Red Robin: Post-Apocalyptic America Read online

  RED ROBIN

  R.B. TETRO

  Contents

  Free eBook download

  Acknowledgments

  Fortress

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  The Cavern of the Light

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  The Keep

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 120

  Chapter 121

  Chapter 122

  Chapter 123

  Chapter 124

  Chapter 125

  Chapter 126

  Chapter 127

  Chapter 128

  Chapter 129

  Chapter 130

  Chapter 131

  Chapter 132

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  A Look at Misty Hill Reckoning by R.B. Tetro

  About the Author

  Red Robin

  By

  R.B. Tetro

  Wolfpack Publishing

  P.O. Box 620427

  Las Vegas, NV 89162

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 R.B. Tetro

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, other than brief quotes for reviews.

  ISBN: 978-1-62918-608-5

  FREE EBOOK DOWNLOAD

  Join the Wolfpack Publishing mailing list for information on new releases, updates, discount offers and a copy of Dawn of the Century, free.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to God…who is everything.

  Thank you to Jenny, Kim, Garrett, Brooke, Konner, Alaina, Clayton, Christopher, and Kim for teaching me how to love again.

  Thank you to Mike and Rachel at Wolfpack Publishing for their patient support and kindness.

  PART I

  FORTRESS

  CHAPTER ONE

  It’s gone…all of it.

  America, once the most powerful country in the history of the world, forever changed, forever broken.

  It happened subtly, while we were mesmerized by our cell phones, notebooks, lap tops, desk tops, flat screens, Play Stations and X-Boxes; global banks and corporations took control through corrupt politicians that the non-informed American voters put in to power.

  America… the land of the free, the most bad- ass country on the face of the planet, that once believed in the reverent words ‘In God We Trust’, turned its back on God, and his son, and his people, until finally… he turned his back on us. The government started listening, and watching Americans through all their hopelessly addictive devices.

  They militarized law enforcement, confiscated firearms, set up road blocks, charged people to drive, and fined them for not being able to afford health-care. Next, the U.S.A was graced with the presence of tens of thousands of One World “peace keepers”, bolstering the numbers of pro- government forces.

  Then came the re-education camps, for all the veterans and all the soldiers and law enforcement that didn’t want the old America to go away, and all of the people that dared to confront the government and ask questions, and try and show what they were doing to the rest of oblivious America.

  And that was that…without firing a shot, martial law, was law. The government took over, selling America to the highest paying world globalist. The once great United States of America was re-named, World 112. Anyone bold enough not to call it that was given a one-way ticket to the re-education camps.

  Then they changed our flag and that’s when things really hit the shit-stained fan.

  The true American soldiers and law enforcement army rose up and fought back.

  Just as it seemed they would be wiped out by overwhelming odds, the true American peoples’ army rose up to stand beside them. Together, they fought for America, side by side, state by state, paying for the blood soaked sacred ground with their lives and the lives of their children.

  Finally, it began to look as if they would win, and that America would be restored to the shining beacon of the world that she used to be. That’s when the sirens went off.

  The lucky people made it into the domes beneath the earth before the nuclear bombs starting falling like piano sized rain. The earth caught on fire, shifting on its axis. Hundreds of millions of unlucky people- not in the domes under the earth- died horrible deaths.

  For years the people in the underground domes waited to see the light of the sun
again… and to breathe open air. Then the food ran out. People started eating other people.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, after the people came out of the underground domes, they realized that the radiation had done strange things to the animals and that some of the people that survived the bombs- outside of the domes- looked less like people and more like creatures from childhood nightmares.

  Towns and cities were re-established by the government. Cannibalism and anti-religion was the law of the land. Anybody that didn’t go along was captured and used for food or slave labor. Finally, the people that wanted to live free, rebelled and escaped, out into the desolate wastelands.

  The One World forces had enough problems to deal with in the cities. They’d lost a lot of soldiers in the war for America and the subsequent nuclear downpour. They decided to unleash radiation induced experimental monsters they called snogs- half snakes/half dogs- and blood eyes; roaming bands of radiation mutated cannibals- into the wastelands to hunt down the rebels and exterminate them.

  The true American rebels soon realized they were no longer at the top of the food chain. They had little to give them comfort, except for one thing that united them in their cause for survival.

  It started… one listener at a time. Every evening, between eight and nine pm. the government controlled radio waves would be interrupted by a rebel DJ who called himself, the Red Robin. At first, the true American rebel’s thought it was a prank, a trick by the One World officials to lure them into annihilation and slavery.

  But the Red Robin turned out to be a straight shooter who remembered the way things were, before it rained nuclear bombs, and the lights went out, and people started eating each other, and monsters roamed the earth.

  The gravel voiced, rebel DJ’s surly style was like a rock-n-roll jack hammer, right in your face. His heart- felt broadcast woke the rebels up, uniting them. He reminded the people that there’s strength in unity. He let them know its’ okay to still love their country, the old country, that was once free America.

  He gave them something they’d long since forgotten about. He gave them hope.

  Now you know what’s going on, and why it’s going on. That’s where this story begins… after it’s gone…everything and all that’s left is a small force of true American rebel’s, trying to survive, and rebuild, and live free… and stay off the menu.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “This is the Red Robin.

  Wake up all you wasteland walkers and Blood-eye stalkers. You better listen up…I got something to say, and a short time to say it.

  Pay attention Fortress Fighters… check your weapons, because it’s time to dance, and Magnus and the Blood-eyes are leading. In the meantime, here’s a song all you wasteland warriors can sink your teeth into… if you have any left that is.

  Goodnight true Americans, hold on, stay strong, and fight on!”

  It was silent a few seconds, then the unforgettable “Won’t Back Down” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers came drifting out from the dented speaker of Daniel’s ancient, hand-cranked radio. The song took him back to when he was a teenager, fooling around in the back of his dad’s Cadillac with his first high-school crush. Things had been good back then, so simple and wonderfully new.

  Daniel turned off the radio, stoking a modest fire while looking around the well- provisioned cave he’d taken from some Blood-eyes earlier in the day. He’d been forced to kill all of them, except for a woman he’d found hiding naked in the back of the cave with her hands bound behind her, and a rope around her neck.

  She sat across from him now, putting her raw, bleeding wrist close to the fire. It was hard to tell, because she was so filthy, but Daniel thought that she might be around forty, maybe younger, but not much. The woman had been leery of him, staying in the back of the cave until she’d heard the ominous radio broadcast.

  He reached deep into the cargo pocket of his battle-stained, camouflage pants, pulling out his Zippo lighter. “My name’s Daniel Brady,” he informed her.

  The filthy women looked at him with frightened eyes; as if she were trying to decide whether or not she could trust him. “Chloe,” she murmured.

  Daniel nodded at her, trying to smile reassuringly. “Okay Chloe, you get some sleep. I’ll make sure we’re not disturbed.”

  The woman jerked a little when he put another piece of wood on the fire. She looked at him for a moment, then, lowering her gaze, started to shrug out from under the wool blanket he’d put over her when he’d first found her. “I belong to you now,” she offered dismally.

  Daniel looked at her for a moment, smiling grimly before shaking his head no. “That won’t be necessary,” he replied.

  She stared at him curiously for a moment, before curling up into a ball next to the fire.

  Several moments of warm, not uncomfortable silence passed. Daniel pulled out a rare, new pack of Marlboroughs he’d taken off one of the dead Blood-eyes. He took his time opening them and pulling one out. Flipping back the cover of his lighter, he thumbed the flint expertly, watching the glow from the flame dance around his battle scarred hand before lighting the rare treat.

  “Thank you,” the women said; a little louder than she meant to.

  Daniel studied her for a moment, savoring the first puff on the smoke. “You’re welcome. Get some sleep… things will look better in the morning,” he lied.

  A few minutes passed.

  “How did you do that?” she asked suddenly.

  He stared hard at her again before answering and decided that she was pretty under all of the filth. He took another pull off the smoke, holding it in. “Do what?”

  “You know… kill all of them. There were four of them.”

  Daniel paused, blowing the cigarette smoke out of the corner of his mouth before speaking. “Some people build things, some people bake things…I kill things,” he answered, stirring the edge of the fire with the toe of his bloodstained combat boot.

  “You were military… weren’t you?” she pried carefully, chancing a glance at him, while he was looking around the cave.

  He was tall, built like a soldier, lean and chiseled, his spiky, crew cut hair, silver and perfect. He was not hard to look at she noticed, but something about him scared the hell out of her. Perhaps it was the savage way he’d killed the four cannibals, or maybe it was the simmering rage in his cobalt eyes.