“Helmet,” he yells. I put the helmet on and wrap my arms around his waist. We pass the dogs fighting over the remnants of the obliterated hotdogs on the street. For a split second I worry they might chase us, but they don’t even look up. I can’t help feeling sorry for them. For all the dogs and cats slowly starving to death on the streets or, even worse, imprisoned inside the houses. The sun is setting as Logan speeds down the abandoned streets occasionally reducing his speed to avoid all the cars in the road. The wind feels warm and cleansing and I imagine it blowing away the stench of death clinging to my skin like a layer of oil. We pass Loose Park, go over the next hill and the plaza spreads out before us. In the background I see the skyline of Kansas City. There is a single thought repeating itself over and over again in my head. I’m free. Chapter Twelve Logan “Look,”
