Apollo Project

by Brittany E Brinegar

“What’s your take on the ranger?” Reagan adjusted her jacket collar.

  “Not sure about his story. I’ve come across lots of conspiracy freaks and he fits the profile.”

  “Is he dangerous?”

  “Hard to say. But I guess it’s one reason you suggested night watch.”

  Reagan snagged Jon’s vacated seat and placed the rifle by her chair. “Call me cynical, but there’s something about him I don’t quite trust.”

  “Do you trust me?” Jon blurted.

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  With a nod of his head, Jon ducked inside the cabin. For the next several minutes Reagan listened to the silence. Crickets didn’t chirp, owls didn’t hoot, wolves didn’t howl. She slapped her flashlight against her palm and pointed it across the prairie. A fresh blanket of snow engulfed the entire area. Shimmying from the blanket, she decided to investigate. She tugged her glove with her teeth, bent to inspect the snow, held the fluffy substance in her hand, and realized it wasn’t cold. She removed the lighter from her pocket and steadied the flame to the snowball. It didn’t melt. “Add it to the list,” she mumbled to herself. The lighter clapped shut before she burned her hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  Reagan swiveled on her heel and pointed her flashlight at the voice. It flickered off, but not before she saw her visitor – Junior. “Don’t sneak up on me. You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”

  Junior shoved his hands in his pockets and returned to the porch. The lone candle flame allowed Reagan to view his alarmed face. “I overheard the ranger.”

  “Doing what?”

  “About an hour ago he wandered outside.”

  “Jon didn’t see him?”

  “He was too busy snoring to notice.” Junior slapped his thigh and snorted.

  “What did you overhear?”

  “Nate Campbell talking on his radio.”

  “What do you mean, talking on? Was it working?”

  “Yeah. Someone talked back.”

  Reagan’s pulse raced. “What did they say?”

  “I couldn’t make out the entire conversation, but Campbell said something about a door.”

  “A door?”

  “I couldn’t hear very well,” Junior said. “But there wasn’t static on the radio and someone talked back.”

  Reagan chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe the shooter?”

  “Campbell isn’t telling us the whole truth. For all we know, he caused all this weird stuff.”

  “We need to get our hands on the radio.”

  “He keeps it in his backpack.”

  “Where’s Campbell now?”

  “Inside sleeping.” Junior pointed his head toward the door. “I’ll grab the backpack.”

  Reagan reached for Junior. “Hold on a minute. We don’t know what Campbell is capable of. We don’t want to spook him.”

  “Watch out!” Junior said.

  Reagan didn’t have time to react. Something hard smashed the back of her head. Instant pain pulsed through her head, neck, and to her toes. Her vision blurred and her legs couldn’t support her weight. She managed to twist to her side as she fell in slow motion to the ground. A tall shadow materialized in front of her. She sifted through the fog and near unconsciousness as the much bigger shadow seized Junior. Reagan shook her head and concentrated on the tan ranger uniform illuminated in the candlelight. Nate Campbell’s long, bony fingers wrapped around Junior’s neck. Junior scratched at Nate’s hands and gasped for air. Reagan put her elbow on the chair and propped herself to her feet. She stumbled to the fallen rifle and aimed it at the ranger. Double vision-impaired her shot and caused her to see two park rangers. She blinked her eyes and swallowed the wave of nausea.

  Snap. Nate Campbell broke Junior’s neck.

  Fear swept through Reagan as she stared into Junior’s vacant eyes. She fumbled with the rifle as Nate Campbell closed the distance. He gripped the barrel before she could fire. She clutched the butt of the rifle as he attempted to wrestle it away. Nate Campbell spun her and she tripped over Junior’s body. She fell onto her backside and lost the rifle. A sinister sneer spread across Nate Campbell’s face. He adjusted his grip on Reagan’s rifle and aimed. Reagan’s eyes fell to Junior and Jon’s missing gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. Before she could chicken out, Reagan pulled the Glock .27 and fired two shots at Nate Campbell. At least one connected and his momentum sent him through the porch railing. It splintered under his weight and he collapsed into the snow.

  The cabin door burst open. Flashlights and guns pointed at Reagan. “Nate Campbell.” Her voice strained from the grip of death. Reagan’s cold fingers held the Glock as she staggered to her feet. Questions assaulted her as everyone spilled from the cabin.

  “What happened here?” Jasper barked.

  “Are you ok?” Annabeth asked.

  Travis Wayne scanned. “Where’s Mr. Campbell?”

  “Did he attack you?” Kelly fired.

  Scotty vaulted the railing. “I see blood. Did you hit him?”

  “Where’d he go?” Granddad’s cane tapped onto the porch.

  Jon’s gaze landed on Reagan’s hand. “Is that my gun?”

  “Junior?” Olivia screamed. The questions stopped and all eyes landed on Junior. Olivia crashed to the floor.

  “He’s dead,” Jasper croaked. His fiery eyes burned Reagan. “What did you do?”

  “Nate Campbell attacked us.” Reagan hesitated. “If I did hit him in the leg he couldn’t have gone far.”

  Travis Wayne slapped Scotty’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  “Looks like he went east,” Jon said inspecting the snow.

  “Blood trail runs south,” Travis Wayne corrected.

  Jon gripped shotgun. “Who do these prints belong to then?”

  “We’ll split up.” Jasper stood. “I’m gonna kill Nate Campbell.”

  “Jasper, you should stay,” Reagan said.

  Jasper marched to Reagan and yelled inches from her face. “My son is dead because of you. The last thing I'm gonna do is to listen to you.”

  “This isn’t her fault,” Kelly said. “Reagan was attacked too.”

  “The ATF agent and I will follow the blood,” Jasper said. “Come on.”

  Reagan massaged the knot on her head. “Travis Wayne, go with them.”

  “We don’t need him.” Jasper held out his hand. “Just your gun.”

  Reagan tucked the gun into her jeans. “Travis Wayne is our best tracker.” She also wanted someone she trusted to accompany Jon and Jasper.

  Jasper’s shoulders lowered. “He better not slow us down.”

  Reagan ducked to Travis Wayne. “Junior said Nate Campbell has a working radio in his pack.”

  “I’ll find it.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t on you.”

  The three men headed south, or the direction they called south, and Reagan searched for Scotty. “Did you find anything?”

  Scotty retrieved Reagan’s rifle from under the porch. “Did you lose this?”

  “Campbell wrestled it away from me.” Reagan closed her eyelids. “He must have lost it after I shot him.”

  Scotty handed Reagan the rifle. “I guess we’re going east?”

  “Guess so.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Kelly clipped her fanny pack and zipped her jacket.

  “Me too,” Annabeth agreed.

  Reagan’s hand cut through the air. “Y’all are staying here.” She passed the rifle to Kelly. “There’s still a shooter out there. Assuming Campbell wasn’t the shooter.”

  Kelly frowned. “What does it have to do with staying here?”

  Reagan pointed her chin at the remaining Caribou Crew. “They’re in no condition to move.”

  “Alright,” Kelly huffed. “But we are capable of going out with the A-Team.”

  “Next time,” Reagan squeezed her friend’s shoulder.

  After grabbing a pack filled with supplies and water Reagan and Scotty headed east at a slow jo
g. The haze remained dark and would for another hour until the sun rose and brightened the moss. The darkness made following the trail at anything faster than a brisk walk difficult.

  “You said you hit the squirrely park ranger in the leg?” Scotty asked after a few minutes on the trail.

  “I fired twice. I’m pretty sure one got him. I’m not sure how he escaped so fast, though.”

  “What happened exactly?” Scotty asked. “Why’d he turn on you and go psycho?”

  “I'm not entirely sure. But Junior saw Nate Campbell using a radio and communicating with another party.”

  “He had a working radio?”

  “According to Junior.”

  “So, what, the ranger decided to kill you two because you knew about the radio?”

  “He’s unstable. Probably seemed like a good reason for him. Or maybe he attacked us because we separated from the rest of the group and we were easy to pick off.”

  “How’d you get the jump on him?”

  Reagan ignored the headache. “Nate Campbell tried to knock me unconscious and strangled Junior. I was woozy and off-balance, and I couldn’t fire my rifle. He wrestled it away and I fell on Junior. Before he killed me too, I spotted Junior’s gun.”

  “Quick thinking.”

  “Not quick enough.”

  “This isn’t your fault. You were suspicious of Nate Campbell from the get-go.”

  “I shouldn’t have let him stay with us.” Reagan knelt to study the trail. “The trail ends here.”

  “Maybe those other boys are havin’ better luck.”

  “Wait, what’s south of here?”

  Scotty narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Nate Campbell was coming from the south when he found us yesterday.”

  “That sounds right.” Scotty pulled a compass from the strap of his backpack. “Although I'm not entirely sure what direction is what anymore.”

  “If Campbell was coming from the south, it means he wasn’t coming from the mountain.”

  “He was coming from the road.”

  “Meaning he lied. He wasn’t at the ranger station when all this happened. He arrived at the mountain yesterday.”

  Scotty twirled his gun. “Doesn’t mean he wasn’t at the ranger station. He could have circled from the road.”

  “Think about it,” Reagan began. “If you were making your way down the mountain after all these storms would you come back? No technology, no people. If you made it to the road, wouldn’t you keep going?”

  “You have a point there.” Scotty pondered. “But I'm still not sure how it’s relevant.”

  “The blood trail was heading south. Why would he be going south again?”

  “We spooked him.”

  “I don’t think so. He was coming here for a reason. I say we go to the north hiking trail.”

  “To the top of the mountain?”

  “Toward the lake. Maybe he has a boat or something stashed.”

  “Huh. I didn’t consider that,” Scotty said. “But what about the blood trail? He couldn’t have faked it could he?”

  “Probably not. But I also didn’t think we’d be battling snow this week.”

  “And don’t forget about those killer bees y’all supposedly saw. It seems like each time Annabeth tells the story they get bigger. Next, she’ll say they were the size of pterodactyls.”

  Chapter 26 – Uninvited Help

  Tom

  The lack of animal noises from the surrounding swamp bugged Tom to no end. On guard duty, he battled his heavy eyelids and jumped at the creaking door.

  “Looking for ghosts?” Clashing with her fashionable style, Genevieve dressed in a square LSU golf shirt. Not losing all style, she clung to the oversized, dangling, hooped earrings.

  “Nope. No ghosts out tonight.”

  “Why is it only you and I saw Mandy? And aren’t we the only ones without burns? William said he didn’t have one, but I noticed he did. It was faded and not as bright as the others, but it is there.”

  With hesitation, Tom dove into a conversation with her. “I suppose the burn theory could make sense. Dixie doesn’t have one either.”

  “I certainly can’t explain a single thing about that child. She hates me.”

  “Normal, I’d say.”

  “You’re not her father and you’re dating her mother. Why doesn’t she hate you?”

  Fidgeting in the rocking chair, Tom kicked a warped board on the porch. “Probably not the place for this conversation.” But he waded in. “I’d guess it’s because Davidson left, not Barb. Dixie is a great kid, not the typical spoiled and entitled millennial.” Studying Genevieve, who checked in around thirty and pretty much a millennial, she fit the stereotype of the generation.

  “Frankly I don’t see it. She’s a brat. Makes William’s life a nightmare, but by golly, she’ll take his money. And there isn’t near as much anymore.”

  Though he wanted to probe into the revelation, Tom instead asked about the burns. “Davidson has the burns then?” She nodded. “Does he also have the dry throat and ringing ears?”

  “A bit, but his feet are swollen. I thought it was because he sprained an ankle, but this is something more. His foot has a mark on the bottom.”

  “Barb too. And Doc has filled us in continually about his dry throat, ringing ears, and the spreading pain.”

  Genevieve repositioned from leaning against the wall to the chair next to Tom, slanting too close. She oozed her feminine wiles, likely not even aware. “This manipulation of weather has to be by the government. I don’t want to sound like our kooky Emerson, but some of what he says makes sense. If some company or agency is running an experiment on the weather, what if we got in the middle of it?”

  “Doc’s theory?”

  “I don’t know anything about what he thinks.”

  Reading her face, Tom noted the discomfort. “Davidson mentioned something yesterday when we were out. Or really, he teased Doc about you. Said he stole you away from Doc.”

  With pursed ruby lips, Genevieve shook her head, the dangling hoop earrings swaying. “Jeremy is a sweet man, but he and I were never an item. I mean, he probably wanted to be.”

  The screen door clattered and Barb clomped to the porch. Tom stiffened, aware of Genevieve’s closeness. Barb noticed, smiled but let the sentiment fade when she addressed Genevieve. “I wondered where you went. Is everything alright?”

  Genevieve extended a phony expression. “I’m having a conversation with our leader. I want an update on the plan for tomorrow.”

  “We are going to the airfield,” Tom offered.

  “William mentioned another course of action. He may fight you on your plan.”

  “We can discuss it in the morning.” Tom rose from the rocker and embraced Barb. “I need a few words with Barb if you don’t mind.”

  Genevieve popped to her feet, fluffed her hair, and swiveled inside.

  Barb giggled. “I realize it isn’t nice of me, but I would greatly enjoy slugging the woman right in the mouth.”

  “The two of you might have to fight for Davidson. The fool had some spiel yesterday about wanting you back.” Tom squeezed her. “Guess I might have to fight him off.”

  “Hardly,” Barb said. The two of them settled into a rocking chair and let the quiet night lull them to sleep.

  Chapter 27 – Dummy Trail

  Reagan

  Morning arrived and the haze softened to key-lime green. Reagan and Scotty set a rapid pace as they dashed along the hiking trail in hopes of catching the ranger.

  “The lake should be over this ridge,” Reagan said short of breath.

  “Do you think we’ll find the ranger?” Scotty asked a step ahead of her.

  They escaped the vast forest as the hiking trail met the lake. Snow tipped mountains of varying sizes filled the horizon. The picturesque scenery and calm atmosphere made it an ideal camping location. The longer she viewed the lake, the eerier it became. The overbearing silence chilled Reagan
to the bone. “Let’s look around.”

  “I don’t see any dead fish here. I guess that’s something.”

  Reagan knelt to inspect the snow-packed trail. “There aren’t any footprints.”

  “Maybe he didn’t come this way,” Scotty said blowing into his hands.

  “I know my line of reasoning was shaky, but let’s finish checking this place.”

  Scotty approached a tree. “I’ll climb to get a better look.” He removed his backpack and pulled a pair of binoculars from one of the compartments. He dangled the binoculars around his neck and scurried the tree.

  “Do you see anything, Tarzan?”

  Scotty climbed to a higher perch and held the binoculars to scan the area. “Not really. I don’t even see a bird.”

  “Any smoke from other camps?”

  “Who are you expecting to find?”

  “There were a lot of people camping in the park. Could they all vanish?”

  “My brother did.” Scotty continued to search the area. “But Hunter’s more than capable and less willing to trust. If the ranger happened upon him with a bullet wound, Hunter would probably shoot first and ask questions later.” Scotty climbed higher. “He’s not as charming as me and he’s got trust issues. I'm not sure how he’d react to all this. I hope he didn’t turn on the wrong people.” Making Reagan woozy from the ground, Scotty wrapped his arm around a branch and leaned. “I see something.”

  “What? Where?”

  “About a hundred yards from here near the edge of the lake.”

  “Nate Campbell?”

  “It looks like his park ranger uniform.”

  Reagan sprinted in the direction Scotty described as he shimmied from the tree. She covered the distance in under a minute despite the slippery terrain. She ducked behind a fallen log and aimed at the ranger. “Nate Campbell.”

  The limping form swerved. His right pant leg drenched in blood. Pain filled his chubby face. He searched for Reagan. “Who’s there?”

  “Who do you think?” Reagan snapped, her tone sharp as a knife.

  “It was nothing personal, Reagan.”

  “Trying to kill me wasn’t personal? How do you figure?”

  “It was self-preservation.” His hollow eyes searched the woods. “I had to beat you to the punch. Jon Little was looking to do the same to me.”