6: Now THEY Know

DUN DUN DUN…

His mother, at work most likely, was nowhere to be seen. The interior of the house lay in wreckage. Nothing appeared to be stolen – Logan knew it wasn’t, because the article that the ran-sackers were looking for was in his backpack. Logan ran up to his room.

His bed was in shreds. The covers had been mauled, and pieces of the mattress covered the floor. Pieces of paper, odd wooden bits of his desk, crinkled under Logan’s feet.

Had he honestly thought it was over? No, Logan quipped, trying to defend himself – after all, it wasn’t his fault. But, he though again, I’d practically passed the danger. It had been quiet for so long… And now… Now they know.

The first real cold dread and fear clutched at Logan’s heart. He was stalk still, like a deer in the headlights. He had assumed there was no danger left when he saw the ruins of what used to be the inside of his house when he stepped in after school; what if the intruders were still in here, hiding? Heart pounding like a gong, Logan ran out of his room and jumped down the stairs, and fell with a sickening crash onto the floor, right on his Pitchy-Clarinet. He’d cracked part of it, but it was evident enough to see that it had been mutilated already.

He flew out the door and down the street. Where would he go? Obviously not back to school. He’d never been to Flo P’s house, but he knew where it was after walking past it with the gang on the way back from the café. He ran all the way there.

Despite his fear, Logan nervously rang the doorbell. There was a faint ‘bing’, then the sound of feet pounding down the stairs.

Flo P opened the door. “Logan!” she said. “Do you… er… need anything?”

Logan asked nervously: “Can I come in? It’s got to do with the you-know-what.” He stepped over the threshold and Flo P closed the door behind him. From upstairs, a voice yelled,

“That’s not Logan, is it?” Ji-Ji bumped down the stairs on her behind, closely followed by Saraha, who pretended to vomit behind Ji-Ji.

“I need to talk to you,” Logan almost sobbed. Flo P looked at him, heavily concerned, and even Saraha had to listen. “It’s about the Walrus Document – they know I have it. I got home, and my house was in ruins; I have it here, but… but… But what do I do now?”

Flo P put her arms around him, and Ji-Ji handed him a tissue.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” asked Saraha, rolling her eyes. We have to go away. Run away. We can’t let them get it.”

Logan looked up. The fact was: he wasn’t scared to run away. Fine, he WAS, but that wasn’t what was bothering him. What if they got killed? What if they got lost? What would happen if someone found out they’d gone? And worst of all, what would happen to Flo P?

Saraha stomped her foot. “You’re SUCH scardy cats. Didn’t you realise this from the beginning?”

Ji-Ji nodded her agreement. “Yeah. What else are we going to do? C’mon, we have to get ready NOW.” She immediately fell into her director-role. “We’ll leave tonight – not too late, not too early – but giving us enough time to catch a train and be safely in or on our way to Andersbad by morning. When the does latest train leave – 12:00 am? How about eleven-thirty at Logan’s treehouse? That gives us thirty minutes to walk to the station.

“Next, bring a rucksack of stuff. Maybe wear a short-sleeve shirt and a sweater, with a jacket, and pack a long-sleeve shirt? Also, wear a pair of thick pants and then pack another pair, along with some thick socks.”

“Oh, and sturdy shoes to walk in!” added Flo P. Her eyes were set and hardened.

Logan almost laughed at himself internally. What a fool he’d been! They may have looked like random girls, but he found himself looking at them like goddesses.

Logan decided: it was his fault he’d brought them in: he’d take more control. He had to shed his timid skin. It was time for Logan the Brave to dominate! He said, “Don’t forget, a good Evan-branded water bottle is key, lots of money, keys, and anything else that might come in handy, like non-perishable food items. Cans of soup, beans, nuts, and dried fruit.”

“Like a knife of some kind. A Freedom’s Army Knife, many if you can, and maybe one of those heavy-duty ones that fathers keep in the garage, if it comes down to heavy fighting,” Saraha said boisterously.

Logan furrowed his brow. “There we go, then. 11:30 pm, my treehouse. See you there.”