It Was 2052, High Haven (11 page)

Lindsey and Kevin were abreast of
their friend now. “Give the man the wagon, ass-hole. It
doesn't belong to you,” said Lindsey.

A
tall and
emaciated
looking young man dropped the handle, three larger and older men
stepped forward from the shadows and one spoke, “Who's t'say
this ain't the boy's stuff?”
A
dirty hand
patted the top of the covered and secured supplies.

“
I say. The wagon belongs to us.
He just stole it,” said Bubba, his breath choppy from the
chase.

All
the men, including the thief just laughed, the sound echoed between
the buildings. Kevin and Lindsey both had moved their hands to the
pistols on their waist. Speaking out the corner of her mouth, she
said, “Careful---theft isn't punishable by death around
here
---murder
is
.
”

Kevin
hadn't observed one example of law since they came into town. He
certainly hadn't seen any military moving around.
Maybe
the stories were just that, rumors.
The
woman knew the town, he had to trust her. They needed everything in
that wagon, but it wasn't worth going to jail or worse. Before he
could speak, Bubba took a couple of steps forward and latched onto
the wagon's handle, “We'll take our stuff and be gone...”

One of the men grabbed both of his
arms and another slugged him hard in the face, he slumped to the
ground, nose trailing red down his chin. Lindsey's .38 was up and
aimed in a blink. Kevin moved to help Bubba.

The
man spoke again, “Got us a real cowgirl, ain't we?” He
was talking to the man behind Lindsey. A muscled arm clamped around
her neck and her hand was
brutally
twisted, the gun fell to the ground and the man that spoke
reached
to pick it up. She remained in the choke hold.

Kevin
had helped Bubba to his feet, he knew they were in
serious
trouble. Bubba was dazed, Lindsey's was gagging against her captor.
His
mind raced, he had to think fast and do something to get them out of
this. The choker
used
his other hand to explore under Lindsey's
shirt
.
What would his father do? He had always got them out of dangerous
situations, usually without killing anyone.

He said out loud to Bubba, “Hey
friend, recall that old story that Jeff used to love to tell. You
know---the one about those men that attacked us down on the Louisiana
and Texas border---they had that lead foot problem, you remember?”

Bubba wiped his hand across his
bloodied face and looked a bit confused, then his eyes widened.
“Yeah, yeah. That was a good story, Kev. I know exactly what
you're talking about.”

The four men and the kid looked at
them like they were crazy. The spokesman said, “Hey, this
ain't no time for bedtime stories, you id-jits.”

Bubba bent over, grabbed his middle,
one hand on the wagon, mumbled “Think I'm gonna be sick.”
He knew exactly where his pistol was tucked in the side of the wagon,
under the cover. When he stood up, gun in hand, he said, “NOW!”

The two friends fired at the feet of
the attackers. The kid promptly ran up the alley and three of the men
screamed out, two hobbled right behind the kid and the main speaker
squirmed around on the ground and cursed. Lindsey brought her small
boot down hard on the foot of her captor and at the same time gouged
her bony elbows backwards. He let go of her and took a step back.
Facing three guns, he held his hands straight up, turned and ran down
the alley into the street.

The alley was quiet except for the
heavy breathing of the trio. The wreathing attacker had crawled away
and was out of sight. Bubba's face was a mess and Lindsey's wrist
had already swollen to double size. She moved to the two men and
spread her arms around them, leaned her head on Bubba's chest,
“Crap-on-a-cracker---that was way scarier than the mountain
lion.”

She pulled back and held on to the
painful wrist, started to laugh, “Those guys danced better than
you, Bubba. How'd you two come up with shooting them in the feet?”

Kevin said, “Oh, my dad taught
me that trick. Doesn't kill somebody but damn sure puts them in a
hurt.”

Bubba looked at the small woman in
front of him, “Are you okay, girl? We should've killed that
slime-ball.”

She shrugged, “Wrist hurts like
hell but I've had lots worse.” She looked out at the narrow end
of the alley they had carelessly become trapped in, “We better
get moving, the day is going away fast now and we need to get to
Beulah House before dark. If you have something in the supplies, I'll
make a sling. Let's get out of this place.”

***

The path took Taylor and Cissy in and
out of scrubby thick trees and across the rock cluttered soil at the
base of the mountain. The going was slow but she thought that was
okay because even though the dog moved along, his careful motion made
it obvious that he was sore. It was late in the second day when they
cleared the first tall mountain and the lower middle peak came into
good view. As the dark came, once again the high and faint glow was
visible.

“
Has to be nearly above the tree
line,” said Cissy. “There must be some sort of camp up
there. It's so rough, I don't see how it could be very livable.”

Taylor squatted at the fire. Peaches
was exhausted, made growling noises in his sleep nearby. The gash in
his rear leg was not deep and they still weren't sure what had given
him the injury, just watching that it didn't get infected. “Have
to admit, the light is not a natural thing. Something or somebody is
on the side of that mountain. And you know, we may not exactly be
welcomed.”

“
True,” she looked upward
at the pale glimmer, “Tomorrow, we head up.” She wanted
no discussions about the risks of this exploration.

For three days the trio gradually
trekked up. Often in the trees that seemed to grow out of solid
rock, they didn't spot the glow again for the first two days. At the
base, the last time they saw the light, Cissy had stood facing it and
checked her compass. The light lay west and the best they could do
was to keep heading up and in that direction. It was rocky and steep,
they slowly picked their way around and over, thankful at times for
the crooked branches to hang on to. At the end of the day, as they
tried to find a spot level enough to perch for the night, she
wondered had they really moved ahead very far at all. Finally, on
the third evening, they reached a clearing and there was the glow,
larger and brighter than they had seen before.

The dog's head cocked to the side and
the pointed ears flicked. Cissy heard it, too. “What is
that---that humming noise---do you hear it?”

“
Yeah. Sounds like a motor,
something mechanical.”

“
It's a steady noise, like when
you hear the neighbor's old tractor weaving around and away. There
couldn't be anything like that up here. How would a vehicle of any
kind get up on this mountain?”

They took turns at the watch, couldn't
rely on just the dog to give them warning. They had spied a black
bear and cubs at a distance in the last two days, someone needed to
be alert. No problem keeping awake for her watch, Cissy knew that a
bear with young was a very dangerous animal. She listened for the
hum, seemed like it had quieted or maybe she had just gotten used to
the constant distant buzz.

Before another day had passed a few of
the questions that had haunted her the night before---actually for
months, would be answered. Where some mysteries were solved, so many
more questions were created.

Three sets of eyes stared upward at
two tall wind turbines that stretched into the sky above. The thick
stems topped with whirring blades dwarfed the travelers. The hum
that had increased in volume during the day was now a loud whir.
Beyond the weathered wind machines, a small city huddled, clinging to
the side of the mountain, it seemed to be breathing with life.
Taylor looked at Cissy with amazement, “Oh my god!”

She couldn't help but laugh, “We
might be hallucinating. What'cha think?”

They moved forward a few yards and
Taylor motioned for Peaches to heel. “I don't see any walls or
fences, no guards.” Another few yards and to their surprise
they just walked right into the town.

A wide street, a rough and bumpy rock
bed that continued to rise was flanked on both sides by building
after building, with boardwalks fronting them. The buildings were
weathered but nearly all displayed neat signs that identified; The
Secret Cafe, Secret General Store, Secret City Bank and a big white
painting of a tooth, Dentist, Molly's Hats-Shoes-Etc., a Clinic and
Barber with a striped pole. Cissy had not been away from her small
community for years, she was fascinated and kept having to remember
to shut her open mouth.

A wildly careening motorized vehicle
caused them to jump up on the boardwalk. The stoney street was
crowded with two wheel, three wheel and four wheel rumbling and
gyrating machines. Some had what appeared to be handmade bodies of
various materials, some were just a motor and a frame. There were
wooden bodies, mixtures of old car body parts such as fenders or
hoods and tin and metal. Many were boldly painted or---not. Horns
honked and if there were any lights, they were tied or wired on.

Other than a few curious stares from
children, a nod and a
hello,
no one had questioned or seemed
surprised to see the two strangers and extra large dog in their
“Secret” city. Cissy noticed even the young children
that freely populated the walks and street, looked armed; B-B guns or
pellet guns at their waists or strapped on their backs. Every single
resident had a visible weapon. Perhaps this was the reason they
didn't seem concerned about visitors.

They had moved along through the
pedestrians and noisy traffic and reached the end of one side of the
main part of the town. Numerous cabins and houses scattered beyond,
trees were sparser as this unusual city did spread on the edge of the
mountain tree line. The elevation was high here and the air cool,
most of the residents wore long sleeves, even though it was nearly
the end of summer, some had on light jackets. Cissy was thinking
about getting the windbreaker from her pack, this side of the street
was shaded and she felt a slight shiver.

They looked for a break in the crazy
car parade so they could cross to the other side of the street. A
short stocky man who had no resemblance to an old cowboy sheriff
stepped out from a doorway, “Hey folks, don't think I've had
the pleasure,” he stuck out his chunky hand. A tin star was
pinned to his faded overalls and he wore a floppy wide brimmed hat
that drooped over unruly gray hair. A red flannel shirt was buttoned
all the way to the collar and a toothpick rested nervously on his
lip.

Taylor extended his hand and Cissy
nodded. They offered their names, she said, “We're from a
community on the other side of the mountains. Just came to do a
little exploring.”

The sheriff patted the dog's head and
joked, “Did you ride this fella up or is he for protection?
I'm Henry, the sheriff of Secret. You're welcome here, long as ya'
don't cause no trouble.”

Taylor said, “Got quite a few
questions, Henry. Could you....”

“
Listen, don't mean to be rude
but I got to get to the jail. Why don't you go on over to the Cafe
across the street and up a block or so, always someone there to visit
with. Gettin' near supper, the mayor might even be there. Well, nice
to meet you.” He dashed across the street, shaking his finger
at a speeding vehicle. Twenty five mph was excessive on this street
where the hand built vehicles weaved around and bounced over large
rocks.

They crossed the precarious motorway
and moved downhill on the opposite side of the town, here the sun
still offered some warmth. The Secret Cafe emitted delicious smells
as they approached the wooden framed screen door. Taylor placed a
rope loosely around Peaches's neck, tied it to the leg of a bench,
“Stay, boy”. He pulled at the door and said as Cissy
walked through, “I'm suddenly starved, smells good in here.”

The room was filled with mismatched
tables and chairs, clean and warm with a noisy muttering den. A lady
wiped her hands on a colorful apron as she came to the oil cloth
draped table they chose, “Hello folks. We have stew or fried
chicken today. You can have breakfast; pancakes or toast, eggs and
sausage---what'll it be for ya?”

After a brief conversation about what
would be the accepted tender or barter for a meal, she ordered stew
and he chose breakfast. While waiting, Cissy got up and started
walking around the cafe, looked with interest at the various
paintings that hung on the walls and other eclectic decorations, old
hand tools and handmade objects. A large fan spun slowly above the
tables and stirred the aromas through the warm air in the room. The
lights were rather dull but numerous, Taylor saw his partner lean in
closer to one of the paintings, studying it.