See Tom Run (9 page)

Tom walked up to the shattered glass window and shone
his flashlight into the store. Nothing seemed to be out of place as
far as he could see in the weak light. He wasn’t about to go inside
to look any further.

He continued walking until he came upon the first
cab. He tried the door but it was locked. He shone the light into
the front compartment. No keys.

Frowning, he ran up to the next cab and discovered
that it too was locked and keyless. He trained the light up the
street and spotted a panel truck parked on the corner of Broadway.
He ran over and peered expectantly through the passenger window as
he tried the door handle. It worked. He opened the door just as he
noticed that the driver side window was bashed in, shards of safety
glass lying all over the front seat.

Another looting?

Tom stepped back to read the sign on the side of the
white panel truck: Tri-State Heating and Air Conditioning. The
address showed a Union City, New Jersey address. Tom hopped into
the truck.

He shone the flashlight into the glove compartment,
which was wide open. Nothing much there but it was clear that
someone had rifled through it. He moved in between the seats and
shone the light into the rear compartment. He saw a few Freon gas
cylinders, an empty tool belt, what looked like a couple of small
air compressors and a few odds and ends. All of the items had been
cased out and shuffled around hastily, or so it appeared. Whatever
the thieves had chosen to take was anyone’s guess. If they had
taken anything at all.

But the significant thing was what the broken store
window and truck break-in implied: someone was stalking the streets
of New York and had most likely done so since all of this lunacy
had begun. Which to Tom was a good thing.

Could this have been the work of Kyle and Erin? he
thought. Or someone else? Tom had a feeling the answer was the
latter. It just didn’t seem likely that Kyle and Erin would blow
into town only hours ago and randomly elect to break into a store
and a truck right from the get-go. This had to be the work of
someone else. And whoever that was, he hoped to discover.

Or did he?

Tom realized that the mere presence of other life
forms here might not be a good thing after all. In fact, it could
make his finding Kyle and Erin that much more difficult. Maybe even
dangerous—especially if the unknown city stalkers weren’t
particularly in a hospitable mindset.

What he didn’t need now was someone standing in the
way of his finding Erin and Kyle. His plan was to save the girl and
get the holy hell out of here pronto. His desire to stick around in
this skeleton of a city had evaporated a long time ago …

Tom hopped out of the truck and pointed his light
down Broadway in either direction. He couldn’t see any more
vehicles within the limited range of the tiny flashlight. He
retraced his steps to Sixth Avenue and looked north and south, but
it was the same story there.

Decision time again.

He walked back to the Jeep, got in and stared out at
the darkness. Should he continue looking for a vehicle or stay here
and wait until daylight? The prospect of wandering too far from his
only sense of security—his faithful but flawed Jeep—wasn’t
particularly inviting. In fact, it would be foolish to even attempt
it. He was dead tired from the drive in spite of the inert
adrenalin coursing through his veins, it was dark as pitch, and his
only source of light was a piddling two-AA cell mini Mag-Lite that
was about as effective as a fart in a windstorm.

All of this and the fact that he was scared
shitless.

The rational thing to do was stay here in the Jeep
for the night, try to catch a few winks and resume tomorrow morning
in the daylight. At least then he could see what the hell he was
doing.

His mind made up, Tom cracked his last bottle of
spring water, took a slug and downed a handful of cashews. Feeling
his eyelids droop for what had to be the hundredth time since this
grueling trip through hell began, he rummaged through the duffel
bag for the blanket he’d packed and spread it out over himself. He
locked the doors, pulled the recliner lever up, leaned back in the
seat and stretched his legs out until his feet were rested up
against the carpeted firewall. Within a minute he was fast
asleep.

CHAPTER 9

Tom awoke with a start. An instant later, he heard a
crash and felt shards of glass fall into his lap. Before he could
react, he heard the click of a door lock and saw the Jeep’s
interior bathed in light as the driver’s side door suddenly swung
open.

In an instant, huge hands clawed at his chest,
pulling him up and out of the Jeep. His heart beating like a
jackhammer, Tom could see the face of his captor in the dim light
of the Jeep. The face was young, about eighteen or so, and a grimy
gray. The boy pulled Tom onto his feet while another youth came out
of nowhere and punched him in the gut.

“Look what we have here, mates! Another intruder to
our domain!”

Tom crouched forward from the blow long enough for a
knee to uppercut his jaw. His head whipped backward as he reeled in
pain.

“Jesus Christ!”
he wailed. “What the hell—”

His first captor held him in a full nelson from
behind and spat into his ear, “Now matey, there’ll be no more words
from you now!”

Tom got a good look at the other adversary as he
stood there leering at Tom, brandishing what looked to be a
three-foot long iron bar. This boy was also young, maybe sixteen or
so, tall, lanky and black.

“That is unless you want to feel some more pain from
this,” the black youth cried, drawing the bar back menacingly.

Tom instinctively tried to raise his arms to protect
himself but the grip on them was too great.

“Nice wheels ya got here,” another voice said. Tom
spotted a third youth who had been standing in the shadows. He was
white, stocky and not quite as tall as the other boys.

“This is the first Jeep we’ve seen,” he added.

“Say, you’re right, Bummer!” the boy with the English
accent replied. “We can go anywhere in this thing!”

“Four wheel drive—motherfucker!” Bummer
exclaimed.

‘Let’s just see what he has inside for us. Hoops, you
check it out. And why don’t you cuff our guest so he doesn’t get
any wise ideas, Bum,” the young Brit said.

“Got it, Chappy,” the stocky boy replied.

As the black youth boarded the Jeep and poked around,
Bummer came over to Tom, pulled a pair of handcuffs from his back
pocket and cuffed Tom while the other boy held him. The stench
emanating from Bummer was unbearable—a disgusting mix of sweat,
alcohol and human excrement. Tom nearly gagged.

“There, now. That should keep ya under control. So
tell us your name, bloke. No sense in being a stranger!” Chappy
chirped.

“Tom. Tom Grayson.”

“Well, Tommy-Boy, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Allow
me to introduce you to the troops here. This is Bummer and that’s
Hoops in there casing out your ride.”

Tom’s jaw was pounding as he stood there before his
captors. “What do you plan on doing?” he managed to say.

Chappy laughed heartily, a sort of girlish giggle.
“Did ya hear that, blokes? Tommy-Boy here wants to know our
plans!”

Bummer snickered moronically. “That’s a laugh and a
half!”

Chappy stood directly in front of Tom, smiled and
pulled out a long barreled pistol — the kind that Dirty Harry used.
He pointed the gun directly at Tom’s forehead and pulled back the
hammer. Tom froze, his heart in his throat.

This is it, he thought.

“I’m afraid our plan is to kill you and take your
wheels, Tommy-Boy. So why don’t you make your final request before
I blow your brains out. But make it quick—we’ve got other things to
do.”

“Why? Why are going to shoot me? I haven’t done
anything to you,” he pleaded.

Chappy giggled again. “Oh, but you have, Tommy-boy!
You’ve done something very bad. You have busted into our fair town
without an invitation. And that just isn’t a happening thing, is
it, Hoops?”

Hoops had joined them, holding Tom’s iBook and cell
phone up for everyone to see.

“Definitely not happening, dude. Check it out, men!
An iBook and a phone. Pretty good shit, eh?”

“Not bad—any juice in that computer, Tommy?”

Tom replied weakly, his voice cracking. “I think
so.”

“Excellent! I’ll say one last thing before we say our
goodbyes, Matey. You’ve brought us some damn good shit here. I
mean, a fucking Jeep, a phone and a Mac—absolutely awesome!”

Tom wished he could share in the joy of their spoils
but couldn’t. All he could do was stare at the .44 Magnum pointing
at him and wait to make Chappy’s day—

Hoops said, “The Jeep won’t turn over, Chappy.
Something’s screwed up.”

“Screw it. We’ll come back later when it’s light and
see if we can get it running. At least we got the ‘puter and a
phone, and for that we thank you very kindly, Tommy. In fact, I
think we’ll grant you one final request for all of these wonderful
contributions. What would you fancy, Tommy-Boy? Pizza? A beer? Or
maybe you’d like to give us all a blowjob! Hey, hey, whatayasay,
Tommy-Boy?” Chappy taunted.

“Yeah, a blowjob! C’mon Tommy, let’s make that your
final request!” Bummer shrieked as all three boys laughed in
unison.

Tom’s head was spinning wildly as he tried to figure
a way out of this situation. He could make a run for it, but he
knew he wouldn’t get far with that loaded .44 in Chappy’s hand.

But what if he could he kick it out of his hand? Was
it possible?

Got to stall them longer—got to think this
through.

“Uh, hate to disappoint you boys, but a beer is
actually sounding like a better choice,” Tom finally said, forcing
a smile.

Hoops got right up into Tom’s face. “What the hell
makes you think you got a choice, Tommy-Boy? You didn’t think we
was gonna really let you choose your own final request did
you?”

Chappy shook his head slowly and said: “I’m afraid
Hoops is right, Tommy. In case you haven’t already guessed, we are
calling the shots here. And you are just gonna have to go with
whatever we decide on. So what’s it gonna be, mates? Shall we give
this man a beer or let him suck our weenies?”

The other two looked at one another, snickered and
shouted in unison, “Weenies!”

Tom felt his heart sink and his blood boil. He would
rather be shot—

In a flash, he kicked the Magnum out of Chappy’s
hand. The gun went flying into the air. Before it touched the
ground, Tom was twenty yards away running for his life.

“Catch him, lads!” Tom heard Chappy holler from
behind. He never looked back as he sprinted east down Thirty-Fourth
Street.

He heard a deafening shot ring out and a bullet
ricochet off a nearby wall as he ran with all his might toward the
store with the broken window. Although it was pitch dark, he knew
to stay on the right side of the sidewalk and that it wasn’t much
further ahead. His plan was to duck into the building before the
others caught up to him.

In another forty yards, he reached the store and
glanced back toward his pursuers. He could see a long shaft of
light aimed in his direction from about thirty yards back.

Tom groped around until he felt where the break in
the window was, sliced two fingers in the process and hopped
through the window into the store. The broken glass made a loud
crunching sound beneath his feet as he scurried toward the rear of
the store. A beam of light danced around on the east wall just as
he bumped into a large object. Tom groped around and realized that
it was a sales counter, ran his hands along the top until he
reached a corner, rounded the corner and crouched down behind the
counter.

At that moment, he clearly heard the boys’ voices and
saw the beam shine on the ceiling directly above him.

“I’ll bet he ran in here!” he heard Hoops say.

The light shone randomly all over the place as Chappy
chanted, “Tommy, Tommy, come out and play! We know you’re in
there!”

Tom felt his heart nearly beat out of his ribcage and
held his breath. Cold sweat poured down his face and stung his eyes
as he struggled to remain still in his awkward position.

“Let’s go in and get him,” Bummer said. “Apparently
he doesn’t want to play with us,” he added with a guffaw.

A shot rang out and the slug tore through the counter
Tom was hiding behind. Tom could actually smell the singed hole in
the wood as he nervously felt around for the point of entry. He
discovered a three-inch hole near his head—the bullet had missed
him by only a couple of inches.

“The next one is for you, Tommy-Boy! Don’t make us
come in there and track you down-it’s just gonna make you suffer
that much more when we find ya!” Chappy warned.

Giving himself up was not an option. He would stay
where he was and wait it out. And pray for a miracle.

“Okay, Matey—we’re coming in!”

There was a shuffling of feet as the boys climbed
through the broken window and entered the store. Tom felt around
behind his back for a weapon of some kind but got only floor,
counter and air. His ass was cooked.

The boys spread out and came toward him, Chappy in
the center of the charge with the flashlight in one hand and the
.44 in the other. Tom watched helplessly as the beam shone on the
floor just to his right. He suddenly saw a foot appear and knew
that Chappy was one step away from killing him.

Tom did the only thing left to do. He stuck his leg
out into the aisle in a desperate attempt to trip Chappy up.

The ploy didn’t work. All he managed to do was ram
his shin into the edge of the counter, causing him to howl in
pain.

“Well, well—what have we here! By god it looks like
‘ol Tommy-Boy!” Chappy exclaimed in delight, training first his
flashlight then the gun directly into Tom’s eyes.