Apollo Project

by Brittany E Brinegar

  Scarlett removed the bullet and stitched the wound. “Stay still, Zio. Almost into the woods.”

  Reagan approached the wagon. “They have your evil half, Berkman. What’s next?”

  Nate Campbell grimaced. “He and I have to step through the wormhole at the exact same moment to reunite.”

  “Did you get that?” Reagan asked into the radio.

  “Wouldn’t the maneuver ruin our only chance at this open pocket?” Tom asked.

  “How do we make sure we all land on the same side?” Reagan relayed.

  Scarlett bit the end of the thread as she completed the stitch. “One group will go through with my uncle. Kill two birds at once.”

  “Great idea, let’s step into the same wormhole with the ripped apart guy we’re trying to fuse back together.” Kelly laughed. “Doesn’t sound dangerous at all.”

  “It’s the only way to ensure the wormhole doesn’t close behind him.” Scarlett shrugged. “The only choice we have is which group wants to go through.”

  “Tom?” Barb asked. “What are your thoughts on the matter?”

  “We have a solid base of operations,” Tom said. “We raided a local Bass Pro for weapons, clothes, and supplies. There’s enough to go around.”

  “Sounds better than here,” Meredith said. “I’m sick and tired of the sunburn.”

  Reagan surveyed the group. Aside from the horses, they didn’t have much. “We’re willing to make the jump. Make sure none of your people are caught in the wormhole when you put the evil Nate Campbell into position.”

  “Any ideas where the proper position would be?” Tom asked. “We’ve explored every inch of this place and no one’s disappeared. Should I be looking for an on/off switch?”

  “The wormholes are often a mirror image on each side. An open field connects to a field on the other side.” Scarlett adjusted her glasses. “We’re at a bank, is there a financial office or vault nearby this country club?”

  “I saw a safe in the central office. Would that work, Scarlett?” Robin asked.

  “We explored the office,” Tom said. “Seems like the wormhole would have gobbled us up.”

  “It may not have been active at the time,” Scarlett said. “If any of you have a compass, you can use it to find the centroid.”

  Scotty unclipped a compass from his backpack and showed it to Scarlett. “All the compasses have been on the fritz since the beginning. It won’t be much help.”

  “It’s on the fritz, as you say, because of the electromagnetic interference the wormhole emits.” Scarlett pointed the compass at the bank. “It causes the dial on the compass to spin wildly in proximity. It would be futile to track a wormhole this way, but since we found the general location, you should be able to hone in, Commander Cassidy.”

  “Alright give me a few beats to find this thing.”

  “Keep the radio with you,” Reagan said. “It will keep you tethered in Montana. Wouldn’t want you to accidentally cause another switch-a-roo.”

  A few minutes passed as Scarlett finished doctoring her uncle. “You’ll be back to your old self soon, Zio.”

  Nate Campbell hobbled to his feet. “And hopefully I’ll have access to my full memory bank.”

  Scotty let out a low whistle. “Cut the lights.” He pointed in the distance. “We’ve got company.”

  The group scrambled. “We need to get out of here.” Jasper brushed ahead to lead the charge into the bank. “Without guns, we don’t stand a chance.”

  Granddad halted Jasper with his cane. “We can’t go busting through the wormhole before everything’s ready.”

  “If the choice is between reuniting Nate Campbell or saving my family…” Jasper started.

  Reagan reached for the radio. “We’re in trouble. Are you ready for us to make the jump?”

  “The compass is going berserk. This is the place,” Tom said. “Back up, Bull, I got Campbell.”

  Reagan pivoted to Scotty, at the front of the group with the good Nate Campbell. “Go, Malone.”

  “What about the horses? Do we bring them with us?” Annabeth asked.

  “They made the switch-a-roo with us last time.” Granddad fired one of his two shots at the approaching group.

  Reagan brought up the rear. “See you soon.” Pivoting, she hurled the radio like an Aaron Rodgers Hail Mary pass. Their lifeline smashed against the pavement and the hard-plastic shell shattered. She slammed the door and an intense white light engulfed the room. The burn mark on her neck pulsed a staccato of pain. Annabeth grabbed her hand as the room quaked and a sound ten times worse than nails on a chalkboard echoed through the marble bank walls.

  This time around, Reagan fought through the lightheadedness. With eyes glued to Nate Campbell’s glowing form, she waited for a sign their plan worked. As the room grew darker, a ghostly shadow brushed against Campbell. The doppelganger was gagged and bound, but otherwise a perfect replica. The pair flailed like a trout on the dock as the evil one fought the reunion. Heavy eyes flitted open as Reagan struggled to stay awake. But in the end, drowsiness won.

  Reagan woke to a happy reunion in a cramped arctic office. Her father wrapped her in a tight bear hug as he pulled her to her feet. He spoke but her ears buzzed from the journey. Her eyes explored the reunion-filled room - Travis Wayne and Kelly, Barb and her daughter, Scotty, Mickey and Hunter. She couldn’t hear the conversations or the introductions but the LOST beach reunion score played in her head. New faces congregated around the edges, unsure how to handle their arrival.

  Travis Wayne hugged Reagan and accepted Granddad’s hand. It looked like he said something about them being a sight for sore eyes. Her questioned gaze studied the group. Why did she seem more affected than the others?

  “Nate Campbell?” Reagan mumbled.

  “Unconscious,” she read from Travis Wayne’s lips.

  In a whoosh, the pressure dissipated and sound returned to her ears. “It’s good to be back together.”

  “Reagan, this is my daughter Dixie,” Barb said beginning the introductions. “William and his wife Genevieve.”

  “Where are the winter clothes you promised us?” Meredith asked. “My head’s cold.”

  “And the guns?” Jasper extended a chubby hand. “The Merry Men were on our tails when we made the jump.”

  “Watch out for Wild Bill there, he has an itchy trigger finger,” Reagan whispered to Tom.

  Tom launched into full Commander mode. “Alright, you guys get changed and find supplies. Hunter will lead the way to the snack bar if anyone’s hungry.” The groups began to disburse. “Barb check on the doc. The Muppet has been even nuttier since you left.”

  Reagan bent to check Scarlett and Nate Campbell. “How’s your uncle?”

  Scarlett adjusted round wire glasses as she took his pulse. “This entire process drained him. He’s dehydrated and probably septic. I’m a scientist, not a doctor. I wish I knew more to help him.”

  “Is he in a frame of mind to give us answers?” Tom asked.

  “Maybe in a few minutes.” Scarlett waved a hand in front of his glazed eyes. “Maybe longer.”

  “Nice job hinging our entire plan to get home, back to the real world, on another vegetable, Cassidy,” Davidson said.

  “Is your man Hibbert still in his fog?” Reagan asked.

  “He’s dead weight at this point.” Davidson shuffled into the hallway.

  “What’s our next step?” Barb asked.

  “You guys get changed and eat.,” Tom surveyed the activity. “We’ll reconvene in an hour.”

  Chapter 32 – The Hunting Party

  Tom

  The euphoria from the reunion faded and the harsh reality of the tall order in front of them sobered the group. Tom processed minor resentment as he put the group to work. The large party spent the better part of the night laying out the plan, arguing the best direction, and ultimately choosing the two groups. Tom labeled the group staying behind to work on the recall and a way home, ‘The Squints’. The group
he led in search of Bill Stutley adopted the moniker of “The Hunting Party”.

  Reagan lobbied to join The Hunting Party in search of the beacon but agreed to stay and lead the squint team. In addition to guidance, they needed protection. Travis Wayne stayed as the main protector, along with Reagan, T.C., Tucker, and Emerson who handled firearms. The chief argument involved Dixie. Tom bit his tongue and let Davidson and Barb hash out the particulars. At the end of the day, Davidson and daughter Dixie joined The Hunting Party and Barb remained with The Squints.

  Armed with rifles, shotguns, and pistols and backpacks full of ammo, The Hunting Party marched from the country club with a mission. Robin fell in line, along with Sunshine. The Asian woman, who never cracked a smile, wore aviator sunglasses, dressed in all black, and looked at everyone like she wanted to kill them. Davidson tossed his cane away for a hiking stick and trudged behind those two, dressed in his clean cargo pants. With a break in the cold and temperatures around forty, the bespectacled, tall, barrel-chested man wore long sleeves and a stocked hunting vest. Jasper, the FBI profiler with a prominent gut and a girly ponytail fell in behind Davidson, each trying to outtalk the other. Dixie trailed behind her father and Jasper, muttering about getting some ‘peace and quiet’. Scotty and Hunter guarded the rear, like Texas gunfighters in western hats and dusters. Neither wore backpacks but carried ammo in the expansive coat pockets and pouches on their belts.

  Tom grew accustomed to the grayish, green camo jacket and pants and continued in the outfit, though he did pocket the gloves on the trek through the sunny morning. He removed sunglasses from his face as he reached a ridge overlooking the town. “According to T.C.’s map, there are three potential locations for the wormholes. Campbell claims they can’t manipulate the wormholes and Stutley doesn’t have a transponder.”

  Davidson cleared his throat as if fighting a nasty allergy. “And why should we believe his theory?”

  Hunter tipped the Aussie hat’s brim. “Campbell, despite his crazy state, is an expert in game theory and probabilities.”

  “Plus, Scarlett talked it over with him. It wasn’t just Campbell’s theory.” Robin bit a glove off with her teeth.

  “If your guy Stutley wants to jump somewhere other than the swamps, he’ll need a transponder to steer.” Scotty tipped his hat, body language resembling his brother. “In the meantime, we figure he’s guarding a wormhole hotspot.”

  “Where does the theory put them, Tom?” Jasper jutted his chin and his ponytail bounced like a girl jumping rope. Tom didn’t want to bring him along, but Reagan convinced him the man added value as a profiler.

  “The best guess,” Tom said, “is Stutley went to the nearest location. We’ll call it Wormhole One, located at an old silver mine.” Standing on the northern mountain, he aimed a finger into the valley. The small town overlooked expansive pines in a forest toward a clearing. The snow melted but dotted the hillside sticking in trees on the northern side. A steady drip of melting snow serenaded the hillside.

  Scotty leaned on his hiking pole and put a hand on his hip. Tom liked him better than Hunter, plus he noticed the kid and Reagan developed some feelings for one another. “I only see one way in from here. Straight down the highway. Not the best route for the element of surprise.”

  “Right, Scooter, my initial take. We outgun them eight to five. But they have a fortified position. We keep the element of surprise and three of us should be able to sneak up on the enemy.”

  “Hold it.” Robin lowered binoculars as concern spread across her face. “Good news is we found them. Bad news is they don’t have five. I count six paramilitary types patrolling the area.”

  With a deep frown, Tom unfolded his binoculars and focused his eyes to the ridge. “I count your six and I see two others on the western perimeter in the clearing a half click from the forest.”

  Robin surveyed. “Okay, none of the paramilitary types are our Merry Men. Check that. The older, slow-moving one at four o’clock is Guy Guisborne. Makes the count eleven, assuming there are no additional paramilitary types inside.”

  “Check out the brand-new building at, uh, seven o’clock.” With a telescope to his eye looking like cartoon Captain Hook, Jasper pointed at a building with new white painted tin. “Our boy Stutley likes comfort. My best guess is he’s there.” The other buildings were made of a corrugated gray, rusted tin. The tallest structure, three stories, featured a rip on the side near the roof.

  The mostly silent Merry Men member, Sunny, shoved beside Robin and grunted. “If we get to the forest on the other side, we could pick off a few of the sentries before they knew what hit them.”

  “Good plan, Sunshine. Or a good start.” Tom grabbed Jasper by the shoulders and locked eyes. “Now we figure out Stutley’s weaknesses.”

  Chapter 33 – Squints

  Reagan

  Reagan squashed the stirring jealousy as The Hunting Party embarked on their journey. Logically, she understood why someone needed to stay behind with The Squints, but why her? Tom wanted her safe and she saw through his plan. Reagan strapped on a Winchester rifle and carried a 9mm in the waistband of her jeans. Some of the group opted for warmer ski pants, but Reagan couldn’t stand the swooshing sound when she walked. She completed the outfit with a baby blue North Face jacket.

  “You shouldn’t be waving a gun around indoors.” Genevieve, Davidson’s young wife, twisted her mouth and arched her eyebrows.

  “I’m not waving it around.” Reagan waved the Winchester. “This is waving it around. I want it handy in case something happens.”

  The redhead held out her palms in a ‘so’ gesture and returned to the nail file. Most of the others managed to pull their weight, Genevieve, not so much. T.C. volunteered for duty in the watchtower. Despite his injuries, he said he was capable of dropping any intruders. The rest of the party settled inside a conference room in the middle of the country club. The room, colder than most, offered no exterior windows. But the spacious layout made for a decent laboratory. Most of the squints – the science and math-minded individuals - congregated at a dry-erase board. Annabeth and the remaining Caribou Crew sorted through the supplies, food, and weapons. Annabeth organized backpacks for a quick escape when The Hunting Party returned. Gus, Nate Campbell, and Hibbert were incapacitated in different ways. Barb kept busy doctoring the three patients. Taking a deep breath, Reagan switched her focus to The Squints.

  “I’m still confused about one thing,” Granddad said. “Who was Gilbert Whitehead working with?”

  “What do you mean?” Kelly lurched her focus from Scarlett’s intricate formulas on the whiteboard.

  Granddad picked at his beard. “Well, he wasn’t working for Nottingham. He went rogue. He had this gold reserve thing going with Stutley, an alliance with Duke, and a plan to steal the tech with Jacki.”

  “Did we ever confirm Duke was the one shooting at us?” Kelly asked. “Robin said they were stalked by Gilbert. It stands to reason he gave Duke the order to shoot at us.”

  “But why?” Granddad asked. “Why did Gilbert have so many irons in the fires?”

  “Hedging his bet?” Kelly shrugged. “He ensured each faction of the Merry Men needed him for their plan. He didn’t count on getting himself killed.”

  “Mrs. Pak, can you check this, please,” Scarlett said drawing their attention.

  Kelly wiped the dry-erase board with the sleeve of her plum fleece pullover. “It isn’t going to work, Scarlett. The device only shows the active wormhole on this side. It doesn’t say where it leads.”

  Scarlett snatched a marker and scribbled a formula. “Our goal is to find a way to trigger a recall. It is my understanding Gilbert attempted to trigger the recall before he died. But I'm not sure how he did it, and his plan didn’t work. It means potentially reprogramming the original function of the transponder as you called it.”

  “Are they making any progress?” Reagan whispered to Travis Wayne.

  “If they are, I can’t make any sense of it.” He
was well armed with a shotgun and a Glock.

  “I’m sure this Nottingham character had a plan to pull us out. Or at least the people he deemed valuable. The key is to find the way. Maybe it isn’t the beacon at all?” Granddad said.

  Emerson rubbed his stubbly face. “I bet he never even had a recall. We’re all rats in an experiment to this clown. He killed my family without a care in the world. If all of his Merry Men die, it’s no skin off his nose.”

  “That kind of talk isn’t helping anyone,” Kelly snapped. “We’re working on a way to leave and you’re being a negative Nelly.”

  Emerson threw a hand into the air. “Who are you new people, thinking you’re running the show, anyway? We should’ve never rescued you bunch of deadweights.”

  “Just because you’re old doesn’t mean I won’t clock you,” Kelly said stepping closer.

  “Settle down.” Reagan rubbed her tired eyes. “We have a job to do here. I don’t care about your egos and we can’t dwell on the fact we were left behind. When The Hunting Party returns with a beacon, they’re going to expect a way home. I don’t want to be the one to tell them we spent valuable time playing tug-o-war with a marker like a bunch of kindergarteners.” All eyes landed on Reagan as she commanded the room. “With Nate Campbell out of commission, it leaves Scarlett as our most valuable resource. We have some great minds in this room to help her, but she is running the show. The rest of us will offer support and ideas as we work through the problem. Why don’t you begin by telling us what you know, Red?”

  Scarlett retrieved the marker and adjusted her glasses by the bridge. She drew two circles on the board. “Excuse the rough sketch, I’ve never been much of an artist. Right now, we are here.” She placed an X inside one of the circles. “The wormhole allows for travel inside this circle. The Apollo Zone. When you step through the wormhole, you are sent to a predetermined location on the other side, this other ‘X’. Once we build a way to steer if you will, we also must manipulate the wormhole. This manipulation would build a bridge from the Apollo Zone to this separate circle, the real world.”