WIPE (A Post-Apocalyptic Story) by Joseph Turkot

start to read it to myself. When the shock settles in—the shock that it’s nothing at all, that I barely received a punishment—my mother chides me for not reading it aloud.
                “Sorry,” I say, and then I reread my judgment, aloud this time. “Five special services with Father Gold, and a daily confession for the next month, along with mandatory attendance at all three services each week.”
                I immediately feel hope rise that this must be indicative of the punishment Maze received, too. That she got the same light slap on the wrist. But then, freezing up my whole body, my eyes lock onto the final words I have yet to read:
               
    These judgments have been leveled for your association with Maze Orantis, convicted Toucher of
    Metal. Until all reforms are completed, all further contact with her is strictly forbidden.
     
                “No!” I say, in disbelief. The guilt pours through me—how could they convict her and not me? I raise my head and stare at Father James, and disregarding how my mother reacts, I try to find out what they’re going to do to her.
                “What was her judgment? What reforms ?” I ask.
                “Wills—you are done with her. Do you understand?” mother objects.
                “Tell me,” I demand, the thought of admitting that it was me who touched the metal and not Maze running through my mind. Any elaborate lie that might allow me to trade places with her now, get her out of this. Because I know that my record is spotless compared to hers, and anything I can do to shift the blame now could save her from something horrible.
                “The young man should know,” says Father James, looking at my mother as he sips his tea.
                “Fine. Maybe it will do him good to know,” she says.
                I hold my breath, fear flaring in me from the words of my mother, because what she said makes it sound like she already knows. I watch them both, and then it hits me—she hasn’t been praying. She was in on this. Pulling her weight to make sure Maze received something terrible. And she already knows what they’ve decided to do to her. She’s been working on making it happen all day. And then, when it comes out of Father James’s mouth, I feel my gut sink through the floor.
                “She is to become a Saint,” Father James says.
                “How could you let this happen!” I burst out, standing up, unable to fathom it’s real. That Maze, the girl I’m in love with, will be gone forever.
                “It has been coming for quite some time, Wills. You can’t say you didn’t see it. And quite frankly, I don’t see why it should anger you so much. There is hardly a more merciful judgment among the mortal fates,” Father James says.
                My mother turns to face me, summoning in her visage a sudden look of compassion, some false concealment of her hand in this I’m sure, and all I feel welling up inside me is hatred. For her, for Father James, for Father Gold, and for the entire Fatherhood. I want to scream at them both—tell them the new secrets Maze and I discovered—the same ones that yesterday I would have said were conspiracy theories. But now, I realize I believe in just what Maze believes, and I can’t deny it anymore. Still, the words don’t spill out of my mouth. Father James, as if his business of delivering the horrible news has been a cheerful event for him, strides out with a smile, his torch guiding him into the street, wishing us both a pleasant evening. He tells me, before he goes, that he will see me in the morning for confession, which will be followed by my first special service with Father Gold.
                It’s when he’s gone, when the silence of the house envelops me, that my rage truly begins to boil. But my mother