HOOD: A Post Apocalyptic Novel (American Rebirth Series Book 1) (10 page)

“Yeah,” Hood looked down at his rifle. “There's a lot of that going on now.”

“I won't let it hold me down. I'm still alive for some reason.”

Hood smiled. “Yeah, to piss Whiskey off.”

Her laugh had a melodic quality to it.

“My true calling.” She smirked and looked over at Whiskey.

“Nothing? You just Driving Miss Daisy over there?” She said, waving at him.

“It's a sad story,” Whiskey said, his emphasis on the word 'story'.

“You don't trust me.” Kerry shook her head, a look of acceptance on her face. “I get it.”

Hood didn't know what to say to her. His thoughts were wrapped up in trying to decipher her story.
If she was lying, why?

“If you can't loosen up though, you might as well have died when the bombs went off.” She crossed her arms. “Just 'cause it's the apocalypse everyone hates fun,” she grumbled.

Hood laughed, reminded of his old life before the fall. Images of hanging out with friends in parking lots, laughing, talking trash and drinking all their problems away.

“That's the most ridiculous shit I’ve ever heard.” he said.

“See? That's more like it,” she said, smiling at him. “Feels good.”

Damn that's a pretty smile.
Hood rubbed the back of his head and watched the road curve along the rusted old guard rail. The sun was rising, and the sky was blue. Whiskey drummed the steering wheel lightly with the carpenter pencil. Kerry sat staring straight ahead, content with her pot-stirring for now.
What are you all about?
It was hard to make sense of how she could end up here, with them.

And what if people are looking for her?

Chapter 7 – Crossing

The three of them stood in front of the truck, staring blankly at the broken stone bridge ahead. Whiskey crossed his arms and spat. Hood scratched the back of his head and turned around to look at the truck. His mind itched with impatience, knowing the longer it took to get them to D.C., the more Taylor was at risk. He felt the same stress emanating from Whiskey. Hood felt at least some measure of comfort knowing Ian was there with her. Whiskey might not understand yet, but there is someone looking out for her within the Kaiser's empire.

Two days of driving, and it felt like they'd gone farther backwards then they had forwards. Some roads had been purposefully destroyed, others were cut off by endless rows of weather-beaten cars long abandoned in traffic jams. They were lucky the truck hadn't gotten stuck on any of their off-road detours. The only positive was that with each day Whiskey seemed to soften to Kerry a bit more. If she was here for any sinister purpose, she was doing a terrible job of it. She didn't seem to care where they went. She just seemed content to be there. And Whiskey wasn't blind to that.

“Well, shit,” Kerry said flatly at the sight of the broken bridge. She and Whiskey did not mask their frustration at the idea of another detour. Hood wasn't even sure where they would go from here.

Whiskey sighed. “Might as well get something to eat,” he said, turning to walk to the back of the truck. He stopped mid-stride, pulling a key out of his pocket and grabbing Kerry's cuffed wrists. She scanned his face, a look of relief and surprise. He didn't look at her, deftly peeling off the handcuffs and tucking them into a pocket of his flak jacket.

She rubbed her wrists, looking at Hood for confirmation that that had actually just happened. He shrugged, smiling.

“Why did you do that?” She called after Whiskey.

“You want 'em back on?” He replied.

“Hell no. God, it feels so good just being able to spread your arms!” She stretched her hands wide and reached up for the sky, standing on her toes. Hood watched her move, enjoying her stretch almost as much as she was.

“Whatever you're doin' here, you're not trying to kill us.” Whiskey rummaged through the back of the truck. “So you might as well help us.”

Kerry was beaming. “Can you believe this guy?”

“Win the crowd. Win your freedom.” Hood said dramatically.
That's gonna go over her head.
But he wanted to try it anyway. He and Ian used to watch that movie religiously. Quoting it was like a second form of communication.

Kerry blinked. “What?”

“Nevermind. From Gladiator. It is to guys what The Notebook
is to girls.”

“I never saw either of them
.
I guess I won't ever.”

“S'aright. Come on, lets get some food.”

The sun shone down on the broken bridge, while the wind blew fast and cold across the river.

“How do you figure that happened?” Kerry said to Whiskey. She pulled her hair back and tied it up to keep it from the wind.

“I don't know,” Whiskey said, both arms digging into a crate in the bed of the truck.

“What do you think we should do?”

“I don't know.”

Hood walked up alongside her. She sported a devious grin, her attention still on Whiskey rummaging through the bed of the truck. “You hotshots gonna point your big guns at the bridge and demand it put itself back together or else?”

“Oh my
God
, shut up! We will figure something out!” Whiskey yelled, standing up straight.

“Relax, cowboy. I'm just making light of the situation,” she said, tapping her fingers on the side of the truck, a series of dull metallic thuds. Whiskey reached into a box from the back of the truck and tossed her a granola bar in shiny packaging.

“Here, eat.”

“Aw, is someone finally warming up to me?”

“No, it just guarantees at least a few seconds of silence,” Whiskey said, tossing another one to Hood who snatched it out of the air. Hood laughed, and Whiskey couldn't hide a slight smirk.

Hood devoured the entire bar in short order, chewing a mouthful of sweet granola as he opened the passenger door and pulled a map out of the glove compartment. Hood dropped into the passenger seat, inspecting it. The cool river air swirling through the truck wanted him to relax, but the broken bridge out the windshield was another reminder of brutal reality that just getting the chance to save Ian and Taylor was a longshot. Whiskey walked up to the open door, leaning on the roof with his forearm.

“The big crossing at 95 has been under Kaiser control for a long time. We know that,” Hood said. He ran his knuckle across his mouth in contemplation. “We have to go further west.”

“It's way out of the way, and we don't know if those roads are even passable.” Whiskey frowned, gesturing to the country roads stretching far inland to the west.

They both stared at the map in silence. The wind blew through the cab. The door of the truck started to close on Whiskey but Hood kept it open with his foot.

“Well,” Hood paused. “We don't have a lot of options.”

Whiskey shook his head.

“I don't like it.” He looked around at the outside world for signs of life. “We're gonna be vulnerable as hell further out west. It's deeper into the Kaiser's territory and we have no idea what the area is like now.”

“Well, I don’t see what else we can do,” Hood said, folding up the map. “We can't leave the truck behind.”

Hood got out of the truck, Whiskey moving out of the doorway to let him pass. Whiskey stood there, frozen, looking over at the supplies in the back. “It'll take too long to walk there. We don't know how long the Kaiser plans on stayin' in D.C.”

Hood looked out at the bridge, then back at the truck. He bit his bottom lip in consternation. “Then let’s drive across the bridge.”

Whiskey stared at him. “Huh?”

Hood pulled a cord of heavy rope and a briquette of charcoal from the back of the truck. He walked over to the old mortar-and-stone bridge, sizing up the damage. Only part of it was destroyed. It still managed to span the river in the simplest sense of the word. On the left side there was a stone wall with guardrail implanted atop it, but the right side had shattered and large chunks of the bridge sat jutting out of the river thirty feet below. Where before it was able to fit one lane of traffic on either side easily, now only a part of the left lane stood. Whiskey followed Hood to the bridge. Hood placed the end of the rope against the wall on the left hand side and then laid it across to the narrowest point of the collapsed side, marking the length with the charcoal. It was definitely shorter than the wheelbase of the truck.

Using the same end of rope, he had Whiskey hold it in place where the narrowest area of the gap started, and measured the length of the narrow space, marking it with the charcoal. It was significantly longer than the first measurement. This would be a challenge. Hood backed up and looked at the broken bridge. From where he stood it looked as if something had taken a big bite out of the right side, the way the stone crumbled into the river.
Someone probably tried to blow this thing to keep people away and did a terrible job.

Kerry had been standing at the start of the bridge watching them work. Hood and Whiskey walked back towards her and the truck.

“So?” she asked, arms folded.

“So it's going to get interesting.” Hood said simply. “Just from eyeballing it, it looks like there will be a few feet where one side of the truck will be entirely off the ground,” he said, looking back at the bridge. He held up the end of the rope, gesturing towards her. “The measurements will tell us for sure.”

“What do you mean, off the ground?” She said, taking a step in front of Hood as he started to walk.

“That's the interesting part,” he said with a smile, and walked backed to the truck.

She just stood there, staring at the truck, then back at the bridge.

Whiskey leaned towards her as he walked by. “What, no snappy jokes?”

She glared at him for a moment as he kept walking, a smirk on his face.

She took a few steps towards the truck, the wind blowing the few unbound strands of hair into her eyelashes. She pulled them away.

“Who's going to drive it across?”

Hood was half in the cab of the truck, but leaned out to shout back.

“You are!”

Kerry stood still and stared blankly at the truck before briskly walking over to the both of them.

“This thing has locking differentials on it right?” Hood glanced over at Whiskey for affirmation. He nodded.

“Yeah. Funny, I didn't take the Sheriff to be the type to go mudding.”

“I think this was for his son,” Hood said, looking down at the worn bed of the truck. “Found a picture of them in the glove compartment.”

Whiskey remained stoic, presumably thinking the same thing as Hood: some people just lose it in the face of so much death. Whiskey turned his head, looking out over the rocky hill that sloped down to the river. Whiskey didn't talk to Hood much about his past, but Hood got the feeling he had lost loved ones.

“What if I say no?” Kerry interjected, wearing an expression of defiance.

“Too bad,” Hood said. “We need you to do it. We will have our hands full trying to keep this beast from falling into the river.” Hood slapped the side of the truck with a metallic thud.

“Uh-uh. No way. I won't do it. This is insane!” The tone of her words fell somewhere between standing her ground and pleading for reason.

Hood and Whiskey exchanged a prolonged glance. Hood winked at him with the eye turned away from Kerry, and a smile flickered on his face. Whiskey closed the door of the truck, and they both turned to face her.
Whiskey will enjoy this.

“You don't have a choice,” Hood pulled his .38 out from under his hoodie and pointed it at her. Whiskey had his pistol in hand too. They were motionless.

“Whoa, hey. Wait. What's this?” She said, holding up her palms and stepping back.

“Just do as we tell you and everything will be fine,” Whiskey said, stepping forward. “Don't make us use force.”

“What? What the hell has gotten into you two?” She shouted, continuing to backpedal. They kept pace with slow steps.

“We won't hesitate to kill you right here.” Whiskey took a step towards her. “You know too much.”

“What!? I don't know shit about you guys!” Her chest rose and fell with panicked breaths.

“I'm sorry. We must destroy you—” Hood cracked and Whiskey slipped into laughter.

“Destroy her? What the hell was that?” He bellowed.

She laughed nervously with them, putting one hand on her hips and running the other over the top of her head. Hood was doubled over with his hands on his knees, pistol in his right hand.

“You should've seen your face,” Whiskey said. “Such gold.”

Hood was a bit surprised Whiskey had run with the joke considering the situation, but it was good to hear him laugh. It had been awhile. At the least, it meant Whiskey was confident the situation was not outside their control.

“I thought you were going to cry,” Hood said, holding the back of his neck. “Ah, so worth it.”

“That's not funny!” She punched Hood in the arm. He grinned at her expense and walked to the back of the truck.