Tom looked both ways on Forty-Second Street and recalled how lively and bustling the popular venue had always been when he’d lived here. Now it looked like the set of a Hollywood ghost town.
The two broke into a run down Park Avenue.
The eastern sky was now becoming a dark blue over the tops of the buildings on Park. It was light enough now for Tom to recognize some of the places now-the posh apartment buildings with their awning adorned entrances, the delis and pizza shops, a Duane Reade drugstore.
When they approached Thirty-Eighth Street, Erin let out a gasp.
“Kyle’s car!”
Up ahead, Tom saw a beat up Toyota Tercel parked near the corner of the street. When they reached the car, Erin opened the door and began rummaging through the back seat. She found her coat, got out and put it on.
“I love this coat!” she said. “It was expensive, too.”
“Any chance this thing still runs?” Tom asked.
“No way. It totally broke down. Kyle said something about dropping the transmission. That’s how we got caught in the first place.”
“Oh. Hell, it’s damn near daylight out-we have got to get moving!”
“I’m with you!” Erin cried.
They sprinted the remaining four blocks to Thirty-fourth Street fueled by sheer anxiety and adrenalin-they knew they would be sitting ducks if the boys found them now. They rounded Thirty-fourth and made it as far as the Empire State building before Tom finally admitted to himself he simply had to stop to rest-even though they had only one more block to go.
He pushed one of the doors open and the two ducked into the lobby of the historic skyscraper. As he stood there catching his breath, Tom looked around and recalled the many times he’d been in this lobby, for he had made frequent trips up to the observatory to view this wonderful city whenever he needed encouragement or reassurance. It had always worked miracles.
The memory made Tom recall how many questions he had for Erin once they got out the city and back on the road. He especially wanted to know about her connection with New York and what part Kyle had played in her life.
“Let’s do it,” he panted, making a silent vow to start working out again if and when things got back to normal.
They exited the lobby and broke into a full run west on Thirty-fourth. In another forty seconds, Tom saw his Jeep parked ahead in the growing light, looking like an oasis in the middle of the Sahara.
“God, I hope the damn thing starts!” he exclaimed, casting a final look behind for any sign of the hearse, elated that they had made it this far. Now, if only their luck would hold out and the engine would turn over The loud blare of a car horn suddenly broke the silence. Tom whipped around and to his horror, saw the hearse flying directly toward them “Jesus, there they are!” he cried.
“Screw it-we’re dead!” Erin exclaimed.
“Not yet, kiddo. Step on it and see if we can make it to the Jeep!”
Tom glanced back quickly again and saw that the hearse was only a couple of blocks away. It was going to be awfully close-and a fricking miracle if the Jeep started.
They stumbled up to the Laredo, flung open the doors and hopped inside in unison. Tom reached for the keys in the ignition only to discover that they were gone. Chappy and the boys had taken them. The hearse was now less than a block away-it almost seemed to be moving in slow motion now-which meant that this nightmare was almost over and he would suddenly wake up the moment he died.
They were screwed…
Then Tom remembered his spare key-the one he had ditched in the console after misplacing his keys one too many times.
“Frick an a!” Tom shouted. He reached over between the seats, snatched the key out of the compartment and fumbled around trying to guide it into the ignition. Tom looked in horror at the hearse heading straight for them at full speed They were going to ram them head-on!
Tom turned the key. The engine cranked once and died. He turned it again. The engine cranked twice, faltered for a split second then fired up.
But it was too late-the hearse was only yards away now. Tom could see Hoops and Chappy grinning from ear to ear in the front seat of the Caddie as they prepared for impact.
Tom threw the gearshift into reverse and floored it. The Jeep lurched backward so fast that Tom’s head hit the steering wheel almost hard enough to knock him out.
The Jeep fishtailed wildly to the left and swayed like it was going to fall onto its side as it plowed toward the entrance of Macy’s. The hearse continued speeding toward them, nearly sideswiping them as Tom saw Hoops whiz past the Jeep They’d missed them by a coat of paint!
Tom slammed on the brakes just as the Jeep jumped the sidewalk and plowed directly toward Macy’s main entrance. It skidded backward into the door and smashed the plate glass with a huge jolt. Tom threw the gearshift into drive and floored it, flying back out over the curve and east on Thirty-fourth.
“Christ, that was close!” he gasped.
“No shit!” Erin said. “I can’t believe they just missed us!”
Tom looked in his rear view mirror and saw the hearse pull a U-turn and head toward them again.
“We’re not out of the woods, yet. Here they come!”
Tom tried to get his bearings as he flew down Thirty-fourth. What was the best way to lose these bastards? he thought, struggling to recall the streets of Manhattan. Heading back to the Lincoln Tunnel was out of the question-he needed more time to put some distance between themselves and the ghouls. Should he keep heading east and see if he could shake them before he got to the FDR, then head back toward the Tunnel? Or should he cross over to Queens or Brooklyn and take a totally different route out of here?
“They’re gaining on us!” Erin shouted.
“I know-that hearse must have a goddamn 427 in it!”
“How can we lose them?”
“I’m thinking-I wish we had a gun so we could blow out one of their tires!” Tom blurted, feeling like an extra in a “B” movie.
“Maybe you should turn onto one of these streets,” Erin suggested.
“Nope, I don’t want to do that. We need to keep going as fast as we can; turning will just slow us down.”
Tom’s heart was in his mouth as he glanced in the mirror and saw that the hearse was no more than three or four car lengths behind them. The accelerator was all the way to the floor and he now regretted not getting a V-8 Cherokee instead of this doggy six-banger.
He had flown by Lexington Avenue and crossed Third Avenue when Tom realized that they were running out of road. There was Second then First Avenue before they dead-ended into the FDR. He wasn’t going to be able to lose these guys by any stretch of the imagination before then-he had to think of something else.
Suddenly he had an idea: The Queens Midtown Tunnel! It was coming up any time now and maybe, just maybe he could throw them off by taking the tunnel at the very last second…
Tom knew it was a gamble because he would lose precious seconds turning off for the Midtown Tunnel instead of continuing on to the FDR. But there was a good chance that these demented shits were assuming he would be taking the FDR-heading for Queens wouldn’t make any sense.
And that was exactly what he was banking on.
Tom flew through the intersection of Second Avenue and saw the sign for the Midtown Tunnel up ahead. Instead of applying his brakes to slow down for the access road and thereby give his pursuers a cue, he waited until he had almost past it, slammed the gearshift into second, turned the wheel hard to the left, jumped the curb and headed north on the access road.
Tom looked in the rearview mirror. The hearse had missed the turn! He heard the sound of the hearse’s tires squealing as he floored it and headed toward the ramp to the tunnel. Another turn and they were inside the pitch-dark underground passage.
“We lost them!” Erin exclaimed as she looked back.