Free Detour to Apocalypse: A Rot Rods Serial, Part Two by Michael Panush

But you’re not in charge of this operation. The Captain is.” He nodded to the Captain. “Can you trust me?”
    “Yes,” the Captain said.
    Quarter stared at Roscoe and the other drivers. “Is that answer enough for you?”
    “Of course it is,” Betty said.
    “Good.” The sergeant pointed to the door. “Captain, we’ve got to discuss the situation. You told me a little about your plans on the phone yesterday and we need to discuss matters privately. Just for a little. Is that okay?”
    The Captain stood slowly and with effort. He balled his weathered hands into fists and had to force his legs to straighten. He picked his fedora up from the coffee table and walked over to Sergeant Quarter. “Betty, Wooster, Felix, stay here and keep the Ambassador company. Wooster, I’d like you near the door. Armed, if you don’t mind, in case there’s trouble.” The Captain paused. “Roscoe, please accompany me and the Sergeant.”
    “Boss?” Roscoe asked.
    “You heard me,” the Captain said. “I want you in on this conversation too.”
    “Okay, okay.” Roscoe paused to pat Snowball on the head and Felix on the shoulder before heading for the door. He looked at his friends and the Ambassador. His eyes met the dark pools in the alien’s face. “You don’t know how lucky you are. To have run into people like my friends.”
    He followed the Captain into Ghost Gulch.
    The three of them walked away from the tourist cabins toward the main street of the abandoned town. Sergeant Quarter’s cloth-top olive green military jeep rested in the parking lot with the other vehicles. Roscoe had a feeling the sergeant had brought along some military equipment. He was at a level where he could do things like that, and not have to answer questions or fill out paperwork.
    The Captain noticed it too, and pointed to the jeep. “You brought hardware?”
    “Yes, sir,” Quarter said. “I always do, when you contact me.”
    “We can always use more,” Roscoe added.
    They walked through the parking lot to the main street of Ghost Gulch. A few tourists lurked about, enjoying the souvenir shops and snapping photos while the sun set. The town’s owners had set up a few repurposed Tiki torches that didn’t fit the place’s Wild West atmosphere. The horses stood near hitching posts, sniffing the air and warding off flies with their swinging tails. Roscoe, the Captain, and the sergeant walked past all of them, straight down the dirt street. Dust stirred around their boots, like smoke in the fading evening light.
    Nobody said anything for a while.
    Quarter folded his hands and looked at his boots. “Captain. I understand you’re in a state of hostilities with Task Force X.”
    “I wouldn’t call it a state of hostilities,” the Captain said.
    “I would.” Roscoe snorted. “They tried to run me and Angel down in Los Angeles when they figured we were going after the same target. And I think they wanted Dr. Bolton so they could get to Mars―so they could get the alien. Now that we got the alien, they’re gonna come after Who are these Task Force X people, Quarter? Who the Hell gives them the right to play Gestapo?”
    “The President―and everyone on down,” Sergeant Quarter said. “They were created a few years ago, to handle paranormal and extraterrestrial threats to America. Task Force X has access to the most advanced weapons and technology and the legal permission to use it at their discretion. They can destroy anyone to achieve their goals, and can pursue black operations anywhere in the world. Needless to say, their existence is a complete secret.” He paused. “I’m breaking several laws by talking to you. I’m breaking oaths that I swore.”
    The Captain listened calmly. “Why?”
    “To convince you of the dangers you are facing.” Quarter stepped in front of the Captain. He spoke clearly, as if that would make his words more persuasive. “Task Force X will come for that alien. They will destroy anything in