Soul Tracker by Bill Myers

Author:Bill Myers [Bill Myers ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780310873839
Publisher: HarperCollins Christian Publishing

One hour later, Gita sat huddled on a lumpy, paper-thin mattress. The heavy smell of pine cleaner filled the air, though she knew it was better than the other smells lurking beneath. Her cot was shoved against a dirty window that glared with flashing, sequential lights advertising the Pussy Cat Theater across the street.

What was God doing? This was the last place she wanted to be. Surrounded by such filth and squalor…and memories. What was He doing?

“First timer?”

She gave a start and turned to see a fleshy-faced girl, cigarette dangling from her mouth, suddenly plop down on the cot beside her. Despite the thick maroon lipstick and raccoon eyeliner, she was obviously a child—fourteen at best. Her blonde hair hung in greasy strands and even the pine cleaner couldn’t hide the smell of her body and the booze on her breath.

“Yes,” Gita said, trying to smile. “I guess you could say that.”

“Old man beat ya?”

“Pardon me?”

“You’re too old to be a runaway, too dressed to be hooking.” She took a drag from her cigarette and blew it out. “That leaves druggie or the old man’s punching bag.”

Discretely trying to pull back, Gita caught a throat full of smoke and began coughing.

The girl grinned. “Nasty habit, ain’t it?”

Gita kept coughing as the girl took another drag and blew it up and over their heads.

Finally catching her breath, Gita threw a look past the dozen or so empty cots to the open door and hallway beyond. There, at a cheap metal desk, Adrianna, a volunteer staff member from some church, kept guard. She was a heavy black woman, just slightly younger than the preacher. And from the way the two had bickered and chided each other, it looked they had some history between them. Whatever the relationship, they were close enough for the preacher to fast-talk Adrianna into allowing Gita and David to spend the night, no questions asked. That had been twenty minutes ago, just long enough for Gita to settle in and for David and the preacher to head off to the cemetery—something she’d strongly protested against and had no intention of participating in.

Now, here she sat, too close to some unbathed child who nervously jiggled a foot on the floor, making Gita feel more than a little uncomfortable. But it wasn’t just the girl that unsettled her. It was the memories. Memories of a similar child with a similar attitude in a similar world—but a child that was now dead and buried—far, far away, in another lifetime.

Gita stole a look back into the hall. Hadn’t Adrianna known the girl was drunk? And what about the smoking? Surely, they wouldn’t allow children to smoke here in the shelter.

The blonde took another drag. Outside the window, car stereos throbbed, horns honked, and in the distance there was the thump-thump-thumping of a police helicopter. She flipped her greasy hair to the side and leaned closer. “Lots of lowlife here, Chiquita. They’ll be rollin’ in from tricks any time now.”

“Tricks?” Gita repeated, trying not to breathe.

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