See Tom Run

by Scott Wittenburg

  Having rifled through a couple of drawers and finding nothing but silverware and kitchen items, Tom crept through the tiny dining room into the living room, the floor boards creaking loudly with nearly every step he took. He shone the flashlight around the room. With the exception of a big flat screen TV, an enormous stereo system and a cheap sofa, the living room was void of furnishings.

  Tom spotted the stairs across the room in a foyer and crept toward them, stopping dead in his tracks each time the floor creaked, half expecting the voice on the phone to stop mid-sentence after realizing there was an intruder downstairs.

  As he neared the staircase, Tom could make out the voice more clearly. He noticed that the stairs were carpeted and felt grateful for the dampening effect the carpet would have on the inevitably creaky wooden stairs.

  Tom ascended the staircase as quietly as possible. As he neared the top, he could clearly make out what the man was saying.

  “I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

  Tom reached the top and stopped, then carefully peered around the corner down the hallway. He saw three rooms, two with their doors closed. The man was in a room adjacent to the one furthest away. Judging by the sound of his voice reverberating off the walls, he was in a bathroom.

  “We’ll be holding down the fort until then.”

  Tom noticed that the furthest door was barely ajar. His guess was that Tracy was inside and the man had left her there long enough to answer the phone and take a leak. He wondered why Tracy wasn’t making any sound now as his heart filled with dread.

  Was she unconscious? Or had he already killed her?

  Something had silenced her-that much was sure.

  Tom knew he had to move quickly if he was to have any chance of saving Tracy. The man could walk out into the hall any moment and head for the stairs. Then Tom would be screwed.

  He took a deep breath, peeked around the corner again and stepped quietly toward the nearest room. He put his ear to the door and didn’t hear a sound. He opened the door quietly, stepped inside then heard a beep as the man ended his call.

  Tom stood frozen just inside the doorway, half expecting the man to pass by the room and see him there. Then he heard the sound of a creaky door open.

  He had gone back in with Tracy!

  Nervously, Tom shone the light around the room and saw what appeared to be a second bedroom. There was an unmade twin bed, a beat-up chest of drawers and a mismatched nightstand beside the bed.

  No potential weapons in sight Except for a brass lamp.

  Tom went over, snatched up the lamp and tore off the plastic shade. Grasping the heavy lamp by its base, he turned around and headed toward the door.

  With his heart nearly bursting out of his chest, he stepped into the hall and headed directly toward the room where Tracy and the man were. He was just about to reach for the knob when the door suddenly swung open and revealed a man standing in the doorway, staring at him in utter surprise and disbelief.

  “Who the hell-”

  With all of his strength, Tom swung the lamp and hit the man square in his face, making a sickening dull thud sound. The man’s eyes were wide-open in absolute shock and pain as his body slumped down to the floor, blood gushing out of his smashed-in nose.

  Tom stepped over the body when a second man suddenly appeared in the doorway, aiming a pistol directly at Tom’s head. It was the same man he and Tracy had seen dumping off the body of the black woman.

  “Hold it right there, asshole!” the man commanded.

  Tom froze in his tracks.

  “Drop it or I’ll make mincemeat out of that pretty-boy face of yours.”

  Tom dropped the lamp.

  “Back up.”

  Tom took a few steps backward, certain that the next thing he heard would be the sound of a gunshot that would signal the end.

  “Keep moving. Into that room,” the man ordered, motioning toward the second bedroom with his gun.

  Tom turned around, stumbled across the hall to the room and lurched inside.

  “On the bed,” he barked.

  Tom hesitated a moment before stepping over and standing beside the bed

  “Now, sit down and close your eyes.”

  “What are you going to do?” Tom asked fearfully.

  “You’ll see in a minute. Just fucking do it!”

  Tom sat down slowly. He stared anxiously at the man who was now standing directly over him, feeling a cold sweat break out on his brow, trying to accept the grim reality that he was about to be executed.

  “Sweet dreams,” the man said.

  And the next thing Tom knew, the whole world turned black.

  CHAPTER 23

  As he regained consciousness, Tom couldn’t make out where he was in the darkness or how he had gotten there. He was in a room that was cold and damp, possibly a basement, lying flat on his back on a concrete floor, his head feeling like it might explode from the excruciating pain. Instinctively, he tried to touch where it hurt and discovered that his hands were bound together. They weren’t tied behind his back though, so he raised up his arms far enough to feel his head with his wrists. There was a lump not quite the size of a golf ball.

  He tried to stand up but his legs were also bound together. He reached down and felt several layers of duct tape wrapped tightly around his ankles.

  It was at that moment that he recalled what had happened. He had been knocked unconscious by the man with the gun and was apparently being held captive somewhere in the house. He gazed at the luminous dial of his wristwatch, wondering how long ago he’d been out. To his surprise, it hadn’t been for much more than an hour.

  Then it hit him: Tracy! He had to find Tracy!

  Tom’s eyes adjusted to the darkness as he looked around at his surroundings. To his right, he made out a rectangle of dim light in the wall near the ceiling. There was another rectangle on the opposite wall.

  Basement windows, he thought.

  He rolled himself over in an effort to get onto his feet. After several head-splitting twists and turns, he was finally able to get up onto his knees. He was certain he’d given himself a hernia in the process. In a sudden surge of sheer determination, he managed to get to his feet and stand upright-very wobbly at first, then steadier once he backed himself up against a wall for support.

  Luckily for him, his captor had apparently assumed he would be knocked out much longer than he actually had been-otherwise he would have been more thorough restraining him. Another thought occurred to him. Maybe he had been in too much of a hurry to finish Tracy off at the time to bother doing a better job on him…

  Tom liked the first option much better.

  The only thing he was sure of was that too much time had already gone by since he’d been whacked out and he needed to get moving instead of standing there reminiscing.

  He eyed the nearer window and hopped over to it, fighting to keep his balance. He peered out and could see light in the windows of the adjacent house. But the tiny casement window was simply too small for him to fit through.

  He peeled his eyes across the room and could just make out fine slits of light forming an L-shape along the ceiling-the outline of a door, perhaps.

  He hopped in that direction a few feet then suddenly felt a jolt of pain as his left knee smacked into something hard and sharp. Tom grimaced in agony as he groped around to feel what he had run into. It was a table, probably a workbench.

  Excitedly, Tom skimmed his bound hands along the surface of the table, hoping to locate a tool of some kind. He nudged a large tin can and before he could stop himself, knocked it to the floor. The sound was absolutely deafening in the darkness. Swearing at his klutziness, Tom stood still and held his breath, praying that no one had heard.

  A moment later, he moved to his right, continuing to scour the tabletop. He came across a variety of objects: a block of wood, a paper booklet, a pair of work gloves and a yardstick. He needed something sharp enough to cut duct tape and none of these items f
it the bill.

  He reached the end of the table and skirted around the corner to continue his search on the other side. He ran across a jar full of what sounded like nails or screws and decided to tip the jar over in order to examine its contents. In the process, he bumped into something that would work much better than a nail An electric grinding wheel.

  Tom brought his wrists to the wheel and began running them back and forth along the edge of the coarse wheel. The wheel cut into his flesh but he knew that it was doing the same job on the duct tape. After several minutes of slicing, Tom felt blood trickle down his arm but continued slicing until he was finally down to a single thickness of duct tape. He pulled his wrists apart with all his strength. The ripping sound of the fatigued tape was music to his ears.

  His hands now free, he groped around on the table until he found a utility knife under a pile of work cloths. He bent down and sliced at the duct tape binding his ankles until he was free.

  He grinned victoriously. Then, without thinking, he broke into a run and tripped over a box, causing him to fall hard onto the concrete floor. The only thing that hurt more than his elbow was the fact that his fall created more racket than the tin can had. He rose to his feet painfully, held his breath and prayed that no one had heard him. When it was safe to continue, he headed toward the door at a more cautious pace.

  As he drew closer, he could see the steps of the stairway leading up to the door in the dim light shining through the cracks. He grasped the railing and ascended the stairs two at a time. Reaching the top, he brought his ear to the door and listened. He heard nothing.

  Tom turned the handle and pushed, but the door wouldn’t budge. It was locked. His captor hadn’t done so poorly a job after all.

  He stood there for a minute, contemplating his next move. He could try to kick the door open, but the noise would most certainly alert his abductors. Could he somehow squeeze through one of those casement windows now that he was freed? No, they were definitely too small. His only option was to find a tool he could use to pry the door open.

  A thought suddenly occurred to him as he started back down the stairs: there just might be a light switch somewhere. He ran his hand along the wall until he located a switch plate, flipped the switch and the basement was instantly bathed in light.

  That will certainly help.

  Tom descended the stairs and took a quick look around. The basement was larger than he had imagined and littered with all kinds of clutter. Amidst the old rusted lawn tools, cardboard boxes and tattered furniture stood the workbench he had run into. He went over and began searching for a screwdriver or similar tool he could use to pry the door open with.

  Finding nothing there, he glanced around the room and saw another table pushed against the wall on the other side of the furnace. He headed toward it, sidestepping a threadbare sofa along the way. As he passed the sofa, he saw what he thought was a pile of old clothes.

  Then he realized that someone was wearing the clothes.

  Bewildered, Tom moved cautiously toward the body and saw a young girl of about eleven or twelve. She was wearing faded denim jeans and a red nylon coat. The girl’s eyes were closed and he thought at first that she was dead. He drew nearer and crouched down, placed his hand on the girl’s forehead. It was warm and she was breathing regularly.

  Thank god, he thought.

  But what in the hell was she doing here?

  He examined the girl more closely and saw that her ankles and wrists were bound in duct tape.

  What in the hell is going on here?

  The discovery of the girl prompted Tom to recall something he had forgotten until now: the other man-the one he had whacked with the lamp. There were two men involved in all of this, not just one. Had the pair abducted Tracy and the other girls as part of some kind of crime spree? If so, what was their motive? To simply rape the victims then drop them off in an alley?

  The concept of two men working in collaboration to abduct and rape women seemed very unlikely. Then he recalled the Hillside Stranglers, who tortured and murdered girls in Los Angeles in the late 70’s and realized that it was plausible.

  Tom placed his hands on the girl’s shoulders and gently shook her.

  “Hey, wake up!” he spoke in a hushed voice. “Can you hear me?”

  The girl made no response.

  He tried again. “Wake up, girl! We’ve got to get out of here. Can you hear me? You’ve got to wake up so we can get out of here!”

  She made a moaning sound and mumbled something.

  “That’s it, snap out of it! I’m not going to hurt you!”

  The girl moaned again and her eyes fluttered open for a moment. Then she immediately shut them.

  “No! Please don’t hurt me!” she cried.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you. What’s your name? My name is Tom.”

  She opened her eyes reluctantly and stared at Tom. Her expression showed fear and suspicion.

  “How do I know that you won’t hurt me? Those other men scared me really bad!”

  Tom tried to comfort her by gently taking hold of her hands. “Those men are the bad guys and they have locked us down here for some reason. I came here to find someone they kidnapped but they caught me. You have to believe me, I’m not making this up.”

  “Promise?” the girl said with pleading eyes.

  “Scout’s honor,” Tom replied with an encouraging smile.

  “Okay, I think I believe you. You seem too nice to be bad.”

  “We have to move fast, uh-what’s your name?”

  “Molly. Molly Barnes.”

  “Okay, Molly, let’s get you untied so we can get out of this place.”

  Tom helped her to sit up and said, “Did they hurt you any?”

  She shook her head. “No, not really. Just when they pulled me into their car.”

  “What exactly happened?” Tom asked, pulling the utility knife out of his pocket.

  “I was walking home from Kristi’s house earlier this evening and all of a sudden a car pulled up beside me. A man jumped out and pulled me into the front seat. Another man was driving. Then the first man got in next to me and told me not to scream or he would hurt me really bad.”

  “Had you ever seen either of these men before?” Tom asked as he began cutting the duct tape from Molly’s wrists.

  She shook her head. “No. I was so scared! I started to cry and the one man yelled at me to shut up then put his hand over my mouth. We drove around for a while until we came to this house. The man driving the car got out and watched while the second man took my hand and told me not to struggle or he’d kill me. Then he pulled me out and led me up to the house.”

  “There. Now, your ankles,” Tom said. “What happened after that?”

  “Once we got inside, the men suddenly started acting like, kind of nice to me. They asked me if I wanted anything to eat or drink and I said no, and that all I wanted was to go home. They told me that I could go home in a little while, after they got done doing what they had to do. I asked them what that would be and one of them laughed and said that I’d find out soon enough. That really scared me, the way he said that, and I started crying again.”

  “You’re free now,” Tom said, making the final slice of the duct tape.

  The girl smiled at him. “Thanks, Tom.”

  “You’re welcome. So what happened after that?”

  “They both got really mad again when I started crying. One of them told me to sit down and be quiet while the other one went into the kitchen. He came back with a glass of Coke and offered it to me. I told him I wasn’t thirsty and he told me to drink it anyway, or else he’d force it down my throat. So I took a drink.

  “I thought it tasted funny and I asked him what was in it. He said nothing but good old Coca Cola. I didn’t believe him, though. Then the other man turned on the television and we all just sat there for a while. Then…”

  Molly looked confused as she struggled to recall.


  “And then I-I don’t really remember what happened after that.”

  Tom saw a red flag. “You can’t remember anything at all? Are you sure?”

  The girl looked past Tom with a vacant look in her eyes. “I can’t remember! I guess I just fell asleep then.”

  “And you don’t remember anything else that happened until I woke you up?”

  “No, nothing,” she said uncertainly. “It was like, a big blur. I mean, I think I was awake on the sofa but I don’t remember what I was doing. It was sort of like a dream that I can’t remember.”

  This disturbed Tom and had dire implications. He hoped that what he was thinking wasn’t true. That the men had drugged her with something and that was why she couldn’t recall anything.

  But now was not the time to be worrying about this. He had to find a way to get them out of this basement and find Tracy.

  “Can you stand up?” he asked.

  “I think so.”

  Tom put his arm around the girl’s waist and helped her up onto her feet.

  “How do you feel?”

  “A little wobbly,” she replied. “But not too bad.”

  “Good, let’s see if you can walk.”

  Molly took one step then suddenly froze.

  “Shit!” she cried.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I’m bleeding-I must have started my period.”

  “Are you sure-I mean, that it’s just that?”

  She gave Tom a troubled look, realizing what he may be getting at. She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know for sure. The time is about right, though.”

  “Listen, Molly. You need to check yourself out. I’ll go to the other side of the basement and wait for you, okay?”

  “I’m scared, Tom! What if those men did something to me?”

  Tom faced her and gently held one of her small hands in his. “Try to calm down, Molly. I don’t know how to say this but what ever happened has happened and there isn’t much we can do about it now. The important thing is that you’re still alive and that we get out of this place ASAP. Do you understand?”

  She nodded slowly. “Go away and I’ll look.”