Miracles (The Remarkable Adventures of Deets Parker Book 3) by J. Davis Henry

Author:J. Davis Henry [Henry, J. Davis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-23T22:00:00+00:00

Do I just wait for a knock on my door or what?

I grew restless. After giving up on some lame attempts to pray, I tried to put tunnels and healings and demi-gods out of my mind and seek inspiration in my art. Large swatches of color proved painless for my hand, but I cramped up and couldn’t control the detailed line work in my large window drawing. Anxious and insecure, I decided to clean up some of my more mundane personal problems and went downstairs.

Through Mandrake’s contacts, I found an investigator who agreed to search for Sam Wilson and promised me it would be no problem to deliver my driver’s license, social security card, and draft card. The ID’s would be legit, but requiring an extra fee, of course.

When I arrived back at my apartment, the tire track slashed across the seven foot length of paper tacked to my plywood easel didn’t register at first as possible. How…? What happened to my drawing?

The pattern hadn’t been colored or inked in. Instead, the marks consisted of ash and tar and rubber and something else—smears of bile or an oily debris. The textures and smell reminded me of the fresh char mark of the blasted apart pigeon back when I first explored Monster Alley. With the white feathers still strewn on the floor in the other room, and now this vandalism, I suspected the forces battling over the tunnel had coalesced in my apartment.

Sheoblask. It’s my hand he’s speaking to. First the tail pipe burn, now one of my creations wrecked.

I spent an hour silently cursing Steel and Sheoblask and Pan and the portals, knowing I couldn’t run from them, wondering if my involvement with them was a lifelong commitment or whether I even had much longer to live. Then someone tapped their knuckles against my door.

Jackman came in, pushing a wheelchair in which Mother Abel sat. She immediately harangued me about my approach to healing. “How are the sick and crippled going to climb all those stairs? If Jackman hadn’t been with me, I’d be outside on that sidewalk with all those hippies and whores. And I hear after the sick finally climb up here, you send them away. You heartless or what? You tell me what’s going on.”

I didn’t like Mother Abel and took my mood out on her. “People stop leaving you flowers at your gateway to heaven?”

“You’re a rude child. I don’t know why the Lord would choose someone like you to work his miracles.”

“And on your doorstep. You wonder?”

Her bottom lip jutted out at me in defiance. She dove both her hands into her pocket book, pulled out a small purse. “What is it? The folks who showed up too poor to pay? Well I’ve got money. How much you charge for two ruined legs?”

And suddenly I was reliving the moment my eyes had met Carlito’s as I held a grenade ready to blow him out of this world. I had made the choice not to kill him.

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