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

isn’t going anywhere.”
    “The boat is,” one of the men said. “With you, or without you.”
    “Enough talking, Trent,” the second man said. “Let’s go.”
    “I told you,” Helena said. “You can’t.”
    There was no fear in her voice, just mild exasperation, and clearly she knew these people. Tom’s hand strayed to the gun. He could take the yacht easily enough. From what that detective had said, even if the 911 call was answered, no one would respond. Except stealing the boat at gunpoint was unnecessary. Whether she realized it or not, this woman, Helena, would be safer off the island, and in the company of others.
    He took a step forward, sizing up the group, deciding that it was the man, Trent, who needed to be reasoned with. How to do it? Pretend to be a cop?
    From somewhere inland came a trio of shots, a brief squawk from a siren, a burst from an automatic weapon, and then silence. It lasted only a second before the air was pierced by a scream.
    “It’s time to go, Trent,” the second man said.
    “Last chance, Helena,” Trent said. “See reason. Come with us.” The man spoke as if he was absolutely certain he was going to get what he wanted. Tom drew the revolver, but kept it behind his back as he stepped out of the shadows, whistling a few bars of the first song that came to mind.
    “A bad night to be out,” he said. “There’s looting and worse throughout the city. The police have been called back to checkpoints on the mainland. This isn’t a safe place to be.”
    “Who are you?” one of the women said.
    “Just a guy looking for a way out,” Tom said. “And that yacht fits the bill.”
    “Don’t you understand?” Helena said. “Don’t any of you understand? No one’s taking the boat!”
    “We are,” Trent said, but his eyes were on Tom.
    “We all should,” Tom said. “I doubt there’s much fuel for the motor, but that sail should carry us a good way along the coast. We can get ahead of the people who fled during the day. That’s would be safest for all of us.”
    “Trent?” the blonde said, a warning tone to her voice.
    “Go away,” Trent said to Tom. “And get out the way,” he added to Helena.
    “No!” Helena cried. “Why won’t you listen?”
    The blonde swore, half turned around, and turned back with a small gun in her hand. Tom ducked as she fired in his direction. The round went wide. She fired again as he rolled away from the light. He pushed himself to his knees, raising the revolver. Helena was on the ground. The four of them were running onto the yacht. The blonde fired again. Tom hesitated and did it too long. The rope was cut. The boat began drifting out into the Hudson.
    Slowly, he stood.
    “No,” Helena said, from her knees. “You have to come back. You have to! I tried to tell you. I tried to warn you!”
    The engine chugged into life, and the yacht drew further away.
    “I tried to warn them,” Helena called again, though this time she was speaking to the sky.
    Tom walked over to her. “You need to get out of here,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “It’s not safe.”
    She shook his arm free. “I tried to warn them,” she repeated.
    The words sank in. “Warn them of what?” he asked, looking out at the yacht’s blinking lights. Helena didn’t need to reply. The boat was lit up by a pair of searchlights. Tom peered out across the water, trying to see from where they came. Ships, obviously, but he couldn’t make them out.
    A voice echoed across the water. “Unidentified vessel. Turn back. Return to shore.” A moment later the message repeated.
    The people on the yacht made no attempt to turn around.
    “I told them,” Helena said. “I tried to warn them.”
    “Unidentified vessel. Turn back. This is your last warning.”
    Was it turning? Before he could tell, there was the boom of artillery. A bang, bang, bang, a flash of fire, an echoing boom, and the yacht was gone.
    “I tried to warn them,” Helena whispered. “They