WIPE (A Post-Apocalyptic Story) Read Online Free Page A

tripping on the tangles of metal debris, until I find a container that’s half-crushed beneath another one. I get down on my knees, my pants grinding against the gravel and then along the rust of its steel floor. And then, I’m inside the metal tunnel. Shadow covers me and the whole inside of the container except for the slit I wedged in through. I wait for the sound of footsteps—for the sound of three men figuring out my hiding spot. But they never come. And eventually, when the minutes pass and I start to grow paranoid that Maze will leave me behind, and that I’ll have to go home through the woods by myself, with the wolves waiting for me, I make my way back out into the container yard.
     
    When I look around, the Fathers are nowhere to be found. I take cautious steps past each container alleyway, but there’s no one and no more footsteps. Then, at the fence again, I see Maze. She’s up in the second story window looking right down at me. I see her hand moving, and at first I think she’s signaling for me to turn around and run, because she sees something behind me. I turn and look in every direction but I don’t see a thing. When I look back at her, she’s still waving. And then I realize: she’s asking me if it’s okay for her to come out. I walk cautiously forward, signaling for her to wait a moment. As I reach the street and see no signs of the Fathers on either sidewalk, I stop and listen. My ears strain for anything out of the ordinary. But there’s nothing. I make my way around to the back of the building, between the fence and the trees and the overgrown ivy and weeds until I come to the metal trashcan in the alley again. But the Fathers are gone without a trace. Feeling desperate and bold, I dash right into the building, fly up the rickety stairs, and reach Maze.
                “What the hell happened?” she asks.
                “They were Fathers ,” I say, waiting for the same feeling of horror that wrapped me up to spread across her face. But she doesn’t even look shocked, and she doesn’t offer up a theory. Instead she just looks at me with a strong layer of confusion masking her face.
                “Are you sure?” she asks.
                “Yes I’m sure. They freaking chased me Maze. They had on their service robes and everything.”
                She takes a step over to the window, looking out to the street. “I thought they were coming for me. I heard someone walking downstairs.”
                “They were. But I’m such a good whistler that they decided to go bird hunting instead and come looking for me.”
                “They really went after you?” she says.
                “I ran and I heard them following me for a bit, and then I lost track of everything by the time I reached the fence to get back into the container yard.”
                “Where the hell did they go?” she says, walking away from me to check every window in the room. Then, when she’s satisfied they’re not out on the street, and they’re not going to come back, she takes the map out of her pocket.
                “Okay,” she says. “We’re here. If we follow this street, and then this one, we should be on a straight shot to this street, this wide one, which will pretty much get us to the mirror.”
                “Are you kidding me? After that—you still want to go?” I say in disbelief.
            “Wills—there is no way we can’t go now. Do you know what this means?”
                And then I know—just like my gut was telling me—she does have a conspiracy theory for this already.
                “That the Fathers are hypocrites about this place and their sermons are bullshit?” I say. “I already knew that.”
                “No. It means that they’re snooping around in the Deadlands to find