Read Online Here We Stand (Book 1): Infected (Surviving The Evacuation) by Frank Tayell - Free Book Online

hand. She looked terrified, but her hands were steady, and the gun was now pointing at Tom.
    “It’s over,” Tom said, slow and calm. “It’s over.”
    Rami came out of whatever shock had been gripping him. He grabbed the gun from the girl. “I shot them,” he said. “Me. Not her.”
    “It won’t matter,” Tom said. “That man was right. The police won’t care. Fire another shot into that man’s head and say they were zombies. Like on the news.” He walked over to the counter and picked up a tote bag. The water went in, and then the box of candy. “If I were you, I’d drag them outside, turn the lights off, and lock the doors.” He slung the bag over his shoulder. “Then paint the windows so no one can see in. Barricade them. The police aren’t coming.” He took a step back. “Not for days. Maybe weeks. You’ve got food here, and water.” He took another step back. “Enough to last you until this is all over.”
    Rami nodded. “You think weeks?”
    “I really do,” Tom said. “But you can keep your family safe. Take the bodies outside.” He took another step, and now he was at the door. “Block the doors.” He raised the hand, pointing at the shelf behind the counter. “Do those cameras work?”
    “What?” Rami turned around to look. Tom opened the door and stepped outside before the spell had a chance to break.
    He began a slow jog along the sidewalk, wanting to put distance between him and the store. He took the first alley he came to, then kept on jogging down the next road, only slowing when he was three blocks away.
    He could be wrong. The police might come. Part of him hoped they would, that any minute now, he’d hear sirens. He didn’t. The streets were deserted. There were lights in some windows, but just as many were dark. From the occasional glow of a screen, he could tell there were people in there. Watching. Waiting. Hoping that dawn’s first light would bring an end to the nightmare. He knew it wouldn’t.
     
     

 
    Chapter 4 - Leaving
    Manhattan, New York
     
    The Seventy-Ninth Street Boat Basin was a marina on the west of Manhattan where people could live in their boats year-round. Thanks to a city ordinance a few years before, those boats had to be sea-worthy even if their live-aboard owners never untied them from their moorings.
    He’d taken a walk down to the basin during a tense afternoon two weeks ago, when he had nothing to do but wait to see if his plans would work or collapse. He’d looked at the boats – some new, some old, some desperately in need of repair – and imagined sailing away to someplace warm. He’d turned around and walked back to the small room, knowing that if he stayed there looking at the boats for too long, he’d succumb to the ocean’s siren song.
    Now the idea of a boat was more beguiling than ever. It was almost twelve hours since the outbreak had hit social media. Untold thousands must already have fled Manhattan, joining ranks with the tens of thousands on the other side of the Hudson. With the zombies already ahead of them, theirs would be no orderly migration. The safest course of action was to hunker down, but that wasn’t an option for him. Like the old adage said, the best way to get somewhere was to start from somewhere else. A boat would take him up the coast, beyond the densest of the suburban sprawl orbiting New York, and perhaps ahead of the refugees. A long night of driving, and he might reach western Pennsylvania soon after dawn.
    Behind him, something wooden banged against something metal. A plaintive cry came from above, followed by the slamming of a window. Music momentarily blared from an unseen speaker before being abruptly turned off. Compared to the previous day, compared to any of the days he’d spent in New York, it was as quiet as the grave.
    A clattering rattle of metal came from an alley to his right. A soda can, blown by the wind, he decided. Except there was no wind. The rattle came again, and with it