HOOD: A Post Apocalyptic Novel (American Rebirth Series Book 1) (12 page)

“Get down.” Hood said.

“Huh?” was all she could manage.

“I'm cutting the first rope so we can keep moving. Get down so it doesn't snap and hit you.”

She leaned over awkwardly close to the seat. Hood pulled out a hunting knife and sawed at the first rope. She could hear the faint plucking sound of the fibers being cut.

The rope snapped, the right side of the truck sinking a bit further down. It felt like it was inches from hurtling down into the river. The guardrail creaked, but the listing truck stayed in the air. Her hands shook uncontrollably, her vision narrowing to only what was straight ahead of her. She gripped the steering wheel as hard as she could manage, releasing pure unadulterated fear through locked muscles.

“Let's go,” Hood said. “Come on, quickly.”

She leaned up and pushed hard on the gas pedal. The engine roared and the car howled against the stone as it lurched again.

“Front wheel is close to the other side,” Whiskey said. “Almost home.”

A loud snap echoed across the open air and the truck listed even further.

“What's happening?” Kerry screamed.

“Shit, the guard rail is coming apart at the next strut. Gun it!
Go now
!” Hood shouted, slapping the roof of the truck. “GO!” he screamed

Whiskey cursed loudly.

Kerry stomped the pedal to the floor. The engine roared like an unchained beast. The screeching of metal against stone and the groaning rail combined into a horrible cacophony and she felt consumed by panic. The truck sagged and slid forward until a considerable bump shot the front of the truck up, but the back kicked out from against the wall and started to sink into the gaping chasm, ready to swallow her. The supplies slid loudly across the bed of the truck and thumped into the gate. She could feel the blood thumping behind her eyes as the windshield pointed up to the blue cloudy sky. With the RPM's redlined, the engine screaming and the pedal down, the smell of burning gaskets crept into the cabin.
It's not gonna make it. It's falling in.
Her stomach tried to hurl itself out of her throat. She could feel the truck sliding backwards as the front of the truck leaned up.

With a loud chirp and a lurch, the truck's front wheels gripped onto the broken maw of bridge. Bouncing this way and that, the back wheels hit something solid. The truck lurched and bounded forward, rumbling up and over onto flat ground. The tires screeched and a loud crack shot through the air. She drove a full twenty yards just to make sure she was far away from the bridge before turning the engine off. She dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel and tears of fear and relief slid down her face. A hollow clicking sound from the engine compartment slowed to a halt. The first sound from the outside world she heard was Whiskey and Hood clapping through the open window.

She looked up at the side-view mirror to see the rope was still attached to the truck, which was dragging a bent section of guardrail beside it.

Hood jogged over to the truck. “You got so excited to be free you took the goddamn bridge with ya.” He laughed. “I just hope the truck can still make it the rest of the way.”

She climbed out the window clumsily and shoved Hood with both hands after regaining her footing.

“Asshole!” she shouted. “You almost got me fucking killed!!”

“You're fine, right? Teamwork makes the dream work,” he said with a smile.

She wanted to slap his smile straight to hell. They’d put her life at risk for this. But she felt an intense satisfaction blooming up within her, knowing she had overcome something she feared so deeply. Whiskey reached out to shake her hand, grudging respect on his face. She looked at it and looked at him.

Whiskey held her gaze, his face calm. “Well done.”

She reached out and shook his hand.

“I don't know what your angle is in all of this, but you helped us out a lot here. That wasn't easy to do,” Whiskey said.

“Thanks. And you're
welcome
,” she said with enough anger that it didn't sound completely genuine. “Will you stop trying to kill me now?”

“Hey, let's not get crazy,” Whiskey said, the slightest smile cracking his face. Hood laughed.

Kerry managed a nervous grin. “You're insane.” She ran her hand through her hair to the back of her head where she scratched compulsively. She leaned back against the truck. It was hot from all the friction and engine heat. The driver's side of the chassis she leaned on was ruined, broken and gouged beyond repair.

“Seriously,” Hood said. “Thank you. You're welcome to stay with us. When you know what we're doing, I'm not sure you'll want to, but it's up to you.”

She sized him up, wondering if this was for real. He had a relaxed stance, looking her in the eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Like I said, you've earned it. You risked your life to help us. Even if it did take a little persuasion.”

Whiskey stood off to the side, looking displeased, but didn't say anything.

“I think that works for me,” she said. “For now.”

Was this all a test?
It seemed unreal. This was a lot of trust he was putting in her. Too much trust. What were his motives? Things too good to be true always were.

“What if I want to leave?” She asked.

“Whatever you want,” Hood said. “It's just an offer.”

“By all means, take your leave,” Whiskey said.

Hood shot a glance at Whiskey, and they seemed to be communicating angrily without saying a word.

“What…tell me what it is you guys are doing, really.” Kerry found a kind of solace in leaning against the truck, as if it was on her side. It had been through hell with her. She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them to pull an errant hair out of her eyelashes.

Hood and Whiskey looked at each other. Whiskey's expression was one of premature anger–a don't-you-say-it look.

“We're going to D.C.,” Hood said. “We're going to D.C. To rescue my brother and sister and whatever other survivors there are from our town.”

Whiskey sighed, long and slow.

Her eyebrows raised compulsively. “Wow. That's. . . That's not what I expected.”

“You should probably know. We're going to rescue them from the Kaiser. Now if you'll excuse us, we have some barrels of gasoline to reload into this truck.”

Kerry watched as they turned simultaneously, walking to the truck together. Hood reached back to flick Whiskey in the ear but he swatted Hood's hand away and barked something. Hood laughed.

The Kaiser. Kerry felt as if the air had been let out of her. Oh no.

♦ ♦ ♦

Hood rolled over in the cab of the truck. The felt surface of the seats itched his arm. The sky had become overcast, a bright gray. He looked out the windshield over the faded dashboard. It was foggy, and he could just make out Whiskey’s figure walking down the road. He rubbed his face with his right hand, still feeling tired. He stretched as he kicked open the driver’s side door of the truck. Both the old blankets Whiskey and Kerry had used as sleeping mats outside were disheveled and empty.

“Hey!” Hood shouted. He couldn't see anyone now in the fog. He felt a tickle of doubt--maybe that wasn't Whiskey at all. He pulled out his pistol and looked around in all directions. It was hard to see very far.

He reached back into the cab and pulled out his AK, putting the pistol back away. He flipped the safety, kept his finger on the trigger guard and walked down the road. There was little wind and the only sound was the crunch of dirt under his feet. He felt his pockets for the keys. Whiskey must have taken them. He clenched his jaw and kept walking. He kept the butt of the rifle against his shoulder and strode forward with quiet, soft steps.

The high grass and reeds were close to the road, and the north side was still fairly rocky terrain. The road was empty and the double yellow lines were all but worn away. He heard the guy before he saw him. He pointed the rifle to the north side and moved forward until the figure appeared out of the fog.

“Hands in the air,” Hood said.

The man turned around. It was Whiskey.

“It's me, you jackass,” he said. Hood put down the rifle and stood up straight.

“Why did you leave the truck?” Hood said.

“Kerry's gone,” Whiskey said, frowning. “I came back from scoutin' the area and she was gone. I knew we shouldn't have trusted her.”

Hood walked forward a few steps and let his rifle hang by its strap on his shoulder.

“Gone, huh. Is anything missing?”

Whiskey turned his head to stare Hood down.

“Yes, gone. No, everything is still in the truck. Your dick is going to get us killed,” Whiskey said, putting away his pistol.

“Oh, cut the shit,” Hood spat. “For all your threats, I didn't see you kicking her to the curb. She just didn't want to go on a suicide mission with us.”

“I want you to use your goddamned brain. The Kaiser is looking for us. Wasters want us dead. And
you
told her where we're goin' and what we’re doing.”

Hood shook his head. “So from here on out, everyone we meet is our enemy?”

“Yes, for Chrissake!” Whiskey shouted, “We don't trust nobody. Got it?”

Hood stared at him. “I'm not gonna live like that.”

“Then you ain't gonna live at
all!
” Whiskey growled at him.

Hood stared at him, shaking his head. Dirt ground beneath Whiskey's feet as he turned and walked back to the truck. Hood followed him.
I know how dire this is, Whiskey. I know what we’re up against. But I refuse to let this nightmare turn me into everything I hate.

“She probably is part of a drifter gang that's gonna' hunt us down.” Whiskey's jaw flexed from grinding his teeth, and his brow furrowed. “Or worse, she works for the Kaiser.”

“Or she was some leftover nobody from an abandoned town who didn't want to be with two guys who made her risk her life driving a truck across a bridge,” Hood said. “Either way, there’s nothing we can do now.”

Whiskey looked like he was fighting the urge to argue. Hood decided not to push it any further. They walked back in silence across the bridge to the truck. The fog was thinning as the sun re-emerged.

Someone was sitting in the cab of the truck, Hood saw. He lifted his rifle.

“Do you have the keys?” Hood asked.

“No.”

Whiskey pulled out his gun and they spread out to either side as they moved toward the truck. The person inside stayed still until sighting them. Then she climbed out of the truck.

It was Kerry.

Hood let his rifle hang by his shoulder again. He sighed and rubbed his forehead with thumb and forefinger.

“Where the hell were you?” he shouted.

“
Me?
” she replied. “Where were you?”

It was funny how much Whiskey distrusted her, considering how alike they were in their stubbornness.

Whiskey didn't put down his Glock. He walked straight up to her and grabbed her by the collar of her jacket.

“Whoa! Hey, what's going on?” She asked.

“Where the hell did you go?” He snapped at her.

“I was bored from sitting there doing nothing so I decided to take a walk.” She tried to pull his hand off of her jacket. His hand may as well have been a vise. “Let me go, you maniac!”

“Bullshit,” he yelled. “Who did you meet with?”

“What? What are you talking about?” She continued to struggle out of his grasp. “If you really want to know, I had to go to the bathroom.”

“You were gone for a long time.” Whiskey turned his head in skepticism.

“Like that is any of your business!” She shouted.

Hood stepped in, putting his hand on Whiskey's arm. “Hey, dude. Come on, let her go.”

“You can't fool me with your innocent bullshit. Tell me where you went!” Whiskey said, ignoring Hood.

“Whoa, just take it easy!” Kerry implored. “I didn't think it was a big deal. I don't want to have to tell you every time I have to pee, like a child.” She looked as though she would squirm out of her jacket if she could, her brown hair blowing all over her face.

“Let her
go.
Whiskey, she didn't do anything.” Hood said, trying to separate the two of them. Whiskey didn't move.

“This ain't a jury of her peers. And all of this, her appearing out of nowhere to find us, looking for a ride, with her bullshit story, it's all too perfect,” Whiskey said. “I don't believe it for a second.”

Hood took a moment to study Kerry. He couldn't tell if her expression held confusion or fear. Or what that meant. What if Whiskey were right? He didn't want it to be true. But it might be. He'd never killed a woman. Much less a pretty one with a sense of humor.

Whiskey may be a tough bastard to deal with at times, but Hood knew Whiskey was one of the few people who would always act in Hood's best interest. Or at least, what he thought was his best interest. And Whiskey was his family now.

“
I drove this fucking thing over thin air,
” She screamed, pointing at the truck. “And you're waving a fucking gun in my face? Yes, I was going to leave because I don't exactly want to end up dead or as the Kaiser's slave, but I have nowhere else to go, so I guess I don't have a fucking choice but to pray like hell you two have some goddamned masterful plan in place!”