Logan's Run Read Online Free Page B

clearing and stepped quickly to Doyle.
    “Alive?” he asked.
    “Dead,” said Logan.
    Francis stared sourly down at the unbreathing man, obviously disappointed, cheated of a prize. Then slowly he raised his Gun and fired a blister charge into the body.
    The dead runner flamed and danced into sudden ash.
    “Let’s go,” said Francis.
    On the way back to headquarters, riding beside Francis in the shuttle, Logan kept his right fist closed against his side. He didn’t want to see the flower in his palm.
    It was blinking.

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Chapter 9

    He cat-prowls the corridors.
    He stops in front of the Gunwall. Logan’s Gun is still not there. He paces, waits.
    He hears a guarded whisper not meant for his ears: “Old Francis is on to something,” says a voice.
    “They say the cubs cheated him out of a runner.”
    “That isn’t it. He’s on to something.”
    He doesn’t react to this.
    He shadow-glides the gray halls.
    He is a violence, contained.
    He moves back to the Gunwall, stares, moves away.
    He checks the time: 7:30.
    Fact: Logan has not returned with his Gun.
    Fact: Logan is on Lastday.
    He instructs the techs to rig a Gun trace, tuned to Logan’s weapon. When the Gun is fired it will register its location on the board.
    He sits, face illuminated by ghost lights from the glowing circuits. He waits.
    EVENING…

    When Logan walked into his living unit young Abe Lincoln was there, splitting logs in the center of the room. Logan automatically punched a wall stud and the president was sucked, hissing, back into the Tri-Dim.
    He stripped, bathed, changed to grays and dialed a meal and a Scotch. Sipping the iced drink, Logan stared at his palm, at the blinking crystal flower.
    Lastday. Twenty-four hours in which to live. Then his flower would go black and it would be time to turn himself in for Sleep.
    Twenty-four hours.
    Logan picked up the silver punchkey from the bed.
    Runners say please ; runners say help ; runners say mercy , runners say don’t . 
    Doyle had said Sanctuary .
    And Logan held a key which might lead to it, to a goal never proved to exist, to a place which could not exist. Not in this world. Not for a runner in 2116.
    But what if Sanctuary were a reality? A place where runners were safe from the Gun. What if he, Logan 3, could find it and destroy it in the last twenty four hours of his life? His existence would be justified; he’d be a world hero; his life would end in glory.
    It would be a risk worth taking. And the key to the quest lay in his hand.
    Do it.
    Logan walked to the communideck. The silver key slid easily into the slot. Inside the flat housing, tiny indentations in the stamped- metal made electrical connections. The wallscreen lightened.
    A girl in vented peekaboos regarded Logan. She was perhaps sixteen, with dead, flat eyes. Her body was slim-breasted and angular. “Call back later,” she said. “I’m going out.”
    “I’m calling now ,” said Logan.
    “Have you got a name?”
    “I’ve got a name.” He let it rest at that.
    A spark of interest in the flat eyes. “But you’ve keeping it to yourself.”
    “There’s no sanctuary in passing out random identities,” said Logan, leaning slightly on the word sanctuary.
    Her gaze did not flicker.
    This didn’t feel right. Not right at all. The runner could have been babbling. Maybe he was acting on a false lead.
    “Who gave you my key?” the girl asked.
    “A friend.”
    “I’m going out.”
    “You said that.”
    “To a party. I’m expected.”
    “I could meet you there,” said Logan.
    She studied him speculatively.
    “Halstead complex. West wing. Fourth level. Living unit 2582. Got that?” Logan nodded.
    “I really shouldn’t be inviting strangers,” she said. “If you’re.not up to the party I’ll be to blame.” “I’m up to it,” said Logan, “and anything else.” He kept his face impassive.
    “We’ll see.”
    She said one last thing before she blacked. “I’m Lilith 4. I think you’ll find me..