... Logan ...
Part o2
"Dad!" Logan yells up the stairs as he walks into his father's house. Tossing his house keys down on the coffee table he flops down on the couch. "Daaaaaaaaaad" he drawls with a lazy smile on his young face.
The house is quiet; dust lazily flows through undisturbed sunbeams. Logan hears a cough. He peruses the room. The furniture is wrong. He slowly sits up, scanning the living room. The couch he's on has been shoved a couple of feet to the left, his Dad's favourite chair is turned almost toward the wall, a magazine lays open on the floor. He scoots to the edge of the couch. "Dad?" There's a slight edge of uncertainty in his voice.
"Logan? I'm in the dining room"
Logan gets to his feet. "Dad?" He moves through the house to the dining room, stopping dead in the doorway. His father, an older, more tired and worn version of Logan. He's sitting at the head of the long dining table a long bronze coloured knife in one hand, a drink in the other. Blood is dried on the side of his chin, soaked into the front of his flannel shirt. Logan's face creases with worry "Dad!?" He starts toward his father stopping on a dime when his father speaks.
"Sit down son." His father clears his throat.
Logan freezes, feeling as though there are too many directions to go in. And he is unable to pick just one.
His father's face is resigned. He speaks gently "Son? Sit?"
Logan stumbles forward and slides down into the closest dining room chair. Chewing on his bottom lip he looks down at his hands as he rubs his palms flat against the thighs of his jeans. "Dad? Are you? ... Is everything ok?" So many thoughts, did his father hurt himself? Had someone broken in? He reached for his cell phone, stopped, put his hand back on his leg and looked up at his father.
"Logan, "his father began wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, "you need to listen to me very carefully. I don't have much time" He took a deep shuddering breath. "Logan I'm going to be dead soon. You need to get as far away from here as you can. Take the truck, I packed your backpack... there's money in there - should last you a long time."
Logan's brain stuttered to life. "Jesus Christ... Da...."
"Logan!!" his father roared. His glassy blue eyes burned into Logan's. "Listen," he continued in a husky voice, "there's no time for questions. Leave as soon as I tell you. Don't stay anywhere too long. "His voice broke and he looked at his son trying to apologize with his eyes. "Logan - you have a brother."
Logan lurched onto his feet knocking his chair backwards and only just saving himself from falling. "Fuck ... Dad... a bro.."
His father's fists slammed down on the table spilling most his drink and flicking blood drops across the shining surface of the table. "Logan! For Christ's Sake", he bellowed, "There's no time. Listen to me!!" He was panting when he finished yelling, trying so hard to hold it together.
Shaking, Logan laid his hands deliberately on the table, palms down, stretching his fingers out wide. He leaned forward.
His father continued. "You have a brother. You need to find him. If he knows.... When he...", the words were eluding Logan's father. "He'll be looking for you I think Logan." His father waited until Logan lifted his head slowly and peered at his father from behind his hair. "Logan. I love you. I'm so sorry. It was never...we thought.... I didn't think you should know any of this. I thought we were safe."
Logan tilted his head, eyes struggling to focus on his Father's face. "Safe? Dad?" His voice trembled. "Safe from whom?"
The older man coughed again, drained what was left in the glass he still clutched and smiled weakly at Logan. "I'm dying Logan. The knife they used..."
"They?!!" Logan screamed, his patience shredded, eyes widening slowly "dying???"
His father stumbled to his feet flinging the glass and knife across the room. In three quick steps he was behind Logan, slipped his arm around Logan's neck and pulled him back in to a chokehold. When he spoke again his lips were almost touching his son's ear, his breath hot and moist. "Logan."
Logan flailed his arms, sputtering, feet slipping on the hardwood floor. "Dad" he murmured. The hold around his neck tightened until he could hardly breathe.
His father spoke quickly. "I've been poisoned. I'm going to be dead soon. You need to run and you need to stay hidden and you MUST find your brother. I don't know much Logan. I know... I think he will be trying to find you and you will know him when you see him. He's differ... unusual Logan. You need to find each other before...." The older man's voice faltered and Logan felt the hold on his neck loosen.
Gulping a few breaths, Logan tested the strength of his father's hold... and turned cautiously to face his father.
His father's arms dropped to his side and he locked tear-filled eyes with his son. "Logan. I can never make this up to you. I love you son. I am so proud of you. I'm begging... please", he paused to take a deep breath "remember what I've said. Stay safe, stay hidden, keeping moving, find your brother. His name is Kai. I don't know where he is ", he smiled wistfully, "I don't even know what he looks like. He's four years old than you Logan. Go now. Don't come back here for any reason. There's new ID in your backpack...everything I could think of."
Logan took a step back, bumping in to the table. "Dad, I don't even..." his thoughts were racing. There was a lump in his throat and he was fighting rising bile. "Dad... how can I leave? What the fuck Dad? "It was insane to feel bad for swearing in front of his father. "I'm sorry Dad. This is a joke...right?" Logan knew how stupid it sounded the moment the words left his lips.
His father placed a rough hand on Logan's cheek. "Logan, you know, I wouldn't lie to you like...." He cleared his throat "go son. Now. Please."
Before he realized what he was doing Logan threw himself against his Father's chest wrapping his arms around the older man. "Dad" he murmured into his father's blood stained shirt. "You... dying?" Like a child's question.... Are there monsters?
"I know son." His Father spoke into Logan's shoulder wondering when his son has grown so tall. "Go now Logan."
A sob was wrenched from deep within Logan as his father pushed him away. "NOW son."
Logan stumbled backwards a few steps never taking his eyes off his father, tears making slow paths down both their faces. Loathe to even blink... Logan bent and grabbed the backpack quickly from the floor and swung it up onto his shoulder.
His father reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys', tossing them to Logan.
Logan back slowly towards the dining room door. "Dad..."
His father leaned against the wall behind him and slid down, resting his forearms on his knees. "I know son. Please go."
Logan stood in the doorway long enough to hear his father take a shuddering breath and sob almost silently.
Turning on his heel, Logan bolted for the front door. The distance to the truck seemed to take forever to cover. His hands wouldn't work, there were so many keys and a million locks and Jesus... the door was open the entire time. This was so crazy. But his father had never been more serious and the blood...
He turned the key in the ignition and the truck roared to life. He pounded his fists on the steering wheel and reversed out of the driveway. With no idea what he was going to do or why he believed his father he started to drive.
story and words and photos Copyright Charlotte Kinzie 2009.
email for permission to use my stuffs.