Adventures of Logan van Zant: CH II

The props of the Boeing 377 Stratocruiser kick on. A soft hum fills the cabin. Logan and Aurora sit in their seats awaiting take-off. Aurora flips through a magazine while Logan looks out the window. The hum of the engines reminds him of the countless hours of flight time and parachute jumps preparing for D-Day. His life in the Army Airborne Infantry was a time of fervor and terror. He looks across the wing; he remembers how his Gooney Bird was riddled with holes over Normandy, and how lucky he was to be alive. “How did any of us survive,” he mutters to himself.

“What are you mumbling about over there,”Aurora asks; her voice brings Logan back to the present.

“Nothing. . . Just, um. . . What are you reading there?”

“Well, take a look at this!” Aurora excitedly flips open the magazine to a photo of a swimming shark,“It’s a Thresher Shark, isn’t it funky? It’s got this long tail as long as it’s body, see? And it uses it to whip its prey, isn’t that neat? They’re harmless to humans it says, and they live in the Mediterranean! Do you think we’ll get to see one? I’d sure like to swim up and touch one! Hey are you listenin’?”

Logan’s head rests against the cabin wall, he is fast asleep. His face is red and bruised from his fight with Bruno the day before. Aurora looks at him empathetically before laying his jacket over his shoulder. “Get your rest professor, who knows what we’ll be up against next.”

The force from take-off pushes Aurora into her seat; Logan remains undisturbed. His mind takes him back to his childhood on Lake Michigan. He dreams of the open pasture where he played as a boy. The tall grass rustles as the wind gently blows. He feels at peace.

The sound of his mother’s voice echos across the field. “Logan,” she calls, “Loooogan!” His childhood home sits atop a hill; he runs toward it. Her voice comes again, but filled with urgency and fear, “Logan, run! Run and get help! Run Logan! RUN!” The wind stops; all is silent. He runs faster and faster, but each step forward pushes the house farther away. A dark cloud rises on the horizon; a deep chill runs up his spine. His chest aches as the cold fills his lungs, he can see his breath. The sound of gun shots echo across the field; dirt and debris fills the air as the pasture is obliterated by explosions. He is knocked off his feet. All is dark.

A voice calls out to him from the darkness. “Van Zant! Van Zant, get up! Logan do you hear me!” Logan opens his eyes to the dirty face of a soldier. “Get up Van Zant! We’ve got a war to fight!” Bullets zip over head; Logan finds his bearings before lifting a rifle to his cheek and fires at the old farm house. “Go! Go! Go! We need to get inside and take out that sniper!” Logan breaks cover and rushes the farmhouse. He shatters a window as he takes a grenade from his belt and throws it inside. The explosion blows the door open. With rifle at the ready he breaches the doorway. He pauses in horror at the sight of the family of four killed by the grenade blast. Logan witnesses the last breaths of the father holding his deceased child. Logan removes his helmet and drops to his knees before a frozen lake.

The cold wind whips at his face, his lips are chapped and cracked. He looks across the desolate lake, but there is no end in sight. The lake fades behind a white curtain of an impending snow storm. The heat of his breath rises and dissipates. A child dressed in a black-and-white stripped jumpsuit stands before him. The child’s face is sunken from malnutrition; her hair has been buzzed away. The child’s deep eyes meet his and stare into the depths of his being. “I’m sorry, I thought I could help you, I thought I could. . .” The child places a finger on Logan’s lips to silence him; the child shakes her head—no. Logan’s lip quivers as the child turns and walks out onto the ice. The ice cracks with each step. Logan extends his hand to grab her, but he cannot reach. He tries to yell, no words escape. The child turns and smiles before suddenly falling through the ice.

Logan jolts awake, and looks around. He is back on the plane. “Are you alright?”Aurora ask, she places a hand on his shoulder. Her deep eyes meet his. Logan looks away.

“Yes, I’m fine. . .”

“Are you sure? I could—“

“I said I’m fine! You wouldn’t understand, now leave me be. . .”

“You know what ‘Professor’ I have had it up to here with your mightier than thou attitude! I don’t know what your problem is, but when you figure it out, let me know, I’ll be in the lounge!”

Aurora picks up her jacket, brushes pass the stewardess in the aisle, and disappears to the deck below. Logan rubs his bruised face. The stewardess approaches his seat, “Sir, is there anything that I can get for you, coffee or tea perhaps?”

“Neither, thank you.” Logan sits in his seat in thought.

Aurora sits at the galley bar. “What can I get you Miss?”asks the bartender.

“Give me a highball, would ya?”

“Coming right up.” The bartender mixes gin and tonic in a Collins glass and places it in front of her. Aurora takes a sip.

“Tell me something, why do all you men behave like children who refuse to share their toys?”

“That will be a dollar-fifty, Miss.”

Aurora places the cost on the counter and turns away. She unbuttons a leather cuff wrapped around her wrist and looks at the skin underneath, “There’s a lot I understand, somethings better than others,” she thought. Steps draw near; she quickly buttons the cuff as Logan sits next to her.

“Theseus. . .” he says plainly.

“What?”

“That’s who’s depicted on the front of the cipher, Theseus and the Minotaur. . .”

“So?”

“So. . . That’s our next clue in all of this. Once we reach Athens, we still don’t know how to find Cornelius, so the next best thing is to see an expert on the matter.”

“I thought you were an expert?”

“I know a little about a lot, we need some one who knows a lot about a little. . . I’m no expert.” Logan says humbly

“Who do you suggest?”

“Lets start at the Athens Archeology Museum and go from there.”

“That’s good enough for me, apology accepted. . .” Aurora stands, “but, lets get one thing straight, you may not realize it, but I was sent here to help you. I know you may think that I can’t be of any use, but Cornelius thought otherwise. I’ll see you up stairs.”

The Stratocruiser touches down on the tarmac, and taxis to a halt in front of Ellinikon International Airport. The fifteen hour flight has come to an end, but the feud between Aurora and Logan continues.

“I’m driving. . .”

“What? Why, don’t you trust me?”

“Last time you drove, you hit somebody. . .”

“Yeah to save your life! Besides he didn’t die, he barely had a scratch!”

“Keys!”

“According to the 1949 Genova Convention on Road Traffic you need an international driving permit to drive abroad. Do you have one of those? Because the last I checked, I do! So kindly take the back seat professor!”

Logan loads the bags into the Fiat, and sits in the passenger seat. Aurora turns the ignition, shifts the car into drive, and speeds off into traffic honking her horn. “And we’re off,” she giggles.

“What demon has possessed you woman! Watch where you’re going!”

“Don’t worry, I see ‘em!” Aurora laughs as she weaves in and out of traffic.

To be continued. . .

*This is chapter two of Logan’s adventure. If you would like to support this series or see similar works like Imagine, Mr. McCreedy, or Just Deserts, share them on social media or leave a tip. Thanks for reading!