Scott Wittenburg - See Tom Run

He squeezed her hand in encouragement. They were about twenty yards from the foyer leading to the Park Avenue entrance. It was obvious now that no one was in the immediate area.

They were almost home free.

Tom took Erin by the hand and quickened the pace when they reached the foyer. He could now see the doors clearly and the waning darkness outside.

“Let’s run for it!” he whispered to Erin.

“Okay!”

The two sprinted toward the doors. Tom flung open one of them and ran out onto the street, Erin right on his heels. He immediately noticed that the hearse was gone, prompting Tom to think that they just might make it after all. They headed south on Park Avenue.

“We’ll head back to my Jeep and see if we can get it started-maybe the battery has recharged itself after some rest. If we see any kind of vehicle on the way, we’ll check it for keys just in case,” Tom told Erin between breaths.

“Sounds good-where is it parked?”

“On Thirty-Fourth Street.”

They ran all the way to Forty-Sixth Street then stopped long enough to peek inside a parked taxicab: unlocked but no keys. They continued their run and paced themselves, slowing down to a moderate gait to conserve energy. Tom was already winded and marveled at Erin, who was barely breathing hard. Of course she was still a kid and had youth on her side. He was not, did not and felt like an old man.

They ran a few more blocks, checked another cab for keys and discovered that it was unlocked but had been vandalized. The windows were all busted out, the seat covers sliced and indecipherable graffiti was scrawled all over the hood and side panels. Apparently Chappy and the boys had been particularly bored one night.

By the time they approached Forty-Second Street and spotted Grand Central Station, Tom knew he was going to have to rest before his lungs totally collapsed.

“Gotta stop and catch my breath,” he told Erin breathlessly. “Used to smoke and it’s catching up with me.”

“Me, too,” Erin replied, probably just to make him feel better.

“Let’s duck in there for minute,” Tom said, pointing toward an electronics store with a busted out door window on the north side of Forty-Second Street.

The two headed toward the store and stepped inside. Tom stood for a moment to catch his breath then started searching the trashed display cases for anything they might be of value in them. He found a decent flashlight/radio combination then looked around for batteries that would fit the thing. When he found a pack of double A’s, he popped them in, turned on the flashlight and the radio.

Nothing but static on the radio. He twirled the tuning knob and continued getting static across the band.

“Oh well, at least we have a decent flashlight now. Speaking of light, it’s getting lighter every minute. We’d better get going before day breaks.”

“What are we going to do if the Jeep won’t start?” Erin asked.

“Hell if I know. I guess we’ll have to take a battery out of one the cabs parked nearby. That could be a real problem, though. I don’t know if we can afford that kind of time.”

“I can’t believe we haven’t seen them yet! I wonder where they are.”

Tom led the way out of the store. “I have no idea. All I know is that the odds are running against us every second we stay in this place. Manhattan may be huge, but they know we can only get so far without any wheels.”

Tom looked both ways on Forty-Second Street and recalled how lively and bustling the popular venue had always been when he’d lived here. Now it looked like the set of a Hollywood ghost town.

The two broke into a run down Park Avenue.

The eastern sky was now becoming a dark blue over the tops of the buildings on Park. It was light enough now for Tom to recognize some of the places now-the posh apartment buildings with their awning adorned entrances, the delis and pizza shops, a Duane Reade drugstore.

When they approached Thirty-Eighth Street, Erin let out a gasp.

“Kyle’s car!”

Up ahead, Tom saw a beat up Toyota Tercel parked near the corner of the street. When they reached the car, Erin opened the door and began rummaging through the back seat. She found her coat, got out and put it on.

“I love this coat!” she said. “It was expensive, too.”

“Any chance this thing still runs?” Tom asked.

“No way. It totally broke down. Kyle said something about dropping the transmission. That’s how we got caught in the first place.”

“Oh. Hell, it’s damn near daylight out-we have got to get moving!”

“I’m with you!” Erin cried.

They sprinted the remaining four blocks to Thirty-fourth Street fueled by sheer anxiety and adrenalin-they knew they would be sitting ducks if the boys found them now. They rounded Thirty-fourth and made it as far as the Empire State building before Tom finally admitted to himself he simply had to stop to rest-even though they had only one more block to go.

He pushed one of the doors open and the two ducked into the lobby of the historic skyscraper. As he stood there catching his breath, Tom looked around and recalled the many times he’d been in this lobby, for he had made frequent trips up to the observatory to view this wonderful city whenever he needed encouragement or reassurance. It had always worked miracles.

The memory made Tom recall how many questions he had for Erin once they got out the city and back on the road. He especially wanted to know about her connection with New York and what part Kyle had played in her life.

“Let’s do it,” he panted, making a silent vow to start working out again if and when things got back to normal.

They exited the lobby and broke into a full run west on Thirty-fourth. In another forty seconds, Tom saw his Jeep parked ahead in the growing light, looking like an oasis in the middle of the Sahara.

“God, I hope the damn thing starts!” he exclaimed, casting a final look behind for any sign of the hearse, elated that they had made it this far. Now, if only their luck would hold out and the engine would turn over The loud blare of a car horn suddenly broke the silence. Tom whipped around and to his horror, saw the hearse flying directly toward them “Jesus, there they are!” he cried.

“Screw it-we’re dead!” Erin exclaimed.

“Not yet, kiddo. Step on it and see if we can make it to the Jeep!”

Tom glanced back quickly again and saw that the hearse was only a couple of blocks away. It was going to be awfully close-and a fricking miracle if the Jeep started.

They stumbled up to the Laredo, flung open the doors and hopped inside in unison. Tom reached for the keys in the ignition only to discover that they were gone. Chappy and the boys had taken them. The hearse was now less than a block away-it almost seemed to be moving in slow motion now-which meant that this nightmare was almost over and he would suddenly wake up the moment he died.

They were screwed…

Then Tom remembered his spare key-the one he had ditched in the console after misplacing his keys one too many times.

“Frick an a!” Tom shouted. He reached over between the seats, snatched the key out of the compartment and fumbled around trying to guide it into the ignition. Tom looked in horror at the hearse heading straight for them at full speed They were going to ram them head-on!

Tom turned the key. The engine cranked once and died. He turned it again. The engine cranked twice, faltered for a split second then fired up.

But it was too late-the hearse was only yards away now. Tom could see Hoops and Chappy grinning from ear to ear in the front seat of the Caddie as they prepared for impact.

Tom threw the gearshift into reverse and floored it. The Jeep lurched backward so fast that Tom’s head hit the steering wheel almost hard enough to knock him out.