Read Online HOOD: A Post Apocalyptic Novel (American Rebirth Series Book 1) by Evan Pickering - Free Book Online
Authors: Evan Pickering
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looked over at Whiskey, who still stared straight ahead. Hood shook his head with a disbelieving grin at the absurdity of it all. Whiskey looked trapped in his own thoughts.
“This is fucking crazy.” Hood focused on the arc of the headlights cutting a path into the darkness, illuminating the leaf-covered road. “But it could be worse.”
Whiskey snorted. “How do you figure?”
“It could have been Lucky who rescued me.” Laughter started to well up in Hood. It was all wrong. He didn't want to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to burn away the memories of the crew that were stuck in the forefront of his mind, memories he wanted to hold on to, memories that brought the pain of knowing so many people he loved had died so suddenly. “In which case he'd be sitting there right now, swearing up and down about how he once saw a smokin' hot babe dragging a dog with no legs around on a leash.”
Whiskey's laugh was deep and unexpected, still focused on the road. “How could you even say something like that?”
Because that is who he was. Hood closed his eyes. They all deserved to live long lives, and they're dead. The Kaiser kept me alive, like I deserved it and they didn't. I wanted to run away from reality, wanted to pretend I didn't have to kill, wanted to pretend we could take and take and take and no retribution would come.
Whiskey itched his elbow, hand on the wheel. He wore a faint, melancholy smile and his eyes looked far away. “Every goddamned story he somehow works a smokin' hot babe into. He could be talking about his grandpa's funeral and he'd start with how this smokin' hot babe served him coffee, or instead of a pastor there was a smokin' hot babe givin' the sermon.”
“So dis' one chick, she takes me home to her parents’ house, and I swear, she wants me to read her a bedtime story while we’re doin' it, so I'm like, OKAY.” Hood mocked, gesturing excessively with his hands and pretending to smoke a cigarette.
Whiskey bellowed, holding his wrist in front of his mouth. “I don't know what's worse, If he made that story up, or if he didn't.”
“That fucking kid,” Hood was unable to stop himself from smiling. What the hell would Lucky say to him now? He knew exactly what he'd say: Yeah, real great, Rob. Keep mopin' and feelin' bad. You're a real piece of shit for survivin' in this fucked up world. Or maybe, you should find that punk ass Kaiser and make him a fuckin' cheese grater for me. Maybe you should find some sweet thing and ride her into the sunset. I know you're one of those one woman dudes. You're one of those penny loafer dads. That's cool. But I'll be fucked if I got lit up just to see you sit around and feel bad.
The laughter died down and the only sound to fill the cab was the hum of the engine. Hood bowed his head, his hands resting just below his knees. How many people has the Kaiser done this to?
“We have to kill him,” Hood stated. “Or this will never stop.”
Whiskey clicked his tongue.
“There will always be people like the Kaiser. We got only one thing to do. Get Taylor back.”
“Yeah, of course,” Hood said. His jaw was set so hard his teeth started to ache. He worked his mouth, trying to relax.
“We'll be lucky if we don't die just trying to save her. It's only us, here. We're not saviors or revolutionaries, kid.”
I don't want to be either. I just want to live in peace with the people I love. The people I have left.
Hood reached up and grabbed the roof handle by the door. The truck had begun to shake again as it rumbled down the broken road. Whiskey rolled down the window and spat. The cold night air whistled into the cab. It smelled like dirt and ash. In the dark the emptiness around the road seemed to go on forever. I lost everyone I knew in my old life. But in my mind they could still possibly be alive out there. I didn't have to see their bodies.
A loud bang reverberated through the truck, and the front right side sagged considerably. Whiskey
“This is fucking crazy.” Hood focused on the arc of the headlights cutting a path into the darkness, illuminating the leaf-covered road. “But it could be worse.”
Whiskey snorted. “How do you figure?”
“It could have been Lucky who rescued me.” Laughter started to well up in Hood. It was all wrong. He didn't want to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to burn away the memories of the crew that were stuck in the forefront of his mind, memories he wanted to hold on to, memories that brought the pain of knowing so many people he loved had died so suddenly. “In which case he'd be sitting there right now, swearing up and down about how he once saw a smokin' hot babe dragging a dog with no legs around on a leash.”
Whiskey's laugh was deep and unexpected, still focused on the road. “How could you even say something like that?”
Because that is who he was. Hood closed his eyes. They all deserved to live long lives, and they're dead. The Kaiser kept me alive, like I deserved it and they didn't. I wanted to run away from reality, wanted to pretend I didn't have to kill, wanted to pretend we could take and take and take and no retribution would come.
Whiskey itched his elbow, hand on the wheel. He wore a faint, melancholy smile and his eyes looked far away. “Every goddamned story he somehow works a smokin' hot babe into. He could be talking about his grandpa's funeral and he'd start with how this smokin' hot babe served him coffee, or instead of a pastor there was a smokin' hot babe givin' the sermon.”
“So dis' one chick, she takes me home to her parents’ house, and I swear, she wants me to read her a bedtime story while we’re doin' it, so I'm like, OKAY.” Hood mocked, gesturing excessively with his hands and pretending to smoke a cigarette.
Whiskey bellowed, holding his wrist in front of his mouth. “I don't know what's worse, If he made that story up, or if he didn't.”
“That fucking kid,” Hood was unable to stop himself from smiling. What the hell would Lucky say to him now? He knew exactly what he'd say: Yeah, real great, Rob. Keep mopin' and feelin' bad. You're a real piece of shit for survivin' in this fucked up world. Or maybe, you should find that punk ass Kaiser and make him a fuckin' cheese grater for me. Maybe you should find some sweet thing and ride her into the sunset. I know you're one of those one woman dudes. You're one of those penny loafer dads. That's cool. But I'll be fucked if I got lit up just to see you sit around and feel bad.
The laughter died down and the only sound to fill the cab was the hum of the engine. Hood bowed his head, his hands resting just below his knees. How many people has the Kaiser done this to?
“We have to kill him,” Hood stated. “Or this will never stop.”
Whiskey clicked his tongue.
“There will always be people like the Kaiser. We got only one thing to do. Get Taylor back.”
“Yeah, of course,” Hood said. His jaw was set so hard his teeth started to ache. He worked his mouth, trying to relax.
“We'll be lucky if we don't die just trying to save her. It's only us, here. We're not saviors or revolutionaries, kid.”
I don't want to be either. I just want to live in peace with the people I love. The people I have left.
Hood reached up and grabbed the roof handle by the door. The truck had begun to shake again as it rumbled down the broken road. Whiskey rolled down the window and spat. The cold night air whistled into the cab. It smelled like dirt and ash. In the dark the emptiness around the road seemed to go on forever. I lost everyone I knew in my old life. But in my mind they could still possibly be alive out there. I didn't have to see their bodies.
A loud bang reverberated through the truck, and the front right side sagged considerably. Whiskey
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