Prologue
LOGAN - TWENTY-ONE MONTHS EARLIER
The roar of the crowd is deafening as I step onto the field. There’s less than a minute left in the game and we’re down by three. We’ve been here before. Nothing we can’t overcome.
Except this time, it’s the Super Bowl.
We’ve clawed our way back to be in this position. To give ourselves the chance to hoist that trophy as confetti rains down on us.
“Winchester. We’re going to you.” Our quarterback, Alex Young, looks me in the eye. “Think you can make it three yards?”
“Fuck yeah!” I yell. There’s no way I’m not crossing that line into the end zone. I’ve worked hard to be the starting running back for the Denver Mountain Lions these last few years. I’m not letting my team down now. “I’ve got this, Captain.”
“Good. Rocket Twenty on three.”
We break the huddle as I watch everyone get into position. The crowd quiets as LA starts to shift their defense—no doubt trying to predict what play we’ll run. I listen as Alex calls the play.
The ball is snapped. Faking a pass play, Alex hands the ball off to me and I weave my way through the defense.
Straight into the end zone.
Touchdown Denver.
“Hell yeah!” Colin’s lifting me into the air as the team swarms around us. “That was an amazing play!”
Running back to the sidelines, Knox Fisher, our esteemed linebacker, is hyping up the defense. Jackson kicks the point after, giving us a four-point lead.
“Can you believe this?” I swig a sip of water as the ball is kicked off to LA. “It’s so close you can taste it.”
Colin claps me on the shoulder. “We haven’t won yet.”
Nerves and excitement are bubbling inside of me as the defense stops LA, but not before they get five yards. Another couple of stops and we’re World Champions.
The next play happens in slow motion. The ball is hiked as Knox gets around the guard to hit the quarterback. It pops out and there’s a scramble to get the pigskin.
When the refs finally pull players out of the pile, it’s Denver that comes up with the ball.
With one hit, we’re World Champions.
The Denver Mountain Lions are Super Bowl Champions.
Confetti showers the field in a whirl of black and yellow as families swarm the field. Every bit of it is chaotic. Hugs are given as the trophy presentation starts.
I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life. Until Colin reaches over to hand me the trophy.
Except it goes right through my hands.
What the fuck?
I reach for it again and nothing.
Bright lights shine into my eyes, causing me to flinch.
That’s when it happens. The field clears and I’m staring up at a tiled ceiling. Low humming machines replace the roar of the crowd.
“Logan?”
I try to shift toward the voice, but everything hurts.
