Read 15 Years Later: Wasteland for Free Online Page B

need right now is an axe wielding maniac schoolgirl raising all kinds of hell.
    He opened his mouth to speak, but she lifted her left hand and put her index fingers to her lips.
    "Shhh," she whispered.
    But her lips were pouting, and she was being overtly sexual as she did it. Was this how she acted all the time, or was she expecting something? She stepped aside and rested her back against the platform wall. Her hatchet was still casually by her side, and she gestured with her other hand for him to go on.
    What the hell is this?
    He wanted to ask her but didn't want to risk angering her. He carried on and passed her cautiously, watching every move she made like a hawk. But all she did was blow him a kiss. He kept eye contact with her even as he got a few feet past. She probably thought it meant something. It did. He was making sure she didn't stab him in the back. He reached his coat and dived into the pocket to check for the photos. His hand withdrew a little with them, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Along with his clothes, they were all he owned. That made them worth risking his life for.
    His shirt was nowhere to be seen, but he slipped his coat back on and was glad to find his bag and belt hung underneath. The voices of the men were very close now, and he noticed a glimmer of movement on the platform on the opposite side of the arena. He dropped like a stone for cover and stayed down against the barrier, looking up to see what the woman would do.
    "Hey, boys," she said and licked her lips.
    "What are you doing up here?"
    "Just admiring the view," she replied jovially.
    She turned back around and rested back against the wall once again. It was clear she had brushed them off somehow and kept his escape a secret.
    "Thank you," he whispered.
    "You saved my life, and now I have saved yours. Run, while you still can."
    It was all he needed to hear. He stayed low and scampered past her to the stairway, rushing down it as quietly as he could. When he reached the bottom, he found himself on the edge of what looked like a main road through the town. On either side were vehicles parked up, including the truck that had chased him down. There were all sorts of rust covered and beaten up vehicles that spanned at least fifty years. None of them looked like they should even drive and seemed as if they had been dragged off a scrap heap.
    For a moment he thought about taking one of the vehicles, but there was no chance of getting out of the camp without being pursued. He'd had enough of being chased. It was a shame, though, because he could sure do with some wheels right now. He didn't know where to be heading or why, but more than anything he'd like to do it with speed. He looked around for any more signs of movement, but there was none. He went onwards, making his way from building to building. It looked like an old industrial facility that had been converted into a shantytown.
    There were no lights anywhere to be seen, and only a little moonlight could break through the clouds to guide him. Visibility was short, and that was a good thing. He heard several coughs as he passed one building and stopped for a moment and held his breath. More coughs came out, and then they stopped. He waited for a sign of movement but was glad to hear none. He turned back towards the street and his way out, but as he did so, one item caught his eye.
    A few feet ahead a beaten up Dodge Ram. It wasn't the vehicle that interested him so much. It was what hung in the back window, a rifle, and not just any rifle. A Springfield M1903, one of the greatest bolt action weapons ever made. Ancient, and as good at its job as the day it came out of the factory. He wasn't sure how or why he knew that, but it sparked a memory of him on a range from many years ago. He was with a man he thought was his brother beside him and smiling, as they took it in turns to fire some ridiculous calibre hunting rifle.
    He couldn't go on without at least trying to claim it. He crept up