It Was 2052, High Haven Read Online Free

the day in it, shifted it a
little. “I heard some talk about things that are going on in
the city. Some people are even getting paid jobs working at some new
businesses and they say that up in Denver, some areas have
electricity and water.”
    “ That'd be good.
Can't ever let your guard down though,” said his dad. “I
think it would still be pretty dangerous, living in the city.”
    “ Probably true,”
he said. “You know, Dad. I kept seeing this woman today....”
    His father turned his
head, smiled at him and then in a blink, he fell to the ground, blood
spurting from his neck. Before Taylor could bend to him, he felt the
tug at his pack. He whirled and shot, a dirty man fell to the ground.
A second man was close behind him and he shot him without hesitation.
He was enraged, he was stunned. A third man was running away from the
scene. He fell to his knees beside his father and shot at the fleeing
attacker, the man stumbled but kept on moving. There was no goodbye,
his father was dead.
    A few people observed at
a distance, no one came to help. He sat and rocked on his bent legs,
his face wet. He wanted to lift the body, carry his father away. He
knew he couldn't, his parent was bigger than him. He wanted to scream
at the top of his lungs into the sky that was losing it's warm light. What was he going to do?
    The boots came into view
beside his father's body. He instantly raised his gun and jabbed it
at the figure in front of him. The woman from the market didn't
flinch, knelt down on the opposite side of the body, “Freak-in'
dirt bags,” she said. She reached for the body's wrist, checked
for a pulse to be sure.
    Taylor had no doubt. “I
can't leave him here,” he forced the words from his mouth.
    The woman gently rolled
the body over to it's back and moved to the feet, picked them up and
looked at Taylor. He pushed himself up, lifted his father's shoulders
and they begin to walk, the body suspended like a hammock. They had
to stop three times and get their breath before they reached the camp
site. The woman never spoke and never complained. A very dim light
remained when Taylor rolled the body in a blanket, a good distance
from the tent. He sat on the ground, next to his father. His head
dropped to his arms across bent knees, c oyotes was the single
word he said.
    The woman went to the
tent. She returned and placed a jacket on his shoulders, spread one
blanket on the ground opposite the body, rolled another one up under
her head and slept. By the time the sun was high the next day, the
body was covered with piles of rocks that he and the woman gathered.
Taylor placed one last large rock at the head of the grave, walked to
the tent and layed out on the cot. The tears that he inherited from
his mother would not be stopped.
    Through the next two
days, the young man slept and drank from the bottle of liquor, sat on
the cot and the river from his heart never seemed to run dry. He was
twenty one years old and he was alone. He wanted to be dead, like
everyone he ever loved, he wanted to have any relief from his pain.
On the third morning, barely conscious, for just a moment he thought
his mother must be cooking breakfast. The aroma of food cooking
drifted into the tent. He tried to open his swollen eyes more than a
slit. A blanket covered him but he only wore his jeans, no shirt, no
boots. Willing his body to sit up, he slid his socked feet into his
boots, didn't attempt to lace them. A shirt lay across the foot of
the cot, he slipped it on.
    The sun was like needles
on his squinted eyelids as he pushed open the tent flap, his jelly
filled legs took him to the rickety lawn chair.
    “ It-t-lives,”
said a soft voice and the woman handed him a metal cup, the smell of
coffee steamed up from his lips to his nostrils. He doubted that
there was an inch on him that didn't ache, but he welcomed it, didn't
want to think anymore.
    “ Lauren,” the
woman said.
    “ Taylor.”

CHAPTER TWO

Comings and