Apollo Project

by Brittany E Brinegar

  “Surrender now, Commander Cassidy. I got your man dead to rights here.” Stutley signaled Elaine and she jerked Sunny in front of them, adding to the shield. “I also captured this little wildcat.” He hesitated. “Not sure how you lured her to your side. You must be awfully persuasive.” Stutley’s eyes darted. “We talked about our little Robin and how she was so easily turned to these variables and applicants. Isn’t that what Nottingham called them?”

  “What is it you want, Stutley? All my guys are either dead or wounded. You probably saw Robin’s dead body on the western perimeter.” The breeze flapped Tom’s jacket.

  “I saw. Gotta say I didn’t lose sleep over her demise. What I want is Scarlett Williams, the scientist. Nate Campbell’s niece. Old Campbell knew quite a lot, but his niece knows more.”

  “What do you want her for? Seems like just another egghead.” The creaking of the wind on the corrugated tin filled the air and made Tom yell.

  “Riches my man. Our plan from the start. Gilbert Whitehead put it all in motion, but then rudely got himself killed on us.”

  “I shot him. He ambushed us.” Tom eased from behind the mine car to check Sunny. A deep cut on her cheek blushed crimson.

  “You’ve taken out most of my crew, Commander. However, it isn’t all bad, as it leaves more of the booty for me.” Stutley froze with the steady rhythm of the swinging sign on the forty-foot tall spider-webbed towered conveyor belt.

  Tom adjusted and angled his head, stealing a glance at the tower, the afternoon sun reflecting from the tin. “The gold?”

  Stutley’s eyes widened. “You figured out my evil plan, huh? The gold is there for the taking. We find our way through a travel portal and trigger the retraction. Now you see the value of Scarlett. I figure you have the ability to go snag her and bring her to me.”

  “Why would I?”

  “To stop me from killing this young fellow. It’s on you, pal. You sent him into the most dangerous zone in this firefight.”

  “He fought hard, but he’s nothing to me. I won’t risk my life for him.” Tom gestured to his group. Hunter barreled from behind the mine car with his hands raised with limp wrists. He kicked a stone with clumsy feet. It skidded into the building with a thwack. Blood dripped from underneath his hat and from the sleeve of his duster. “Stay back.” Tom displayed a stop signal to Hunter.

  “I can’t. You’re sacrificing my brother.” Hunter struggled forward, closer to Stutley. “I’m injured bad, but I’ll try to get this Scarlett for you. Just don’t hurt my brother.”

  “It seems we’re a damaged group.” Stutley twisted Scotty’s tied wrists and placed the gun to his temple. “Stop playing games with me, people.” His high octave voice cracked.

  “If I bring Scarlett to you, I get the beacon.” Tom eased from behind the cover, relaxing the rifle. In his head, the theme from Rio Bravo played. He almost heard those haunting horns as the climactic showdown unfolded.

  “Not so fast, pal. The beacon gets me to Nebraska.”

  “No, you only use it to locate and activate the wormhole. Then you return it to me.”

  “Again, no way I do that, Commander. Otherwise, I’d be stranded in Nebraska unable to find the next travel portal. Wait, you called it a wormhole? I like it better. And I keep Scarlett.”

  Hunter hopped on his leg and moaned, his voice echoing through the windy valley. “Tom, Scarlett only puts a target on our backs with everyone wanting her. Campbell can help us get home since we’ve fixed him.”

  “Shut it, Big Game.”

  “Fixed him? What do you mean?” The red-coated Stutley glanced at Elaine. “I told you we shouldn’t have cut him loose. Cassidy and his group of bozos fixed the crazed numbskull.” He kept the gun to Scotty’s head and addressed Hunter. “How did you fix him?”

  “Don’t answer,” Tom said.

  “There were two Campbells. One in Montana and the other in Louisiana. We sent them both through the wormhole and somehow it reunited them.”

  “Enough,” Tom screamed at Hunter. “Stop spilling information.”

  “It isn’t important information, Tom. We have to get home. With all the stuff we figured out and with Campbell and Dr. Hibbert, we’re good.”

  Tom dropped his shoulders. “Hunter, listen, we can’t trust this guy. Your brother’s wounds look serious and I’m not sure you’ll make it without medical attention.”

  “Your daughter is in love with Scotty, Tom. She’ll never forgive you if you let him die.” Hunter pleaded to Stutley. “He’ll get Scarlett, but you have to give us your word you won’t hurt Scotty.”

  “My word? Well certainly. You have my word. Go get Scarlett, bring her to me and I’ll release Tom’s future son-in-law.” He winked to Elaine. “I’ll even throw in Sunny if you want her.” He threw his arms in a dramatic motion. “Or maybe Sunny will want to stay with her good buddy Scarlett.” Stutley’s eyebrows raised with the distant roar of a snowmobile. He ducked further behind Scotty.

  Dixie skidded to stop underneath the overhang. She gripped a shotgun as she dove for cover. Guisborne and Elaine leaned out of the window seeking a target.

  A loud pop and a quick second pop halted Stutley’s monologue. From the spider-webbed tower, Robin nailed headshots - Guisborne and Elaine. Scotty twisted, smashed Stutley with a body slam and sailed him through the window. Bill Stutley landed headfirst cracking his neck and spine.

  Tom rushed to the lifeless body and rifled through the red jacket, finding the elusive beacon. Sunny and Scotty accelerated from the building and Jasper and Davidson cut the plastic ties. Dixie reeved the snowmobile and zipped for Robin, who descended the sniper’s tower.

  Scanning his fighters, Tom settled on Robin. “Pretty good shooting for a dead girl.”

  “Not bad.” Blood – not Robin’s – covered her Dalmatian jacket, her black ski hat, and her head.

  Scotty’s bloody shirt was also a ruse. “Hated to ruin a perfectly good shirt. Think we can hit the Bass Pro on our way back?”

  Hunter’s duster was smeared in blood from one of the Ricks. “I could use a replacement duster. I like this thing.”

  “Your cut okay, Sunshine?” Tom asked. Sunny’s face cut was real, matching the already bandaged forehead wound from the other side.

  “I’ll be fine,” she answered with a tilt at the corner of her mouth. “Not bad as far as casualties on our side.”

  Jasper puffed out his chest. “I nailed the profile on Stutley. I told you he loves to talk.”

  “Not exactly the only one who said it.” Robin eased closer and smirked. She hugged the pot-bellied profiler anyway, making him blush.

  Gripping the beacon, Tom performed a 360 examination. “Let’s get this back to base.” He smiled, amazed at the lack of casualties. Now the triumphant True Grit theme played in Tom’s head.

  Chapter 37 – Last Stand

  Reagan

  “I’m sure glad to have you back, Guitar Man,” Reagan said sprinting along the winding mountain path.

  Travis Wayne’s keen eye spotted Jacki’s trail within a few minutes. He pointed at markings in the snow. “Three distinct tracks. Smallest is Jacki, the other two are male based on the size. The depth of the print shows they’re probably carrying Annabeth and Gus.”

  “We’re looking at a crew of Jacki, Jon, and Artie?” Kelly asked. “The other band of goons are with Stutley, right?”

  Travis Wayne pointed. “Oversized print is Duke.”

  “Duke fell into the river on the Texas side,” Reagan said. “I thought with the wormhole hopping we were rid of Frankenstein for good.”

  “With the extra weight, we should catch them if we hustle,” Travis Wayne said.

  In virtual silence, they descended the mountain. A cold breeze brushed across Reagan’s cheeks. “Where is this leading?”

  “They’re heading down the east side, away from town,” Travis Wayne said.

  “What’s east of here?” Kelly asked.

  “Golf course.” Only patches
of snow remained at the bottom of the mountain, making tracking more difficult. Travis Wayne stepped onto the first tee box and crouched to inspect the grass.

  “Which way, Man Tracker?”

  Travis Wayne motioned a gloved hand to the trees on the other side of the rough. Reagan caught a glimpse of Gus’ puffy coat. She aimed her rifle and focused the scope. Gus’ lanky body hung over Jon’s shoulder. Ahead she spotted Duke carrying an unconscious Annabeth.

  “I don’t have a clear shot,” Reagan said.

  Travis Wayne loaded a shell into the barrel of his gun. “I’ll sprint to the third hole and you and Kelly can flank from each side.”

  “Be careful,” Kelly said to Travis Wayne’s back.

  A few minutes passed before Kelly and Reagan repositioned. “I’ll take the woods,” Kelly said.

  “Hey!”

  Reagan whirled to Clorinda Aquino reaching for her sidearm. Knowing the element of surprise was blown, Reagan and Kelly both fired. The shots echoed through the quiet golf course.

  “Get down.” Reagan dove into a bunker.

  Kelly tripped and faltered as a spray of bullets peppered the sand. “Who’s shooting?”

  Reagan winked into her scope. “I see Travis Wayne, almost in position.” She adjusted the rifle and fired into the trees, not willing to risk a shot hitting Annabeth or Gus. “I need to get closer.”

  Kelly pressed against the lip of the bunker. “How?”

  “Fire into the trees. It doesn’t matter if you hit any Merry Men. I’ll use the cover to get into a better position.” She dug through her pack until she found a smoke grenade. Reagan removed the pin and chucked it into the rough, giving them a smokescreen.

  Kelly steadied her pistol on the edge of the bunker. “Ready.” She squeezed the trigger and Reagan dashed for the trees.

  Sliding to her knees, Reagan aimed the rifle. Duke dropped her sister and returned fire into the smoke. Before Reagan pulled the trigger, Frankenstein fell, Travis Wayne’s handy work. Reagan turned her attention to Artie Bland and the Rambo bandanna tied around his head. She emptied her clip as she hit the tree he hid behind.

  “You can hit this tree all you want, little girl. I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Artie said. “Those weapons we stole give me an endless supply of bullets. You can’t say the same. I am winning this game.”

  While Artie blustered Reagan adjusted her position, clutching the reloaded Glock. With silent steps, she maneuvered through deep snow. She fired two shots into the tree from her new angle. Artie poked his head out to return fire and she blasted him through the Rambo bandana.

  Watchful eyes scanned the treeline, hunting the remaining foes. Through the scope she caught Jacki ducking behind a shed, with only one of their prisoners in tow, Gus. Reagan couldn’t locate Annabeth, but she guessed the missing Jon Little snagged her on a handoff from Duke. Travis Wayne approached the shed, while Reagan continued to scan the course for her sister.

  “Why does she insist on wearing camo,” Reagan mumbled to herself.

  A branch snapped a few yards behind her. “Drop it, Cassidy.” She recognized Jon Little’s gruff voice. With the rifle in her right hand, she lifted her arms and turned. Jon’s cocky grin taunted her. How many times would she let someone get the drop on her? “We meet again.”

  “I see you joined forces with Jacki after all.”

  “Lots of things changed while I was with your people. I guess everyone got tired of following Nottingham’s orders.”

  “Took you long enough to catch up.”

  “My loyalties are flexible,” he shrugged. “I play for the winning team. Unfortunately, you aren’t a winner.”

  Reagan tried to mask her relief when Annabeth peeked from behind a tree. But the relief vanished when Annabeth screamed Jon’s name. He swiveled and fired. One wild shot was all he managed before Reagan sent two to his side. She raced, kicking the gun beyond his reach before continuing to Annabeth.

  “Thanks for the rescue.” Annabeth’s gangly arms wrapped her in a hug.

  “You too. Little had me cornered.” Reagan retrieved Jon’s discarded gun and passed it to Annabeth. “Looks like Jacki’s the last one standing.”

  The sisters inched around the shed to find Jacki, Travis Wayne, and Kelly in an old-fashioned standoff. Jacki held a knife to Gus’ throat.

  Travis Wayne steadied his rifle. “We’re not handing over nobody.”

  “Back up,” Jacki said when Reagan crept from the side. “I said, back up!”

  “You’re outnumbered, Jacki. Your posse is all dead.”

  The news didn’t faze her. “But I still have the boy,” she said with a crooked grin. “If you bring Scarlett to me, I promise not to slit the kid’s throat.”

  “Why is she important?” Reagan asked.

  Jacki’s eyebrows danced. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “We aren’t giving you Scarlett or anyone else,” Reagan said. “This is the end of the road. Let Gus go.”

  “Are you sure you want to wager his life, Cassidy? Our last fight was a draw, but this time, I have leverage.”

  Reagan studied Gus. He wasn’t afraid or worried, just indifferent. She lifted her eyes to Jacki’s. “You have some nerve busting into our camp, kidnaping my sister and Gus, and making demands when we have you cornered.”

  “That’s usually how a kidnapping works, dear.” She released a breath. “It was a reckless plan. I listened to the boisterous buffoon Artie. It was my first mistake. We came in guns blazing and decided to take the kids when we didn’t spot Scarlett. It was your fault for leaving T.C., who I thought I already killed, to guard them.”

  “If you surrender, I give you my word we’ll bring you with us when we leave,” Reagan offered. “You don’t want to be stuck in this nightmare alone.”

  “Well, aren’t you sweet. I’m sure you’d let me go when we got home.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re all fools if you think Nottingham is going to let you leave. This is his playground.”

  “What do you mean?” Kelly asked.

  “Figure it out, Pak.” Amber eyes narrowed, sweeping eyelashes fluttered, and the crooked smile returned. “I’m out of here.” Jacki kicked the shed door and spilled inside, her arm around Gus. A bright light engulfed the shed and heat radiated from the walls. The earth trembled and a breeze from inside the shed almost stole Reagan’s hat.

  “She had a wormhole,” Kelly moaned. “We should have known.”

  Travis Wayne busted through the shed door, needing proof they lost Jacki and the kid. He punched a hole through splintering wood. “We shouldn’t have let her leave.”

  “She’s the most dangerous of the brood,” Reagan said. “When The Hunting Party returns, we’ll figure something out.”

  The foursome set a course for the club, a mix of emotion sweeping through them. They rescued Annabeth but lost Gus. Some of the Merry Men were killed but one of the most dangerous, Jacki, escaped. When they reached the ridge, Reagan spotted The Hunting Party on the horizon. The sunset at their backs cast a shadow. Scotty and Hunter hiked next to her father like cowboy bookends. Jasper, Davidson, and Sunny posted at the rear armed with heavy artillery. Dixie sped ahead on a snowmobile with Robin. They made it.

  From atop the country club, Scarlett waved liked an air traffic controller. “We figured out the formula to go home. Do you have the beacon?”

  Iteration Three

  Epilogue

  Before the Sky Turned Green

  Nottingham

  “The metallic alloy features copper, nickel, zinc, and silver with a few trace elements for stability, but when we added oganesson, a newly discovered radioactive element, we knew the experiment had a higher chance of success. The next step involved finding the exact, correct location. The Rocky Mountains turned out to be the spot, though we spent months locating the epicenter. Ladies and gentlemen, we are at the epicenter and you will be an important part of the experiment.”

  With pride in his eyes, Dr. Nottingham addressed the group o
f Merry Men. A clever little play on words his old colleague Campbell might enjoy. Not all of the group were men, though each possessed the necessary education, military and/or police training he required to observe and react deep within the fragmented section. Settling on Gilbert Whitehead, Nottingham hesitated. Instead of addressing the man, he cut his eyes to Scarlett Williams, not her real name, but the one he assigned to her when the training started. The testing and recruiting criteria originated by Campbell two decades earlier served as a basis for selection. His most brilliant student, in addition to his scientific skills, possessed a keen insight into human behavior. The data, refined by Campbell’s replacement, predicted Whitehead would be the best leader. The failure probability for Whitehead charted much higher than the others. Campbell called it “The Fine Line Dilemma” and Whitehead checked all the necessary boxes. The man would either turn out a great leader, perhaps a general, a senator, a CEO, or maybe something greater. Or he might become a psychotic killer.

  Scarlett Williams, on the Campbell continuum, showed only on the left side of the chart, meaning someone who followed orders and stayed on mission, but did not show initiative or imagination in problem-solving. Scarlett also scored at the top in math and science and placed second in knowledge of world history and writing. Her accurate reports in words chosen with care put Whitehead’s disjointed reports to shame. At least on the surface.

  “As promised,” Nottingham continued, “I have selected a leader. As you all know from your extensive training, which of course includes intense and stressful mind games.” He chuckled, recalling some of the games he invented after Campbell left. Perhaps those games weren’t instructive, but how he did enjoy stirring the pot. “Two clear leaders emerged from these long months. This is a most difficult decision.”