Vanished (28 page)

-the mist shredded so that every depravity and hatred was
unleashed and Logan couldn't stop the onslaught, ashamed that
the best he could do was to cover Kimmie's eyes and press her
to his chest so she would only hear his heart beating and not
the shrieks of a world vomiting its darkness-

-the mud exploded, the water filled what little expanse Jon
could claim, stripping away their breathers, pulling his arms
out of their sockets, but he willed himself to stretch because he
had a hold on Chloe and would not let her go-

-Ben huddled behind a boulder, all the boulders ever created
coming down on him, driving him into the ground so that the
world he had always known had gone dark-

-vanished from sight.

OGAN HAD LOST HIS DAUGHTER IN THE MIST.

"Kimmie? Kimmie!"

"I'm here, Daddy."

He peered through the mist. Was that flash of color the fire
in the Circle?

"Where, honey?"

"Over here. Can't you see me?"

If he told her the truth, she might panic. "Keep talking, baby.
I'm coming your way."

"Not so fast, Jae Sun." The mist parted to reveal a man
slouched on a bench, his head lolling drunkenly to the side.

"Where's my daughter?"

The man squinted up at Logan through greasy strands of
hair. His skin was like jaundiced leather, forehead creases so
deep they looked black. Cracked teeth, almost rotted to the
gum so only sharp points were left. An end-stage drunk, Logan
knew. He sucked on a hand-rolled cigarette, smoke so thick
around his head that it was impossible to tell where the smoke
ended and the mist began.

"Kimmie!"

"She'll be along in a while. After we have ourselves a chat."

"Who the blazes are you?" Logan swore under his breath,
then yelled, "Kimmie! Where are you, baby?"

The bum stood, almost as tall as Logan. "It's my blood
running through your veins."

"You're insane." He tried to push by, yelling, "Kimmie!"

The man grabbed him, his grip like iron. "What kind of
father abandons his child?"

"I didn't abandon her-she's lost. Kimmie!"

"I'm not talking about you, fool. I'm talking about me."

"I don't give a flying flip about you." The guy was all scab
and smoke-why couldn't Logan get free?

"That's because you think I'm a worm-infested drunk,
rotting from the outside in and inside out. But the truth is this,
Jae Sun. You-and that tramp of a mother-weren't worth the
ground I spit on then. And you are worth less even now."

"You're insane. I'm a good man."

"And that's the problem, wormspit. You got rage in your
heart. Plenty of guns, and a vomitload of self-righteousness.
But when it comes to being a man and putting down that dog
who stole your wife and now wants your girl ... you don't have
what it takes."

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

"And you wanna know why that is?" The guy laughed, rancid
smoke belching from deep in his lungs. "Because, Sergeant Jae
Sun Logan, you don't think that little trinket you pretend is
your daughter is worth dirtying your soul for."

Logan clenched his fists, nails biting so deep into his palms
he drew blood. What had he heard about wounds in another
man's palms?

Fury taken, justice delayed, grace given.

"Oh, God," he cried out. "Oh, Jesus!"

Suddenly Kimmie was in his arms, her fingers digging into
his back. "I knew you'd find me, Daddy."

The man in the mist laughed himself away, smoke and
mist, but the accusations kept coming, darts from every side
scraping Logan raw. He covered Kimmie's eyes and held her
tight, shielding her while he had to look upon what was ugly
and terrible and true.

He was stubborn-holding tight when he should let go. Let
go and leave Hilary to her rich-and-famous lifestyle. Let go and
leave the gangbangers to rule the very streets that would kill
them. Let go of law and justice and peace because they all were
stolen long ago, and only a fool like Jason Logan would believe
otherwise.

More accusations-and temptations-sticking like barbs.

He was a fool-letting go when he should be taking. Take the
revenge that even now smoldered in his gut. Take his wife back
and make her submit to him. Take Kaya de los Santos because
she was his for the asking.

He was stupid-risking his life for others when he should
live only for himself. Live as a man does, and not as a weakkneed fool in pursuit of a weak-willed dead man.

"Daddy," Kimmie whispered, "don't be scared."

Logan fell to his knees under the burden of rage and fear,
trying to keep it from falling on Kimmie. He tightened his grip
on her and begged for God to spare her, even though he understood that the almighty God had not spared His own child.

Oh, Father. Oh, Jesus, save me.

Kimmie wiggled, freeing one arm so she could point to
something. He was afraid to look, but she wouldn't hold still.
"Daddy! Daddy, let's go."

Logan couldn't see what she did, but he put her down and let
her lead him, feeling the indictments fall away like dead leaves.

He opened his hand-opening his heart-and left law and
justice to the One who held it anyway.

He closed his hand-sealing his heart-to take that which
never could have been earned but was offered freely.

He promised to live this new life-the life of Christ-in this
moment and every moment to come in his Father's sight.

HE MUD HAD EXPLODED, SPITTING THEM OUT OF THE
tunnel and into a rushing river so powerful that Jon
was helpless to stand.

No time to wonder or fear why they were suddenly in a
strange land and under a piercing sky, or why such mud-filled
dreck had erupted into a crystalline river-there was only time
to breathe and flail and try to survive.

Hansen wrapped one arm around a rock jutting out of the
water and grabbed Chloe with the other. She held to Jon just
as she had promised-for richer or poorer, in sickness and in
health, in the mud and the fire, in relative reality and absolute
impossibility.

But this water ripped at him-wanted him-so, at the risk of
it claiming Chloe along with him, he let go.

"Jon!" she screamed, but the roar of the water swallowed
her voice.

As he was carried away, he saw Hansen dragging her onto
the riverbank. She tried to run after Jon, but the water was too
fast for her to keep up with, so she could only yell words he
didn't need to hear to believe.

Wasn't it better that he be separated from her? In his passion
to rip apart the fabric of the universe, he had brought this
terrible thing down on them.

What-or why-this thing was, he couldn't even begin to
guess. Either their little experiment had somehow shifted them
spatially into a different part of the world, or temporally into the past or the future, or horrifically into a different reality
altogether.

One thing hadn't changed. Chloe loved him and he loved
Chloe. As soon as he found another rock to grab on to or the
current lessened enough so he could swim to shore, he'd get out
of this river and find his way back to her.

Until then, he could only muse on this irony: rather than
pushing one particle, wasn't it fitting that he was now the
particle being pushed?

OGAN CLIMBED UP THE FRONT STEPS OF GRACE
Community Church. Pieces of the broken clock face were
scattered at his feet. He glanced up, saw the rope ladder
still hanging. Further up, a simple cross topped the steeple. He
had seen that same cross every day of his life, but from this
moment on he would never look at it the same way.

Even from here, he could see the fire in the Circle. The second
bomb hadn't dampened it or fed the flames-it simply was. The
mist blossomed around it and stretched over their heads, but it
had changed. The sky was now visible through it.

Logan shrugged his shoulders, feeling the agony of his burns
but also a shifting of the burden. The cross above his head and
the grace in his heart pointed to the only way any of them
would get through this.

Hal Monroe yanked on the pull rope to ring the church bell.
Over and over, the solemn peal called people to attention. This
same bell had rung for the Armistice after World War I, for
Pearl Harbor and Kennedy's assassination, and on the night of
September 11 to call people to prayer.

Snuggled in Logan's arms, Kimmie jolted with each toll of
the bell. Hilary clung to her from the other side and, for this
moment, they were the family they had vowed before God to be.

Pappas stood on the steps with them, blood from his wounds
already seeping through his clean shirt and splint. Ever watchful,
he scanned the crowd as they gathered on the lawn and spilled
out onto the street.

The injured had been moved back into the fellowship hall.
Kaya was assessing what further trauma they had suffered
during the evacuation.

Logan signaled Hal to stop. The last peal hung in the air,
people seeming to hold their breaths until the next one came.

What could he tell these people to bring them assurance that
made even a smidgen of sense? He turned to Pappas and whispered, "You want to take this, Pappas?"

"They're scared, man. They don't know me. They're all
looking to you."

"What's going on?" the hippie cried out. "We have a right
to know."

"Is help coming?" someone else shouted. More voices,
clamoring for answers.

Kimmie burrowed into his shoulder. "Why are those people
mad at you?"

"They're not mad, sweetheart. They're just scared." So was
he-what could he possibly offer them?

Pappas blew the air horn. "Quiet down! Let the man speak."

Deep breath and a simple prayer: Lord, give me wisdom.
"Folks, I don't know what's going on. But I'm going to find out.
Give me an hour to check things out, and then I'll come back
and report. Can you do that?"

"Yes!" Dorothy called out.

"Thank you, Sergeant Logan," Johnny Beck added.

"This is Agent Pappas, with the United States Secret
Service. He'll be coordinating... " Logan searched for the
right word. Rescue wasn't appropriate, but recovery was way
off. ..... coordinating... "

Pappas touched his arm, spoke to the crowd. "Relief efforts.
We're gonna work together, make sure everyone's OK."

People nodded, murmured among themselves. Volunteers
moved into the crowd with clipboards borrowed from the
church classrooms. Donnelly's had advertised registration, a fib that they had decided was a good idea. At least it would keep
people busy for a while.

Logan turned aside to Pappas. "I'm going to survey the
margins of the affected areas. Maybe create a quick map. Meanwhile, you still need to get stitched up."

"Are you going up to Walden?" Hilary said.

"I'm going wherever I can without getting into that mist."

"Then we're going with you."

"Absolutely not."