

  Scotty once again stood in the tree and wobbled across the branch. “Hey, there’s Jon. Wonder if he can see us.” Scotty waved through the trees.

  “I wouldn’t wave at the guy with a shotgun,” Reagan warned.

  Scotty leaped from the tree. “Yikes, you’re right.”

  Reagan released a chuckle. “Let’s fill him in and tell him we lost the shooter.”

  Junior pointed a thumb. “Maybe I should head for the ridge. I don’t suppose Jon would be thrilled to see me.”

  “We better stick together.” Reagan glanced at her useless timepiece. “We don’t have long before dark. Like Jasper keeps reminding us, we need to get back to the RV.”