15 Years Later: Wasteland Read Online Free

exhaustion was setting in, when his foot hit something hard. He tumbled over into a roll and landed on his back. He stayed there for a moment, trying to find the motivation to get back up. To his amazement his foot didn't hurt at all, and he leaned forward to feel the cap of his shoes. They had steal caps inside. It was lucky, but he doubted it was a coincidence. Whatever this life was, there was no doubt it was a tough and violent one.
    Finally, he got back to his feet and staggered over to investigate what he had tripped on. There was a stem of a steel pole protruding from he ground. It was about eight inches in diameter and perfectly machined, but had been cut off as close to the ground as whatever power tool used could manage. He walked to the opposite side of the road until he found exactly the same sawn off pole embedded in the ground. He could see they were the supports of an overhead sign for the road, but all the metal that could be pillaged was long gone. The corrosion on the surfaces looked like they had been cut away years ago.
    His hopes of finding out where he was seemed dashed for now. The hope of finding road signs seemed all but gone, but he had to go on. It took him another hour of walking in the baking heat before he got close to the first structure on the outskirts of the city. It looked like a diner with a gas station beside it. Every window was missing, and yet again any metal signs were missing.
    A thin rope was tied from the cover of the gas station over to the shop beside it. Dozens of empty food cans were hung from it, and they echoed as they struck one another in the wind. It was an eerie and uncomfortable sound, and he couldn't help but feel that he was being watched by whoever had set it up. As he stood still and studied it all, his ears suddenly became aware of what he had feared most, the violent reverberations of throbbing V8’s at his back. A sound he used to love, and in one single day it had come to symbolise a predator that seemed to want to stalk him until the very end.
    The same truck from the day before was tearing up the road towards him. Another was running beside it that looked like it used to be a Caprice cop car, its front bars and spot lamps fitted in place where the blue lights used to sit. He hoped they hadn't seen him, but it seemed impossible. He quickly rushed towards the gas station and dived through one of the open windows. A few remaining shards of glass were caught by his coat and showered him as he rolled inside.
    The gas station was dark inside, the only light coming through the broken windows, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. As soon as they did, he found himself looking at the sharp end of a makeshift spear. It looked little more than a survival knife taped firmly to a pole. He looked past the blade, and it was held by a skinny wretch of a teenager. He was dressed more in rags than clothes. Despite the boy’s small stature, he looked hardened by the cruel world around them. In his eyes was a cool confidence and psychotic survival instinct that told Zed he meant business. He held his hands up as if to offer the internationally recognised sign of not wanting trouble.
    "Go!" yelled the boy in a gruff voice that sounded like it came from a man twice his age.
    He thrust the spear forwards in a threatening manner as if wanting him to leave, even though Zed had no desire to cause him any harm. He couldn't believe it.
    Is there anyone in this place who doesn't want to see me dead?
    "Come on, just let me stay. I don't want anything from you," he pleaded.
    But he noticed a few more glimmers of movement in the background, as another five similarly dressed young men appeared from behind the cover of the old dusty aisles. The nearest looked more intent on doing him harm as he came forward with a brutal looking two-handed machete. He quickly got up and backed off before leaping through the window he had come in from.
    The white skull adorned truck slid sideways to