HOOD: A Post Apocalyptic Novel (American Rebirth Series Book 1) (30 page)

Hood jumped to his feet and charged at the tree. Pure rage and a desire to survive drove him. He was only feet away when the figure leapt out from behind the tree, swinging his rifle like a club. The man was bigger than he'd expected. The blow glanced off Hood's bad shoulder as he crashed headfirst into the man, the two of them sprawling onto the ground.

Hood wrapped his hands around the man's thick neck. The man grabbed Hood's face and pushed him away with incredible strength. The two caught each other's desperate, wild gazes. They both let go of each other.

“So you're still alive,” came Whiskey's familiar gruff, southern-tinged voice.

“
Whiskey?
” Hood backed off, falling back into the dirt. “What? What the fuck?”

Whiskey pushed himself to a sitting position, dusting off his long-sleeved shirt. “It's over, kid. We lost. We can't fight a war machine on our own. Taylor is alive. I've seen her. This is the only way I can keep her safe.”

“The fuck are you saying?” Hood shouted. “You think fighting for the Kaiser will keep her
safe? He's using you! He's. . .” He's trying to get to me.

“Whatever it takes. This is what we have to do to survive.”

“No.” Hood shook his head, eyes ablaze. “What about Clearwater? What about all our friends that died?”

“They're dead. There's nothin' we can do for 'em now. It was a dumb thing, trying to live like we did in Clearwater. We should have left it behind.” Whiskey pulled himself to his feet. “I knew it too. I knew somethin' would happen. But I couldn't convince people to leave. Or join up with the Kaiser. Everyone would have thought I was crazy.”

Hood spat. “Fuck that. I'll never regret what we were doing. We were trying to live a good life, Whiskey. We were fighting for
something.
My only regret is that we got caught.”

“Look where we are now, kid.” Whiskey picked up his rifle. “Come back with me. Taylor will want to see you. We're not free, but we're alive. And we might live long enough to get out of this.”

You won't. Ian will kill you once he has me. And he'll keep Taylor hostage. . . But if I do join. . . If I pretend to come around to Ian's sick ideals, maybe we can all live.
The thought made him feel sick.
Fuck that. That's what he wants. Indoctrination takes time. He wants you to think there's no other way.
Hood's mind lurched back into the moment. “Is Kerry here?” He jumped to his feet. Whiskey nodded slowly. “This Sons bastard I was with, he's here for her. We've got to stop him!”

“Of course,” Whiskey said, eyes fixed in the dark towards the house.

“What!?” Hood barked.

“The Sons are trying to infect her. The Kaiser takes slaves to these houses before they bring them in to check them for disease. But if the Sons inject her with something without being caught, she'll take it straight to the Kaiser, or at least his officers.” Whiskey's words held a tinge of hope.

How did I not see that? Gene sneaks in after I draw them out, infects her with something lethal and contagious. Turn a sex slave into a biological weapon.
The thought ran chills of rage and disgust though his whole body. Images of her being poisoned, being taken advantage of. . . by Ian. Then dying a slow, painful death alone. . . Hood turned to run towards the house. Whiskey grabbed his arm, and Hood spun around to face him.

“I know it's wrong. I know she don't deserve it. You were right, she is a good person. But listen to me.
This is our only chance.
” Whiskey's eyes locked with Hood. Hood didn't even realize he was baring his teeth.

“You're wrong. I will not let them do this,” Hood ripped his forearm free from Whiskey's grasp.

“There are no more good options here, Hood!” Whiskey retorted. “Maybe there never were any to begin with. But if the Sons want to set us free, I say let them.”

“If it were Taylor instead, what would you do?” Hood raged.

Whiskey stood motionless, staring at Hood in the darkness.

“
If it were Taylor, what would you do!?”
Hood repeated with venomous emphasis.

“But it's not.”

Save our own. Let the rest of the world die.

It was Ian's own depiction of humanity.

Don't make him right. He killed Mom and Dad and Lucky and Billy and everyone we've ever cared about. Don't you fucking make him right!
The thoughts raged inside him and something snapped.

Hood swung a balled right fist that connected with Whiskey's temple. He stumbled backward. Hood hurled himself at him, sending him crashing to the ground. Blood from Hood's wounded ear slid down his neck and soaked into his shirt.

He swung his fists down repeatedly on Whiskey's head. Whiskey held up his arms to shield himself from the blows, not even attempting to fight back.
Fight me you bastard. Just like that, you give up? You were stronger than that. This isn't you.

Hood grabbed the rifle from the grass and raised the butt high in the air, ready to bring a final, crushing blow down on Whiskey's cranium. His body seemed to be carrying out its rage without him, as if Hood was a distant observer.

He froze, breathing heavily.

“Do it.” Whiskey said quietly. “I can't fight no more. I'm sick of losing it all. Kerry will carry death to the Kaiser and Taylor will be free of all this.” He let out a long exhale. “I can go ahead and die knowing that.”

Hood fought hard against his body's will to bring the rifle down onto him.

You bastard, you fucking bastard how could you give up? You just let him win? We were fighting for something more than just survival, Whiskey. Maybe you weren't, but I was. What the hell is the point of living if you have to kill yourself to stay alive?

Hood bit his bottom lip and squeezed the stock of the rifle so hard he wanted the wood to splinter. Something gave way inside him. He let go, the rifle clattering onto the nearby root system of a tree. Wet warmth filled his eyes. Sensation surged back into his body as the adrenaline faded, the pain from his wounds dragging him back into reality.

I can't do this anymore. I can't make these choices. It's too goddamned heavy. All the friends and family and strangers who died for me to keep on living. And for what? I don't deserve to live if I can't do something to make their deaths mean something.

Like the sun rising in his mind, clarity struck. Hood blinked, trying to focus in on the idea and never let it go.

I am still alive because I can stop this. Because Ian is wrong, and I'm the only one who can stop him without killing countless innocent people. Family isn't the root of all war. Family is the solution to all war. Everyone who fights to live a good life and care for others is family. Whiskey is my family. Kerry is my family. Everyone from Clearwater was my family. The dead man from the journal who was fighting for those kids was my family.

Hood stood up, running both hands over his head. Whiskey slowly picked himself up off the ground.
Kerry. She's here. She needs you.
Hood burst into motion, running back westwards towards the cabin.

It's too late. You know it is.

He dashed into the clearing and up to the porch of the cabin, the black door left open.

No. I don't accept that.

The living room showed signs of struggle. The room was disheveled; the floor was littered with an upturned end-table, picture frames, magazines and kitchenware. A sectional couch sat facing a dusty, long-inert T.V. A pair of boots protruded from behind the couch. Hood hurried over, his stomach sinking.

It's already done.

But it was a man's figure that lay face down on the floor. It was Gene.

Hood could hardly believe it. The boards were pried off the back window above the kitchen counter and stood open, the curtains lightly swaying in the night air.

She got free.

Hood knelt down next to Gene. He still had a pulse, but was unconscious. In his right hand was a small metal case. Hood took it from him and opened it. Inside was an empty syringe and a sealed vial of liquid. He started to laugh.

The hell was I worried about?
Hood ran his hand over his face. He looked down at Gene again in disbelief.
Damn girl, how did you manage this?

Whiskey appeared in the doorway.

“She made it out,” was all Hood said.

Whiskey peered over at the man as he moved inside.

“Who was he?”

“Infantry Captain for the Sons.”

“That girl is tough as nails.”

Hood smiled. “Yeah she is.”

Where have you gone? Would it have killed you to wait around a few minutes?
She had already taken Gene's backpack and his pistol.
Nothing can keep you down, huh? I think I'm in love. Come back to me, I'm yours forever.

Whiskey reloaded his rifle, cocked it and aimed it at Gene.

“Don't,” Hood said, holding out his hand.

Whiskey looked incredulous. “A second ago you were charging in here to stop him.”

“He's a good man. Maybe a bit overzealous, but he's not evil.”

“He used you.” Whiskey followed this sentence with a grunt, annoyed to have to state the obvious.

“Under different circumstances, I could've easily seen us fighting on the same side.”

Whiskey slowly lowered the rifle.

“Okay, kid.” He nodded. “If you say so.”

Hood met Whiskey's gaze.
We've both come a long way, haven't we?
Whiskey's face carried more exhaustion than it did before, his dark eyes heavy, unmoving. There was a certain acceptance between the two of them, silent amends being made.

“Do you know the way to the Kaiser?” Hood said.

“Yeah.”

“Between the two of us, I bet we can get Taylor out of there.”

“The place is a stronghold, Rob. Deep in his territory.”

“We have to try.”

“If we fail, we're all dead.”

Hood smiled. “Isn't that the way it's always been?”

Whiskey shook his head, the wood floors creaking gently with his steps. “We've been playing with fire a long time. Just come back and join up with the Kaiser. We can ride out this storm together until we can find a way out.”

“There's no way out.” Hood said, feeling the cool wind wafting in through the open window Kerry used to escape. “Other than death. Believe me. I know the Kaiser better than anyone. He's Ian. My Ian. He's not just going to let us slink away some day.”

Whiskey's eyes shot over from his perusal of the house to meet Hood. “You're kidding.”

Hood snorted. “I wish.”

“Ain't that some shit. What are the chances?”

I don't think it's chance.
“I refused to believe it for awhile. But truth be told, it makes sense. He was always a ballsy kid with unconventional thinking. And a natural leader. People were drawn to him when we were young. I used to joke he was the mayor of our generation in D.C. Kid knew everyone.”

Whiskey bit his lip, sighing.
Let's finish what we started, Whiskey. I know you're scared. You're scared we'll fail and she'll die and it will be our fault. But this is our only chance.

“The last two of Clearwater crew are still alive. So lets make the boys proud. Let's get Taylor the fuck out of there.” Hood said, grinning at Whiskey. He chuckled.

“You tryin' to hype me up?”

“Hell yeah I am.”

“Well, it's workin'.” Whiskey cracked his neck, working the blood back through his body as he stretched. “Besides, I wouldn't want you gettin' roughed up out there on your own. Looks like you got tagged a few times since I last seen you.”

“It's good to see your geriatric ass again.” Hood clapped him on the shoulder. “You been playing a lot of bingo and shuffleboard?”

Whiskey clicked his tongue, turning on his heel as he shook his head.
“I shoulda just let you guys keep on your merry way the day I found you two years ago.”

Hood laughed loudly. Pain shot from the mending wound in his side “What, and miss out on all this fun?”

“You need help, kid.”

“Not anymore. I’ve got you.” Hood smirked, grabbed the keys to the jeep off the dining table and tossed them to Whiskey, who nabbed them out of the air. “We might be able to find Kerry out there on the way. I've got a dirtbike we can load into the Jeep, too. Let's end this shit.”

♦ ♦ ♦

You're okay. You're okay. No one is chasing you.
Kerry dashed ahead through the overgrown woods, her heart pounding in her ears, her eyes searching frantically for signs of anything that might stop her in the dark. She slowed to a stop, looking back in the direction of the way station. At least, not yet.

She moved around to the other side of a mossy oak, leaning against it with one hand to catch her breath. The air was abuzz with the chirping of cicadas and god knows what other gross insects. She didn't mind only hearing them, though. They weren't trying to kill her.
Who the hell was that guy? What did he want with me?
It wasn't anything so primal as lust. That was an easy thing to read in a man's eyes. But the man was determined on something else. Something he seemed almost guilty about. If he knew she was adept at turning handcuffs into bangles, he might've had less hesitation.
Didn't expect a pipe to the head. I hope he doesn't wake up anytime soon.
Still, she had to thank the man. If he hadn't drawn out the Kaiser's soldiers she never would have had an opportunity to escape.