Sherry Ficklin - Losing Logan

He grins, puts his hand over his eyes and turns his back to me. I slip down to my bra and panties and slide into the warm water.

“Okay, your turn.”

He turns back to me, wide grin still firmly in place. He strips down to his boxers and climbs in beside me.

“This is amazing Zoe.”

“I know, right?”

I keep waiting for the fact that I’m half naked in a pool with a guy I hardly know to register as a huge mistake in my brain, but it doesn’t happen. We just laugh and talk and everything feels so…relaxed. It’s almost a shame when he finally sighs.

“As fun as this is, I think we should be getting home. It’s after midnight.”

He’s right. But I have a trunk load of problems waiting for me at home, and I’d give just about anything to not have to deal with them for just a few more hours.

I slip back into the water so only my face is above the surface and stare at the stone above me. How has my life gotten so complicated? What did I do to deserve this particular bag of insanity?

I don’t hear Kyle make his way through the water to me, I just feel his arms wrap around me and the next thing I know, I’m pressed tightly against him as he lifts me out of the pool, kissing me as we move. When my feet hit stone, I’m still tangled in his arms, my hands running along the lines of his body of their own accord. He strokes my hair, my back. Slowly, like an ember being brought to flame, I feel the heat rise inside me. Even the tiny, wet scraps of clothes between us seem like too much. I feel him stiffen, pulling away just a little. Some deep, primal part of my brain wants to end the painful separation. But then there’s a soft voice in the back of my head. The voice of reason.

And it sounds a lot like Logan.

I force myself to step back, not really releasing him, but getting a hint of breathing room between us. I lock on to Kyle’s eyes. His expression is wild, flushed. He’s panting almost as hard as I am.

“Best. First. Date. Ever,” He says, kissing me quickly one more time before releasing me and scooping up his clothes, and turning away.

“I’m going to go get dressed. Over here,” he says breathlessly, not turning back to look at me.

The drive home is quiet. Not in an awkward way, but in a blissful, calm way. Maybe I’m just tired, but I scoot to the middle seat of the truck, leaning against him as he drives. He slips an arm around me and I close my eyes, just for a minute.

Or at least if feels like it’s only a minute. The next time I open them we are pulling into my driveway. My hair is still damp and there’s a wet spot on Kyle’s shirt where I’d been resting. I let him walk me to my door, kissing him goodnight on my porch step. He drives off and I step inside, faced immediately with a sour faced Logan.

“What?” I whisper, knowing mom is probably fast asleep in her room.

“I was worried sick. Do you know what time it is?”

I burst out with a laugh and walk to my room. “I didn’t realize you were the curfew police.”

“I tried to find you, Zoe. I closed my eyes like I always do, thought of you, and there was nothing. It was like you’d just vanished off the face of the earth or…”

I stop mid step, looking back over my shoulder at him. I jerk my head, motioning for him to come into my room then shut the door.

“You thought I was dead.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t know what to think. You were gone and Bruno was gone.”

“He likes to be called Kyle.”

“I don’t care if he likes to dress up in women’s underwear and be called Nancy. I couldn’t find you!”

He raises his hands in the air, making a gesture like he wants to choke me. Then he throws them in the air and stomps off.

“You almost gave me a heart attack, Zoe. Seriously. If I wasn’t already dead, I could have died.”

I snicker again.

“Relax, Logan. I took Kyle someplace safe. Where neither you nor The Reaper could find us.”

“Where?”

“None of your business, Casper the Stalky Ghost.”

“Fine. Whatever. I’m just glad you’re okay. Wait. Why is your hair wet?”

I pull at the damp, wavy strands around my face. “Oh, yeah. I should probably go shower. Somebody dumped a tray of food on me.”

“Hey, it got you out of there, didn’t it?”

I nod, grabbing a towel and my jammies. “Yes, clever plan Logan. Next time maybe you can light me on fire or something.”

“Hey,” he reaches out, grabbing my arm. This time I feel it, his cool skin on mine.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re alright. And I’m sorry about before. If you want me around, I’m here. For however long we have.”

I swallow. Probably not the best time to admit I’d nearly jumped Kyle’s bones at the cavern. I don’t know what to say so I just nod and head for the shower.

The hot water only makes me feel worse. I can still feel Kyle pressed against me, I can taste him on my tongue. Slowly I wash the bubbles out of my hair.

If there was any kind of justice that stupid Reaper would take me and leave them both alone. If the world worked the way it was supposed to, it would have been me that died, not Logan. Not my dad.

I straighten up. Maybe that’s why it’s here. Maybe it really should have been me. Maybe this time, the universe will get it right.

* * *

I let myself sleep in longer than I mean to the next day. But I’m bone tired and I don’t have any plans, so I figure why not? Other than answering an early morning text from Kyle who is off to a full day of lacrosse practice, I don’t even move until almost noon.

The knock at my door makes me jump.

Carlos peeks his head inside. “You decent, Zoe Bowie?”

“As decent as I ever am. Come on in.”

Carlos walks in, shutting the door behind him. “Um, is he here?”

Logan waves from his spot in my chair.

I point in his direction.

“Hey, Logan,” Carlos offers cheerfully.

Logan waves, not looking back from the movie he’s watching.

“He says hey.”

“Cool. So, I had my date with Mr. Perfect last night,” Carlos begins with no preamble.

I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. “Great, how did it go?”

“It was a little weird at first, but it turns out he’s a huge boxing fan, so he and my dad totally hit it off. It was per-fect. And,” he takes a deep breath, “I asked him to Homecoming.”

“And he said yes?”

“No, he said no. I mean, it’s sort of weird for a college guy to be dating a high school senior, but he asked me to go to his Homecoming instead, so I said yes. It was—“

“Perfect,” Logan and I answer in unison.

“Exactly. So, what are we doing today?” he asks, walking over to my closet and rummaging through the hangers.

“I was actually thinking some research might be in order,” I offer, walking over to Logan who looks up at me curiously. “Maybe we can’t figure out who killed you. But maybe we can at least figure out what that Reaper thing is and what it wants.”

Logan sits forward, his hands on his knees. “That’s worth a shot. Maybe we can figure out how to get rid of it.”

“That’s what I was thinking too,” I say. But it’s a lie. Mostly, I want to know what it is, and what it wants. Because, if it really is after me, no way in hell am I going to let anyone else I love get hurt or killed in my place. If it’s really here for me, then I’m going to go with it, I’ve already decided.

Logan gives me a doubtful look, but Carlos just tosses me an armful of clothes.

“Here. Go get ready. We can go to the library, and grab something to eat on the way.”

Saluting him I dash off to the bathroom and change. When I get back Carlos is talking to himself. Or to Logan, probably.

“What are you two talking about?”

Carlos hands me my messenger bag. “What? Nothing. Let’s go.”

I glance over at Logan who puts his hands in the air like he has no idea what I’m talking about. Fine. Whatever.

I follow Carlos through the house and as I pass the kitchen I notice a huge bundle of flowers on the table.

“Oh. Those came this morning,” Logan says, his voice dry and unimpressed. “Your mom brought them in before she left.

I veer into the kitchen and pull the tag out of the flowers.

Thanks for the best first date ever.

Love, Kyle

I stick the card in the back pocket of my jeans before Carlos can see it and start asking embarrassing questions I don’t want to answer. I turn and Logan is literally looking over my shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

I roll my eyes and step through him, following Carlos out to his car.

As soon as we open the door I see it. Across the street, standing in the stark daylight, it’s brown robe billowing gently. Logan sees it too, stepping in front of me.

“Get in the car,” he orders. “Head to the library. I’ll meet you there.”

“What are you going to do?”

He shakes his head, “I’m going to try to get some answers.”

“You coming, Zoe?” Carlos asks from his car.

I grab Logan’s arm, solid only for a moment. “Be careful.”

He leans back, kissing me quickly on the cheek. “I’m always careful.”

I sigh, climbing into the car. “Says the dead guy.”

The library is filled with screaming toddlers. Kids story time, I remember as I wade through the horde of midgets. My dad used to bring me when I was little. Luckily, the study area is off to the back, far beyond the kids section and down the stairs. Taking the first left into the bowels of the library we head for the computers, and take seats opposite each other. Logan appears before I can even launch the internet.

“He vanished before I could get any answers out of him.”

I nod, not wanting to freak out Carlos, and begin my search. An hour later and all I have to show for it is a stiff neck, blood shot eyes, and the beginnings of a nasty headache.

“Does it have wings?” Carlos asks across the table.

He’s staring at the computer so hard it looks like he’s trying to figure out how to climb inside the monitor.

“No,” I answer.

“What about a scythe?”

“Nope.”

He frowns, clicking the mouse. “What about a trident?”

I raise an eyebrow, “Really.”

He nods.

“No, no trident. What are you looking at?”

“Online catalogue of death figures,” he says as if it should be obvious.

Because, duh, I totally should have expected that.

“Okay, no…no. No…”

“You’re talking to yourself Carlos.”

He shushes me.

“Here, how about this? The Mintle. It comes from ancient Samaria, a sort of death omen. It says they appear with a white or brown robe, and they don’t cause death so much as witness it. The ancient Samarians believed the Mintle was responsible for leading the dead to the afterlife. There’s even a picture. Sort of.”

I get out of my chair and round the desk, looking over his shoulder. Picture is a deceptive word. A crudely drawn sketch would be more accurate. Basically, it looks like any generic person in a long hooded cape.

“Maybe. Any other references?”

He shakes his head. “None that fit. But there’s a footnote with a reference. A book from the late 60’s.”

“Great. Give me the number and I’ll see if it’s in the catalogue here. If we get lucky, they might have a copy.”

Going back over to the main catalogue computer I type in the numbers as he calls them out. Zero in stock. Of course. So I decide to try a general sweep and type in Mintle as a subject and keyword. One hit. But there’s no shelf number.

“Crap. I’m gonna go see if the librarian knows where this book is. I’ll be right back. But keep digging, just in case this isn’t what we’re looking for.”

He salutes and returns to typing and I head for the Information Desk where a slender brunette is talking on the phone. She hangs up.

“Can I help you?”

I hand over the slip of paper I’ve written the title on. “Yeah, I found this in the catalogue, but there’s no shelf number.”

She types it onto her computer, lowering her glasses from her head onto her eyes.

“Let’s see. Okay, well this is in the archives. It’s not on the shelf.”

I frown. “Oh, well, how does one go about getting a book out of the archives?”

She stares at me like I must be joking.

“It’s important. History assignment.”

She huffs, looking completely put out. “The archived books are all in the sub-basement.”