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

the weight out of this thing.”
    Whiskey pulled a bandanna out of his police-issue flak jacket and wiped his forehead. “Hate to break it to you kid, but two barrels of gas ain't gonna change a thing if the ropes don't hold.”
    She turned around to the driver's side window, unaware that Hood had already reached inside and looped the wrist-thick ropes through the driver's side window, then out the back window of the cab. He tied them tight around the guardrail twice. The ropes bound the truck to the guardrail and would slide along the railing as the truck moved forward, holding the truck upright when crossing the chasm. That was the plan, anyway.
    “Welcome to Air Guardrail. This is your captain speaking.” Hood spoke into an invisible walkie-talkie, standing on the bridge wall. “Here at Air Guardrail, we take the utmost precaution to ensure that our passengers don't fall into a chasm and explode.”
    “Stop acting like this isn't a big deal. This is a big deal,” Kerry said. She wiped her palms on her jeans, but they kept sweating profusely.
    “Relax, you'll be fine,” Hood said. “I promise I'll hold your hand the whole way.”
    “Really?” She said, somewhat bewildered.
    “No.” He shook his head with an eccentric frown. “We good back there, Whiskey?”
    “All set,” he replied. He was crouched down on the opposite side of the bridge with an automatic rifle in hand, looking at the truck. “You've got about a foot until the front wheel is off the ground.”
    “All right, sister,” Hood said. “Hit it.”
    She sat still. “That's it? There isn't anything more to do to prepare?” Her heart felt like it had jammed itself up into her throat, trying to leap out of her body and run away from this mess. This is going to work. It's just a short distance. They value this truck too much to let it just fall in. Her mind pleaded with reason, but all she could envision was the weight falling out from underneath her, the truck tumbling down, her head hitting the ceiling. . . Her body tingled in the anticipation of weightlessness.
    Hood shook his head. He sat down on the rail so he could look at her.
    “Showtime.”
    She put her foot on the gas pedal but couldn't make herself push down. The engine hummed quietly. She stared out the windshield at the broken expanse of nothing, where most of a bridge should be in front of her. Her heart was already beating out of control, just imagining the truck moving forward. Again and again she felt the terror as the truck rolled down through the chasm to the river below, so real as if it were actually happening.
    “I can't do it.” She closed her eyes. Why would they make her do this? It was a living nightmare, and she knew how her nightmares ended. Whatever they needed her to do, she could do. Just not this.
    She'd taken a liking to Hood, and understood Whiskey's paranoia. He even seemed to hate her a little less now. Not that it mattered. She had to prove herself to them; she didn't have any other choice.
    Hood stood up, climbed into the bed of the truck, opened the passenger door and swung in to sit next to her.
    “Here. Let me help.” He put his hand on her knee and jammed down on the gas pedal. An ear-piercing screech of stone wall against the paneling of the truck rang out as it lurched forward, noticeably listing to the front right side. She inhaled sharply, hands vice-gripped on the steering wheel.
    Please, please just let me make it through this in one piece , she pleaded with whatever god would listen. She hated Hood for forcing her to do this, but at least he was trying to help her. Having him in the cab with her was reassuring, knowing he was risking his life with hers. If only he would stay there.
    “Wheel is in the air!” Whiskey shouted. “Maybe take it easier next time.”
    “Yeah, I got that.” Kerry glared at Hood.
    “See?” He raised his hands with a smile. “Fine and dandy. Just keep your eyes ahead, on solid ground. Focus on where you're going,