American Rebirth: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel: American Rebirth, #3

Prologue - No Escape

Somewhere in the Ozark Mountains, Unclaimed Territory, Formerly Arkansas

The rain came pelting through the trees, barely illuminated in the fading daylight. Jacob slipped on the wet stone, reaching out to brace his fall to the mossy earth. He tumbled hard to the ground and leapt to his feet, ignoring the mud dripping off his face and the burning sting of his torn-up palms.

Don’t stop. Don’t look behind you.You have to make it back to Austin. They need to know what’s going on here.

Jacob’s breath caught in his lungs, but he pushed forward as his heart screamed in his chest. He could feel the footsteps around him, the dark figures lurking in the mountain woods nearby.

Laurie, I want to see your face one more time. I want to feel you in my arms.

He banished the thoughts from his mind. Don’t think like that. You have to make it out of here. But all he could see was her soft features, blue eyes and those dimples when she smiled. You must make it out. The Returners need to know what’s happening here.

He collided with a tree, bouncing off the wet bark and struggling to keep his balance as his shoes slipped on the slick earth. A crossbow bolt flicked through the dark canopy of the trees, skittering through the leaves some distance away. Another thunked into a tree behind him.

Jacob knew now why none of the other scouts had ever made it back. This isn’t just fanaticism. This is pure evil. No one is safe from this madness. His father’s words resonated in his mind. If you’re being chased by the devil, don’t turn around. It was supposed to be a figure of speech.

His father was a military man. One of the many Returners King Daryn exiled when they would not embrace him as the King of the Sons of Liberty. His father had trained him in recon. Jacob knew he was an excellent scout. He was fast, quiet, had good discretion on just how far he could probe into enemy territory without risking being seen.

But the Cardinals had lured even him in to their Mountain haven. They had been watching him the whole time. The crazed dark figures very nearly took him down, taking him by surprise.

I don’t know what they did to those… people. Jacob raged against the fear in his mind that there would be no escape. All he had to do was make it to the foothills. His dirtbike was hidden there. His legs screamed at him, but there was no stopping.

Jacob sprinted across the rope bridge over the chasm, heedless of the swaying ropes or the creaking boards beneath his feet. Even on the other side, he saw the dark figures drop out of the trees, rising menacingly to their feet, coming for him.

Is there no sane part of the world left?

The mad desperation in his heart only pushed him further. If I can just get past this ridge, I’ll have cover. I’m almost there.

Pain exploded under his collarbone. Jacob nearly tripped, collapsing to one knee. He looked down and saw the sinister bloodied broadhead sticking out of his body.

Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop. You’re almost there. He pushed himself to his feet, grinding his teeth together. Every step sent excruciating pain throughout his body.

Another explosion of pain between his ribs. Jacob fell to his knees. His hands trembling as he wrapped them gently around the black shaft of the bolt in his torso, the blood-covered broadhead sticking out of him.

No, it can’t end like this. Come on, get up. Get up, you asshole.

Jacob tried to rise, but his lungs struggled to pull air. He forced himself to his feet.

For Laurie. She has to know. No one is safe against this madness.

His vision narrowed. When he looked up, he was surrounded by the dark-clothed figures. They formed a silent circle around him, staring at him with fiery, almost inhuman intensity. What have they done to you?

They parted as a man well-outfitted in simple military gear stepped towards Jacob. He had a gleaming cross key medallion, and though he was plainly dressed in survival gear there was a certain reverence the others seemed to pay him. Blond hair, strong jawline, blue eyes that met Jacob’s. He looked at him with pity. Or was it… remorse? He didn’t care. All he could think about was Laurie. God I’d give everything to hold you again. Stay away from here. Don’t come looking for me.

He was alone, Cardinal Lacland. A Returner scout, A nearby Templar said to the man in front of Jacob.

Lacland…where do I know that name? It made him think of the first war his father had fought in with the Sons, long before the succession and exile. Jacob was just a boy, then. He remembered his childhood, the good days before his mother died, when the Crusader was king, before Daryn took power. Back when the Sons were something he and his father were fiercely proud of. His mind raced through the salient memories of his life, his first day of training, drinking with his friends in the academy, the love on his mother’s face, the days in bed with Laurie.

God, I don’t want to die. Not now. Not like this.

How can you live with yourself with what you’ve done here? Jacob raged, tasting the blood on his teeth. He spat at the Cardinal. You’re the damn devil. You may kill me, but someone will find you.

Cardinal Lacland did not break his placid gaze with Jacob, quietly appraising the bleeding man. Rain dripped off his face. The devil is in all of us. He said simply, lifted his handgun and fired in one motion.

His eyes lingered on the dead man for a moment before turning away. The dark figures descended on the body.

Chapter 1 - Campfire

Pine Bluff Forest, Territory of the Federation of Texas, Formerly Arkansas

The Church of the Redemption soldier shoved Hood violently, laughing at him in the glow of the campfire. Hood twisted his body enough to land on his side, stirring up a cloud of dirt and ash with a dull pain in his shoulder. Ow. All I want is five minutes. Five minutes without one of these assholes shooting me. The sky above him was dark, but growing bluer with the predawn light. Robin’s wrists burned from the rough rope binding them, hands tied behind his back. The campfire beside him crackled and hissed, radiating heat. There was something oddly comforting about the smell of burning wood, cooking meat and fresh pine washing over him in the cool air. Memories of a life long before his own. The contingent of Redemption soldiers watched him with smug satisfaction, drinking deep from their stolen alcohol and dreaming of their reward for their elusive captive.

Jesus, was that really necessary? I’m already bound up. What the hell am I gonna do, kick you all to death? Hood said, turning to face the soldier that shoved him.

Get up, heretic. Use his name in vain again and I’ll gut you right here. The man standing above him said. His voice and stature was that of someone in command. Probably a Templar of the Church of the Redemption. The light from the campfire danced on his tan, recently shaved face. He was older, with sharp, dark eyes and a relaxed brow. A Roman legionnaire’s countenance.

He already wants to stab me. We’re off to a great start here.

I think if Jesus could weigh in, he’d think that’s a bit of an extreme response, Hood smiled, managing to get to his feet. The man swung hard backhand. Hood turned his head, but pain exploded through the whole right side of his face. His ears rang, and he squeezed his eyes shut, working his jaw loose.

Fuck. Okay, that’s enough of that.

Robin spat. So uh, why am I here exactly?

The nearby tired-faced soldier who had captured him handed his backpack, crossbow, hunting knife and Colt 9mm to the officer. ‘Devoted’ the soldiers were called, glorified mercenaries of the Church. The officer smirked, inspecting Robin’s gear before setting it aside.

You think I don’t know who you are, heretic?

Robin smacked his dry lips. Before you launch into any long, pointless sermons, you think I can have some of that beer you guys have? That was actually what I was out here looking for.

The man looked over at the two barrels of beer they had confiscated. Pinned to his loose military jacket was a narrow metal cross in the shape of a key that glimmered in the firelight. A Templar. So I was right. The Church is up to something serious out here. But what? All of the Devoted around the campfire had filled their canteens with the newly acquired beer, laughter on their faces as they taunted him with vulgar insults. They wore the loose grins of soldiers who got the rare chance to enjoy themselves on duty. Yeah, keep laughing. This’ll go great for you. Hood turned back to the Templar. He might be an asshole, but he’s smart enough to know happy soldiers are loyal ones. The Templar moved calmly to the casks, pouring a mug to the brim and walking back to Robin. He drank deep from the mug before pouring the rest of it over Robin’s head.

Robin spluttered, shaking the beer off of his face. That is a waste of good alcohol! Hands behind your back, I’m arresting you for that.

You can’t fool me with your nonsense. You’re Hood. I’ve seen your face on bounties for the Sons of Liberty, Texas Marshals and our Holy Church alike. I know all the things your and your godless friends have done. Your former Dead Hand faction murdered King Richard of the Sons of Liberty, and still your rebellion fell apart. Now you’re reduced to nothing but a common thief. How much does it sting, knowing your war was for nothing?

Hood smiled, the beer dripping off his face. Yeah, go ahead. Feels good tearing someone down, doesn’t it? You don’t know a damn thing, Templar. You don’t know a damn thing about anything that happened. War? That’s a fool’s cause. I’ve never wanted war. War has never changed a damn thing. I’m happy just robbing self-righteous assholes like you.

The Templar wore a deep smile, clearly enjoying this view of Robin as a delusional has-been. You sure love the high ground. Everyone who stands against you is an evil man. Certainly makes life easier, doesn’t it?

Whatever you have planned, you will not escape the Church’s justice. This land is ours. I don’t need to tell you how powerful the Church has become. You can’t hide from us any longer. We’re not going back to our Cathedral in Dallas where your thief friends can ambush us on the road. You’ll answer to the Cardinals for all of your crimes against the Church.

Hood’s face remained stoic, but his breathing started to quicken.

Well, shit, you guys have thought of everything haven’t you?

My thief friends are a lot more godly than your church will ever be, Hood said.

He readied himself for another blow, but the Templar was still. He didn’t seem to expect Hood to say anything like that. The Templar searched Hood’s face for intent, analyzing if Hood meant the words or if they were just a ploy. I mean it, holy man. Everything you think you know about your world is a lie.

Robin took the moment to look around at the soldiers who were more sedate now, sitting on folding chairs, tree stumps, or leaning against the trucks they came in on. You did all this for little old me? Robin said.

The Templar scoffed. Of course not. Don’t flatter yourself, thief. The Church has far more important things to do than chase bounties.

Hood looked around. So, what the hell are you doing out here? Practicing your line dancing deep in the woods so the other girls won’t laugh at you?

Nothing that concerns you, heretic.

Ah, I get it. Dirty business. Stuff the Church doesn’t want in the public eye. Like all the exiled refugees from the Sons of Liberty that have been ‘disappearing’ from Austin. Yeah, I know about that. Lord knows what you’re doing with those poor bastards.

The Templar swing a fist into Hood’s gut. Hood jumped backwards but still the blow doubled him over. Probably shouldn’t have said that. This son of a bitch hits hard.

Enjoy these last days, thief. We may all be damned, but you shall not see the light of redemption.

Hood managed to stand upright again, wincing. So, uh, what are you going to do with the bounty money, Mr. Templar?

"Templar Vargas. Vargas said with a tired annoyance. I’m going to give it to the poor and hungry that come to the church for aid. That way at least some good will have come from your crimes." He stifled back a yawn. There we go.

Damn. Hood shook his head. Now I feel bad.

Why is that? Vargas raised a quizzical eyebrow, blinking sluggishly.

Maybe you’re not such an asshole after all, Hood said, glancing around them.

Vargas turned his attention back to the campsite. The soldiers had gone from quietly relaxed to unconscious. His eyes went wide. A few soldiers who were still awake struggled to walk like newborn fawns before collapsing to the ground.

What… What did you…? Vargas said, drawing his sword and 9mm with each hand in a clumsy flourish. He raised the pistol to Hood, but he already began to sway clumsily. Hood cringed, lurching back and forth out of the way of the pistol. Oh god, come on, pass out already you asshole. Vargas pulled the trigger twice, the shots wildly cracking the air. Go the fuck to sleep you self-righteous douchebag!

How… Vargas looked down at the empty mug of beer on the stump nearby, stumbling until he plunged the sword into the ground to hold himself up.

Y’all are getting much too paranoid for a run of the mill stunt. Took you guys forever to dive into that beer you found. Hood said, smiling.

You… Poison… Vargas grit his teeth, his eyes narrow with violent rage as he stared at Robin. He dropped his pistol and fell backwards with a thump, a plume of dirt rising through the air.

Hood took a deep breath, the smell of fresh pine and the campfire mingled together in the cool air. He felt the muscles in his shoulders relax.

What a bunch of idiots, he said, stepping over his hands to bring the tied rope in front of him. Relax, your Templarness. It’s not poison. You’ll wake up eventually. It’ll just be quite awhile considering how much I poured into those barrels. He knelt down beside Vargas’ sword staked in the ground, sawing at the cords of the rope binding his hands until it cut through and the rope fell away. He gingerly rubbed his wrists, kicking at the limp foot of the soldier that ‘captured’ him.

Church can’t afford some freakin’ normal rope? Hood said to the passed out soldiers. Did you weave that one yourself out of cactus needles and pubic hair?

Robin slung his crossbow over his back, tucked his blued Colt M1911 9mm into its holster, and slid his hunting knife into its sheath on his belt. He patted his backpack gently, as if to say I’ll pick you up when it’s time to go, baby. The backpack was stuffed clumsily with his favorite hoodie that the Redemption devoted had crammed inside. Didn’t even roll it up. Bunch of savages.

He roamed around the camp, taking all the ammunition from the soldiers that had guns. Ammo had become a pricey currency. For the common man, bullets were more valuable sold for food or a handful of Texas silver dollars than fired at someone.

He had collected quite a good bit of it, carrying it all using the front of his shirt. Whatever they were doing must’ve been important. They’re loaded for bear out here. What looked like forty rounds of loose .38 and 12 gauge, and about twenty-four rifle magazines that might or might not be full. Damn, this alone makes it worth it. We can sell a good bit of this. Eat like kings for quite awhile. Hood smiled. Gonna splurge and make so many pancakes. And eat so much bacon. He kneeled beside his pack, unfastening it and cramming all the ammo inside. Ka-ching.

As he stood up, Robin looked around at the comatose bodies of the soldiers. They almost looked dead. Something about they way the lay sprawled out so still felt familiar. Like deja vu. A memory flashed in his mind.

Sick to his stomach, he climbed out of the pit covered in the dead. It was a pit of rotting corpses. Whiskey stood nearby, except younger. Much younger. Hood felt calm, relieved, suddenly. A warm feeling of brotherhood at the sight of him. Family. Whiskey looked repulsed at the sight of Hood. He was covered in the dead. Don’t touch me, you’re disgustin’.

Robin took a deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his forehead. Damn, what kind of sick shit was that? He had long since accepted having memories of a life that felt like it was his. He didn’t know how or why he could remember these things. He couldn’t remember everything, but what he did remember felt like…Well, it felt like it was him there. But he knew it wasn’t. It was his father. I want to know why I am this way. Why do I remember all this? Is there a reason at all? I wish you were still alive, dad. I wish I could talk to you about this. About everything. There’s so many things I want to ask you. I want to understand why.

The fire crackled, a log collapsing with a splash of sparks and coal-red embers. He thought of his mother, who only spoke about his father with love. But Robin had never understood why he did what he did. I know you killed the Kaiser, ended the first war. And for what? More war, and more war, and more war. It’s only a matter of time before The Church of the Redemption, Daryn’s Sons of Liberty and the Texas Federation do a winner-take-all. Robin shook his head, trying to pull himself out of his reverie. I won’t make the same mistakes. I’m not fighting any more wars. I won’t leave the people I love behind to carry on without me.

His eyes wandered down to Templar Vargas, laying passed out on his back in the dusty dirt. He knelt down beside him, searching his person. What are you doing here, anyway? As his hand passed through the inside of Vargas’ military jacket he felt paper. He pulled it free of the pocket. It had a broken red wax seal on the outside with the Cross and Key imprint of the Church of the Redemption. He unfolded the letter and turned to get the light from the fire.

James,

Gather your men and leave tonight. They should be arriving within a few days.

Stay near enough to the Northeast Highway that they can see the light from your camp.

God be with you, and through your service earn your redemption,

Cardinal Vasquez

Uh oh, Robin said, looking around. I don’t think they’ll be able to make the dance. But who could they be meeting? This has all too much cloak and dagger for my liking. He grinned. Or maybe, just the right amount of it. Robin tapped the paper with his fingers, holding it at his side. The rest of the crew better get here fast. I don’t want to be alone out here if whoever this is shows up.

He scanned the woods surrounding him. There was no sign of anything, no movement, little sound other than the crackling fire, buzzing cicadas and the occasional hoot of a distant loon. He looked to the fire, and the meat that was roasting over it. His mouth watered. Well, don’t mind if I do.

He lifted the meat off the spit and gave it some time to cool before sinking his teeth into it. It was not seasoned much, or at all, but his hunger made it taste savory beyond compare. He chewed happily, grateful to the deer that died so he could eat.

Something faint rustled near the edge of the camp. A figure appeared from between the trees, pushing a pine-needled branch out of her way as she stepped into the clearing. Hood froze mid-chew, and so did the woman, her eyes scanning the men laying strewn about the camp.

She lifted her crossbow from hanging at her side and took sight of Hood. She fired, and he hefted the spitted meat in front of his head in desperation. The bolt slammed through the great haunch and out the other side, the broadhead an inch from his face. He tossed it to the side, sliding the Colt M1911 out of its chest holster and bringing it to sight on her. His finger didn’t move on the trigger. She stopped reloading the crossbow, and turned to run.

Hey! Hey, wait!! Hood shouted, moving after her. Who the hell are you? The Sons of Liberty red armband was visible in the firelight as she turned to run. The Sons? What the hell are you doing way out here? She was his enemy, by all rights. Yet for some reason he did not fire when he had a shot. He had questions he desperately wanted answered. Why are the Sons of Liberty this far southwest? Was that who the Templar was meeting with? What the hell is going on here?

He leapt over the fire, sprinting after her. There’s sure to be more of them. She has to be a scout. I have to stop her before she reaches them or else this will get ugly. Part of him wanted to run the hell away, but his legs kept him going towards her as she ran. Damn, she’s pretty fast.

Stop! Hood shouted, raising his Colt. I will shoot you!

At his words she spun around, in the dark her motion seemed unnatural. She threw something. Light flickered off a flying blade in the dark. Instinctually Hood dropped to the ground, the blade thumping into a pine behind him. He pushed himself up off the grassy earth, sprinting towards her once more. She’s getting away. He grit his teeth. I might actually have to shoot her.

He didn’t like shooting anyone, if he didn’t have to. Even if they were Sons soldiers or Church mercenaries. Much less a girl running from him. If she reaches the other Sons that were here to meet the Templar…this could go south, fast. And they might even capture Whiskey and Edgar on the way here.

It was getting darker and darker in the thick cover of the trees the further they got from camp. With no clear path, the two of them wove deeper into the woods. He didn’t think it likely she was retracing her steps while she fled. It seemed a wild route they ran, but she was quick, quicker than he might have expected. I’m losing her. He tightened his grip on his Colt. Shit. He aimed for her legs.

A dull clang was followed by a thud as the woman fell to the ground. Hood slowed to a stop, Edgar lowering his sword and sliding it into its leather sheath with a soft sound, having knocked the woman out with the flat of the blade.

Edgar looked up at him, sweat glistening on his dark skin. Hood was breathing steadily as he stared back. For a moment, they stood in silence.

Suddenly, the two of them broke out in a synchronized dance, whipping their hands back and forth before crossing their arms and leaning back for a pose. They ran towards each other, hop-step crossing in front of each other, leaping forward and shooting a jump-shot with an invisible basketball as they passed by each other mid-air.

They both laughed, clasping hands together and pulling each other in for a bear hug.

Took you fuckin’ long enough, asshole, Hood said, smiling.

Looks like we showed up just in time, Edgar said, his face returning to its normal state of being completely impassive.

You two are idiots, y’know that? Whiskey said with his deep slightly southern delivery, his tall, broad frame imposing even in the dark.

You’re just jealous you ain’t got a badass handshake like we do, Hood said.

You ain’t never even shake hands, Whiskey said, scoffing. How you gonna call it a handshake?

Hood shrugged. What else would you call it?

Stupid, Whiskey grumbled.

Edgar gave Hood a knowing nod. Definitely jealous.

Whiskey crouched down beside the woman, feeling her pulse. She’s Sons of Liberty. He nodded at the armband. The words carried a finality to them, like her fate was sealed. What the hell are they doin’ out here?

I think they had some secret meeting with our Church pals. Hood looked back towards the faint light of the distant camp.

And they are? Edgar asked.

Passed the fuck out, Hood smiled.

Can’t believe that shit worked, Edgar shook his head.

Of course it worked. Hood said, grilling Edgar.

Don’t even start, Edgar looked at him. Last week you were sweating enough to fill a wading pool over this. Don’t even pretend.

Yeah, right. You, maybe. I was chillin’.

We can’t leave the girl, Whiskey said, purposefully interrupting their exchange.

Tie her up, take her with us. We’ve got questions that need answering, Hood said.

Edgar and Whiskey stared in reply. There was something in Whiskey’s expression that was contemplative, a knowing look. I know that look. I just reminded him of my father. Of that time after Clearwater was destroyed. I wonder if it’s as weird for him as it is for me when this happens.

What? You guys don’t want to know what’s going on here? Hood asked.

Very much so. But I ain’t sure this is the way. Whiskey looked down at the woman.

Well we can’t leave her here. It’s too much of a risk. And I don’t want to kill her, Hood said.

Whiskey sighed, but he shook his head in an almost wistful way. What do you think? He said, looking at Edgar.

Edgar’s eyes met Hood’s, considering his stance.

We’ll take her with us. For now, at least. We can’t leave her here.

Whiskey grunted. Easy decision when you ain’t the one who’s gonna have to carry her.

Robin patted him on the shoulder. If you’re feeling too weak and feeble in your old—

You’re too damn much like him, Whiskey grunted, picking the woman up easily.

Robin couldn’t help a wolfish grin. Still having fun with the apocalypse. It was a strange feeling, recalling those days, those memories that weren’t his. Or maybe they are. It felt like a story in your head, one you couldn’t tell was a memory or a dream. Then why do they feel so warm, so nostalgic?

Whiskey chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief as he usually did when Robin referenced another life.

We should get back to the camp. I left my pack there, filled with enough ammo to supply a small merc company.

You got some balls doin’ this, kid. Whiskey hoisted the woman comatose in his arms, adjusting his grip. She looked small compared to Whiskey. We can’t keep puttin’ our asses on the line like this forever, though.

I don’t care about that. I just want to take enough from these assholes that we can retire from this life. I don’t care what we do after that. Hood shrugged. Gotta make a living.

Whiskey took a deep breath. We got to find a better way. Lets pick up what you got and get the hell out of here.

They moved methodically through the dark woods back towards the camp, the glow of the campfire growing as they got closer. The three of them said nothing, eyes open, determined to find anything and anyone before they found them. The woods stayed eerily still save for the soft padding of their feet on the grass and the crackle of the campfire as they approached.

Hood stopped just outside the clearing, the soldiers of the Church still lying passed out. Wait here, I’m just going to grab my pack.

Edgar nodded at him, and Whiskey placed the girl on the ground up against a tree, wiping his brow. "The truck ain’t that far. Just grab it and