The Good Old Days - 1. Chapter 1

Justin stalked home from school, angry. He glared down at the sidewalk under his feet, not quite wanting to go home. Some of his body still hurt from the beating his old man had given him the night before.

And the kids at school had to go and be dicks about it too. They spread the rumor around that he had gotten into a fight with another kid, which hadalmost gotten him suspended. None of them actually got into a fight with Justin—he would kick their asses ifgiven the chance. He doubted any of them could throw as solid of a punch as his father.

Justin swore and felt his jaw carefully, feeling the pain of the bruise there. Damn his old man.

He sighed and slowed to a stop over the bridge. Clear Creak River rushed under it, and Coors was off in the distance. The bridge had small viewing areas and tables on the sidewalk with plaques about the history. Justin tossed his backpack up onto one of the high tables and slid into a chair. He propped his elbows up and watched the cars to his left.

Soon the late fall heat got to him and his dark clothes, and Justin took off again. He grabbed his backpack and slid down the kiddy slide to the riverside, where it was a little cooler. He hung out under the shade of the bridge, which would soon be filled with other loud teenagers on skateboards… but he would enjoy it until then.

He fished his iPod out and started to listen to music. Justin pulled off his shoes and socks, stuffing them into his backpack before dipping his feet into the water. It was freezing since it was all melted snow, and made his feet go a little numb within a few minutes.

Justin reached under his shirt and felt the small coin, hanging from a leather cord around his neck. He felt that familiar tightness in his chest whenever he thought about his mother. She passedaway three years before. The necklace had been hers, and been in the family for a while.

Justin’s father had knocked him out when the man discovered Justin had the necklace, instead of leaving it in a little box of her belongings. Justin still refused to give it back though.

He sighed again and rubbed the back of his neck. He really didn’t want to go home. It was still only fall, so sleeping outside was fine, but the police always looked around for passed out drunks. That would be quite the confrontation if he got brought home by the police at three in the morning.

Justin perked up when he heard the clatter of skateboard wheels and overly loud voices. He picked himself up from the ground and walked off, despite the sand clinging to his still wet feet. He walked towards the foothills and found some large boulders on the bank of the river. He stumbled through the brush, still barefoot, and crawled onto one of the boulders.

Water lapped around it, and people walked the riverside path behind him. Justin ignored their voices and stared down at the water, trying to decide if he should start his homework or not.

Justin felt the necklace again. Her anniversary was come up soon. His father would probably go into some drunken rage, either through town or at home. If he did it in the town, that meant he got arrested and made a public embarrassment of himself. Then Justin got beat when he got home. And if he didn’t go out and make a scene, Justin still got beaten.

Justin wished for the hundredth time that he could be anywhere else, even if it was just for a few days.

He pulled out some homework and flattened it out against his thighs. The math made no sense, but he still tried. All the dates and names of history he was horrible with. Science was close enough to math, so he didn’t understand the chemical equations.

When the light started to dim behind the foothills, Justin gave up and tucked his homework away. He put his shoes and socks back on after brushing the sand off his feet. He climbed the stairs next to the kiddy slide he had gone down earlier, and wandered around the small open park for a while. It was mostly empty, so he headed for some trees and tall bushes.

Justin promised himself he’d wake up early in the morning to stop at home before school. He tossed his backpack into a bush, and that bent some of the branches into a small crater. Justin crawled towards that and curled up in the small space. He leaned back on a tree branch, and stretched his legs out.

Hopefully his hiding spot was good enough avoid any drunk-seeking policemen.

He drifted off to annoying crickets and a few other bug sounds. Justin usually slept better outside, away from worrying if his father would come barreling into his room angry and drunk.

But whatever dream Justin had made his stomach flip and churn sickly. It made him feel heavy and drowsy likehe couldn’t move. Couldn’t open his mouth to talk, and his ears felt like they were going to explode from some sort of pressure.

When he finally woke up, he didn’t feel so good. He sat there for a few minutes, wishing his stomach would come down. It was another hot day, with the sun high in the sky and—

“Shit,” Justin grumbled and started to stumble up from his place in the bushes. With the sun as high and hot as it was, it was probably close to afternoon. No point in school now. They had probably already called his house, announcing his absence on the landline voicemail machine for his father to hear. He swore again and tripped out of the bushes, pulling his backpack out behind him.

He looked up and stopped, confused. The library should be right across the street, but it wasn’t. Hell, the street wasn’t even there. And the park wasn’t as well kept as usual. He looked to his right and—where had the Coors brewery gone? Buildings didn’t just disappear overnight!

“Fucking hell,” Jason sighed. Maybe he wasn’t awake yet. That would be a good thing, as long as he wasn’t late for school still.

He started walking, over some older version of the bridge he had been on the day before. There were no cars, but instead horses and carriages. Justin eyed them suspiciously, as the people eyed him back. Why the hell did he feel like he was still in some Western movie?

Justin looked west, and the foothills were still there and the same distance away. Was this Golden still? Whatever. He had to pee. But as luck would have it, of course they didn’t have public restrooms! Justin swore again and sat stubbornly on the ground.

“Bullshit,” He muttered under his breath and fiddled with his iPod. He needed to wake up already, or he was going to pee in the bushes. How awkward would that be?

He tried pinching himself a few times, and felt stupid for it. Not only did it hurt, but also it wasn’t doing anything either. Justin went for another walk and took a second look at his surroundings, a little more carefully. Well, the Old Capitol Grill was still there, where it had always been. Its name was a little different though—it was a freaking grocery store, or something.

That building had always been there. And it confirmed he was still in Golden. He turned around and started walking, getting a little annoyed at the people who stopped to stare at him. So whatif he wasn’t dressed in some stupid shirt and pants like every other guy?

He even saw a few people withcrosses ontheir chests. ‘Stupid religious nuts.’

Justin started walking towards where his high school was. He couldn’t get there, though, before some boy stumbled into his way. The boy stopped, and openly looked Justin up and down in confusion. “Got a problem?” Justin hissed defensively.

“What?” the boy questioned. “You’re the one dressed strange.”

“I am fucking not.” Justin bit back. The boy flinched at the words, and even looked shocked—like he’d never heard anyone cuss before. Well, in some weird cowboy town, they probably didn’t cuss too often.

“Where are you from?” The boy asked more curiously.

“Golden,” Justin answered.

“You are not!” The boy seemed a little angry. “I’ve never seen you before!”

“Well too fucking bad,” Justin said, enjoying that the boy seemed a little uncomfortable with his choice of words. He looked maybe the same age as Justin—give or take a year. He was blonde, and around five feet and nine inches tall.

Justin did notice that he felt a little too tall in this dream—he was only six feet, yet seemed to be taller than everyone else around here. His black hair reached his shoulders, longer than any of the guys he had seen, but shorter than any of the women’s hair.

“I think you’re crazy.” The boy finally concluded. “Or maybe you’re a drunk.”

“I’m not a drunk!” Justin seethed. He wouldn’t be compared to his father. “This is just some fucking weird dream and if you’re going to call me crazy I can probably kill you, wake up, and be fine.”

The boy looked horrified. His mouth opened to say something, but he decided against it and snapped his mouth shut. “What are you talking about?” He lowered his voice.

That made Justin’s stomach twist. “What?” He snarled. “This is a dream.” The boy just narrowed his eyes. “Who’s the president?” Justin asked, becoming a little more worried.

“Rutherford Hayes,” The boy answered quietly, growing suspicious.

Justin tried to remember that name. It sound very, very vaguely familiar. “Uh, what year is it?”

“1880.” The boy frowned. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“I’m sure.” Justin swallowed painfully. Well, he never remembered any presidents aside from the important ones. “Can you kick me really quick?”

“Excuse me?” The boy backed off a little. This guy really was crazy.

“Just kick me in the shin or something. I won’t get mad, promise.” Justin stuck a leg out as an offering. If this hurt, like really hurt, and he still didn’t wake up…

The boy hesitated before driving his foot into Justin’s shin. Justin swore again and pulled his leg back, hopping around on one foot. “Fuck,” He snarled. First, that had hurt. Second, he was still here.

“Shit fuck shit!” Jason grumbled under his breath, starting to panic. This wasn’t possible.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The boy asked again, daring to come closer and place a gentle hand on Justin’s shoulder. “Maybe we should go see Father Joseph? Sleep the liquor off—“

“I’m not drunk!” Justin stressed. 1880. Was he in the year 1880? Seriously? When were the witch trials again? Shit, would they try to burn him? “Oh fuck.” Justin moaned and swallowed down the bile in his throat.

“Come on, I’ll take you to Father Joseph.” The boy slipped an arm around Justin’s back to help him stand. Justin stumbled along, blindly, still in shock. It wasn’t fucking possible.

“I’m Elijah, by the way,” The boy chirped. It really was 1880 if everyone had names out of the bible. Justin swore again and tried closing his eyes, feeling dizzy.

A few minutes later, Elijah helped Justin into a small building. There were pews on either side, with a small pedestal at the front. There was a choir booth behind that, and a small door off to the left. “Father Joseph?” Elijah called out into the small church and aimed for the door on the left.

An older man—maybe in his thirties—peeked out as they got there. He took in the darkly clothed boy leaning on Elijah. “Is he drunk?”

“I’m not fucking drunk!” Justin burst out angrily. Father Joseph flinched just like Elijah had, but he let the two into his office.

“I think he’s really confused,” Elijah informed and set Justin into a chair. “He doesn’t even know who the president is, or the year.”

“Where’d you get your clothes?” Father Joseph asked gently.

“Fucking Wal-Mart.” Justin answered in a panic. Both Elijah and the Father was confused by the answer. “Wal-Mart?” Elijah echoed.

Justin groaned and sunk into his seat. This was so messed up.

“Where are you from?” The priest went on to ask.

“Here. Golden, Colorado.” Justin murmured.

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen. November 17^th, 1993.” Justin sighed.

The room went silent for a few minutes. “Nineteen…” The priest paused in confusion. “That’s not possible. It’s only 1880.”

Justin shrugged, not sure how exactly he just ended up here. All he did was go to sleep in a bush!

“Do you have any family here? What’s your name? Maybe we can find them for you.” The priests voice was gentle.

“Justin Grant.” Justin chewed his bottom lip. His mother said she had some family that went pretty far back in Colorado. “But uh.” He stalled again. “I think my families name is…” Somewhere on his mother’s side, someone lived in Golden he knew. But he couldn’t remember.

And so he started crying.

That sent Father Joseph into a panic, and Justin tried to wipe his eyes, but nothing helped. If this wasn’t some dream he was fucking scared. And hecouldn’t stop crying. Father Joseph started to look around for something, and Elijah slunk over to wrap his arms around Justin’s shoulders.

Father Joseph finally produced a handkerchief—not even a tissue, but a handkerchief!

It took an hour for him to calm down. Justin slowly removed himself from Elijah’s arms and chest, no longer crying, but still freaking out inside.

“What’s this?” Elijah pointed to one of the iPod headphones dangling from Justin’s shirt. Justin tucked it away quickly. He would give them no reason to think he was a witch or whatever by playing strange music through little ear buds. “Nothing.”

“Elijah, run and get some of your clothes for him to wear. They might be a little small, but we can’t have him walking around in that.” Father Joseph waved a hand over Justin’s current attire. Elijah left the room, leaving Father Joseph to the new teen.

“Maybe you should lay down and try to get some sleep. Maybe this will just pass by morning.” The man offered.

Justin doubted it would.

***

“I’m not required to go to school?” Justin asked in shock. Elijah just gave him a funny look.

“Well,no. But I do have to go to work,” The blonde said.

Justin wondered what exactly he was supposed to do here. What would school be like? He wanted to imagine that he would know a lot more than everyone else and feel smart for once, but… school was still school, and he didn’t want to go.

“Where do you work?” He asked instead.

“I pick up odd jobs. Right now, I’m working at the Coors brewery.” Elijah said.

“So it’s around?” Justin was a little surprised. The large building of Coors he was used to hadn’t been there. Elijah gave him another quizzical look. “Yes, it just opened up a few years ago.”

Justin made a mental note that if things really ever did get figured out, he needed to research some stuff.

“There’s no more slavery right?” Justin continued trying to remember some of his past history classes.

“Not anymore.” Elijah sighed. “Do you really not remember anything?”

Well, Justin did remember a lot of things. Just not when they happened. Hell, if he even mentioned an iPod they would look at him like he was crazy again. Maybe he could make some money, betting who the next president would be? Though, he didn’t remember the next president. Damn.

“You should just stay at the church with Father Joseph,” Elijah concluded. It wouldn’t do Justin any good going around asking dumb questions.

Justin agreed and watched as Elijah left for work. He wandered back into the church and found the pastor in his office. The three had spent the night at the man’s house. Justin wondered if they were father and son, but it didn’t seem like it. He had tagged along for the day, still too freaked out to be alone.

He had gone to sleep, woken up, and was still in fucking 1880.

“Tell me something about yourself, Justin.” Father Joseph asked. Justin was a little bit of an oddball name, so despite the teens protests, he figured Justin wasn’t local.

Justin sat into one of the armchairs of the man’s office. He didn’t know exactly what he could tell without sounding crazy. “My mom died three years go,” That was true enough. “Dad took it hard.”

“Is that what happened to your face?” The man asked over his shoulder.

Justin’s cheeks colored with a shameful blush. “Yeah,” He grumbled. Hell, here they couldn’t do anything about it. He doubted Child Protective Services was around yet, but if they were, he wasn’t going to ask. Justin touched the necklace around his neck out of habit. It was the one normal thing he had kept on.

The rest of his clothes were in his backpack, and that he kept close for comfort. Currently he had it clutched to his chest, as if he would be whisked back to where he came from. He didn’t want to leave anything where he was.

“You should help him find God again,” The pastor suggested thoughtfully.

Obviously Father Joseph was a man of God and would say that, but Justin couldn’t help but snort disbelievingly. Father Joseph sent him a nasty look. “What?” He questioned.

“My family has never been very religious. There’s not much of a God to find.” Justin admitted.

Father Joseph looked like he had been struck. And then, Justin remembered it was 1880 again, and religion was just that big of a deal. “No offense?” He added.

“You should come to service on Sunday, and ask your father to attend as well. Maybe I can counsel you both.” Father Joseph nodded hopefully.

“I, uh, he’s not around here. He lives somewhere else,” Justin mumbled the mostly true excuse.

“So you’ve run away, then?” The pastor pressed. Justin squirmed in his chair. “I don’t know how I ended up here, really. I know I was wishing I wanted to get away, but… I didn’t think I would end up here.” True again.

Father Joseph sighed and wove his hands together in his lap. “Is there any reason he… hits you? Or does he just do it?”

“He’s a drunk,” Justin answered bluntly. “I wasn’t drunk yesterday. I refuse to drink. Even the smell of it makes me sick, now. Makes me think of him and what he does to me,” Justin admitted that openly for the first time. Kids at his school ranted about drinking, how once he got over the bad taste it would be okay but—Justin couldn’t. He really did hate it, physically. No one understood that, and he couldn’t tell anyone about it.

But now he was in some place different completely, away from his father and the law that could put him into foster care for the remaining months before his eighteenth birthday. He could talk here—maybe not about history, but… still.

“That would make sense. I’m sorry if we offended you by thinking you were drunk, then.” Father Joseph sounded like he meant it, too. Justin relaxed, but could only shrug. He wasn’t so used to up-front apologies.

“He drinks a lot.” Justin continued and touched his necklace. “Plus the first time he hit me was when he realized I was wearing my mom’s necklace. He wanted it to stay with all of her belongings, but I wanted something of her, and he wanted her things to stay with her.”

“Can I see it?” The pastor asked and held out a hand. Justin wasn’t just going to give it over to the man, but he leaned out of the armchair and held up the leather cord. “Huh,” Father Joseph remarked quietly. “It’s a silver dollar coin, for China trade only. Interesting. Do you know where she got it?”

Justin shook his head no, deciding that saying “it’s been in the family” wasn’t the greatest idea. He’d figured it was a silver dollar, but he didn’t know it was for China trade only.

“They stopped making those about two years ago. I’d hold onto that if I were you.” Father Joseph smiled warmly.

Justin wondered if whatever family member he had that was in the area had gotten the same advice recently. He almost wanted to tell them that it would still be in the family over a hundred years later.

“Now,” The pastor cleared his throat and brought up a Bible. “Let’s get to work on that not believing in God tidbit there. Have you read anything in the Bible?”

Justin groaned. This was going to be a long day.