Apollo Project

by Brittany E Brinegar

  “Listen up. We go inside the room. He’s inside and my guess is he’s the one controlling these phantom flames and fake weather. Don’t flinch from whatever comes at us. I’d rather get him alive and beat some answers out of him. Everybody got it?”

  After nods all around, Tom led them to the door. He jerked it open and saw Campbell against the wall, bleeding from the upper shoulder. Once his posse joined, Tom smirked. “You shouldn’t have left. Now, I’m gonna hurt you. You’ll tell me the truth eventually.”

  But the ranger didn’t talk. Total blackness accosted Tom and he teetered on the edge of passing out. A calm engulfed him as he melted to the ground. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he sensed the others blacked out along with him.

  Chapter 37 – The Others

  Reagan

  The blizzard continued well into the night. It didn’t end until early morning when the wind dissipated. Travis Wayne slipped outside, dug out the wagon, and gave the all-clear.

  “Is Meredith any better?” Kelly whispered as she mounted Silver.

  Reagan peeked at the wagon and the cocooned complainer. “Not much.” His wife dabbed sweat from his forehead as pain contorted his face.

  “I wish we had a doctor, someone who could tell us what was wrong.” Kelly slipped on her Ray-Bans to fight the snowy glare. “I don’t even know what to grab from the hospital.”

  “First aid supplies, antibiotics, aspirin,” Scotty ticked off. “General things.”

  Kelly wedged her sunglasses atop her head. “Is the sky getting lighter?”

  Reagan’s eyes lifted. The leprechaun clouds showed spots of aqua bleeding through. It was as if blue fought with green for control of the sky. “Maybe.”

  “Hey hold up,” Jon called from the front of the wagon train.

  Reagan let Bailey catch Jon’s buckskin. “What is it?”

  Jon’s chin jutted to the shadow on the horizon. “Might be our ranger friend.”

  Reagan focused on the form, a football field away. Riding a horse, the figure spied on them from his perch on a snowy hill. Reagan grabbed her Remington rifle and aimed it at the shadow. Her left eye rested against the scope. Ranger Nate Campbell sat atop a dark brown mule. “It’s him,” Reagan said lowering her weapon.

  “Does he know we saw him?” Scotty asked.

  “How wouldn’t he?” Jon’s black brows knitted together.

  Scotty shrugged. “Maybe there’s a glare and he doesn’t have a scope.”

  “What are you waiting for?” Jasper called from the wagon. “Shoot him.”

  “He isn’t in range,” Reagan said. “Besides, I have some questions for him.”

  “Why don’t you, me, and Little ride after him?” Scotty suggested.

  “Not without me you don’t.” Jasper eased from the overcrowded wagon. He poked at Kelly. “Get up.”

  “You can’t even ride,” Kelly snorted.

  Jon circled Spirit. “Let’s make a decision here.”

  Annabeth cleared her throat. “Um, did you all hear that?” A low electronic hum caught their attention. They spun to face the approaching noise. “Is it a snowmobile?”

  “It can’t be?” Granddad snagged his binoculars. “Well, I’ll be. Two snowmobiles over the ridge. They’re wearing blue jackets with letters. I can’t make them out. Look like cops maybe.”

  A piercing shot rang through the air as a round of bullets kicked snow thirty feet away. “Why are they shooting at us?” Annabeth wrapped her arms around a scared Mickey.

  Travis Wayne snapped the reins. “I ain’t waiting to find out.”

  “Wait for me.” Jasper loped to the wagon and high-stepped beside it for a few feet. “Slow down.”

  “In case you didn’t notice, we’re being shot at,” Granddad said. “Jump.” Granddad fired the Glock .27 several times before offering Jasper a hand. Jasper lunged and snagged Granddad by the wrist. His feet drug across the fresh snow as he tried to right himself, like a wounded parakeet as his legs flailed about. Dawn and Annabeth joined in to pull the tubby man aboard.

  Reagan fired a few shots in the snowmobile’s general direction as the wagon accelerated. Through the scope, she read the letters Granddad couldn’t. ATF.

  She chanced a peep at Jon. Why were his colleagues shooting?

  “Ranger’s getting away.” He nudged Spirit’s sides into a gallop.

  “Go after them, Kelly,” Reagan said waving in the Ranger’s direction. Both Jon and Kelly rode quarter horses, known for their speed. Catching Campbell’s mule shouldn’t prove difficult.

  Reagan twisted the reins to face the oncoming snowmobiles. Both riders fired wild shots in their vicinity. Reagan aimed her rifle at the closest rider, nicking a piece of metal. With the contact, she realized one snowmobile carried two riders. She twisted Bailey forward and caught the wagon. It dashed across the snow-covered road but not fast enough.

  “Take the reins, Mr. Tucker.” Travis Wayne maneuvered to the rear. He steadied the Winchester rifle against the back of the wagon and fired on the riders.

  “We can’t outrun them,” Scotty said appearing next to Reagan.

  “What do you suggest we do?” Reagan shouted over the gunfire.

  Scotty fired a few rounds behind him without aiming. “We’re wasting bullets.”

  Reagan gazed at Jon and Kelly, barely visible on the hill where the ranger rode. “Maybe we can ambush them?”

  “Let’s give it a whirl.” Scotty pointed. “The highway bridge looks like a good spot.”

  Reagan loped alongside Granddad and filled him in on their plan. “Catch up to Jon and Kelly if you can.”

  He concentrated on driving the horses. “Be careful.”

  Spurring their horses across the bridge, Reagan and Scotty mounted on opposite sides. Thirty seconds later the wagon lumbered underneath. Reagan dismounted and knelt along the bridge. She steadied her rifle on the railing and aimed at the snowmobile with two riders. Scotty did the same to her left with his .45. Once the riders appeared in her sights, she fired. The one in front fell before the snowmobile smashed into the bridge.

  “I got one,” she called.

  “My guy swerved.” Scotty rolled to the other side of the bridge and squeezed a parade of shots after the rider.

  Losing the second rider, Reagan sprinted after the wounded man. “Stop right there.”

  The man in the AFT jacket whirled with a cold steel pistol in his gloved right hand. Thick silver hair stood on end. His hardened, worn face put him around sixty. Raven eyes glared at her. He touched his bleeding shoulder. “You shot me.”

  Reagan caught a slight accent. Maybe French. She leveled her rifle. “Who are you?”

  “I’m one of the good guys.”

  “Then why are you shooting at us?”

  “Got me there.” His hand moved with skillful speed and his gun fired at Reagan between blinks. She dropped to the ground landing in fluffy snow.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she realized the ATF man missed. She peeked her rifle over the cement wall but the Frenchman vanished. As she leaned to the ledge, a swift kick from the other rider knocked the rifle from her grasp.

  “Now we’re on equal ground.” A young woman in black ski gear flashed a crooked grin, her gloved hands poised in a fighting stance.

  Reagan’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t have time to engage in fisticuffs with the ninja. “Ugh.”

  “Aren’t you going to fight?” the woman asked as she bobbed on her toes, a brown ponytail bouncing under the ski cap. A scene from Indiana Jones – Raiders of the Lost Ark, entered Reagan’s mind. But unlike Indy, her holster was empty.

  Reagan’s eyes landed on Scotty, as he pursued the third mysterious rider. Turning her attention to the woman, she attempted to defuse the situation. “Maybe we can talk about this. Who are you people?”

  “I’m Jacki.” She concluded the greeting with a right hook. “This is more fun than a dialoging.”

  Reagan’s hand rested against the cheek Jacki slugged
. She blocked the pain, realizing the woman wasn’t messing around. Leading with her left and a right, Reagan swung at Jacki. One punch connected before her quick feet danced away. Jacki returned fire, the cocky grin plastered across her smug face. With the target in mind, Reagan applied a roundhouse kick knocking the woman on her backside.

  “Why were you and the Frenchman shooting at us?”

  Jacki recovered and sprung to her feet. “Sorry, that’s all the fun I have time for, Reagan.” With a quick first step, she dove off the bridge. Jacki tucked and rolled into the snow. She reclaimed her snowmobile and zipped in the opposite direction of Nate Campbell. Reagan searched the bridge for the discarded rifle, slid on one knee to retrieve it and loaded a shot into the chamber. But by then, Jacki scooted out of range. Torn between chasing Jacki and returning to her group, Reagan chose the latter. The smug ninja likely acted as a distraction to keep her from confronting Nate Campbell.

  Jumping on Bailey, Reagan trailed the wagon’s path. Scotty chased after his man a few minutes earlier. Maybe he had better luck. Within a few minutes, she caught the group. They dismounted at a train station.

  “Duck!” Travis Wayne said.

  Reagan lunged off her horse and scrambled behind a structure. “Where is everyone?”

  “Inside after Nate Campbell.” Travis Wayne gripped his Winchester. “Scotty and I pinned this ATF agent.”

  Reagan spotted a younger man behind a shed. His floppy, dirty blonde hair bounced each time he rose to shoot. “You’re outnumbered and both of your partners are gone,” Reagan said. “Drop your gun.”

  “I can’t.” His young voice squeaked. He couldn’t have been more than twenty.

  “Why not?” Scotty asked from behind the other wall.

  “I have my orders,” he said.

  “From who?” Reagan asked. He didn’t answer. “Do you know Jon Little? He’s inside with us.”

  “Jon’s here?” He rose from behind the shed, a gun dangling in his right hand. He stood a lanky six-three. “I need to talk to him.”

  “Alright, put the gun down.” Reagan eased from her crouch, but her grip on the rifle didn’t loosen.

  “What has he told you about us?” the young man asked.

  Reagan and Travis Wayne approached and the kid turned. He adjusted his grip on the gun and trained it on them.

  Pop, pop, pop. Three bullets from Scotty’s pistol pierced the kid’s chest before he pulled the trigger. “He’s dead.” Scotty slid to his knee and scooped the gun – a 9mm Sig Sauer.

  “Jon Little’s got some explaining to do.” Reagan marched into the train station. Steps inside the door, the barrel of a gun pointed inches away from her temple. She clenched her eyes as she awaited the bullet.

  Click, click, click, click.

  Her eyes flung open and journeyed beyond the crooked “gangster” grip up a banana colored arm to Jasper’s obscured face. She snatched the gun from him and passed it to Travis Wayne. “And that’s why I didn’t give you a loaded gun,” she squealed.

  Jasper’s eyes widened and fear spread across his face. “I thought you were… I mean it should have been Campbell… I’m so very sorry…”

  Travis Wayne adopted a fighter’s stance, ready to punch his lights out.

  “Campbell’s over here,” Kelly said from across the platform.

  A stampede of people raced after her voice. Meredith limped with Granddad and Dawn supporting his weight while Mickey, with pink tongue flapping, darted with Annabeth. Jon opened the door Campbell disappeared behind and they filtered inside.

  Blackness engulfed them as the door slammed shut.

  Iteration Two

  The Merry Men

  Chapter 1 – The Old Switch-a-roo

  Reagan

  Darkness consumed the room as an intense heat rose from the wood floorboards. The station quaked as if a massive freight train barreled past the window. A screech sent everyone to their knees. Reagan’s throat burned, the metallic taste stronger than ever. She waved her arms through the darkness in search of her family.

  “Annabeth? Granddad?” she called. But the deafening, synthetic noise drowned her pleas.

  Reagan reached for their entrance point but she couldn’t locate the wall. Her world gyrated and she did her best to fight through dizziness – like the spinning teacups at Disney, but much worse. Reagan stumbled a few steps before crashing into the wall. The burn on her neck radiated with heat and she couldn’t fight unconsciousness. Her hand brushed across a metal doorknob as she sunk onto a cold tile floor.

  Heavy with sleep, Reagan’s eyes flickered. She squinted at a blurry figure hovering. The sun reflected forming an angelic halo around a woman’s face. Reagan rushed to sit, her spinning head shouting its protest. The sun was out. Did the green haze lift? Or was the camping trip gone wrong merely a terrible nightmare? Reagan blinked her eyes a few more times as the woman’s face came into focus. Wispy brown hair and snowflake blue eyes – Barb?

  Reagan opened her mouth to speak, but no words formed. Barb said something she didn’t catch and reached for Nate Campbell’s radio.

  “It wasn’t a dream,” Reagan mumbled to herself. Her eyes drifted across the muggy, tiled room. Her heart skipped as she located Annabeth, Granddad, Kelly, and everyone unconscious on the floor next to her. She placed her fingers on Granddad’s wrist. Relief washed over her when she felt a strong pulse.

  Wiping a hand on her face, Reagan shimmied to her feet. Sharp prickles charged through her left leg. Her jeans were sliced and a nasty cut assaulted her calf. Ignoring the wound, she scurried after Barb. What happened? How did Barb get to Montana? She wandered after Barb, leaving the tiled room in the direction of the ticket counter. Reagan’s ears popped and with a whoosh, sound resumed.

  A static voice bounced through the empty station. “Hello, is somebody there?

  Barb raised the radio. “Travis Wayne?”

  “Yes, ma’am. What happened? I lost my group.”

  Barb hesitated and stuttered. “Uh, I’m with Reagan. Can you tell me what you see?”

  Head on a swivel, Reagan observed her surroundings. When they first charged into the station after Nate Campbell, she didn’t inspect her surroundings.

  Travis Wayne’s voice crackled. “I’m at the train station, but something’s off.”

  “What else do you see? Is there a ticket counter?”

  Reagan closed the distance between her and Barb. Her weak body refused to cooperate in the hundred-degree station. As she shrugged off her jacket, she realized the incongruity. If snow blanketed the ground outside, why was it blazing?

  “Wait. Reagan? She’s there?” Travis Wayne’s voice broke her wandering thoughts.

  “She’s groggy. I talked to her for a second and then I heard you.”

  “Where’d he go?” Reagan asked in a scratchy voice. “Why isn’t he with us? And where’d you come from?”

  Barb lowered the radio. “I’m not sure what happened. One minute I'm standing next to your father, the next I see all of you unconscious. Are you alright Reagan, dear? You don’t look well.”

  “Let me talk to her,” Travis Wayne said.

  “I will, but, hold on a minute.” Barb extended the radio to Reagan. “Something very strange happened. We are in Louisiana and I'm not sure where my people are. Travis Wayne is my best chance of finding them.”

  Reagan clutched the radio for a few seconds to let everything sink in.

  “You still there, Miss Barb? I see a few people. They’re out cold.”

  Reagan cleared her throat. “Hey, is it really you?”

  Excitement filled Travis Wayne. “Boy is it good to hear your voice. What happened to us?”

  Reagan studied Barb’s appearance – jean capris, white striped shirt, and Keds, not dressed for the Mountains. Reagan bit her lip as she pondered the next move. What if she wasn’t talking to Travis Wayne or if someone had him at gunpoint? She needed to test the muffled, static voice. “What’s your nickname?”

 
“Which one? You’ve got a zillion of ‘em. Foxworthy, Guitar Man, Garth.”

  “Okay, you passed the test, Fonz.” Reagan paced to the room where she woke. “Kelly is fine; she’s starting to stir. We were all out for a few minutes. We’ve accounted for everyone but you. Even the Caribou Crew.”

  “Can you ask him about my people?” Barb said. “Dixie, Tom, Gus, William, Jeremey.”

  “We’re not sure how Barb got here, but she’s freaking out about my father, her daughter…” Reagan listened to Barb’s list of people and their physical description, “Uh, her ex, What? Uh, a bunch of others. Where are you and do you see those people?”

  “Hold on, I see some people. A blond girl. Young.”

  Barb’s frown faded. “He’s describing Dixie.”

  “Barb’s daughter, Dixie,” Reagan relayed. “We’re not in the mountains anymore. Where are you, Travis Wayne?” Reagan said trying to casually throw in the fact.

  “I’m in the same spot.” Travis Wayne paused for a few beats. “What do you mean you aren’t in the mountains? This doesn’t make sense.”

  Reagan eased her finger off the trigger and shifted her attention to Barb. “You’re sure about our location?”

  “Yes Reagan, I am. I don’t know how or why but it would appear our groups switched places. Jeremy and I were working on a theory, but it didn’t include this.”

  Reagan lifted the radio to her mouth. “Okay, Barb tells me we’re in Louisiana. Not sure how we pulled this off.”

  “What does Kelly think?” Travis Wayne asked.

  With a hand on her head, Reagan took stock of her family. “Kelly and Granddad will be arguing soon enough. As I said, they’re fine, but not free of the groggy phase yet. Make sure Barb’s group made it. Uh, you’ve seen my father’s picture. Stubborn Irishman, can’t miss him.” Reagan waited for Barb’s description of the others. “Barb’s ex is a big guy, barrel-chested and his wife is a busty redhead, who looks like Joan from Mad Men.”