See Tom Run by Scott Wittenburg Page B

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