When Tom came to, he started to bring his hand to the aching lump on his head and realized that he couldn’t move either of his arms. In his dazed state, he couldn’t immediately recall why he suddenly found himself bound and gagged in his kitchen or what had led up to it.
Then the events began to unfold.
Erin! She had been taken away by her old boyfriend, Kyle!
He wondered how long ago they had left. He glanced down at his wristwatch and realized that it must have been an hour or so ago. Too much time for him to catch up with them Even if he knew where they were headed…
He had to get out of this chair. He tried to force his arms out of the duct tape but it was hopeless-he could hardly move them even the slightest bit. He looked around the kitchen and wondered if he could somehow scoot himself over to the drawer where the kitchen knives were stored. He decided to give it a try.
He started rocking back and forth in an effort to get the chair to move forward. It took all he had to get it to budge. But at least it was possible. He continued rocking until he had moved a few inches, then stopped to rest. At this rate, he estimated it would take him three hours to get to the other side of the kitchen. If he didn’t have a coronary first.
Got to be a better way There was a possibility that he could get his hand into his pants pocket if he was able to get into the right position. He recalled that he still had the keys from the CRV he had borrowed the night before. With some luck, he might be able to use them to cut off the duct tape.
He squirmed to his right in the chair and at the same time dug his right shoulder into the back of the chair in an effort to guide his hand into his pants pocket. After several attempts, he managed to get his index finger inside. He squirmed and groped around until he finally had his finger inside the key ring.
Withdrawing his finger from the pocket along with the key ring was a grueling process. But finally, after a lot of squirming, stretching and grunting, he managed to get the keys out.
The car key was a computer type with several vertical grooves cut into it and lacked any sharp edges. The other key, which looked like it might be the owner’s house key, was a standard brass variety with several sharply cut ridges running the length of it.
Tom managed to position the key between his thumb and index finger with the ridges facing upward. He brought the key against the outermost wrapping of duct tape and began cutting into it with a back and forth sawing motion. It was like trying to cut a thick steak with a butter knife, but at least it was working.
Fifteen minutes later, Tom had managed to cut most of the duct tape away from his chest and arms. When he was down to the last wrapping, he brought his arms out from his sides with all his strength and tore through the remaining strip.
He tore off the strip from his mouth in a swift single motion, grimacing at the pain. A moment or two later he had removed all of the tape from around his ankles.
He was free at last!
With his head throbbing, Tom stood up too quickly and nearly passed out. Moving slowly, he made his way to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. There was a thick matting of blood in his hair where Kyle’s gun handle had slammed into his skull and a golf ball sized lump beneath it. The bleeding had already stopped, he was pleased to discover, and with a little luck he just might survive his first ever brush with a gun-wielding lunatic.
And he hoped that it would be his last.
He took out three ibuprofens from the medicine cabinet, returned to the kitchen and chased them down with a slug of cold coffee. Recalling the deplorable way Kyle had treated Erin-as though she were no more than a common possession expected to be at his beck and call-left Tom outraged. The man’s total lack of respect for her and his humiliating accusations made Tom livid and wanting nothing more than to get Erin away from the miserable prick before he hurt her any more.
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.