HOOD: A Post Apocalyptic Novel (American Rebirth Series Book 1) (28 page)

The walk seemed to take forever, every second an eternity.
Do whatever it takes. Say whatever you have to say. Just don't die here. Taylor, Whiskey, Kerry, they're alone if you die here.

Slowly, the woods opened up into a clearing among the trees, a bustling hub of Sons' soldiers. The three guardsmen ushered him past rows and rows of tents. This was a small army, complete with supply train.
If they're letting me see all this, this is either going to end badly, or really badly.
They brought him to a larger tent with its own area sectioned off naturally by the boughs of pine trees. Sitting on a tree stump was a barrel-chested, middle-aged black man wearing a plain white tee shirt tucked into his belted slacks, and a decorated military jacket on loosely over that. His eyes flashed up at Hood from behind rectangular silver rimmed glasses, his head and face closely shaven save for a goatee peppered with gray.

He leaned down to grab a metal pot that sat above a small fire, pouring the steamy black liquid into a plain coffee mug.

“I don't know what I'm going to do when we run out of coffee.” The man said, his voice soothing, almost fatherly. “That for me, will be the real doomsday, I think.”

Hood had no idea what to say, or what to make of this interaction.
You bring me here to talk about coffee?
He wanted to say.

The Crusader scrutinized him, blowing on his mug. “Not everyday some kid mows down some of the Kaiser's slavers.”

Hood shrugged. “Caught me on a bad day.”

The Crusader chuckled. “What's your name?”

“Hood.”

“That's your real name?”

“It's made of real letters, isn't it?” The words just seemed to flow out of him without thought.
Okay, I guess this is how I'm playing it.

The Crusader laughed.
Thank god.
“Alright then, Hood with real letters. Why did you kill them?”

“Because they deserved to die,” Hood said.

“Just making the world a better place, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“So what's the real reason?” his eyes searched for any hit of a lie.

“I'm looking for someone.”
Might as well tell the truth when lying won't do you any good.

The Crusader smiled, rubbing his thumb back and forth on his mug before taking a sip. “Aren't we all?”

Small birds chirped in the trees, and the cool wind blew evergreen air that swished through the pine needles.
Who are you looking for?
The Crusader measured his words.

“I think I know who you are, Hood.”

“Oh yeah?”

“We knew of this small group who was stealing from the Kaiser for some time down south. Had a knack for getting away with it. We considered contacting them to see if they wanted to work together. Earlier this month scouts told me the Kaiser had tracked them down and destroyed their town. I think I made a mistake by not offering them my protection. Caution getting the better of me.” The Crusader took another sip of coffee, profoundly at ease. “I think you are one of the survivors.”

“Why do you say that?” Hood said, keeping his face stoic.
Just chess pieces on a chessboard, huh? Son of a bitch.

“Call it a feeling,” The Crusader rested the coffee mug on his knee. “Not many survivors even try to oppose the Kaiser, those that do usually don't stay alive. And you seem to have a talent for staying alive.”

Hood scoffed. “Feels more like a talent for nearly getting myself killed.”
And getting people I care about killed.
Hood fought back a grimace.

“That's one way of seeing it.”A soldier carrying a message walked into the area. The Crusader gestured for the man to give it to him. The man handed it over, gave a tired salute and walked off. The Crusader's dark eyes scanned the message behind his silver glasses before he turned his attention back to Hood. “So. Who are you looking for?”

Taylor. Whiskey. Kerry. Ian? Yes, I want to find him. To kill him. Can you even bring yourself to pull the trigger? No, there's only one thing that matters now. Finding the others. Getting them the hell out of this mess.

“My sister.” Hood said, the words feeling heavier than he expected.
How could you do this to her, Ian? To me? To Mom and Dad?

“Was she taken by those slavers?”

“No. The Kaiser took her from Clearwater the day it was destroyed.”

“Ah.” A satisfied smile grew on the Crusader's face, accenting the creases around his eyes. “So I was right. You are one of the survivors. Good! So why did you seek out the slavers?”

“Following the trail of breadcrumbs. Trying to track down where the Kaiser is now.”

“To do what, exactly?”

“Get her out of there.”

“You think you can do that?”

“What, should I just lay down? Go start a new life somewhere? Leave her to die?”

The Crusader nodded as if he already expected Hood's sentiment, expecting it. “It is a rare sort of man that knows the stupidity, the impossibility of a task, and is yet compelled by the depth of his loyalty to undergo it anyway.”

“I think many would do the same.” Hood felt profoundly uncomfortable and confused by the scope and intent of the compliment.
What is your game?

“Some? Yes. Many? No.”

Hood itched the side of his head with both cuffed hands. The Crusader's guardsmen brought their rifles to sight on Hood when he moved.

“Easy. . .” The Crusader raised a hand to his soldiers. They lowered their rifles. “This young man means us no harm.” He rose to his feet, moving slowly beside the small fire. “I think God is giving me a chance to redeem myself for the destruction of your brave town.” He cocked his head. “Either that, or you are the Devil's own weapon on earth. Either way, I'd be in poor judgment to overlook you for a second time.”

The smell of poorly seasoned food being cooked wafted over from the camp. Hood's stomach groaned in desire. He lifted his cuffed hands, gesturing with them slightly. “Well, I know when a choice isn't mine to make.”

He smiled at Hood, drinking his coffee. “I think even if you came to us as a free man, you'd see the wisdom in working together. After all, we have the same enemy.”

It still didn't seem possible, that Ian, his Ian, was on one side of a war for the remnants of a destroyed country. I don't think you all understand. I've seen him throw up. I've played Contra with him. We could never get past the fourth level without cheat codes. I've seen him stub his toe, I broke his finger playing dodgeball. Hood wanted to shake the thoughts out of his head. I guess Stalin once cried to his mom and played with toys. It just doesn't make sense. Wake up bro. Wake the fuck up. That's not who you are.

But it was. This was reality. “What do you want from me?” Hood said with as much calm as he could muster. Fatigue started to overtake the adrenaline. His wounds ached, his muscles sore.

“You've set some things into motion, killing those slavers. Surely their death will draw the Kaiser's attention to this area. And as you can imagine, we've gone to great lengths to try and keep the fact that we are this far south away from him as long as possible. . .”

If I know Ian, he knows you’re here.
Hood worked his mouth.
Kid could stare down a needle to the eye just to win a bet.
Not that Hood could say a word of that to the Crusader, though. If he knew Hood's connection to the Kaiser, this could get real ugly.

“. . .There is something I think you are well suited for. And if we want the plan to work, we need someone like yourself that has no known connection to us. You have forced our hand into doing this now. Only fitting you should be a part of it.” He finished his coffee, placing his mug on a gray rock beside the fire. “Oversee a country as long as I have, you notice the patterns in the weave that stand out. The uncanny coincidences. You learn not to ignore them.”

This guy sure loves to hear himself talk.
Hood met the Crusader's easy gaze.
I can't deny the air of greatness that surrounds him, though. You'd be dumb to underestimate him. Or to take him at face value.

“How will you help me get my sister back?”

“Talk to Gene. He will accompany you. Do what he says, prove yourself worthy to him, and we will afford you the rights of our own. And you will get the chance to track down your sister.”

You clearly don't mind taking advantage of your leverage, huh?
It felt just as likely that he'd kill Hood, if the task he was about to undertake wasn't already a suicide mission.
Not like I have much choice. Who knows, maybe he truly is testing you, trying to enlist you in his war.
“What's your name, by the way?”

“Crusader. Spelled with real letters.” He wore a wry smile. “Richard. Richard Leone. You could ask anyone that. Life has not granted me the anonymity it has given you.” His tone carried the faintest hint of longing for a simpler life.

“Grass is always greener, huh?” The Crusader met Hood's gaze, a knowing, piercing look, before he pulled open the flap to his tent and stepped inside.

One of the guardsman walked Hood back through the quiet bustle of the woodland camp to a folding table outside an open row of tents. Gene and other members of the 21st sat around it wrapped up in their own discussions while eating hot food, a few of them rolling dice and cursing their luck. Gene rose out of his seat at the sight of Hood, moving to talk to the Guardsman, who relayed a message before he turned and walked away.

“Well.” Gene said, green eyes beneath bushy eyebrows. “I had a feeling I'd see you again.”

Hood nodded towards the food. “Any chance I can get some of that?”

Gene smirked. “Yeah, of course.” He moved to one of the tents where a cook doled something out into a metal bowl and dropped a hunk of something onto a beaten plate. Gene walked back, setting it in front of Hood.

“Stewed vegetables and salted meat,” Gene said as if it were filet mignon. Hood climbed into a seat beside the other soldiers who shot conspicuously skeptical glances at him. “You're going to want to soak the meat in the stew. Damn near inedible if you don't.”

“You ask me Captain, that's throwing good meat after bad.” One soldier said with a toothy grin. The soldier beside him roared. Hood sank his teeth into the meat after he dipped it in the bowl. Even with his hands cuffed he stuffed the food down ravenously.
Slow down. You're going to choke.
How long had it been since he had a hot meal? Even one as tasteless as this felt like heaven.

“So what Cap, is Bad Meat a part of the 21st now or somethin'?” One soldier said through a thinly rolled cigarette as he pulled off his boots.

“That remains to be seen.” Gene said. Hood could feel their eyes on him, but he didn't care.
This might be your future. This might be your only way to get Taylor, Kerry and Whiskey back. The Crusader had a point. It was damn near impossible to try to undertake this on my own. If it means pledging myself to fight for the Sons to get them free, I'll do it.

Hood put the spoon down into the empty bowl, feeling rejuvenated. The soldier across from him with grease lines on his scruffy face kept him in a cold stare. “The fuck you lookin' at?” The man barked.

Hood ignored him, looking up at Gene, expressionless.

“If you're done, come with me,” Gene directed to Hood, nodding away from the camp. “J.R. is acting command of the unit while I'm gone,” He said loudly to the nearby members of the 21st.

“Where you goin'?” One soldier asked. Hood noticed that Gene was carrying Hood's backpack along with one of his own as the two of them walked together towards the treeline.

“Hey, keep 'em forward Cap!” another member of the 21st hollered at Gene.

“Keep 'em forward.” He called back over his shoulder.

Chapter 17 – Wayward

The two of them stood alone on the wooded hill outside the camp. Gene approached him, producing a key to unlock his handcuffs.

“Didn't feel right putting bracelets on a man willing to fight the Kaiser's meat-eaters all by his lonesome. But I had to protect my men.”

Hood scrutinized Gene's face. He looked unaffected, if not time-worried, as he untied his red armband and hung it up on a tree.

“What is this?” Hood said flatly, regarding the situation in it's entirety.

“I'll just lay it out there. Don't really have time for the long form. The Kaiser shuttled a refugee right past the slavers’ den to a way station on the route to his stronghold in Greenridge University. He rarely does that. But when he does, it’s usually an important slave, one that the Kaiser himself wants. Usually women. Pretty ones. He took this one right from the U.N. camp not long ago.”

Kerry. Hood thought. It has to be Kerry.
“How do you know all this?”

“We've been watching them for a long time. Since way before we mobilized down here. Any good officer knows information wins wars.”

“So you just let them hang around, buying and selling people, cutting 'em up for meat.” Hood said, unable to hide his disgust.
This is not a productive line of inquiry.