Tracking Logan Foster

{5} Shattered (Turn The Car Around)

The train had stopped at what looked to be a rest stop, as well as a reloading dock.

I caught just enough of the conversation as I hopped out of the train car behind Logan to hear him say in utter disbelief, "I thought you were dead."

Looking over his shoulder, I glanced into the black eyes of a handsome man in his late twenties, early thirties. Other than the fact that he was a decade older than the boy in front of me, this man very closely resembled Logan.

Focused on the fact that these two might be related, I couldn't be sure I had heard him correctly when Logan continued, "I know because I killed you."

A look of amusement crossed the man's features, lifting the corner of his full lips in a smirk. He swept his arms out wide, stretching the expensive business suit he wore as he announced, "Unless I'm in Hell, I'm still very much alive."

In a blind fit of rage, I didn't have time to hold Logan back before he exploded, launching himself at the man with his fists flying. Logan easily had him pinned against the stationary train and snapped, "This is Hell for me. You don't know what I've gone through these past five years, brother."

I stood in stunned silence as I could only watch their heated exchange. I knew nothing about Logan, and yet here I was, witnessing a crucial moment in his life take place right before my very eyes.

"Don't be so formal with me, Nick," the man who I now suspected to be Logan's brother requested. "You know you can call me Justin, like old times."

Logan hissed, "That's not my name, and this is not like old times."

My mind constantly ran in circles, trying to decipher what was happening or if I should intervene before things turned from bad to worse.

This wasn't the type of reunion one would expect to see after one brother was convinced the other had been killed only to find him years later alive.

The man, Justin, clapped an unfriendly hand on Logan's shoulder, displaying two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth as he grinned.

"Oh, that's right," Justin agreed, disregarding me in the background as he continued icily, "Now you're a hollow shell of the boy you used to be."

Logan's arm reared back, driving forward to his brother's neck where it laid horizontally blocking Justin's airways. The sleeves of his hoodie slid up, allowing the scars to bask in the chilly air.

"I was put in foster home after foster home countless times that my permanent new name stuck as Logan Foster. I went to jail, Justin. Do you know what it's like living the life of a convicted murderer?" Logan furiously shouted, leaning up in his brother's face.

Justin choked on the lack of air flowing into his lungs, unable to answer.

Logan took that as his queue to go on, "I was thirteen. Thirteen when I was convicted of murder. Thirteen when I was sentenced to juvenile detention only to be released a year later when they realized there was insufficient evidence to put a child in jail."

I had no idea that the boy who sat at the back of room 117 had been through all of this in short time he had been alive.

Loosening up a bit on Justin's neck, Logan made sure to add enough pressure to keep him in place, but to also allow a bit of air to flow into his brother's lungs, as he spilled out everything.