THE LAST MAN ON THE MOON

THE LAST MAN ON THE MOON


Moon Moon seeing you soon, I miss you so much my beautiful lune,
Shimmering orb in the night sky, ever waxing to a lyrical tune.

Crescent, sliver, half or glorious full,
Whether be Tide or Wolf, never forget its radiant pull.




Washington DC 2009


Lamont Benson Smith was head janitor at the Alden Park apartment block, about a mile away from the Pentagon and part of his duty as supervisor was to check out any apartments that had just become recently vacated.

Lamont cursed, he hadn’t been informed 201b had been vacated and it was only when a telephone call from one of the Alden Park appointed realtor's that there was to be a viewing later that afternoon that Lamont realised he’d better haul his ass up there and make sure everything was how it should be.

Realtor's could get very hard assed if things weren’t Honkey fucking Dory and apart from the fact he hadn’t even been informed by the incumbent tenant departing “and rather suddenly if you ask me,” mumbled Lamont to himself. 

In fact his bosses would take extreme umbrage if a pissed realtor decided to bitch about him.

Opening up the door to 201b, Lamont noticed immediately everything was still in there as in furniture, drapes rugs even various personal possessions. Which bizarrely seemed to have been left as they were, in fact Lamont mused, its as though the guy had simply just walked out and locked the door behind him.

Immediately plucking a cell phone out of his pocket, Lamont made hasty arrangements to have all this "shit" shifted “and like yesterday,” he shouted down the horn.

Whilst Lamont waited for a clean up crew to arrive he decided to have a quick peek around. 

Morals and conscience tend to take a back seat when you’re in a room full of stuff that seemingly no one wants, so Lamont swiftly switched his internal radar onto the cash setting and proceeded to ransack apartment 201b.

About a half an hour later Lamont, after only finding a few crumpled $5 bills cursed again, there must be something worth stealing, thought Lamont to himself. 

Oh there was other stuff in there, plasma TV, DVD player, even a computer set-up. However it sorta wouldn’t look too healthy if Lamont were to be seen by any of his bosses or the other building’s occupants loading his truck up with goods that belonged to a recent tenant.

Cash was a different prospective, neatly folded and swiftly deposited away with all the dexterity of a practising magician. Lamont figured this goose had already been plucked, it was then he spotted another door.

Quickly donning regulation latex gloves he headed toward the what looked like a closet, it was locked, so Lamont produced some regulation lock picks from a fob on his belt. In a former life Lamont was a registered house breaker, registered as in by the state of Louisiana corrections board. Though that was all now in the distant past, Lamont like all other career criminals never really got around to having "those" spots removed.

On opening the closet door Lamont sighed again, all that was in there was an array of old overcoats, rain macks moth-eaten suits and the like. Just as a disappointed Lamont was about close the door he spotted something.



“Hello what do we have here?”

Swiping most of the overcoats to one side, Lamont spied a filing cabinet, there were four compartments in the cabinet, but it was the one at the bottom that drew Lamont’s attention. 

After exerting himself Lamont managed to drag the steel filing cabinet from out of the back of the closet.

Three out of the four cabinet draws were locked, the fourth however wasn’t just locked it had been welded all the way round too, as if someone were making really sure that whatever was in there was going to stay in there.

Lamont smiled to himself, you don’t just weld shut a steel filing cabinet unless there’s something pretty hot in there. 

Thinking for a while Lamont suddenly had a plan, as soon as the crew arrived the janitor made the excuse up that the filing cabinet was actually the buildings property and that it had only been temporally loaned to the existing tenant whilst he rented the property. Now he was gone it was to be returned back to the buildings owners.

The removal guy’s eyebrows were pitched higher than the Rock himself, in fact Lamont was surprised that they just didn’t come right out and call him a lying thieving son of a bitch. Producing the ten crumpled five dollar bills and stuffing them into the head guy’s shirt pocket suddenly and dramatically reduced those high altitude eyebrows.

Two hours later and in a maintenance room situated directly underneath the Alden Park apartment block. A full visor, gauntlet wearing, Lamont Benson Smith proceeded to fire up the burning rod which was in turn attached to an oxyacetylene tank.

It didn’t take long before Lamont had cut into a section big enough for him to see what was so important to weld shut a filing cabinet draw.

Switching off the cutting equipment Lamont reached gingerly inside, he was excited now and just couldn’t wait for the metal to cool down.

Inside was a 2x1 tin box, again this too was locked, however and in a jiffy, Lamont soon had the lock picked and with bated breath lifted open the tin lid.

Lamont wasn’t sure what it was he was supposed to see when opening the 2x1 tin box, however he didn’t expect to see what appeared to be a leather bound document. 

Lamont audibly groaned and his first instinct was to hurl the offending object into the maintenance room wall.

Letting it drop to the floor with a loud clump, Lamont proceeded to explore the rest of the filing cabinets contents, again the loud groan.

After cursing and kicking the filing cabinet a few times Lamont finally and after calming down seated himself on a nearby chair and proceeded to see what was inside the leather bound folder. 

The first thing Lamont saw was what seemed to be an official looking seal and large black capital letters stating that this document was “US GOVERNMENT MATERIAL OF THE HIGHEST CLASSIFICATION.”

Curiosity now getting the better of him, Lamont turned the page and started to read the bit where it said APOLLO 17 MISSION REPORT. Underneath where it said mission report was a large stamp saying UNOFFICIAL and FOR THE COMMANDER IN CHIEF'S EYES ONLY.”

Every American knows that the commander in chief of the United States is the President and sweat now starting to bead upon Lamont’s brow, he continued to read the what seemed to be the "unofficial" mission report for the last ever manned space flight to the moon.

One hour later and abruptly, Lamont slapped shut the leather bound document and threw it to the floor as if it were alive. 

Standing suddenly and now sweating like a Virgin in a Bordello, Lamont headed over to his own filing cabinet. Though unlike the one the one he’d just burned open, this one had enough booze in it to start a speak easy.

Hands shaking, most of the Wild Turkey Lamont was pouring went on the floor than into the glass. “Screw this” and Lamont duly discarded the glass then proceeded to pour copious amounts of bourbon directly down his throat.

Glancing back at the document Lamont realised now he was visibly quivering and not just his hands but his whole body. He tried to convince himself that what he’d just read wasn’t true, it had to be a fake and if it wasn’t, what was a piece of information like "that" doing in this apartment building?

Again after gathering himself together, Lamont remembered he had a friend who worked at the Washington Post. 

He was only an office jockey, but Jerry Shmiezer had access to some of the reporter guys there and if, just if this little motherfucker "was" the genuine article?

Then and at that point Lamont suddenly rediscovered his testicles and stooping down retrieved the leather bound document. “You my little friend are gonna make me fuckin rich, richer than I’d ever imagined, oh yes sirree.”

What poor Lamont hadn’t imagined though was that he was about to be part responsible for one of the biggest shit storms ever to hit US politics since Watergate. Indeed and unbeknownst to Lamont Benson Smith, "that" particular document would make Watergate look like the Teddy Bears picnic and also one that would ensure Lamont’s imminent departure into the hereafter.

******

Alicia Bowen had only been a reporter at the Washington Post for three months and she was already pissed off. 

Joining straight from grad school all it had been was, Alicia do this, Alicia do that, Alicia stick a broom up your ass and enough was a fuckin nuff.

Alicia was a reporter not a gopher, there were other people at the Post for that, guys like Jerry Shmiezer for instance. Not that Alicia had delusions of grandeur or anything, it was just a plain and simple fact that most folks had their station in life, Jerry’s was office jockey, Alicia’s was a future Pulitzer prize winning journalist, simple as that.

Alicia had just departed the fifth floor editing suit clutching a bundle of reports for sports, most of them carrying news of the lamentable and inevitable demise of the Redskins when she suddenly felt a tug on her sleeve.

“Miss Bowen.”

Alicia peered over the bundle of paper and noticing who it was, groaned audibly.
“Go away Jerry, I’m kinda busy right now and don’t have time for this,” snapped Alicia.

However Jerry Shmiezer was a rather determined individual and didn’t go away, standing this time directly in front of Alicia and blocking her path he spoke again.

“You know that you’re always saying you wanna be a big shot reporter?”

Alicia was just about to unleash a tirade of profanity when Jerry said something that nearly caused her to drop the bundle of sports reports.

“Remember those two guys at the Post who started Watergate, Woodward & Bernstein?

Well me and my buddy Lamont got somthin that’d make that look like chicken shit Miss Bowen.”

Alicia didn’t know what to say, normally she’d just dismiss anything Jerry said with out any thought or feeling whatsoever, but her journalistic radar was pinging and it was never wrong. Could it be that Jerry and his pal, this Lamont had something?

“Tell ya what Jerry,” said Alicia trying not to show she was too interested and said, “meet me after work, say, Belushi’s corner of Church and 17th, show me what ya got and if its as big you say it is we’ll arrange something, deal?”

Jerry thought for a few seconds and just before he left, said something else that convinced Alicia that Jerry "was" telling the truth.

“Please believe me Miss Bowen, this stuff is so hot I’m not sure we should be showing it anyone, you’ll know what I mean by that when you’ve seen it too.” 

Jerry then swiftly disappeared leaving a rather bemused Alicia heading back in the direction of Jimmy Hollis’s office at Sports.

Alicia didn’t know why, but those last few words of Jerry’s were starting to bother her, what had these two characters stumbled on? Well Alicia Bowen from Bethesda Maryland was about to find out.

As soon as Alicia entered Belushi’s bar & diner she spotted Jerry, seated alongside him was a tall well built black gentleman. 

“You must be Lamont,” said Alicia holding out a hand. Lamont didn’t reciprocate, instead pointing toward a quieter corner of the bar whilst Jerry did the honours they both seated themselves down.

Alicia noticed immediately Lamont was holding a large black canvas type bag, the kind you normally associate with laptops. However once Jerry had joined them with the drinks, Lamont not even touching his beer said matter of factly, “well, lets get straight down to business shall we” and immediately extracted a large leather bound folder from the canvas bag.


As soon as Alicia saw the Presidential seal as well as the way everything had been typed out, she knew whatever this was, was indeed the real McCoy.

Journalist’s for major newspapers across the globe, especially political hacks, were specifically trained what to look for in identifying certain disclosed documents that had either been leaked or inexplicably just happened to land on an editors desk.

“Mind if I take a peek,” said Alicia, eyes never once leaving the leather bound document. Lamont sarcastically replied by saying, “hey, ya know what, since y'all came here, why not?”

The sarcasm was entirely lost on Alicia though and the more she read the more her eyes bugged out of her head.

Without warning and rather rudely, Lamont nimbly extracted the document away from Alicia and again with that almost magical dexterity he swiftly returned it into the black canvas bag. 

“Well,” said Lamont. Alicia didn’t say anything, she just sat and stared as if she’d just been told she wasn’t really alive and that she was actually a ghost.

Lamont reached over and a quick snapping of the fingers soon brought Alicia out of her reverie. “Well!!” repeated Lamont a little more impatient this time, his voice sounded edgier too.

“Well what,” answered Alicia?

Lamont leaned over toward Alicia and though smiling, he had a steel edged tone to his voice. “Now you listen to me bitch, this ain’t no motherfucking game of charades, you know what that shit is and so do I, so I strongly suggest you stop the pretence right now and tell me how much this is worth to you, get what I’m sayin?” Still wreathed in smiles, Lamont gently sat back and waited for Alicia’s response.

Alicia’s brain was racing and she knew she was way in over her head here, in fact she almost had the irresistible urge to bolt there and then, but this really was an opportunity that was too just good to miss.

“How much do you want,” asked Alicia this time staring directly into Lamont’s eyes? 

He didn’t take long to reply.

“Oh, just enough to retire on, always fancied heading down to the Bahamas, maybe even set me up a bar there too, lets say 10 million oughta cover it, that‘d be cash,no cheques”

Alicia didn’t flinch; she knew the information in that document was worth a whole lot more than 10 large.

“That’s a lotta dough Lamont, though there might not be too much left for a bar after you’ve finished paying life insurance?”

The smile on Lamont’s face vanished immediately prompting a response.
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Alicia held Lamont’s gaze, though he was now starting to scare her a little. Replying she coolly said, “I take it you’re aware of the ramifications of what that document holds if it were to be made public knowledge Mr, errr, didn’t quite catch your last name?”

Lamont leaned quickly over toward Alicia again but this time no smile, however his candour was just as vitriolic. “Would you be threatening me Missy cos that ain’t a good idea, in fact last feller that did, ended up as Gator shit in the Audubon Zoo, ya feeling me girl?”

It was exactly at that moment a bartender came over to the three; pausing politely until they’d seen him he asked if there was a Jeremy Shmiezer present?

With a puzzled look on his face Jerry said "he" was, “there’s a call for you sir, you can take it in the booth over in the lobby,” replied the barkeep. 

Lamont didn’t know why but his spidie sense was tingling and there seemed to be an oh so familiar odour in the air. 

Lamont having smelled this particular stench so many times knew right away who it belonged to, “Feds.”

He turned swiftly toward Alicia and this time there was another look written across Lamont’s face, "fear". Snarling he rasped, “You bring the fucking feds here with ya?

It was Alicia’s turn to look surprised now and she also felt a sudden inclination that something pretty bad was about to happen.

Alicia replied “no, why the hell would I do that, I didn’t know what you two guys were gonna show me, why, why would you be saying that?”

Lamont immediately rose up off the leather couch as if intending to leave. 

Alicia noticed straight away he’d left the canvas bag behind, just as she was about to remind Lamont of that fact Alicia stopped herself, here was a golden opportunity, with Lamont being so preoccupied with what he thought were Feds stalking him she let him go.

Lamont however hadn’t forgotten the document, he knew something was up and if what that reporter bitch said back there was true, then if there were any government muscle around they’d most likely be looking for someone carrying a large bag and hopefully leave him alone.

Just as Lamont opened the phone booth door to look for Jerry, he felt a stinging sensation in his left shoulder. Turning swiftly round he noticed a tall guy in a paramedics uniform, whatever it was he’d been stuck with was already starting to work and all the paramedic seemed to say was. “Nothin to worry about sir, we’re gonna take good care of you. 

Then the lights went out.

Alicia on the other hand was already headed for the exit. Suddenly from nowhere a man in a paramedic’s uniform approached her, “excuse me Miss, but we believe someone has fainted and needs hospital attention could you please tell us where they’re situated?”

Straight away Alicia noticed the paramedic was carrying what looked like a hypodermic, why would he be carrying one of those? They were normally only used to sedate patients who were in an agitated state and not for an individual that had lost consciousness.


Plus there seemed be an earnest sense of purpose in this guy’s eyes and definitely not the gentle caring, helpful warm look you’d normally expect from someone employed to save peoples lives.

Immediately Alicia smelled a rat and instinctively switched into self preservation mode, pointing a finger toward the paramedic Alicia said, “excuse me officer, but I don’t think this man is who he says he is.”

The bogus paramedic, taking his eye of the ball hesitated, only for a second, however it was enough. Alicia using every ounce of strength she had swung the canvas bag round in a sort of arcing fashion whilst still holding onto the handle, 

*SMACK* 

The bag containing the heavy document connected perfectly onto the paramedics lower jaw sending him sprawling.

Alicia didn’t hesitate, swiftly stepping over the prostrate man she ran like the proverbial clappers, though she still could hear the ensuing commotion behind her she knew something had gone terribly wrong and had to get as far away from that bar as quickly as possible.

Alicia, finding a cab jumped in and headed for home, then it hit her, if whoever it was that was after the document knew she was in Belushi’s then its highly likely they also knew where she lived! 

It was then that Alicia began to understand how dangerous this situation really was and one she might not be able to get herself out of.

On giving the cabbie new instructions Alicia told him to head for the Post, if she could get the document to her editor then at least she wouldn’t have to endure this burden on her own.

Though she would have to be prepared for the shit storm that followed, it was at that point Alicia’s cell rang, it was her boss Ross Clarke.

“Alicia is that you?”

“Yea,” replied Alicia, “thank god for that, I really need to see you Ross, I think I’ve just struck fucking gold, the big one, in fact there aren’t enough superlatives to describe what I’m carrying.”

“Stop,” Alicia paused in surprise and staring at her phone momentarily she carried on, “Ross I need to speak,”
“Alicia listen to me,” interrupted Ross, “I’m gonna let you speak to someone OK and whatever you do, do as he says.”

Alicia was really confused now, what the hell was up with her boss and why was he behaving like he was, well she was about to find out?

“Miss Bowen,” said the unfamiliar voice.
“Yes,” answered a somewhat nervous Alicia,

“Miss Bowen my name is Detective Harry Keller, DC Metro Police, we really need to speak Miss Bowen in fact "you" need to turn yourself in immediately, is that understood?”

Alicia froze, what in the hell was going on, “what do mean I have to turn myself in? I haven’t done anything, what the hell’s going on, I haven't done anything!!”

The phone had been returned back to her boss and it was his familiar voice that boomed out from the handset now. 

“Listen Alicia, for what its worth I don’t believe you had anything to do with this OK?”

Alicia started to scream down the phone this time and much to the cab drivers consternation. “What the fuck is that Cop talking about Ross? What is it I've supposed to have done?"

There was some indistinguishable murmured voices and then Ross came back on the line again, “you knew Jerry Shmiezer right?”
Yes of course I know Jerry, I work with the guy Ross, you know that?”
“When’s the last time you saw him Alicia?”

Alicia hesitated at first then thought what the hell, she didn’t have anything to hide and said, “it was about an hour ago, in a place called Belushi’s,”

“I know where it was Alicia,” interrupted Ross, he then carried on, “you were with another guy too, a guy called Lamont Benson Smith is that correct?”

Alicia knew something really bad was coming out of all this but she still answered in the affirmative though this time it was in a hoarse whisper.

“Alicia now listen carefully, these two men have been shot and murdered and according to eyewitnesses it took place in Belushi’s,” hunny you’ve been placed at the scene.”

Alicia wasn’t listening, she’d hung up and she’d also instructed the driver to change course again, this time though it was out of town. Alicia was heading to Bethesda and her best pal Maria Bresnik, it’s the first place she could think of and not even the Feds or whoever it was responsible for that atrocity back at Belushi’s would know where this location was.

Alicia tried to think why, why was this happening to her, what had she done to deserve this, oh she wanted to be a hotshot reporter just like Jerry said. 

Suddenly Alicia began to cry, she could still see poor Jerry staring at her, telling her that this, she stared at the carrying case and cursed. “This fucking report” on something that happened nearly 37 years ago could cause two deaths almost the instant it had been recovered and it was just about dawning on Alicia that "her" life was now in real danger.

Indeed, if the powers that be had been prepared to cold bloodedly murder and also falsely accuse someone of committing said act then, well, Alicia knew there was only one course of action here and the name that kept popping up in that report would appear to be the only one who might be able to give her the answers really needed.

Making a few more calls and using contacts on the Post who obviously hadn’t yet heard of Alicia’s notoriety, she managed to establish the current whereabouts of her target.

About three hours after reaching the Bresnik residence, Alicia made the excuse to her best friend she was on the mother of all assignments for the Post, so couldn’t disclose anything, but needed help with some provisions, oh and a car.


Shortly after that, along with a quick tearful hug, Alicia jumped into a white 99 Chevy Camaro and proceeded to set off in a south westerly direction.

The destination?

Galveston Texas and an appointment with a man who hopefully would shed some light on this whole affair. 

Indeed "he" was a very special man, the name?

Captain Eugene A Cernan, the last man to walk on the moon!! Though and as Alicia glanced at the leather bound document in the passenger seat, according to that document this wasn’t strictly true and the reason Alicia was in mortal danger.

*****

The White House, Washington DC


President Obama steepled his hands together then letting out a deep sigh closed his eyes, opening them again he spoke.

“So let me get this straight, 37 years ago we flew to the moon, three days later we flew back, mission accomplished. Apollo 17, the last ever manned flight to the Moon a resounding success, except it wasn’t was it gentleman?” 

President Obama glared at the three men standing in front of him, all shuffling nervously?

“Well sir,” replied one of the three suits, “apart from Cernan Evans, Schmitt and the department of course no one else knows. The fact that the mission report disappeared wasn’t realised until recently that’s why "you" didn’t get to see it straight away sir.”

The President now standing, walked slowly around toward the three dark suited men who incidentally were even more nervous now, at 6ft 4” the President could cut quite an imposing figure when he wanted to, it was then the commander in chief spoke.

“Listen to me very carefully gentlemen I’m only gonna say this once, I want that document on my desk inside 24 hours do I make myself clear,” all three men murmured the word yes in perfect cohesion.

The President continued on, “ find the girl, do whatever it takes, go black if you have to. I don’t like black ops, never did and if that crazy bastard Nixon had done the right thing back in 72 and burned this god dammed piece of crap we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“Is it really true sir,” said one of the three suits, “is it really true what the report says, that there’s someone still up there?”

President Obama didn’t say anything he just smiled ruefully, waving both hands in a go away gesture he eventually spoke and said. “Go, go find Alicia Bowen, because I swear to God gentlemen if this goes public and even though I wasn’t technically aware of all this, the fallout that every President sworn in since Nixon "did" know, could damage not just my administration, but could destroy the very fabric and soul of the American way of life and that gentleman is something I am just not prepared to accept, now git”


As the three men from the National Security Agency departed the oval office Barack Obama pressed a button on his desk and spoke softly.

“Just remind me who it was that flew the last Apollo mission?”

There was a minute’s pause then a voice came back over the speaker. “Sir the crew consisted of Lunar module pilot Harrison Schmitt, command module pilot Ronald Evans and lastly sir the guy in charge, commander Eugene Cernan.”

“I need to speak to them all right now,” said the President.

Another pause then the voice came back again. “Well sir, that won’t be easy, Schmitt is in hospital having a quadruple bypass, Evans has gone walkabout with some Aborigines in the Australian outback and Commander Cernan is 500ft under the gulf of Mexico.”

“What the hell is he doing down there,” exclaimed an incredulous President?

“Something about being more in touch with inner space sir, since obviously being more familiar with outer space.

Captain Cernan feels that knowing he’s never going back to the stars he’d like to explore more of the ocean, its called inner space sir.”

President Obama made a face and swiftly barked at the com speaker, “ I’m well aware Casey what inner space is and certainly don’t need "you"to enlighten me about that fact am I making myself clear?”

There was an audible gulp then a, “crystal sir.”

“Do what you can to contact Cernan and I want it priority Alpha, Casey, this involves national security so no tiebacks is that understood?”

“Affirmative sir, anything else sir?”

“No, that’ll be all for now.” As the line went dead President Obama suddenly had a thought, it was only a fleeting thought but there none the less.

Apart from the girl of course, the three official crew members of Apollo 17 were the only living persons fully aware of what really happened on that mission, even the NASA hierarchy weren’t aware of another presence on that flight back in 72.

The Fact that every President since Nixon and a handful of NSA operatives were aware didn’t count, they and he included himself in this equation, were all expendable. 

But the three surviving Astronauts would pose a problem if suddenly they decided to get all moralistic and blabby. 

Indeed mused Obama, if he’d been President back then instead of Nixon he was pretty much certain that Apollo 17 would never have even made it back, an unfortunate and terrible mishap occurring on re entry perhaps.

But that was then and this was now and Obama knew if he wanted to, could just say the word and the three suits that he’d just been speaking to would make pretty dammed certain that Schmitt never recovered from his bypass operation. 

An unfortunate accident would befall Evans in the very dangerous environment that is the Australian outback and of course a million things could go wrong when diving 500 ft below the ocean.

With those thoughts burning through his mind Barack Obama, 44th President of the United States made an executive decision and reached for a telephone he only ever used in extreme emergencies.

***

12 hours after Alicia Bowen departed for Texas a cab driver by the name of Larry Zucoski reported to Police that he’d seen the fugitive wanted on suspicion of a double homicide. 

Two days later the same Larry Zucoski along with his cab got fished out of the Potomac river, cause of death? Massive heart attack..

A similar strange occurrence happened at the Bresnik residence in a suburb of Bethesda Maryland. 

For some inexplicable reason a gas main ruptured blowing the house to smithereens!! 

In fact the explosion was so violent, it took the Bethesda fire dept a whole month to piece any evidence together, so far to say, they didn’t find anything.

As you can probably gather, the guys in the National Security Agency had more or less figured out pretty much by now what Alicia Bowen was all about in so fact of where she was heading. It was too late however. 

By the time Maria Bresnik’s abode exploded into matchwood along with the unfortunate Maria, Alicia Bowen was already entering the port area of Galveston on the gulf of Mexico.

MV Taurus Littrow, 4 miles off Galveston

Eugene Andrew Cernan placed a cell phone back onto the table and tapping a finger on his chin thought for a few seconds.

It wasn’t everyday you had a direct one on one telephone conversation with the most powerful man on the planet and it wasn’t everyday you were about to receive a suspected double murderer for dinner.

Gene Cernan sat down on a large leather couch inside the bridge of the MV Taurus Littrow and gently stroked his brow. 

He had a dilemma, god damn it he’d been living with this dilemma for near on thirty seven years now and Gene Cernan had got to the point where he’d really well and truly had enough.

As he watched the approaching launch carrying the suspected and outrageously audacious Alicia Bowen, former commander Cernan weighed up the upsides and downside’s as to what his next decision would be.

The obvious one would be to detain Ms Bowen and wait for the inevitable law enforcement agency’s who he knew would be soon descending like Bees on J-ELLO, that was the logical common sense life preserving thing to do and one that his commander in chief had also just instructed him to do.

But something that had been eating away at Gene Cernan’s conscience all this time had to be finally purged. 

Because he knew if it wasn’t it would eventually consume him and with
Gene now 75 years young, the last thing he wanted would to be lying on his death bed knowing that one of the biggest lies of all time was partly, "no", thought Gene, it was "all" down to him. 

He was the mission commander and at this point, a little tear squeezed itself out of Captain Cernan’s left eye and he glanced up into the heavens. It was "him" alone who made that terrible decision all those years ago. 

Drying his eye with a Kleenex, Eugene A Cernan, The Last Man On The Moon “officially,” strolled down toward the port side of his boat to greet the intrepid Ms Bowen.

A Black Hawk helicopter clattered to a halt and three dark suited men alighted. A figure dressed in combat fatigues approached, saluted then spoke.

“Target has been sighted and the area contained sir.”

One of the suited figures spoke back in reply, "I take it the package has also been delivered Colonel?”

The colonel grimaced a little, he didn’t particularly care for what was about to happen here, but orders were orders and as such, duly acknowledged the fact that the package had indeed been delivered.

As soon as the colonel had departed all three men looked out from the top of Galveston’s highest building (ONE MOODY PLAZA) and collectively stared out toward the gulf of Mexico.

Turning to two of his colleges one of the suits suggested they go eat, maybe even do a bit of sightseeing. “What time’s the show start,” asked one of the two?

First suit glanced at his watch, smiling he said, “9pm, right after sundown, perfect time for a firework display don’t you think?”

The second Alicia Bowen stepped aboard the Taurus Littrow Captain Eugene Cernan placed a finger to his lips, not knowing what the hell was going on Alicia did as she was told.

Indeed Alicia was slowly getting used to all this crazy stuff now but somehow didn’t expect the last man to walk on the moon to greet her like this.

Heading into the main lounge Gene Cernan handed Alicia a piece of notepaper, on the notepaper read a short message.

'Miss Bowen. Apologies for the strange reception, but its highly likely the boat’s already been bugged, please follow my instructions to the letter and hurry we don’t have much time.'

Now really alarmed Alicia nearly spoke, but like lightning, Gene Cernan swiftly clapped a hand over Alicia’s mouth, not in a rough way, but in a sort of gentle firm way, shaking his head as he did so.

Again pointing at the note, Gene Cernan indicated Alicia adhere to the written instructions, which were to strip down and change into dive gear. 

As soon as Alicia had completed this task she was instructed and rather bizarrely to walk the same way a man would, not exaggerated but it had to look like a man.


As soon as both Gene Cernan and Alicia who was still clutching her precious bag containing the document arrived on deck, they both entered what appeared to be a small underwater vessel called a bathysphere .

The minute both intrepid divers were inside the contraption, it was gently lowered into the water and slowly very slowly descended into the gulf of Mexico. 

However after about only 50 ft down, the sub accelerated and headed off in the direction of goodness knows where.

All this time Alicia’s head was spinning, she’d never even been snorkelling let alone diving in an underwater vessel that was straight out of a Jacques Cousteu documentary. 

But for reasons she wasn’t sure of yet, she trusted this man and went along with the plan, however crazy it seemed.

About a half an hour later the tiny sub surfaced, surrounding it seemed to be four huge steel columns. 

On exiting the sub Captain Cernan turned toward Alicia and said, “I will explain everything, but not just yet, we have to keep moving, please tell me you still have the report with you, because I’m assuming this is what this is all about right?”

Alicia nodded and then made as though to say something, though Captain Cernan raised a hand to cut her off, “later, now follow me.”

After climbing what seemed an endless series of steel ladders and walking along countless catwalks, both Gene and Alicia finally reached the top of what Alicia realised was now some kind of drilling rig.

Sat facing them was a large chopper, its rotor blades were already spinning and as a tall man wearing a blue boiler suit, baseball cap and dark glasses ran toward Gene they both gave each other the thumbs up. 

A quick shake of the hands followed and five minutes later, a dark blue twin engine Bell Ranger helicopter rose up into air, banked steeply and headed off toward the Texan coast.

Adjusting his headset then making a few more cursory checks, Captain Cernan turned toward Alicia and said, “now you can talk.”

Alicia had been dying to ask all sorts of questions regarding the report but the very first one was concerning herself.

“I’ve been accused of a double homicide, the bastards have murdered two guys, one someone I knew and have accused "me" of doing it, so please tell me Mr Cernan, is what’s written in this report really true?”

Gene Cernan didn’t say anything for a few moments, he just stared out at the Texas landscape two thousand feet below them, then eventually he replied.

“It should be Miss Bowen,” turning toward Alicia again and glancing at the canvas bag he continued on, “I wrote it!!!”

All Alicia could do was sit in stunned silence, she was still, even after reading the report having problems accepting that it was actually true. She was still clinging onto the fact that there might just be some mistake, a smokescreen, even a wicked hoax.

But no, here seated right at the side of her was a real life Astronaut, a legend even and he had just informed Alicia Bowen that the document containing the unofficial Apollo mission report was unbelievably [The true version]

“I know,” said Gene Cernan, “its kind of hard to believe isn’t it, but the fact is it’s all true and the very reason why I, along with God knows who else. Harry, Ron, my family, are prepared to risk all our lives and take "you" back to DC to tell the world Miss Bowen, tell the whole world what really happened when Apollo 17 took off from pad A at the Kennedy Space Centre with "four" men and came back only with three!!”


Kennedy Space Centre, Florida, 7th December 1972 12.33am EST.

Charlie Spencer Frost made one more final note and then stepped back to gaze admiringly at his work. 

Systems were functioning perfectly and as one of dozens of advanced rocket techs employed by NASA, he could be justifiably proud of being involved in one of the most momentous moments in the history of mankind.

Charlie suddenly had that feeling again and steadying himself he cursed, “no, not now, please not here.” Blinking his eyes he checked his watch, “thank god for that,” he murmured. 

The minute hand was still on 10.22pm, so this one had only been momentary thought a relieved Charlie. 

He checked his left pocket, “God damn it” he cried aloud, how stupid could he be? He must have left his tablets in the other jacket and that was back in the locker room at the main launch control centre.

Charlie panicked and that was the last thing he should be doing right now, panic wasn’t good, panic brought it on and Charlie Spencer Frost didn’t want “it” to come on right now. 

Having covered “it” up for all this time and now having arrived at the critical final stage of launching the Saturn V, Charlie really didn’t need this to happen to him right now, please God not now.

You see Charlie had the little known and even less understood illness we call today “Narcolepsy.” 

The doc's were in fact treating Charlie, small doses of caffeine based pills laced with tiny amounts of amphetamine sulphate, or more commonly known at that time as uppers. 

But unbeknownst to the Medical profession, this type of medication would be woefully inadequate in treating a complex brain related illness such as Narcolepsy.

Charlie steadied himself yet again and checked around the command module. He gazed in awe and gently stroked the seats where the soon to be arriving Astronauts would be sat for most of the duration as the huge Saturn V pushed them out and through the earth’s atmosphere and toward their destination. 

This was Charlie’s dream, the ultimate fix for a one time freckle faced kid from Boise Idaho who used to stare up at the moon and swore one day, he would indeed fly to the moon.

Everyone laughed at Charlie and said he was a dreamer, however they weren’t laughing when he majored at Idaho state, in computer science and was subsequently head-hunted by NASA when noticed designing a new on-board systems computer for a prototype rocket that actually did fly.

But not for long, the national guard commander at the time was a fervent McCarthyite and ordered one of his fighter jets to shoot it down. 

Exam after exam followed and Charlie passed with flying colours, so it wasn’t long before Charlie entered into the Apollo space program and from Armstrong’s Apollo 11 to now, Charlie S Frost had been “the man” responsible for all on-board navigational equipment. 

He was the guy who made sure the guys who flew the missions got there and back in one piece and Charlie was very proud of that.

However and as Charlie again affectionately stroked the fourth and of course not to be used seat, he suddenly had a thought. 

Glancing at his watch he realised it wouldn’t be until another 20 minutes before Cernan, Schmitt and Evans arrived amid all the ballyhoo which of course would commence the countdown sequence, an hour after that, lift off.

Ten minutes later, a fully suited up figure, including helmet approached the fourth seat. 

Seating himself down in it, Charlie Spencer Frost realised his ultimate dream. 

He was an Astronaut on the way to the moon, saluting stiffly he spoke, though no one would have heard him with the helmet on and the fact he was alone of course.

“This is for you mom, dad.” Charlie was an only child so no siblings and though both his parents had now sadly passed on, Charlie still gave the salute in their honour and knew they were looking down on their boy, their little spaceman, as mom used to affectionately call him.

Charlie suddenly realised he’d overstayed his welcome and better take the spare suit off then return back to the command centre. 

Stepping into one of the capsules utility chambers, Charlie proceeded to strip, it was exactly at that point Charlie Spencer Frost’s brain decided to go to sleep.

Turning to look directly into Alicia’s spellbound face, Captain Cernan carried on with his incredible tale.

One hour and forty three minutes later, Apollo 17 blasted off into the Florida night sky and history was made. 

Not just for the fact we were the first Apollo mission to take off in the dark, but for the fact we would have been the first space mission carrying a stowaway, though at that point we didn’t know of course.

By the way Miss Bowen, most of what I’ve just told you isn’t in that report, a lot of the human stuff, like how we felt when we knew poor Charlie was riding shotgun. 

I can still see it now, the moment Harry came back onto the command deck hollering and yammering on that we had a visitor on board.

Heck we hadn’t even entered lunar orbit yet and there’s me an Ron starting to think old Harry had gotten the space sickness.” Glancing at Alicia again Cernan smiled a somewhat wry smile and said. “Well you can imagine the look on all our faces when we pulled the helmet off and discovered a human being.”

Alicia interrupted at that point and said, “was he, ya know was he,”
“dead?” Answered Cernan, “sure he was dead, poor bastard, his suit wouldn’t have been pressurized like the rest of the crew.

Though the fact he’d probably died in his sleep due to the Narcolepsy was a sort of blessing I suppose.”

After that we all three decided there and then, that there could only be one course of action, we couldn’t take him back, who’d have believed us and can you imagine the inquests and inquiries that would have followed.

We also knew that the level of intense media reporting even back then in the 70s would have probably jeopardized any additional missions and possibly ended any further NASA activity in the quest for space exploration.

Well Maam we just weren’t prepared to take that risk and the fact poor Charlie was a goner anyway was reason enough to do what we had to do next.

After undertaking the series of tasks assigned by Mission Control, we placed Charlie onto one of the rovers and myself and Harry drove to the (North Massive) in an area of the moon called Taurus Littrow.

We didn’t bury Charlie, we couldn’t if we wanted to, the lunar surface is almost solid rock and we simply just didn’t have enough time and anyway,  where we did leave him, well we thought it most appropriate.

Finding a large boulder, we propped Charlie in the upright position. 

 Placing Old Glory in between his arms we stood and saluted a very brave man. 

We knew it would have been his lifelong dream to fly to the moon and though Charlie was dead and the fact he wasn’t supposed to be there well, he was one of us now and we paid our respects accordingly.”

Alicia was crying openly at this point and after a few moments she said. “Where you left him, could he see, ya know,” for the second time Cernan interrupted and gently he answered Alicia’s question.

“Yes mamm he can, we made sure of that, its right there in front of him. A little blue and white marble, indeed Charlie’s watching over us all now as we speak. 

At that and as if right on cue, both Gene and Alicia turned and looking out of the the Bell’s cockpit window could see a beautiful full moon shimmering in the huge Texas sky.

Two hundred miles away in the gulf of Mexico, a loud boom sounded followed by a massive orange fireball and three dark suited men lifting glasses in the air smiled and said “cheers.”

****


The Whitehouse, Washington DC July 20th 2009

President Obama signed another report and handed it back to a Whitehouse aid, “what time’s the appointment with Armstrong?”

“The meeting with the crew of Apollo 11 is scheduled for 14.00 on the East Lawn sir and at the last time of checking all the arrangements are on time.”

“Good, that gives me time to check on a number of congressional reports. The Republicans are pushing hard on this aid package bill for Iran "not" to go through the Senate, I need to be ready when I get asked why it "should" go through,” the President then nonchalantly waved a hand and dismissed the aid.


As spoon as he’d gone, Barack Obama turned his thoughts to two days ago and the sudden and tragic demise of Eugene A Cernan, along of course with a certain reporter fugitive named Alicia Bowen. 

And any irony regarding the impending 40th Apollo 11 moon landing commemorations weren‘t entirely lost on the most powerful man on the planet.

The boat blast was all over the news and reports were saying that the only explanation for the explosion was either a fuel leak that accidentally ignited or a stray mine left over from WW2. 

The US Navy even before Pearl harbour, heavily mined areas around the North American coastline especially ones that were regarded as strategic.

However, President Obama knew it was no mine or fuel leak, indeed it would have been a carefully placed piece of high explosive positioned probably directly under the fuel tanks, ensuring maximum damage meaning no survivors.

Curiously enough, there were no mention from the NSA regarding bodies or more importantly any remains of the reason for all this, “the report.” 

 And though President Obama had previously insisted that he wanted the document in his hands, he was still more than satisfied that it had and unfortunately along with Cernan and Bowen, been blown all the way to Hell.

Then the phone rang!!!!

“Sir Mr President Sir.”

“What is it Casey, can’t it wait, I am kinda busy right now?”

“I’m afraid not sir, I think you’d better switch the TV on sir, er, right away sir.”

Sighing heavily President Obama replaced the handset and grabbing a remote control fired up the TV. 

What he saw made his blood run cold and President Barack Obama knew immediately that he was about to break another record on his becoming the 44th President of the USA. 

He would also be the shortest serving commander in chief ever.

There seated in a TV studio and being interviewed by of all people Katie Couric, were Eugene Cernan and that woman from the Post, Alicia Bowen. 

 “For crying out loud!!” roared Obama. 

Instantly grabbing for the phone, he screamed, “get those three knuckleheads in here immediately, understand?”

Those three knuckleheads President Obama were referring to though were already on a plane heading for North Korea. 

They’d anticipated the impending shit balloon to burst when operatives working for them casually remarked just after the explosion, that there were no human remains and that two divers had only a few hours earlier been seen entering a small submersible.

On realising this, President Obama knew there could be only one course of action.

Sweating profusely now, with one hand he picked up a photograph of his family and with the other he unlocked a draw and reached into it.

*****


THE CONCLUSION

Shortly after the LIVE TV interview on CBS with Katie Couric a shock wave enveloped the USA. 

For want of a better description, a media Tsunami swept from the Whitehouse down and as of that day onwards the entire concept of US politics changed forever.

The whole story was told, not just about the secret Apollo 17 was hiding,  but about the indiscriminate and cold blooded way the Commander in chief had gone about his business and all in the name of not rocking the boat.

There were some indictments but the main culprits got away. 

The three suits were never seen or heard of again and of course with President Obama taking his own life, didn’t receive a state funeral. 

In the eyes of the world he was a disgrace and as a consequence buried privately, then interred in the family mausoleum almost anonymously .

Harrison Schmitt recovered from his heart bypass then nearly had another heart attack on learning what had been going on regarding the report.

Ron Evans returned from out of the outback and was immediately set upon by the world’s media.

Gene Cernan, along with the rest of his crew were fully vindicated, the authorities accepted that the terrible pressure they must have all been under could fully justify their initial silence and anyway, Captain Cernan eventually did get around to doing the right thing after all.

Alicia? Well Alicia Bowen finally received her precious Pulitzer, not only that. NASA granted Alicia a once in a lifetime trip aboard the Orion Mission, scheduled for NASA’s first manned mission to Mars in 2019.

Alicia would be the only reporter aboard and giving exclusive coverage for the Washington Post. 

Though the real reason Alicia was simply ecstatic about this extraordinary once in a lifetime trip was this fact. 

 The mission wasn’t just heading to Mars, they were stopping off at the Moon and the first thing Alicia and the rest of the crew would do, is find and then retrieve the body of Charlie Spencer Frost.

Ten years from now Alicia would fulfil her promise and bring back the body of Charlie Frost. When he would return; Charlie would receive a state funeral and be interred along with other American former statesmen at Arlington of course.

A fitting tribute to a brave soul, not just for the fact and in the way Charlie met his maker, but for the fact that he battled on for his country in the race to place an American on the moon, whilst of course suffering from a terrible and relatively unknown illness.

So the next time you look up at the moon and say how beautiful it is, think of Charlie Spencer Frost, still there, gazing down upon us all.

God Bless Charlie who really and truly is, “THE LAST MAN ON THE MOON.”





THE END