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“What are you going to do to him, Kyle?” Erin asked
suspiciously.

“Not sure yet. Probably shoot him.”

“Kyle, you
can’t!
He hasn’t done anything wrong!
Just take me and leave him here—”

“Quiet, bitch! We’ve already been through this. He
has done plenty wrong and I am going to make him pay for it. Just
not sure how much he owes me, but I’m thinking his miserable yuppie
life ought to make us about even.”

“Kyle, if you kill him, you might as well kill me,
too.”

Kyle feigned a chuckle. “What a laugh! That’s just
about the funniest thing I’ve heard all day! But your supreme
sacrifice isn’t going to do me any damn good at all, so you might
as well forget that offer. I’m going to give you a break though,
darling, just because I’m such a sweet guy and all. I’ll let your
buddy live if he really means that much to you.”

“Thank-you Kyle! You won’t regret this!”

“You’re gonna owe me big time! You hear me?”

“Yes, I know. I will make it worth your while.”

“You bet your sweet ass, you will! Now, Mr. Yup-shit,
maybe you can tell me where you keep your duct tape. And if you
tell me you don’t have any, the deal’s off. I’ll just blow your
head off.”

Tom thought for a moment. “I think there’s a roll in
one of the cabinets in the laundry room.”

“You better pray it’s there or you’re out of luck. I
want to get the hell out of this place and I don’t have time to be
looking around for a roll of goddamn duct tape. Go get the tape,
Erin. And hurry before I change my mind.”

Erin nodded and ran to the laundry room. Tom heard
some shuffling around and a moment later, she returned with a roll
of duct tape.

“What took you so long? Now, you’re going to have to
pull out that chair a little, old man, so I can get this tape
around you.”

Tom scooted out a foot or so from the table. Kyle
pulled out a length of tape and starting at Tom’s elbow, began
wrapping it around his chest and the back of the chair. He wrapped
it around no less than a dozen times. Tom could hardly breathe it
was so tight.

“Now, your feet.”

He bound Tom’s feet together several times then
continued wrapping the tape around the front legs of the chair.

“And now, just in case you get a notion to try
chewing …”

Kyle proceeded to slap a four-inch strip over his
mouth.

“There, now. Sorry you can’t say goodbye, old man,
but that’s just the way it goes. Come on, wench. Lead the way out
of this place.”

Erin stood up and faced Tom. “Thanks for your help,
Tom. I hope you find your family. And don’t worry about me. I’ll be
okay.”

“Let’s fucking
go!
” Kyle shouted.

“My coat, I left it—”

“I’m losing patience here. You have thirty seconds to
get it or I blow him away!”

Erin ran into the living room and returned a few
seconds later with her coat.

“Grab that stuff and let’s blow this Popsicle
stand.”

Erin gathered up the food, glanced at Tom with a look
of sadness and regret, and then ran out the door.

The moment she was out of sight, Kyle stared directly
into Tom’s eyes.

“And this is for humping my girl!”

He brought the handle of the gun down cleanly into
Tom’s skull.

CHAPTER 6

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.