Free See Tom Run by Scott Wittenburg

alive and go where his heart told him to go.
    Smiling faintly, looked around and snagged a candy
bar off the shelf. He unwrapped it, took a bite of the frozen rock
hard Milky Way and nearly chipped a tooth in the process. Perhaps
something a bit more palatable? he thought.
    He browsed the aisles and picked out a large bag of
potato chips, some Planters whole cashews and a semi-hard giant
Slim Jim. Tom wondered why the latter wasn’t frozen solid then
considered the salt and preservatives that prevented the leathery
junk from crystallizing totally. And to think of what it would be
doing to his body …
    Tom returned to the warm Jeep and settled down to eat
his lunch. He reached over for one of the three bottled waters he’d
packed and began munching on his junk food as the snow continued
falling hard against the windshield. It didn’t look like the storm
was going to let up anytime soon so he took his time eating. When
he was finished, he had the overpowering urge for a cup of hot
coffee. He recalled seeing canned fuel in the mini mart and made
the easiest decision he’d made all day: to brew a cup of hot
coffee.
    Then he would gas up and continue his journey after
the storm broke.
     
     

CHAPTER 8
     
     
    Tom’s anxiety grew more the closer he got to
Manhattan. Night had fallen about halfway through Pennsylvania and
that was intimidating enough. But as he approached the Lincoln
Tunnel and got his first glimpse of the Manhattan skyline in over
twenty years, he nearly came undone—
    The famous skyline he had known so well was all but
invisible in the misty darkness. Missing were the countless
rectangles of light in the towering skyscrapers, the lights tracing
the spans of the Hudson and East River bridges, the familiar
gleaming stainless steel apex of the Chrysler Building, the
illuminated tiers of the Empire State building and most apparent of
all—the World Trade Center altogether. He hadn’t been back since
the 9/11 tragedy.
    In fact, had the skies not just cleared up enough to
reveal an amber quarter moon hanging low in the southwest sky, Tom
would be unable to make out anything distinguishable from his
present perspective. But the weak light afforded by the moon
revealed the eerie silhouetted forms of the towering buildings on
Manhattan Island.
    “Christ,” he breathed aloud into the silent interior
of the Jeep. “It’s even worse than I imagined.”
    The skyline disappeared abruptly as Tom made a wide
turn and drove past the deserted tollbooths. He entered the Lincoln
Tunnel and slowed down to a near crawl, still overwhelmed by the
scene he’d just seen a moment ago.
    This was simply too much for him to grasp right
now.
    Tom continued letting up on the accelerator until he
had almost coasted to a dead stop, trying to ascertain what he
might find on the other side of this tunnel. He had just driven ten
hours alone on an abandoned highway in search of the only two
living souls he’d seen since arriving home from the supermarket the
day before. And now that he had finally arrived at his questionable
destination he found himself clueless as to what he should do
next.
    He was absolutely terrified.
    He stared out at the headlights as they sliced
through the blackness of the tunnel and took a deep breath. What
difference did it make? He was here, what had happened had happened
and now he had to do what he had to do to survive. It was as simple
as that.
    This simple rationale rekindled his spirits a bit as
he inched his speed up to forty-five and focused on the road ahead.
Maybe, he thought, he would see the usual throngs of people on the
streets. After all, with a population of over eight million, the
odds were certainly greater than anywhere else he’d been thus far.
Surely there would at least be some signs of life—the odds had it
if nothing else.
    Surely.
    He spotted the exit looming in the near distance.
Impulsively, he let off the gas and slowed down to a glorified
crawl. By the time he actually emerged