Logan walked down the street cautiously. Something definitely didn't feel right. To use a clichéd phrase, it was too quiet. He glanced warily toward each end of the street. What was this feeling? His house was almost on the end of the street, so he had quite a bit of walking ahead of him, and this feeling he had now made him want to run home. Something definitely wasn't right. But what was it? It was driving him insane. Even the snow had stopped falling. There was no wind either. Logan grit his teeth. Dammit, what's going on? I can't play this off as simple paranoia. For one thing, what do I have to be paranoid of? Suddenly, without much of a warning, his instincts screamed for him to turn and run. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, but as he turned to do so, he was grabbed from behind.
"Get inside, you idiot of a boy!" cried a familiar voice.
Logan continued struggling for a moment until he realized he recognized the voice.
"Mr. Brown?" he asked without turning to look. "What's going on?"
"Not now. We need to get inside first."
"But why?"
"Not Now!" he barked, pulling Logan into his small house. Once inside, Mr Brown paced around his main living area, closing curtains and locking the back door. Finally, after taking the precautions he felt he needed, he sat down, his frizzled white hair standing on end.
"Mr. Brown, what's going on?" Logan demanded, still standing at the front door. "Why'd you drag me here like that?"
"Get away from the door, you foolish boy!" He snapped, turning in his chair. "What if they see you?"
"What if who see me?" Logan asked, coming into the living room. "What's going on?"
"I don't quite know myself."
"Then why did you--"
"Listen, boy--No, don't interrupt, I only have time to say this once. Some strange men went to your house about an hour ago. They haven't come out yet, their car is still parked outside and everything."
"I didn't see any--"
"It's the same model as your father's."
"What do they want?"
"I'm not sure, but while walking my dog, Skipper," he nodded to his little dog sleeping in the corner. "I heard a lot of banging and screaming, and I could have sworn I heard a gunshot."
"My parents were shot? What's going on?"
"Didn't I just say I didn't know?"
"But--"
"I heard someone shout your name, your mother I think."
"My mother's in trouble!" Logan cried, jumping out of his chair and bolting for the door.
"Wait!"
"I can't! My family's in trouble!"
"Listen, if you go out there, then something horrible will happen!"
"Even if that's true, I have to go! My family needs me!"
"What can you do? Have you forgotten who your father is? If he was helpless to stop them, then what's a seventeen-year-old boy going to do?"
"But--"
"Listen, I think someone's looking for you and your family."
"What makes you think that?"
"On my way back, I saw a man in a black suit outside, on the phone. Very clearly, I heard "We have all but the boy. He wasn't in the house." You can't go back. There's some kind of conspiracy going on."
"No offense, Mr. Brown, but don't you think everything's a conspiracy?"
"Don't fool with me, boy. You're in danger."
"Obviously, if someone was shot. But like you said, what can I do?"
"If they're looking for you then you're in danger being here. You need to leave."
"How can I just leave? Where to?"
"I don't know! Leave Bridgewater, leave the state. Hell, leave the country. All that matters is that you get away."
"And my family?"
"I'll figure something out."
"You?"
"Yes, once you're safely gone, find a way to contact me. After that, I'll give them your demands, saying you won't come out of hiding until your parents are safe."
"And what makes you think they'll comply?"
"What other choice do you have?"
"..."
"So you need to get going."
"Are you sure you're not overeating?"
"Would you rather feel silly for overreacting or be dead for not taking the threat seriously?"
Logan winced. When he put it that way, he really had no choice, but the though of his family being threatened made his blood run cold. There had to be something he could do. Besides, people knew his face. And if people really were looking for him, then there were bound to be pictures. However, Mr. Brown must've read his mind, for a moment later, he was shoving Logan back into a wooden chair and cutting his hair.
"What are you--"
"You can't go into hiding if everybody knows your face. We need to do something to hide you."
"I don't think a simple haircut will--"
"Of course not! We're going to dye it."
"Dye it?"
"Yes, blonde of course. Then all we have to do is get you some colored contacts to hide your eyes. And a fake ID."
"And where do you supposed we'll get all this?"
"I was a detective for the police a long time ago. There was once a man I knew who could help you with the ID."
"And how do I contact him?"
"I don't know."
"Don't you have his number? Can't we just call or--"
"Idiot, nothing's easier to trace than calls, and email's easy to trace as well."
"Then what am I--"
Mr. Brown handed him a small slip of paper. On it was a single line of quickly scrawled writing.
"What's this?"
"It's his address. You'll have to find him yourself."
Logan scanned the address.
"I don't think there is a "motice drive" in Bridgewater. Not even in Harrisonburg."
"No, he lived in Ohio."
"Ohio? How am I supposed to get to Ohio?"
"By whatever means necessary, as long as it doesn't get you caught."
"Like what? hitchhiking?"
"If that's what it takes. Just don't do or say anything that'll make you memorable. And never stay in one place for too long. Stay on the move. When things are safe here, I'll find a way to contact you and call you home."
"But what if--"
"No more questions. It's going to take some time before you can leave with that dye in your hair. Would you like something to eat?"
"No, thank you." He glanced at the address again. "Ohio, huh? And how am I supposed to pay for this trip? I’m going to need a place to stay, too."
"I'll cover your expenses." He went to his mantle and pulled a brick from the top, revealing a large hole. He reached into the hole, retrieved something, then returned the brick. When he came back, he was clutching many bills of fifties and hundreds. "Here, there's over five thousand here. This should give you a good start. Just don't spend too much in one place, otherwise that might make someone remember you."
"I can't take this! Five thousand dollars is way too--"
"Listen, when this is over, and your parents are safe, then they'll be happy to pay me back for all I've done. So don't ask anymore questions. Just take it, and don't be stupid with it." He walked back to his chair, then thought second of it and came back to Logan, his hand out.
"What?"
"Your ID," he said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "You can't have any forms of identification with you. Otherwise, if they find you, it's over. I'll hide them for you. Your ID, credit card, school ID, everything'll be safe. When it's safe to come home, you can come by and pick it up."
"Okay, but how will I know when I can come back?"
"I told you I'd find a way to contact you, didn't I?"
"Yes, but--"
"Then hurry and give me your ID so you can leave!"
Logan obeyed and pulled out his three cards, ID; school ID; and credit card. He also handed him his photo of Brittney.
"If she comes looking for me, make sure she knows I'm safe."
"Can she be trusted?"
"Completely. And she can't be linked to me, because only my parents know we're together, and they won't say anything that might put me at a disadvantage."
"Okay, I understand, now let's go."
Logan stood up and went into the kitchen. He peered out the window. Behind the house was a small path that led to the woods. It seemed like a safe place to start.
"Should I leave through the woods?"
"Don't be stupid. If you're being hunted, they'll think of that instantly."
"Then what do I do? Walk out the front door and waltz down the street?"
"Even stupider. No, you're coming with me. I'll drop you off in Harrisonburg, In a crowded city like that, you'll be safe. Camouflaged."
"Won't they see me riding with you?"
"You're appearance has changed, remember? And you won't be sitting there. Until I say so, you'll be laying on the floor of the back seat. I can't be seen with a child your age, otherwise that may alert someone. You need to start using your head, boy."
"Okay, when do we leave?"
"Now, let's go."
Walking out the door casually, the two got into Mr. Brown's old station wagon. Logan did his best to cram himself on the floor of the backseat. Once they looked suitably normal, the car started up and the two made their way to Harrisonburg. Despite what he had said earlier, not once did Mr. Brown give Logan permission to sit up. It wasn't until they were in the parking lot of the Harrisonburg mall did he finally allow him to sit up and stretch his now sore back.
"Remember what I told you," Mr. Brown said, looking back at Logan, who now sat in the back seat. Do nothing particularly noticeable, and never spend too much in one place. Also, if you ever feel the urge to leave soon, do so immediately. A good intuition may save your life. Now we must hurry. You have to find a way to Ohio, to find my correspondent."
Mr. Brown opened his door and got out. Logan did the same.
"What are you doing?" Logan asked, looking around warily. "I thought you couldn't be seen with me?"
"In a small town like Bridgewater, we'd stick out instantly. Besides, what if they saw me leave? Then I need some sort of cover. So I'm going to buy something relatively useless here then be on my way. But even now they may have someone watching, so you'll follow me in, then we'll go out separate ways. You'll leave through a different exit. Then you're on your own for now."
Logan nodded. He didn't like this idea, but what choice did he have? If what Mr. Brown hypothesized was true, then he was in danger. He needed to get away. More importantly, he needed to find Mr. Brown's correspondent to get help.
Logan followed Mr. Brown into the mall, where they walked through a few shops until, finally, Mr. Brown placed his hand on Logan's shoulder and smiled and said, "It's time." Logan understood and nodded, forcing his own smile. Then, in an instant, Mr. Brown was gone, already several paces behind Logan.
"Well," he muttered under his breath. "I'm on my own now. I can't stay here forever. Can't make it too easy for them."
Without thinking about it, his feet took him through the mall for another fifteen minutes before finally leaving, not bothering to look at anyone. That was the key to hiding. Look like you have something to do, but don't look to be in a hurry to do it. As Logan crossed the street towards an old favorite ice cream shop of his, he glanced at his reflection in the window. He definitely looked different. His short, blonde hair made him almost unrecognizable. But his eyes. His mother had always told him his eyes always stood out the most of any of his features. Which meant that he still wasn't safe. He wouldn't be until he found Mr. Brown's correspondent and got his fake ID and colored contacts. And even then, his chances of evading capture were slim. Then he shuddered. His chances of leaving Harrisonburg unnoticed was even slimmer. He gulped nervously and began walking briskly with no place in particular in mind. He had to get out of Harrisonburg, and soon.