Under the Viaduct by H. Anderson (first e reader txt) 📗

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

About the Author

Immortal

Immortal Works LLC

1505 Glenrose Drive

Salt Lake City, Utah 84104

Tel: (385) 202-0116

© 2021 Holli Anderson

https://www.holli-anderson.com/

Cover Art by Megan King and Ashley Literski

www.approximatelymeganndesign.com

http://strangedevotion.wixsite.com/strangedesigns

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For more information email contact@immortal-works.com or visit http://www.immortal-works.com/contact/.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-953491-15-2 (Paperback)

ASIN B08YN87M48 (Kindle Edition)

"To Wayne and Kilee:  The boy who was saved and the girl who saved him.

And to my husband, Steve:  You're my favorite human."

Ash and bits of burning paper spiraled above the metal barrel as the wind picked up. Kaylee hid in the shadows a half-block away from the ragged group surrounding the fire beneath the viaduct, their hands held above the flames licking from the rim. She squinted, trying to determine if this was the group she’d been looking for.

A man with a dark brown tangled beard looked up at her just in time for their eyes to meet. She held her breath for a few heartbeats, worried about the danger she’d put herself in alone in this part of town—a Denver she never knew existed. The man tilted his head to the side in a quick show of curiosity, then returned his gaze to the hypnotics of the flames. Kaylee blew out her breath, the warm air mixing with the frigid to form a puff of white.

Quick footsteps sounded behind her. She twisted at the waist, and with no time for fight or flight to kick in, was met by a man, still running, as he tackled her to the ground. With a grunt, every ounce of air in her lungs whooshed out as she hit the gravel. Her phone flew from her hand, landing with a crunch several feet out of her reach. She couldn’t even draw in a breath, much less scream for help, not that she expected any to come.

She punched her assailant’s face, scratching at his eyes as her own vision became spotty before her. Her legs pinned under the weight of the brown-toothed man, she couldn’t even kick him. He got a grip on her wrists and leaned down to push them against the ground, his face so close to hers their noses nearly touched—just as her lungs decided to start working again. She breathed in his rancid breath—all rot-gut whiskey, rotting teeth, and recently smoked…something. Meth, maybe? She had no idea what meth smelled like, but if she had to guess, this was it.

She retched, fear and disgust causing her whole body to tremble as she tried to hold in the street tacos she’d wolfed down a couple hours ago. Her head wasn’t clearing up as quickly as it should now that she was getting oxygen. And it hurt. The back of her head hurt. She’d been concentrating so hard on re-inflating her lungs, she’d missed the fact that her head had bounced off a rock or something else solid.

“Heh. Yer a perty one,” her attacker slurred. He released her right hand to paw at the zipper of her coat. “See what’s under there…”

Twisting away from his groping hand, she screamed and raked the side of his face with her fingernails. It wasn’t as effective as she’d hoped it would be, she’d bitten her nails down to the quick during mid-terms last week. Kaylee squeezed her eyes shut as the man raised his hand in a fist.

The blow glanced off her temple, adding to the swimming in her head. Her eyes flew open as his weight shifted. The man she’d made eye contact with above the flames of the barrel slammed into her assailant, rolling her to her side with the force of his attack.

Kaylee covered her head with her arms to keep the men’s flailing feet from connecting with her already-damaged head and curled into a ball. Gravel crunched beneath them for a few seconds before a new voice—not the voice of her attacker—said, “Get out of here. And don’t come back.”

A gentle touch to her arm. Kaylee twitched and squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

“Are you okay?” His quiet voice surprised her with its softness. Shouldn’t homeless people have rough voices to match their countenance?

She slowly removed her arms from around her head and uncurled from her fetal position. Shadowed eyes stared at her from beneath dirty bangs pressed flat by a blue and orange beanie. “I…I think so.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position. Mistake. The world spun about her as her vision faded around the edges. “Oh…” She lowered herself back to the cold ground.

“You’re not okay,” the man mumbled. “Do you have a phone? I think I should call an ambulance.”

“No. No ambulance. Just give me a minute.” She touched the center point of pain on the back of her head—her fingers came away wet and sticky. She opened her eyes, trying to focus on her fingers as she held them in front of her face.

“You’re bleeding. And shivering.”

“I’m okay.” She just needed to find her phone and get back to her car. Alone. Her teeth chattered. She pushed up on her elbow, slower this time, and searched the ground.

“Look,” he swiped the hair out of his downcast eyes, “you should at least let me take a look at that cut on your head and let me help you to the fire so you can get warm while you recover a little.”

“My phone.” She’d finally spotted it a few yards away. She shoved herself up, intending to stand so she could go get it.