Scott Wittenburg - See Tom Run

His anger and hatred toward Kyle notwithstanding, Tom also found himself curious about some of things the man had said and what had prompted him to say them. Things like immediately assuming that he and Erin had slept together-mentioning blowjobs and doing it from the rear. Why such damning, graphic accusations, given the unusual circumstances by which they had gotten together?

And what about his comment that Tom was too old for Erin, but that that had “never stopped her before?” What had he meant by that?

But the real stopper was what Kyle had said next-that he had a feeling Erin hadn’t explained their “special relationship” to Tom.

What special relationship would that be?

And why had he incessantly referred to her as a whore?

These questions left Tom uneasy about Erin and wondering what had gone on prior to her coming to Columbus. Why had she ever had a relationship with such a lowlife scumbag like this Kyle character in the first place? It just didn’t make any sense.

He had to find Erin and get her away from the violent, unstable asshole before it was too late.

Tom suddenly laughed out loud. He had to laugh to keep from crying. In less than twenty-four hours he had lost his wife, his children, his best friends and their kids. And, as it turns out, everyone else in this town had suddenly mysteriously disappeared. Now, after finding the one person he thought was the only other living soul in town, she gets taken away by the other only living soul in town.

Leaving him right smack dab where he had begun: alone, clueless and utterly directionless.

When will this nightmare end?

He could only do what he had to do. He had to track down Erin-that was a given. If he could find her, he would somehow get her away from Kyle the madman.

Then, hopefully, they could move on from there. Find out what in the hell was happening in this ghost town.

He went into the living room to get his coat, still draped over the chair. He was putting it on when he noticed a small piece of paper on top of the sofa. He walked over and picked it up. Hastily scrawled on the paper were three letters: nyc.

New York City. That must be where Erin and Kyle were heading-Erin had somehow managed to jot this down while getting her coat!

But why New York? She had mentioned that Kyle had driven ‘all the way here’ to find her. Is that where he had come from?

He had no idea. But it was clear that she wanted him to know where they were going. And that she wanted him to follow.

So follow he would.

Tom spent the next few minutes hastily packing a few clothes, some food and a few other items into a duffel bag. He took a moment to wash up in the bathroom, grabbed his laptop and headed back downstairs.

Two minutes later, he was backing the Jeep out of his driveway.

Erin and Kyle’s footprints headed south toward Meadow Street, which meant that Kyle had most likely parked around the corner from Tom’s house to avoid detection. Coasting near the curb, Tom kept his eyes peeled on the couple’s tracks until they suddenly disappeared near the corner of Kenton and Meadow-where they had apparently boarded Kyle’s car.

Tom could clearly see where Kyle had backed into a driveway to turn around before heading east toward the freeway.

As Tom sped up and began following the tire tracks, it dawned on him that he had no idea what kind of car Erin and Kyle were traveling in. All he knew for sure was they were heading in the direction of I-71, which meant they would head north on the interstate toward Cleveland and probably pick up either I-80 East or the turnpike through Pennsylvania en route to New York City.

And unless he saw other cars along the way, it wouldn’t really make any difference what kind of car Kyle was driving It would be the only one on the road.

Tom drove to where Morse Road and the access road to I-71 intersected then pulled over to the curb. It was time to do some serious thinking. New York City was a ten-hour drive in good weather. Should he risk spending that kind of time on what may well be a wild goose chase?

Two thoughts nagged at him in equal measures. On one hand, he knew that Erin was in serious trouble and that he needed to try to find her before it was too late. Not only was it more than obvious that Kyle was a maniacal control freak but he also had a gun and had already proven that he wasn’t afraid to use it when things don’t go his way.

On the other hand, he had to continue trying to locate his family and find out what in the holy hell had happened to everyone else in this town. He was so overwhelmed by the absurdity of all of this that he had to keep pinching himself to make sure it wasn’t all just a horrible nightmare.

He finally decided that he would drive downtown to make absolutely sure there weren’t any signs of life there. If it was as desolate and lifeless as everything else he’d seen thus far, he would turn back around and head for New York City.

But first he was going to have to gas up. The thirsty Jeep’s fuel gauge was resting precariously on “E.”

He already assumed that the fuel pumps weren’t going to work without any electricity so he would have to come up with an alternative method to get fuel into his tank. He pulled back onto Morse Road and headed for the Sunoco station a block away. He pulled up beside a pump, got out and gazed expectantly at the instrumentation. Not a single lit up numeral.

Tom strode over to the mini mart and entered, not surprised at the frigid air inside. He poked around the aisles in search of a hose of some kind but had no luck. He then located a maintenance closet across from the restrooms and spotted a length of garden hose hanging from a hook. Removing the hose, he headed outside and walked over to a massive Ford pickup parked off to the side. He was elated to find a gas can in the bed of the truck, suggesting that the driver had run out during the storm. He lifted out the can, which was empty, and placed it on the ground beside the truck.

Luckily, the truck’s fuel cap was not locked. He unscrewed the cap and stuck the garden hose in as far as it would go.

Tom brought the open end of the hose to his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he placed his lips around the hose and started sucking. It had been decades since he’d siphoned anything and the first time he’d ever siphoned gasoline. The smell nearly knocked him out by the time he got his first mouthful of the burning wet fuel. Nearly gagging, he quickly plunged the hose into the gas can, spilling several ounces along the way.

Tom siphoned enough gas to fill the two-gallon can a half dozen times. When he’d emptied the last of the gas into the Jeep, he tossed the can along with the hose into the cargo section and got back behind the wheel.

Tom backtracked to the I-71 south access road. Radiant sun was coming from the southeast as he drove along at a brisk speed. In another ten minutes, he pulled off onto the Broad Street exit and began his search for signs of life in downtown Columbus.

As expected, there were cars parked along the streets, no working traffic lights and not a glimmer of life. He swung by the Columbus Police Department, double-parked and ran up to the door. He went inside and glanced around the darkened reception area. Not a single soul. It looked just like the Worthington P.D. but a lot bigger.

Columbus, Ohio was absolutely shut down and totally evacuated-save for one solitary soul. And it looked like that soul would be abandoning the city as well.

With a shrug, Tom hopped back into the Jeep, drove east to the I-71 entrance ramp and headed north to New York City.

By the time he reached Akron, Tom was totally lost in thought. He thought back to the last time he’d been in New York, which was nearly twenty years ago. He had lived in The Big Apple for over five years in search of his idea of the American Dream: becoming a self employed, successful artist.