15 Years Later: Wasteland Read Online Free PDF Page A

the other men.
    "Where are you from?"
    Zed only shrugged and was dealt another blow to his already throbbing head. He felt his shirt be pulled off him with enough care as to not damage it. He didn't have the energy to fight it and slumped back down to his knees topless. He was well muscled and certainly not starved, but his body was also displaying the signs of many fights, numerous cuts and wounds, even old gunshot impacts. It looked as though he had been hurt and healed again many times over several years at least.
    "A fighting man, you ain't nomad," stated the tall man at the centre, "So where did you come from?" he asked before booting him to the ground. As Zed landed on his left side, a tattoo became obvious on his right shoulder, and the man began to laugh.
    "A leatherneck?" he asked as he continued to laugh.
    Zed looked down to see the eagle, globe, and anchor just below his shoulder. It was well faded and applied many years ago. The symbol of the Marine Corps, and one he would never forget.
    "I thought we'd seen the last of you boys."
    Zed looked up and shook his head. "What do you mean?"
    The man just laughed again.
    "Put him back in the hole. He can have a day to rest. I don't want to waste this one."
    Zed was dragged along and thrown back into the hole. As he landed, he realised his coat was nowhere to be seen. He scrambled around looking for it to no avail, but when he looked up through the grate above, the hulking man pulled the three photos from his coat and smiled as he looked at them.
    "A sentimental man? I thought they were all dead, too. Soon they will be," he laughed as he walked off with them in his hand.
    "Give them back!" he shouted.
    But the cane struck above him and narrowly missed his fingers, forcing him to cower back down. He paced around the small cell for half an hour before accepting it was pointless. The one thing he needed more than anything was rest. Despite the horrible conditions, he was out for count within a few moments of sitting down. He had only been awake for a small part of the day, and yet it had been exhausting. He finally awoke to the sounds of whispers above. He opened his eyes to see a small hatch was open, and the woman who had tried to kill him was holding a metal mess tin ready to pass to him.
    He didn't know whether to trust her or not, but without food it would all be over soon enough, anyway. He got up and took it cautiously. It was a foul smelling soup of some kind with stale bread thrown in. It didn't matter. It would do. He started to shovel it down his throat when he noticed she was still there watching through the opening.
    "What?" he asked with his mouth full.
    "You didn't kill me? You could have killed me. I wanted to kill you. Why did you not kill me?"
    He shrugged. "I don't want to kill anyone. I just want to live."
    She looked surprised.
    "Everybody wants to kill someone."
    He shook his head.
    "Why?" he asked, shoving more food into his mouth.
    "Because everyone wants something. Things other people have got."
    "And you need to kill them for it?"
    She nodded as if it was the simple fact of life that he should have known. He looked up into her eyes. She truly believed it and didn't understand him or his attitude at all, but he could see there was no reasoning with her. She seemed to hover as though intrigued, or maybe she was just waiting for the tin back. But now that she wasn't trying to kill him, he seized his opportunity to pick her brain.
    "Where am I?"
    She began to giggle like a teenager.
    "Where? This is Jaytown."
    "Jaytown? Where the hell is that?"
    "Here, all around you."
    He shook his head. He knew she didn't understand him. She just continued to stare at him with crazy eyes. He knew he needed to simplify his questions if he was to get any sense out of her.
    "Who is in charge around here?"
    She giggled once again. "Well, Jay, of course. That's why it's called Jaytown."
    He took the last mouthful of food and could already feel it was doing him some good;