Healer by Sam Whittaker

Author:Sam Whittaker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fbi, love, hell, friend, faith, miracle, young, cross, heaven, chase, overcome, william, hunt, heal, fugitive, roads, shack
Publisher: Sam Whittaker

Sunday

Chapter 15

It had been yet another long night of driving. Instead of finding a motel, he’d pulled off to the side of the road because his eyes had begun to feel very heavy and he didn’t want to fall asleep at the wheel and end up in a hospital, or worse, the obituaries. He’d put a good ten feet between his car and the highway’s shoulder so there would be little to no chance of getting clipped by another sleepy driver.

He’d awakened when the Sun had put some distance between itself and the horizon. Its brilliant yellow rays stabbed his eyes, forcing him to turn away and reach blindly for the fold down visor and vanity mirror on the ceiling.

When it was down and blocking the merciless light, he rubbed his closed eyes with heels of his hands. He opened his eyes, testing their willingness to work for him after so little rest. He didn’t remember what time he had gotten to sleep the night before and he wasn’t yet sure of the present hour, but what he felt one hundred percent positive about was that he needed to find a real bed and someplace to get himself a passable breakfast.

He reasoned that there would likely be a truck stop and motel somewhere along the road ahead. And somewhere thereabout he would find his holy grail – a steaming cup of coffee. Even the thought of smelling the hot black liquid salvation perked him up. He pushed himself up to sit straighter in the seat to gather his wits out of the fog of over-tiredness.

A few minutes later, when he felt confident he was awake enough, he was pushing down the road again. An hour passed before he saw anything promising. He came to the edge of a little town called Milestone that made him think of the little town, as well as the people, he’d left behind to join this bizarre chase.

The town was a lot like countless others its size all over the country, especially in that in spite of its name, it was anything but a milestone. It was as ordinary as one could possibly imagine. There was a smattering of homes, a gas station, a little white church, and various other small town amenities one would expect. But there was one thing, even in its ordinariness, that Benson counted as good as gold. There was a motel.

He pulled his car into the parking lot and parked next to the old weatherworn sign reading ‘Millie’s Motel.’ He saw only two other cars in the lot.

Benson watched as a man exited the motel office, heading toward the guest rooms. He was covering his right eye with a hand and staggered a few times. Too much to drink, pal? Benson wondered.

Benson stepped out of the car, closed the door, and headed for the office.

It wasn’t much cooler inside the motel office than it was outside. Well at least it’s also small and uncomfortable, Benson thought with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

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