HOOD: A Post Apocalyptic Novel (American Rebirth Series Book 1) by Evan Pickering Page B
Authors: Evan Pickering
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said.
“Huh?” was all she could manage.
“I'm cutting the first rope so we can keep moving. Get down so it doesn't snap and hit you.”
She leaned over awkwardly close to the seat. Hood pulled out a hunting knife and sawed at the first rope. She could hear the faint plucking sound of the fibers being cut.
The rope snapped, the right side of the truck sinking a bit further down. It felt like it was inches from hurtling down into the river. The guardrail creaked, but the listing truck stayed in the air. Her hands shook uncontrollably, her vision narrowing to only what was straight ahead of her. She gripped the steering wheel as hard as she could manage, releasing pure unadulterated fear through locked muscles.
“Let's go,” Hood said. “Come on, quickly.”
She leaned up and pushed hard on the gas pedal. The engine roared and the car howled against the stone as it lurched again.
“Front wheel is close to the other side,” Whiskey said. “Almost home.”
A loud snap echoed across the open air and the truck listed even further.
“What's happening?” Kerry screamed.
“Shit, the guard rail is coming apart at the next strut. Gun it! Go now !” Hood shouted, slapping the roof of the truck. “GO!” he screamed
Whiskey cursed loudly.
Kerry stomped the pedal to the floor. The engine roared like an unchained beast. The screeching of metal against stone and the groaning rail combined into a horrible cacophony and she felt consumed by panic. The truck sagged and slid forward until a considerable bump shot the front of the truck up, but the back kicked out from against the wall and started to sink into the gaping chasm, ready to swallow her. The supplies slid loudly across the bed of the truck and thumped into the gate. She could feel the blood thumping behind her eyes as the windshield pointed up to the blue cloudy sky. With the RPM's redlined, the engine screaming and the pedal down, the smell of burning gaskets crept into the cabin. It's not gonna make it. It's falling in. Her stomach tried to hurl itself out of her throat. She could feel the truck sliding backwards as the front of the truck leaned up.
With a loud chirp and a lurch, the truck's front wheels gripped onto the broken maw of bridge. Bouncing this way and that, the back wheels hit something solid. The truck lurched and bounded forward, rumbling up and over onto flat ground. The tires screeched and a loud crack shot through the air. She drove a full twenty yards just to make sure she was far away from the bridge before turning the engine off. She dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel and tears of fear and relief slid down her face. A hollow clicking sound from the engine compartment slowed to a halt. The first sound from the outside world she heard was Whiskey and Hood clapping through the open window.
She looked up at the side-view mirror to see the rope was still attached to the truck, which was dragging a bent section of guardrail beside it.
Hood jogged over to the truck. “You got so excited to be free you took the goddamn bridge with ya.” He laughed. “I just hope the truck can still make it the rest of the way.”
She climbed out the window clumsily and shoved Hood with both hands after regaining her footing.
“Asshole!” she shouted. “You almost got me fucking killed!!”
“You're fine, right? Teamwork makes the dream work,” he said with a smile.
She wanted to slap his smile straight to hell. They’d put her life at risk for this. But she felt an intense satisfaction blooming up within her, knowing she had overcome something she feared so deeply. Whiskey reached out to shake her hand, grudging respect on his face. She looked at it and looked at him.
Whiskey held her gaze, his face calm. “Well done.”
She reached out and shook his hand.
“I don't know what your angle is in all of this, but you helped us out a lot here. That wasn't easy to do,” Whiskey said.
“Thanks. And you're welcome ,” she said with
“Huh?” was all she could manage.
“I'm cutting the first rope so we can keep moving. Get down so it doesn't snap and hit you.”
She leaned over awkwardly close to the seat. Hood pulled out a hunting knife and sawed at the first rope. She could hear the faint plucking sound of the fibers being cut.
The rope snapped, the right side of the truck sinking a bit further down. It felt like it was inches from hurtling down into the river. The guardrail creaked, but the listing truck stayed in the air. Her hands shook uncontrollably, her vision narrowing to only what was straight ahead of her. She gripped the steering wheel as hard as she could manage, releasing pure unadulterated fear through locked muscles.
“Let's go,” Hood said. “Come on, quickly.”
She leaned up and pushed hard on the gas pedal. The engine roared and the car howled against the stone as it lurched again.
“Front wheel is close to the other side,” Whiskey said. “Almost home.”
A loud snap echoed across the open air and the truck listed even further.
“What's happening?” Kerry screamed.
“Shit, the guard rail is coming apart at the next strut. Gun it! Go now !” Hood shouted, slapping the roof of the truck. “GO!” he screamed
Whiskey cursed loudly.
Kerry stomped the pedal to the floor. The engine roared like an unchained beast. The screeching of metal against stone and the groaning rail combined into a horrible cacophony and she felt consumed by panic. The truck sagged and slid forward until a considerable bump shot the front of the truck up, but the back kicked out from against the wall and started to sink into the gaping chasm, ready to swallow her. The supplies slid loudly across the bed of the truck and thumped into the gate. She could feel the blood thumping behind her eyes as the windshield pointed up to the blue cloudy sky. With the RPM's redlined, the engine screaming and the pedal down, the smell of burning gaskets crept into the cabin. It's not gonna make it. It's falling in. Her stomach tried to hurl itself out of her throat. She could feel the truck sliding backwards as the front of the truck leaned up.
With a loud chirp and a lurch, the truck's front wheels gripped onto the broken maw of bridge. Bouncing this way and that, the back wheels hit something solid. The truck lurched and bounded forward, rumbling up and over onto flat ground. The tires screeched and a loud crack shot through the air. She drove a full twenty yards just to make sure she was far away from the bridge before turning the engine off. She dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel and tears of fear and relief slid down her face. A hollow clicking sound from the engine compartment slowed to a halt. The first sound from the outside world she heard was Whiskey and Hood clapping through the open window.
She looked up at the side-view mirror to see the rope was still attached to the truck, which was dragging a bent section of guardrail beside it.
Hood jogged over to the truck. “You got so excited to be free you took the goddamn bridge with ya.” He laughed. “I just hope the truck can still make it the rest of the way.”
She climbed out the window clumsily and shoved Hood with both hands after regaining her footing.
“Asshole!” she shouted. “You almost got me fucking killed!!”
“You're fine, right? Teamwork makes the dream work,” he said with a smile.
She wanted to slap his smile straight to hell. They’d put her life at risk for this. But she felt an intense satisfaction blooming up within her, knowing she had overcome something she feared so deeply. Whiskey reached out to shake her hand, grudging respect on his face. She looked at it and looked at him.
Whiskey held her gaze, his face calm. “Well done.”
She reached out and shook his hand.
“I don't know what your angle is in all of this, but you helped us out a lot here. That wasn't easy to do,” Whiskey said.
“Thanks. And you're welcome ,” she said with
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