See Tom Run by Scott Wittenburg Page B

out of hell.
    “You just wait till I get in there, asshole!” Bummer
grunted, short of breath from his labors. “I’m gonna make you look
like a pile of raw ground beef!”
    Tom watched as Bummer swung his ax one more time then
poked his hand through the gaping hole in the door. He heard the
deadbolt slide and watched as Bummer swung open the door. The
moment he went inside, Tom bolted out of the room.
    “Gotcha!” Tom heard the stocky slob shout the moment
he hit the hallway. He sped after Tom and was directly behind him
in an instant. Tom suddenly turned around and saw Bummer holding
the ax high over his head, poised to strike.
    That’s when Tom swung the lamp as hard as he could
into Bummer’s fat face.
    The boy was so shocked that he dropped the ax and
simply stood there dumbfounded for a second, a look of hideous
stupidity on his face. Tom swung again, this time landing the brass
base of the lamp squarely into Bummer’s jaw.
    Blood literally squirted out as Bummer howled like an
animal. Tom hesitated a moment, then gathered up all his strength
and let him have it one more time, this time from overhead into his
huge hairless skull.
    Bummer slumped and fell like a limp dishcloth onto
the floor, out like a light.
    Or dead as a doornail—Tom wasn’t really sure.
    He dropped the lamp and sprinted down the hall toward
the elevator, wondering if any of the other boys were in the hotel.
Just in case, he opted for the same stairway Bummer had taken
instead of risking the elevator.
    Tom made his way quietly down the stairs to the
fourth floor, listening carefully for any sounds. All he could hear
was his own footsteps echoing off the walls.
    He went through the stairway door. He saw more guest
rooms in either direction. He started down the hallway and resumed
methodically knocking softly on each door. About halfway down the
corridor, he thought he heard a sound come from inside one of the
rooms. He knocked again. This time he was sure he heard a sound—a
sort of weak, muffled whimper.
    He turned the doorknob, which was locked.
    “Erin, is that you?” he whispered through the
door.
    Nothing.
    “Erin, it’s me—Tom. Can you hear me?”
    He heard more muffled sounds, more staccato than
before.
    It had to be her.
    “I’m gonna get you out of there, Erin. I just need to
find a way inside. Hang in there!” he whispered excitedly.
    Tom frantically pulled the key ring out of his back
pocket and tried each key, praying that one of them would unlock
the door. He was hoping that the keys were masters for each floor
of the hotel, or something like that.
    The next to the last key turned smoothly in the
keyhole.
    He unlocked the door and entered the room.
     
     

CHAPTER 11
     
     
    The room was pitch dark. The muffled whimpers sounded
louder now and were coming from halfway across the room. Tom
fumbled around for a light switch along the wall, located it and
flipped it up. The room remained dark. Frustrated, he swung the
door open all the way to let more light in.
    Once his eyes adjusted, he could make out two
queen-sized beds and what looked like a body lying on the furthest
one. He made his way across the room, went in between the two beds,
located the lamp on the nightstand, found a switch and clicked it
on.
    There lying face down on the bed was Erin Myers, her
hands tied behind her back with thick rope. Her head was turned so
that she was facing him, her mouth bound by duct tape, her eyes
swollen red.
    “Erin!” Tom cried.
    He leaned down and removed the duct tape from her
mouth as delicately as he could.
    “Jesus, am I ever glad to see you!” Erin cried when
the tape was off. “How did you ever find me here?”
    “I was confronted by your captors at Macy’s. They
brought me here to join their little party but I haven’t been
feeling particularly welcome, to say the least. Here, let’s get you
onto your feet.”
    Tom rolled Erin onto her side and pulled her over
toward the edge of the bed. The moment she was on