Because You Exist(6)

The man let free another laugh and scratched the back of his head. “I know it seems unlikely, Logan, but trust me. You have no idea what you’re capable of, or who you even are. Besides, I didn’t pick you. But you were chosen, and we both must deal with that.”

“Dude. Neither of us believes you,” I snapped, my frustration slipping out. “ So, just tell us what’s really going on! Is this some weird psych experiment? Are we on some hidden camera show? Just tell us, and get it over with.” I was close to losing it.

I just wanted to go back to Hamlet.

The man’s smile finally left his face. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “A TV show? I’m going to need that talk to stop this very moment. Do you understand me? Everyone you two know and love is dead. And if you two don’t start listening to me, we won’t be able to stop it. We chose to bring you to this moment, this time. We need you to understand what is going to happen. In time, you’ll find out why you have been selected. But you are important to the mission. You. And her. And everyone else selected. You cannot be replaced. It can only be those selected. So, its time you stepped up, Logan. Otherwise, this world you love and all the people in it will end.”

“You’re lying,” I growled.

Why didn’t it feel like a lie?





Chapter 4





“End?” The word sat in my throat, melding with me, sinking into me. Somehow the word finally made everything seem real. I didn’t feel scared or empty, or any of those things the poets and writers waxed on and on about in English class; I felt an unsustainable amount of energy hum inside of my body.

I had to do something. My body demanded action. It had been called into a war it didn’t know existed. Without reason or explanation from the creeptastic man in front of me, I believed. My body believed and that was enough for me.

“End,” I growled again.

The man nodded. “This is why it’s so important to listen to me. Everyone you ever loved is dead, but we can stop it from happening.”

Screw that. I’m not sure if something on my face alerted the man to my thoughts, or if his instincts seemed to be as good as mine, but he took a step towards me. “Now remain calm, Logan. Freaking out isn’t going to help any of us.”

I took a step back bumping into Carrie. She grabbed onto my arm to steady me. I looked back at her. Her eyes met mine and I saw my horror matched in hers.

“Run,” she said, looking directly at me.

I didn’t hesitate. I spun around and ran as fast as I could down Kempsville Rd. Or what used to be Kempsville Rd. Every time I felt myself sucked in by the darkness, the ruin of my once life, I pushed myself harder. It was probably the fastest I had ever run. Never in a game had I sought something that meant so much to me.

I had one place I needed to go.

One place that meant more to me than some damn football game, and my body knew it too.

Jenna. God, Jenna.

I tried in vain to ignore how my chest burned and my eyes stung as I ran through her neighborhood. She lived close to the school. Freshman year I started to ride my bike to her house every morning so I could walk with her. I got a lot of hell from my friends for that, but I didn’t care. She was beautiful and kind, and I wanted her.

She made me work for it. She wasn’t going to go out with me just because my uncle was some hotshot lawyer, or because I was a star on the JV football team. She wasn’t impressed with any of that, and it made me like her more. Sure, I loved the attention I got because of who I was, but I wanted to be liked for the parts of me others didn’t think were important.

I wanted to convince myself that I was more than that.

I skidded to a stop in front of what once was Jenna’s house. It looked as if a tornado or hurricane or something had touched down and forever claimed her house. There was no going back from this. This was complete and utter destruction. Door torn off its hinges. Mrs. Maples’ JCPenney designer curtains ripped from their rods. Jenna and I spent three hours at the mall while her mom picked out just the right shade of blue.

That’s what this was—a complete and utter raping of every good memory I had in this place. The best memories I could ever wish to have. These memories had no place in the house I shared with my uncle. They belonged with Jenna and the family I liked to pretend that I belonged to.

Gone was the porch swing where I shared my first kiss with Jenna. I remembered sweating an ungodly amount during those frightful moments when I wondered if she would accept my kiss. The swing now lay broken in the yard. The big bay window I had smashed last summer when I attempted to teach Jenna’s cousin how to throw a baseball.