Free It Was 2052, High Haven by J. Richardson Page B

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.

CHAPTER FOUR

Cities

    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.