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uninhabited vehicle with its engine running in a deserted parking
lot so he decided to nab it. Duh …
    As angry as he was that someone had brazenly ripped
him off, Tom nevertheless found solace in knowing that he was not
the only human being left on earth. No matter who had stolen his
Jeep, that person was apparently alive and well and in the same
predicament as he was. That had to be a good thing.
    But another mystery was why that person had not tried
to contact him. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that who
ever owned the idling Jeep was inside trying to find another living
soul in the godforsaken place. Why wouldn’t that person attempt to
find the Jeep’s driver, instead of stealing it and driving off into
the sunset?
    Unless, Tom thought, that person didn’t want to be
discovered by him. Which would imply that this person could be a
potential foe.
    Tom raced as fast as he could along Fishinger,
continuing west toward Route 33. He barely took his eyes off the
road to glance at the houses that were shrouded in darkness. When
he reached the intersection at Route 33, the tracks proceeded west
over the bridge toward Hilliard.
    Although his adrenalin was pumping
now, Tom also felt an overwhelming fatigue coursing throughout his
body. This whole situation was so bizarre and surreal that he half
expected it to end at any moment. He sure wished it would end, that was a
fact.
    The tire tracks continued on the same road for a few
more miles until they merged onto the southbound entrance ramp to
the I-270 outerbelt. Tom slowed down in order to stay on the curve
in the road until he was safely on the interstate.
    The highway looked like something out of a science
fiction movie as he sped south on it, not a single working
streetlight illuminating the way. This source of countless traffic
backups, headaches and collisions was now nothing more than a pure
white, uninhabited landscape. Sort of like Mars—
    Tom suddenly saw a pair of headlights about a mile
ahead in the northbound lane, coming toward him fast. He stared
over at the car incredulously as it whizzed by in the opposite
direction on the other side of the median.
    It was his Jeep!
    On impulse, he hit the brakes and began fishtailing
out of control. He nearly did a three-sixty as the Honda spun
around like a top. Tom let off the brake and cut the steering wheel
in the same direction as he was spinning until the little SUV was
finally under control. He slowed down to a complete stop near the
berm heading in the opposite direction.
    Tom swore under his breath, turned the car back
around and proceeded south—the huge concrete divider preventing him
from crossing over to the other side.
    He looked out for the next exit and
suddenly saw an orange sign that read Road
Closed Ahead . Tom slowed down a bit until
he came upon a huge construction area that encompassed the entire
highway in all six lanes. He followed the detour sign to the next
exit and quickly got onto the northbound entrance ramp.
    As he strained his eyes to spot his Jeep ahead in the
distance, Tom thought it odd that the outerbelt was completely shut
down southward from this point on. He couldn’t recall ever reading
anything about it.
    Tom was driving as fast as he possibly could and
still keep the car under control as he continued in pursuit. He
hadn’t been able to see the driver when it flew by, but it was
clear that whoever it was did not want him to catch up. Which made
Tom think that he had best use caution if and when he finally
caught up to the thief.
    He slowed down at the Hilliard exit where he had
first gotten onto the outerbelt and discovered that the Jeep had
gone past it. As he sped up again, he noticed that the fuel gauge
was near empty. If he didn’t have any luck soon, he was going to
have to give up the chase before he ran out of gas. The last thing
he needed was to be stranded out here on this lonesome
interstate.
    Tom had driven another four or five miles when he
thought he