NAKED ANGELS A Novel by Howard Emanuel howardemanuel.com
[email protected] Emanuel: NAKED ANGELS 1 THE PIGEON ON THE PLATFORM I’ve never had an easy time being myself, for one thing. I grew up the first and only child of a dirt-poor, single-parent family in Southwestern Pennsylvania, an area too far north to be part of the Bible Belt but still close enough to the Mason-Dixon Line for interstate billboards quoting God in Bible-red ink. “I’m watching you! Don’t make me come down there!—God.” Hunting and football remain the kings of the area, and while I’ve never really been inclined to pass the pigskin or to stalk deer in the wee hours of the morning, there was more than one winter when my family would have starved had my football-loving father not made hunting his sole religion. Gabe’s arm flew in front of me—as if this alone could defy the Law of Inertia. “Watch Out!” he screamed. A string of brake lights ignited before us. My seatbelt stretched taut. The fender in front ran toward our windshield. The car two spaces in front of us fishtailed, but unlike many of the other vehicles, it turned sideways without hitting the car in front of it—and because of the extra space created by the suddenly-sideways car before us, and though we lurched forward with a force that nearly ripped our rental car’s body from its axle rod and wheels, we came to an abrupt but complete stop.