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

HOOD: A Post Apocalyptic Novel (American Rebirth Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Book: HOOD: A Post Apocalyptic Novel (American Rebirth Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF
Author: Evan Pickering
Tags: Science-Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, post apocalyptic, Dystopian
clicked as it fell onto the stone floor.
    “How much have you seen out there?” Hood asked the man.
    He wiped his mouth of cracker crumbs. “You boys haven't had much contact with the outside world, huh?”
    “Not much. We try to keep it that way,” Hood said.
    The man chuckled. “Smart thinkin'. It's all gone. I seen a man's arm fall clean off from the radiation, but the biological shit that tore through the cities was the real nightmare. If you was lucky it killed you, and didn't turn you into an animal while you was still alive.”
    Hood and Whiskey exchanged a glance. Whiskey's face seemed to express some doubt. Maybe he didn't want to believe it was true. But it lined up with what Hood had read in the dead man's journal.
    “You two got any alcohol?”
    “No,” Whiskey snapped.
    “It's for my leg. I need to clean it.”
    Hood looked at Whiskey, nodding towards the man. Whiskey breathed deeply in annoyance, reached into his cargo jacket and produced a flask, handing it to the man.
    He poured it onto a sizable gouge in his thigh, then took a swig, grimacing. He handed it back, then tore off his sleeve and tied it around the wound, baring his teeth as he worked.
    Whiskey nodded at the man's pistol in his hand. “Keep the dirt out of the magazine, and keep the barrel clean next time.”
    The man looked up at Whiskey inquisitively. “You sure you ain't angels?”
    “No. I'm keeping it. Consider it payment.” Whiskey put away the pistol. “For your life.”
    “I'm dead without it,” The man said simply.
    “Or you can die right now,” Whiskey replied, holding the man's gaze. The man clearly deliberated saying something, but decided against it.
    “Thanks for the food,” The man said eventually as he stood up, favoring his wounded right leg.
    “Where are you gonna go?” Hood asked. The cool gust of wind through the broken window felt relaxing and unsettling all at once.
    “West. Someplace in Colorado. I've heard rumors it's better out there.”
    “Colorado, huh.” Whiskey looked ready to see the man gone.
    “Col-o-ra-do,” he repeated, limping past them down the aisle.
    Hood looked around the desolate church, ransacked of everything but prayer books and Bibles in the pews. Whiskey followed the man closely behind, shotgun still raised. The man pushed his way out the front door. Whiskey followed him. Hood turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing lightly.
    The sun still shone strong. Their truck sat still and undisturbed. The man whistled at it.
    “Damn, you boys don't mess around. Where'd you get all that cargo?”
    Whiskey glowered at him.
    “Never mind. Shit. You sure you don't need someone to help you with all that?”
    “I thought you've got Colorado,” Whiskey replied, scrutinizing the man from under his intimidating eyebrows. They could damn near scowl on their own.
    “Right, well, yeah. Right.”
    “You gonna limp all the way there?” Whiskey didn't hide his doubt well.
    “No, I'll catch a ride. I'll get some beater up and running,” The man said. “Was a mechanic, once upon a time.”
    “Good luck,” Hood said plainly.
    “Name’s Donte. I'm thinking I won't see you two again. You sure I can't get that shooter back?” The man asked Whiskey directly.
    He shook his head slowly in response.
    “All right.” The man turned, his gaze lingering on the two of them before hobbling over the small bridge heading west. Hood and Whiskey watched him as he walked out of sight.
    “Something's not right about him.” Whiskey turned back to the truck, putting the man's pistol in the center of the seats.
    “Why do you say that?” Hood walked around to the passenger side, putting the rifle down against the seat and climbing in.
    “I just have that feeling,” Whiskey said. The truck started with a whine and a rumble.
    “It's because he's black. You're racist.”
    “Don't be an ass.”
    “It's okay to admit it. Lots of people are racist,” Hood quipped, unable to hide his grin.
    “It's
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