HOOD: A Post Apocalyptic Novel (American Rebirth Series Book 1) (37 page)

He felt panic grip him.
You can't let him get away.
A supply box sat beside the rifle. Hood fell to one knee and pulled it open with his left hand. Extra rounds and three grenades sat inside.
Hood's blood raced.

The truck started up, slowly moving towards the east exit of the campus. Hood didn’t think twice. He placed a grenade in his right hand and pulled the pin, which clinked as it hit the floor.
This is the last thing you have to do, so give it everything you’ve got.

Hood leaned back, gripping the grenade, the broken bones grinding in his hand. He swung with all his weight, hurling the grenade high into the air towards the eastern exit. He collapsed against the wall of the balcony, staring at the grenade as it arced through the blue sky. Ian's truck was nearing the exit.

Chills rushed through Hood’s body.
Come on.

His mind was empty as he watched it fly.
Come on!

The grenade hit the concrete and bounced to a stop, right in front of the truck. The tires squealed as Ian slammed on the brakes. But the truck went skidding and swerving right over the grenade.

A beautiful, towering burst of fire and metal exploded into the air.
He slumped down, back against the wall, exhaling softly. The rush of victory was tinged with regret.
All I ever wanted was to live in peace.
Hood managed a weak smile.

Clearly I'm pretty bad at it.

His eyes closed of their own accord.

♦ ♦ ♦

“Hey!” Came a familiar gruff voice. “Wake up.”

Whiskey?

“Hood, come on!”

A stinging in his cheek pulled Hood back into reality.
Did you just slap me?
The blurry world slowly came into focus. He was still sitting on the balcony. He remembered everything suddenly. I killed him.
I hope you can forgive me, Mom and Dad. I've killed so many people. I never wanted any of this.
Whiskey and Taylor sat crouched in front of him. Taylor's eyes were filled with tears, her hand over mouth. Her heart shaped face looked more gaunt than he remembered, her hair bound back and her clothes in sore need of wash. The sight of her face, here, now, made his heart soar.
Is this real? Am I alive?
Whiskey looked unscathed, relatively speaking. His face was creased with concern.

“Don't cry, Tay.” Hood said with a labored breath. “We're free.”

She sobbed, hugging him fiercely.

“Come on, kid. We're gettin' out of here.” Whiskey hoisted him up and hung him over his shoulder. He smelled of sweat and gunpowder. The world flipped upside down, the blood rushing to his head. His chest screamed with every step.

Hood grunted in pain. “Easy, you fucker. Eveything hurts.” He wheezed.

Whiskey hustled down a fire escape. Hood's body started to feel numb and tingly. He reached out for Taylor with his left hand. She took it, following behind him.

“It's good to see you again sis.” Hood said quietly. “I didn't think. . .”

“Shh, don't talk, you idiot!”

“I had to kill him, Tay. I didn't want to.” Hood said, his head swimming. She nodded back at him, kissing his hand.

He was pretty damned sure he was going to die.

Just a little more time. I want just a few more days. A few more days to be free with my family. Is that too much to ask?

Whiskey carried him off the campus and into the foothills towards the Appalachians not far from the campus. Hood couldn't shake a deep feeling of regret that he would be leaving them on their own.

“Put me down, big guy.” Hood whispered.

Carefully, Whiskey set him down on his feet on the wet grass. Hood hung his arm around Whiskey's shoulder, motioning for them to walk towards the wooded mountainside. He shambled forward, each step a labor.

“I don't think a hot iron is gonna cut it this time,” Hood said, coughing.

Whiskey let out a choked laugh. He was crying silently. “Just hang in there, kid.”

Hood felt as though he was floating, as if his consciousness swam in and out of his body. He looked up at the swaying branches and thick trunks of the oaks where the forest began.

“I'm scared, Whiskey.”

Whiskey's grip on Hood's shoulder tightened. “I'm always scared. You're gonna be alright.”

God, or whatever, and all the people who died, if you can hear me . . . I never wanted to kill anyone. I'm sorry for that.

“Robbie. Please, stay with me. I won't let you go,” Taylor said, her teary gaze meeting his. He smiled at her.

“I'm glad you're okay, sis.” Hood’s breath caught.

The three of them moved slowly to the first tree they saw, a tall yew with great enveloping branches that hung low. Hood nodded at it, dropping down to recline against a thick cord of its trunk. He winced.

“Lift up your shirt. We have to patch you up.” Taylor reached for his Hoodie. Hood put his hand on hers, shaking his head slowly. He patted the grass beside him, motioning for her to sit. Taylor looked up to Whiskey, searching for support. Whiskey cast her a loving, yet strangely forlorn glance. The two of them sat down beside him.

There's so much more I want to do. I'm not ready for this.

His body tensed, fighting instinctively to survive. His mind raced back through the memories of his life: lying in his backyard looking up at the sky as a young man. Sledding down steep hills with Ian and Taylor while Dad watched over them. Billy and Lucky getting so drunk they reenacted a Street Fighter match on the lawn. The feeling of adventure he got the first time playing a RPG early Easter morning before church. The awkward, passionate first time having sex with his high school girlfriend. He saw Kerry, her head lying on his chest as they slept, columns of light coming into the room through open windows.
I loved you. I hope you know that. If we had met in a time where we didn't have to fight to survive every day. . .
His eyes welled up.
Why the fuck did this have to happen to me?

He wanted to hold on to the memories, find a golden moment that somehow represented his entire life.
Stop. Just let it all go. You're with your family again. Are you going to die reminiscing about the past?

Whiskey and Taylor looked at each other, then out at the university and the countryside, eyes red.
I brought them back together. I fought and killed and I don't know if it was right or wrong, but I don't care. It was all worth it.

He felt a weight lift off him, and breathed more slowly now. He remembered sitting in the passenger seat as he and Whiskey drove down the countryside.
He never did get my jokes.
A smile crept on Hood's face.

He leaned over towards Whiskey. “He tried to destroy the ring.” Hood said it just above a whisper.

Whiskey's brow furrowed. “What?”

“The joke. How did the Hobbit ruin the boxing match? He tried to destroy the ring. Remember?” He managed a smile.

Whiskey breathed in a shuddering breath, bowing his head.

“God damn it, kid.”

“Worth the wait, wasn't it?” Hood whispered, still smiling.

“I won't lose you again,” Whiskey said, tears rolling down his face.

Taylor stood up quickly, walking a few paces and wheeling around to face Hood.

“Get the fuck up. I wont
let
you die. If I have to carry you myself, I will!” She shouted, her eyes wet with tears.

“Where you gonna carry me? There's nothing you can do, sis.” Hood looked up to meet her gaze of desperation and love. “But I'm glad you haven't lost your fire.”

“Rob. . .”

“It's okay, Tay. I love you. I love you both. Don't be weighed down like I was.”

Whiskey stood up, enveloping Taylor in his arms. The vision of seeing them hold each other even just one more time brought the sting of tears to his eyes.

We did it, Whiskey.

The two of them came to sit by Hood once more.

He looked out over the empty campus, the sprawling countryside rimmed with trees, the beautiful, blue sky with the radiant sun trying to burst through a thick band of clouds. The wind blew strong, the mountain air smelling of pine. The sound of thousands of leaves swishing against each other was a fitting dirge. Mosquitoes began to buzz around his head.

“It's still beautiful,” Hood said quietly.

“What is?” Whiskey asked, looking over at him.

“Everything.” Hood glanced at him, his vision narrowing, then back at the open expanse. He breathed the cool air into his lungs, the pain starting to fade. He wanted to hold on to the moment forever; it was so exquisite, so simple. He felt a heavy sleep pulling at his eyes, and his head dropped back against the trunk of the yew.

I'll see you again someday.

Chapter 20 – The Lion and The Legacy

Whiskey grunted, hoisting himself up onto the mossy rock shelf. He pulled himself to his feet, arching his sore back. He wiped his brow with the back of his wrist, knowing it was an exercise in futility.

He turned around, getting down on one knee and holding out his hand.

Taylor got a running start up the patchy hill, bounded nimbly off the rock face in one step and grabbed onto his hand. She walked up the wall as he pulled her. At the top, she stood up, wiping her hands off on her jeans.

The two of them turned to face the scene below, the setting sun casting it's glow upon the valley from west of them.

“Well, that's a view,” Taylor said, sighing.

Whiskey chuckled. “Yeah.”

In the distant valley below, what had once been a city lay in ruins, the jagged corpses of sheared buildings resting among mountainous rubble and upheaved earth. A raised highway lay collapsed among the quiet suburbs nearby, huge beams of metal sticking out of the tarmac like bent whiskers.

“Do you think we'll ever rebuild back to where we were?” Taylor asked, taking a sip of water from a bottle, the sound of the water sloshing as she pulled it away.

“Eventually, yeah.” Whiskey said. “For all that's worth.”

Taylor wasted no time in moving ahead, following along the crest of the rock wall, hopping down to meet the worn rut of a trail that was besieged by encroaching flora.

Whiskey followed her, easing himself down onto the trail. A hanging canopy of maple hung over the west side of the path, the east a sloping grassy hill with a view down into the valley. Taylor was outpacing him badly. The air seemed warmer and heavier than normal. He pulled a bandanna out of his pocket and wiped his forehead.
I bet you'd have some smart ass thing to say, wouldn't you, Hood?

He kept his eyes on Taylor's fit figure as she moved easily through the brush. He followed behind, feeling sluggish.
I should'a gone with him. I let him do it. He gave himself for us.

Whiskey ran his hand over his shaggy, overgrown hair. He clenched his jaw, looking at the broken city.
He knew what he was doin'. He knew he'd die doin' it.

He bowed his head, closing his eyes.
How many people's lives did he save? How many people will never even know what he did?

He raised his head suddenly, inhaling through his nose. It sent calm waves through his chest.
I’ll know. We will. We'll never forget you, kid.

Taylor had doubled back and was standing still some feet away, waiting.

He glanced away.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he said. “Just need a breather.”

She moved closer, the tall grass swishing against her legs. “Hey. Look at me.”

He hesitated.

Her face was calm, but determined.
Damn, is she beautiful.

“Speak, dummy.”

“I just. . .” Whiskey bit off his words.
You are some piece of work, needin' her for support. This is all sideways. She lost her brother. You should be there for her.

“I just can't believe he's gone. I keep runnin' through it in my mind. There must have been something I could've done, something . . .” His eyes welled up. “It just ain't right.”

Taylor strode over to him, reaching up to give him a quick kiss. Her lips were soft on his.

“I miss him too.” She said it with a smile, though her expression indicated regret. “But I know what he wants. He wants us to be free, to live on, and above all, to be happy.”

Whiskey nodded slowly.
It should'a been me. In the back of my mind, I knew what he was doin', but I kept thinking, whatever it takes. Whatever it takes to get her back. But the kid. . .
Whiskey dug his fingernails into his palms
. He deserved something better than this.

“Would you like me to get you some soup for you to cry into?” Taylor said, sporting an absurd frown.

Whiskey laughed loudly, wiping his face with his right hand.