It Was 2052, High Haven (10 page)

The
sun of the day had dried the ground enough t
o
allow them
to build a small
campfire. Supper was rice and the rest of the cooked bacon. “I'm
sorry we didn't find the dog,” she said
as
they ate.

“
Nothing
to be done about it. We'll be back on our trail tomorrow. Here, give
me your bowl.”
The
bowls, two spoons and a small tin pan went into a cloth.
He
walked away toward the
narrow
and
shallow stream that still
flowed,
unwrapped and rubbed
a bar of soap from his pocket on the dishes,
bent and rinsed them. He wrapped
everything
back
in
the cloth and returned to the fireside.

Cissy
was placing a dry piece of wood on the fire when the high pitched
howl of a lone coyote
floated
across
the
open spaces
.
The
single cry
was
soon answered by the shrill keening of a pack. She was well
accustomed to the howling of the coyotes but she
had
never liked the eerie yips and yelps.
Attempting
to not appear bothered, she stoked the blaze, “Sound pretty
close, huh?”

“
Not very far, I'd
say. You go ahead and get some sleep, I'll take the first watch and
keep the fire alive. Without Peaches to alert us, one of us better
be awake.”

She
didn't argue with him, curled up on the ground on an old quilt she
had managed to roll up and tie to her pack.
H
er
eyes
closed
with the thought that a big dog like Peaches could possibly fight off
a lone coyot
e---
even
larger animals
w
ould
be taken down by a pack. She dozed,
she
had never been a heavy sleeper.
The unwelcoming ground made
her
shift her
position,
seek
some comfort.
T
hrough
slitted
eyes she saw Taylor standing on the other side of the smoldering
fire. In the triangle of his wide stance she caught the skulking
shadow and then two more. The coyotes.

Her
lessons learned taught her
better than to make a sudden movement. She reached down for the rifle
that lay very close and started to slowly rise.

“
Cissy?”

“
I'm awake,”
she said as she stood.
Impossible to know how many
, the
shadows circled them, silent now. She thought that was more
frightening than their barks.

“
Wait
until I say and then shoot. Just a couple of shots, don't worry about
aiming, it should scare them off. Okay...
shoot!”

Their ears ringing with
the volleys, they waited and listened for the sound of the coyotes
fading into the night that was only slightly lit by a half moon. Back
to back, their guns were still raised. Cissy watched the diminishing
faint forms, as her eyes adjusted she saw one low figure still moving
very slowly toward them.

Nearly a whisper,
“Taylor, they're not all gone. One is brave as hell or maybe
sick, rabid.”

He turned in her
direction and tried to make out the single attacker. The form kept
drawing closer and was definitely not moving steady, “Maybe one
of our shots hit one,” he said. Across the narrowing distance,
a deep bark sounded. “Peaches!” he ran toward the animal.

Cissy lowered her gun.
She felt a deep relief, wasn't sure if it was due to the return of
that clumsy giant of a dog or because it would make Taylor
happy---maybe both. The animal, limping along beside Taylor was
obviously happy to see them, his wet greeting nearly pushed her from
her feet. He had a long gash in a back limb but looked pretty good
overall. No way to know if one of the coyotes had got at him or
something else.

They would pet and nurse
him a bit, wrap his injured leg. Important thing, the dog was safely
back with them, stretched out next to Taylor. They could both get a
bit of sleep and tomorrow, their journey could continue. The rough
mountain they sought hid it's mysteries; the glow, possibly long lost
treasure and the unknown.

Once
upon a time, this post office
was
a busy place. Folks dropp
ed
off and pick
ed
up packages, b
ought
stamps, check
ed
rented boxes.
The
marbled floors crowded with lines of customers, impatiently waiting
their turn at the polished wood counters. Now, the dirt piled up in
drifts like snow, debris and trash littered the big open area and
faded posters hung on the walls. Against the wall, two banks of open
slots, one
cluster
out
and
one
in,
crudely
labeled “A” to “Z” held scattered enveloped
messages.

Some
of the letters were dirty, with pale addresses, a few appeared more
recent. Kevin carefully placed his letter to his family in the proper
cubby hole. He wanted to believe that he could maintain a connection
with home this way. He checked the three letters that
huddled
in the
in
slot
,
not
really expecting any communication yet. He shrugged
and
looked to Bubba
,
“Nothing for us.”

The
three new friends left the post office, Bubba dragged the wagon of
supplies. Lindsey, her loaded back pack in tow, led them through the
city. They got a few stares but were far from the most interesting
inhabitants of the broken sidewalks and streets. A huge and colorful
variety of humans, at least mostly humans, populated and roamed the
town. People of all sizes and shapes, colors and genders
moved
past mostly decayed and unused buildings. Many old environs were
open
for business,
however.
There were goods for sale, scattered cafes and lots of bars. Doors
stood
open, foot traffic ooz
ed
in and out. An occasional smoking, stinking clattering vehicle
weaved among the pedestrians, a horse or donkey add
ed
it's manure to the mix.

Bubba
was totally enthralled, bug-eyed excited and talk
ed
non-stop. Kevin observed and looked around nervously on all sides.
Lindsey stomped along like she was six foot tall and invincible and
elbowed past the rabble. She stopped and turned to them, “Hey,
see that bar up ahead,
Silver
Dollar...
it's
pretty safe. Just be on your guard. We'll get a beer if we can get a
table. What'cha got for trade? Old coins, something trade worthy?”

Kevin reached down in his pocket, “I
got a few silver coins and a couple of old pocket knives.”

She took her pack off her back and
took out two small versions of her solar lights. “They usually
like my lanterns and---” her petite finger poked at Bubba's
chest. “Are you paying attention?” The pack went on top
of the piled up wagon.

The distracted head snapped around,
“Yeah, yeah---beer, I got it.”

Her hand moved to hold onto his face,
“Stay alert, don't take your eyes off that wagon.” She
squeezed a little harder.

A wide grin spread between the
squashed in cheeks, “Yes, mam. I'll pay attention and I've got
some tobacco to trade.” No one back home really used tobacco,
but they grew some. It was always good bartering tender.

They
stepped through the open doorway into a dim, smokey and noisy
room.
Lindsey made a little jump and waved her hand at an older man with
dark skin behind the bar. “Hey, little g
a
l!”
the man hollered across the crowd. She weaved their small parade
around, a tiny table was in the corner. The man brought a third
wooden chair to them, “Got some strays, huh?”

“
This is Kevin and Bubba, came
from down south. They want to explore around town for a while, maybe
stay over at Beulah House. Boys, this is Mo.”

Mo smiled a dazzling display of teeth
and shook their hands, “Nice to meet you. So, what you kids
think you can handle today?”

Lindsey
sat one of her lanterns on the table, only about five inches tall,
the jar
was
filled with colorful broken glass, a
string
of old glass beads
;
the small luminary sparkled in the
hazy
bar. “
We'll
just have some beers, Mo.”

“
Lordy, that's a beauty.”
He reached for the lamp, held it up and admired it, “Three
beers coming up.”

In
the opposite corner, someone played a guitar
and
sang.
Kevin noticed that it actually sounded like some old song that his
father used to sing. He was catching just pieces of
“I
got friends in low-w-w places...
made
him smile and miss his parents for a second. A couple of people
swayed around in
a
small space, long hair swinging, colorful shirts and jeans, long
beads and bare feet. If he had been forced to guess their
par
ticulars,
guy? girl? He just wasn't sure. When the singer would get to the
low-w-w
places
part,
about half the customers would join in.

As Mo sat the beers in front of them,
chilled by the cold water from the mountain river, Kevin noticed that
more than just a few of Lindsey's lanterns scattered around the bar.

“
Come here often, huh?”
said Kevin.

She grinned, “Occasionally.”

Bubba spoke above the rowdy clamor,
“You know how to dance?”

The small woman took a big drink of
her beer, “You mean stomp around and act goofy to the music?
What's hard about that?”

Bubba's foot was tapping up and down,
“Well, I was thinking...”

Lindsey grabbed onto his hand, pulled
him toward the small clear spot where the dancers of undetermined
origin bobbed and floated. Looking over her shoulder, “Watch
that wagon, Kev.”

The
afternoon floated away and the friends were having quite a time. One
of Kevin's old kni
ve
s
and the tobacco bought another round of beers and a bowl of peanuts.
They
left Mo's Silver Dollar bar laughing, enjoying the company and the
city. There was no way of knowing that the city
and
their day
would soon be far from fun.

On the corner of Main Street and Pina
the trio stood and Lindsey attempted to get her bearings, be sure
which direction would take them to Beulah House. “I think
we're going to need to head west for about four more blocks and then
back to the south for a couple of blocks. The street is actually
Beulah, but I doubt the sign is still there. Kevin and Bubba looked
where she pointed, the street traveled down in a deep valley and back
up, much less populated as it rolled away from them.

Kevi
n's
eyes
narrowed
against
the afternoon sun,
h
e
saw Bubba reach behind for the long handle of the wagon and
catch
just air.
H
is
friend
whirled around, “Hey...thief!” The back end of the loaded
wagon disappeared into the crowd and Bubba
ran
after it. Kevin and Lindsey
st
uck
right with him.

Bubba
shouted as he pushed indifferent pedestrians aside, “Stop, you
piece of crap. Stop him, that's our wagon!” The street wa
s
thick with foot traffic but no one attempted to help. He was
catching up though and after one big stretch, he grabbed on to the
back of rolling cart. To his surprise, it jerked away again, still
moved. Then, in the corner of an alley that the three pursuers
hadn't even realized they entered, it stopped.