Apollo Project

by Brittany E Brinegar

  Tom braced himself on the window sill, evaluating the bleeding woman below who’s foggy breath wafted from her open mouth. “Maybe we won’t tell your mother about all the shooting.” He swallowed. “I saw Barb on a bridge. Reagan too. It looked perilous.”

  Hunter slapped a book from the shelf. “Scotty was there, Tom. He’s tough and strong. A good shot.”

  “We have to assume they made it out. It’s imperative we talk to them.” Tom motioned to Elaine and questioned Robin. “How much does she know?”

  “Probably not as much as Bill Stutley.”

  “We can learn something from questioning her. If she doesn’t have details, maybe she can tell us why they’re shooting at us.”

  “We need to take Campbell out,” Dixie hissed.

  “Maybe if the three of you cover me, I can get to Elaine and drag her inside.” Tom slapped Hunter on the shoulder. “Big Game, you got yourself together enough for this move?”

  Limping to a window, Hunter steadied himself on boxes of books. Tom shuddered, picturing the two windows and the stacks of boxes as the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository. “I’m always ready for a fight, Chief.”

  Robin focused her scope, rotating through the zone. “I don’t know, Tom. He could pick you off before we see him.”

  “Just be ready. When I get to the door, I’ll signal and the three of you can fire a few rounds into the Nissan to the east and the treeline to the northwest. If he shoots at me, locate him and give it to him full force.”

  Chapter 16 – Going Rogue

  Reagan

  From her perch in the engine bay near the horses, Reagan surveilled the lonely, dark street. Her rifle laid across her lap, ready to fire if the Merry Men showed. For the last few hours, she fiddled with the canister they found in Duke’s pack. The cylinder remained a mystery. Her shift neared the end and her eyes betrayed her as they drifted closed.

  “I’m here to relieve you.” Jasper’s Boston accent jolted her awake.

  Reagan managed a smile. “Thanks. It’s been pretty quiet but send a signal if you hear anything.”

  “The night shift would be easier if I was armed. But you don’t trust me.”

  Reagan bit her lip. “It’s not I don’t trust you, I’m not sure I can rely on you yet. Saving Scotty tonight was a step in the right direction.”

  “Who made it your call?” Jasper snapped.

  Reagan proceeded with care. “It wasn’t my choice, but it’s how the chips fell. Meredith told me about your background as a criminal profiler.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “After you went to sleep, we looked through Duke’s pack. Inside was a letter.” Reagan snatched the letter from the pocket of her gym shorts, unfolded it, and handed it to Jasper. “It’s a brief dossier of the Merry Men. Based on your expertise, maybe you can analyze our foes?”

  Jasper sped through the letter. “Why is it ripped? Is it incomplete?”

  “I’m not sure. Focus on what we have.” Before surrendering the note to Japer, Reagan eliminated the final comment. Gilbert’s prose on the ‘leaders’ and thoughts on Jasper’s malleable allegiance was ‘need-to-know’. And Jasper definitely didn’t need to know.

  “First, you’d look at the writer himself. I didn’t specialize in handwriting analysis but I can give you a simplistic profile of this Gilbert Whitehead character.”

  “Any information is appreciated.”

  Jasper cleared his throat. “He is independent, controlled, and intuitive based on the slant of his letters. The heavy pressure indicates he is forceful. One interesting thing is his capital letters are much bigger compared to the lowercase. You can see the pattern in all the names he writes. This indicates arrogance and possibly dishonest tendencies. Lastly, I look at the way he dots his I’s and crosses his T’s. The ‘I’ is more interesting in Gilbert’s case because the dot is close to the stem. This means he is closed off and doesn’t easily share.”

  “Interesting. You can tell all that from a glance at the handwriting?”

  “I’ve looked at millions of samples, it becomes second nature. But the thing I must warn you about profiling is it’s not an exact science.”

  “I understand. Gilbert, who was supposedly the leader of the Merry Men, was killed by my father’s group. Gilbert wrote this letter to his partner, Duke.”

  Jasper studied the note. “If you’ll allow me some time, I’ll analyze the note and develop profiles for the Merry Men.”

  “Thanks, Jasper.”

  His hands found his mane, adjusting the ponytail. “I know you don’t have much faith in my abilities after I nearly shot you, but there’s a reason I never became a field agent. I crack under pressure. I need to be in an office with my notes, computers, and lackeys.”

  “Everyone handles situations differently,” Reagan said. “It’s important we know our strengths and weaknesses. I look forward to reading your profiles.”

  With Reagan’s early morning shift complete, she retired to the dormitory and flopped on the bed next to Annabeth. She spent the next few hours tossing and turning until exhaustion won the battle. She woke to a shaking bed and what she feared to be an earthquake, or maybe an attack. With her eyes half-closed, she reached for the rifle under her bed.

  “It’s Scotty,” he said with a muffled voice. “Kelly’s gone.”

  Reagan opened her eyes and bolted upright. She urged her mind to focus, but she couldn’t make sense of the words. “What?”

  “Come with me.”

  Reagan stumbled barefoot into the hall. “What did you say?”

  “Kelly left at some point during the night. I was heading over for my shift when I found the note she left.”

  Reagan read the sharpie scribbled words.

  Reagan,

  Don’t yell at me, but I heard a train and I’m going after it. There’s no time to wake everyone up, argue, and debate who’s going. If I’m not back by noon, don’t look for me. Press on and I’ll find you.

  Kelly

  P.S. This note was not written under distress.

  Reagan hustled to the locker room. “Get the horses hitched while I change.”

  “You want to go after her?”

  “Of course.”

  Scotty crossed his arms. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t head out, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to fracture the group.”

  “We’ll never catch Kelly if wait for the entire group.”

  “Kelly’s capable of looking out for herself. She’ll head back when she’s ready.”

  “I’m not underestimating her abilities,” Reagan said. “Kelly is my best friend. It’s the Merry Men I’m worried about. According to Gilbert’s letter, there are twelve hostiles out there. Not to mention Nate Campbell. It isn’t safe for her to travel alone on some wild goose chase.”

  “And is it safe for me and you to run after her? It leaves Granddad, Annabeth, Barb, and the Caribou Crew alone.”

  “Fine.” Reagan released a sigh. “I wonder how she snuck out when we were running two-person shifts.”

  “Now you don’t think Jasper fell asleep on the job, do you?”

  Reagan eyed Scotty. “What else could it be? His post was downstairs near the horses.”

  “Careful how you approach him,” Scotty said.

  “Just because Kelly ran off doesn’t mean I’m going to take out my frustrations on Jasper.” She flashed Scotty a dimpled grin. “It’s what you’re here for Mayday Malone.”

  Reagan and Scotty headed downstairs to the engine bay. Jasper reclined at a window, sharpening an ax. “Morning. I put on some coffee if you’re interested. It’s instant and I made it by boiling water on the fireplace. It tastes pretty awful but it does the trick.”

  “I can’t stand the stuff,” Scotty said sticking out his tongue.

  “Suit yourself.” Jasper swigged from the UCFD mug. “Guess you’re here about Kelly?”

  “You knew?” Reagan asked.

  “Yeah,” Jasper said. “
And I learned the hard way she’s a little spitfire. She was going after the train and no one was going to change her mind.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” Reagan asked. “Now is not the time to split into Amazing Race pairs chasing down phantom trains.”

  “Because I knew you’d go after her.” Jasper rolled his shoulders and cracked his back. “As much as it pains me to admit, the group needs you here.”

  Scotty frowned. “Why the sudden one-eighty in your personality?”

  “Since all of this began, I’ve been a nervous wreck,” Jasper said. “I failed to protect Junior and I don’t want it to happen again.”

  Reagan chewed on her lip. “Kelly said in her note she’d be back by noon. We’ll give her until then before we go looking for her.”

  “I’m taking your shift if you want to catch a few winks,” Scotty said to Jasper.

  “What time is it, anyway?”

  “Half-past five-ish,” Scotty said. “The sun should be up soon.”

  Reagan returned upstairs but abandoned the battle on sleep. After a refreshing, icy shower, she changed into her clothes. The blue plaid shirt and khaki shorts smelled of Tide thanks to Barb’s late-night laundry. Using a scrubbing board, she washed everything in the large sink. The shirt was damp at the cuffs and under the arms, but Reagan figured it would dry soon enough. She wrung out her wet hair in a towel as she made her way to the kitchen. Barb sipped a cup of coffee as she organized the packaged food into tote bags for transport.

  “Thanks for talking to Jasper.”

  Barb smiled. “We had a little chat last night. You’re very perceptive, Reagan.”

  “His attitude is completely different from a few days ago,” Reagan said pouring a cup of coffee. “I’ve seen what you’re doing with Olivia and even Dawn and Meredith. I figured Jasper was your handiwork.”

  “Some people handle stress better than others. I dealt with similar breakdowns with my group. Jeremy, our resident science expert, obsessively worried about everything he lost on his cellphone. You never can tell what will make someone snap.”

  Reagan spent the next few minutes bringing Barb up to speed on Kelly’s absence. “We’re planning to leave at noon to find her. When Granddad wakes, I’ll have him help you get the food and supplies ready for transport.”

  “There are quite a few things we can salvage,” Barb said. “There are canned vegetables, soup, boxes of crackers, protein bars, and a case of Gatorade.”

  “Great, but our wagon is missing a car and we’re more limited on space than before.”

  “Understood.”

  “Have you tried the radio recently?” Reagan asked.

  “I tinkered with it last night while Annabeth and I were doing laundry. Just static.”

  “Maybe I’ll give it a try before the others stir.”

  “It is the bag under my bed.”

  Reagan fiddled with the radio until the sun rose. Only static answered. Growing tired of the mundane task, she passed it to Annabeth. By noon, everyone finished packing. Granddad rigged hooks to the side of the mine car to carry extra supplies. He wore clean gray cargo pants and his third green and blue plaid shirt. Per usual, the shirt was tucked in, completing Granddad’s squared away appearance.

  “This hat’s too small,” Meredith said fussing with the band of the UCFD ballcap.

  “At least it blocks the sun, dear,” Dawn said.

  “Why weren’t there any smokes here?” Meredith asked as he climbed in the wagon. “Can’t tell me out of all those lockers no one stashed away a pack?”

  Barb, Dawn, and Olivia shared a look. The women joined forces to coerce Meredith into quitting his bad habit.

  Reagan dismissed her busted watch before studying the sky. The only trace of green was a patchy blot on the horizon. The sun hovered directly overhead - noon. “Time to hit the road and find Kelly.”

  Annabeth pointed at hoof marks. “She was headed this way. The tracks are fresh and made after the rain stopped. I’m not half as good at tracking as Travis Wayne, but I can tell that much.”

  Barb approached the buckskin quarter horse. “I’ll ride Spirit? Unless you want to Annabeth?”

  “I’m good in the cart with Granddad and Mickey,” Annabeth said squeezing into the first car. “It’ll give me a chance to try the radio.”

  Scotty finished tying his pack to Pongo’s saddle. “We ready?”

  Reagan dropped Duke’s thermos-looking-object in her backpack. “Giddy-up.”

  Chapter 17 – Hitchcock Nightmare

  Tom

  Stretching stiff legs, Tom navigated a narrow staircase. The antique etched glass of the front door contained spider web cracks from a bullet hole. The wet mildew in the air assaulted his taste buds and his nose. Dank and musty it brought reassurance as his faculties returned. The door creaked and Tom winced. Melting snow pelted his shoulder as he hugged the wall and peered at Elaine. She tilted her head and made eye contact.

  With the pistol steadied on her, Tom inched from the building and darted his eyes to the ivy-covered Wrigley-field brick wall and the window with his team’s three guns. The green ivy reminded him of the August timeframe. The temperature and the snow, however, played with his equilibrium. The ice accumulated around the doorway. He crept until he cleared the entry. With two fingers in his mouth, he whistled to the window. The pat-pat-pat of the guns from his crew reverberated. He stayed low and sprinted to the cover of a rusty relic, a 1979 Cadillac Sedan DeVille. If Campbell returned fire, the heavy steel tank-like vehicle provided better protection than an offensive line.

  No gunfire answered. Tom skated to knees on the melting snow toward Elaine, noting the pistol strewn several yards from her. She moaned as he tossed her over his shoulder. From the perch, his crew peppered cover fire as he hustled to the building. Campbell blasted, missing high and pulverizing part of a brick to dust. Robin got a bead on Campbell as Tom heard the familiar crack of her rifle. He hoped his sniper zeroed in on the phony park ranger.

  Tom slammed the door, dropped Elaine near the stairs, and peered outside. With movement overhead, he raised the pistol. “Birds,” he muttered. The sky darkened with the dreaded flock casting a massive gloomy eclipse.

  By the time Tom dragged Elaine upstairs, Hunter, Robin, and Dixie had their hands full stretching a tarp across the two shattered windows. Cackles slammed into the tarp and an unbroken window on the short side of the wall.

  “Not going to hold,” Hunter said. On cue, a bird committed suicide, smashing through the window.

  Tom drew the pistol and picked off two birds squeezing through the glass. “We can’t fight them off and get her to talk.”

  “You’re hurting me,” Elaine said, for a moment masking the persistent screeches of the blue-black menacing fowl.

  “There’s a basement.” Robin lurched from the tarped window as a bird dropped inside. “We can hide from the birds.”

  Hunter hobbled to a closet. “We can’t stay here in this Hitchcock nightmare.” He snapped the brush part of a broom and used the broomstick to steady his walk. “I say we get to the basement.”

  Dixie kicked a bird slicing through the tarp. It squawked a protest as it expired. She blasted it anyway. “These monsters creep me out.”

  “Alright, let’s hit the basement.” As Tom chugged his zapped body, a bevy of cackles busted through the side window. Robin fired Tom’s shotgun as he hauled Elaine to the first floor. Dixie pointed him to a door at the end of a long hallway.

  Hunter put his weight on the railing and bounced down the basement stairs into several inches of water. Tom splashed in, hoping the waterproof boots kept him dry. Shotgun blasts reverberated and birds made their way into the building. Robin joined them in the basement and Dixie slammed the stairway door. A kerosene lantern and a long, narrow street-level window provided dim light. The thuds of birds pelting into the steel basement door serenaded them.

  Elaine bellowed when Tom tossed her into a creaky wooden chair. “What do you want with me? I
need a doctor.”

  “We’re fresh out of doctors.” Dixie crowded into Elaine’s face. “You maniacs killed the medical doctor we had with us,” she lied. “We won’t hesitate to do the same to you if you don’t start talking.”

  “Get out of my face. What, are you, like twelve?” Elaine grimaced but had some fight in her.

  Tom signaled Dixie to keep going. A woman making physical threats was the better choice. “Continue, Lefty.”

  Dixie backhanded Elaine and the slap vibrated in the wet basement. “We don’t have any time for heroics. You’re gonna talk.”

  Hunter eased from the ceiling level window to Tom and whispered. “Are we sure we’re letting her do this, boss?”

  “I’ll step in if necessary.”

  “Ouch,” Elaine squealed as Dixie put a thumb into the wound on her shoulder. “Stop it.”

  “You ready to give us answers?” Tom asked. “This can keep going south for you, or you can talk.”

  “Be straight with us, Elaine.” Robin leaned into the light of the lantern. “You can’t play games with me.”

  “I’ll talk.” Elaine shoved away from Dixie. “Keep this little Hitler away from me.” Her eyes rolled to Robin. “I’ll be straight with you, Sherwood, but keep in mind I know you’re not the sharpest tool in the box.”

  “No, I’m not the brains of my duo, but then, neither are you.”

  “I’m not as dumb as I look. And I’m smarter than you. But I want some assurances first.”

  This time Robin shoved a thumb into the wounded shoulder. “You aren’t getting any assurances from us.” More birds pounded into the steel door. Tons more of them. An enterprising bird smashed into the basement window. “What’s with these birds? Are you controlling them?”

  “No, they attacked us too.” Elaine yanked her hands. “Let go of me.”

  Dixie joined the fray, squeezing above the wound. “You may as well prepare yourself for pain. Anytime you crack wise or lie to us, I’m gonna hurt you.”

  “What’s the deal with you and Bill Stutley attacking us?” Tom’s voice stayed cool, a contrast to Dixie’s and Robin’s.