Read Here We Stand (Book 2): Divided (Surviving The Evacuation) for Free Online Page B

the zombies come, or next week when food needs to be planted. We can’t be refugees, not here in our own country. We have to make a stand. It could be here. We could clear the road, build walls far stronger than links of razor wire, and—”
    There was a shot, fired by one of the townsfolk. The refugees’ muttered protest, only a distant whisper, was replaced by a high-pitched howl of despair that echoed across the treetops. The crowd parted around two figures, one lying prone on the ground, the other kneeling.
    The tableaux remained frozen just long enough for Tom to imagine the shouts of apologetic recrimination from the barricade; for a doctor to be called; for the injured to be tended; for the infected to be dispatched; for the refugees to be offered shelter.
    There was a second shot. Tom didn’t see from where it came, but it was followed by a fusillade, fired from both sides. The refugees fell, cut down as they tried to flee. One of the townsfolk fell. Then another. The refugees surged forward. Many died as they stampeded toward the school buses, but some made it. The townsfolk fled from the baying mob.
    “I don’t want to see the rest,” Helena said, turning away. She headed into the forest.
    Tom spared one last glance at the town, and the horde running toward it. Zombies were never the real threat.
     
     
     

 
    Chapter 2 - What’s Yours Is Mine
    Centre County, Pennsylvania
     
    “Not so fast,” Tom said.
    “What’s to wait for?” Helena said. “We have to get out of here.”
    “I agree, but I don’t want to twist an ankle.” A memory of Bill Wright and his broken leg came to him. Of course, Bill still had access to medical care. Tom took out the sat-phone, uncertain what message he was about to send, but turned it off as soon as he saw how depleted the battery was. Bill couldn’t help them. And they couldn’t help the hundreds of other refugees now tramping through the woods. The sound of leaves and needles being kicked aside, branches breaking, and quiet sobbing replaced that of gunfire and screaming.
    After a tense hundred yards they came to a curving track. Tom wasn’t sure if it was the same one that led from the road, or if it was a trail cut by the refugees. It was full of people.
    “They look like zombies,” Helena said. They did, walking single file, heads bowed, eyes half shut. It was surreal. They were still human, but it was as if they’d already given themselves up to death. They pushed their way through, and kept going.
    “That way’s due south,” Helena said when the nearest people were only vague sounds.
    “You sure?”
    “Yes.” She looked about uncertainly. “Pretty sure. Which way?”
    “East. Avoid the mountains, stick to the low ground, and we’ll find a road.”
    “What was it you said a few days ago? That we’d all end up heading toward the same supply of water, all competing for the same shelter. That’s what it’s going to be like, isn’t it? The survival of the most brutal.”
    The trite reply that life had always been like that died on his lips. “I guess so,” he said. “At least, for now.”
    “It didn’t have to be this way.”
    Helena set the route, and Tom was happy to let her. In some ways, direction didn’t matter. They had to get away from the immediate threat, but realistically needed a car to complete the next part of the journey. He couldn’t guess in which direction the nearest road lay, let alone predict the odds of finding a car.
    Helena paused, leg half-raised. There were shadows ahead, not moving quickly, yet not moving toward them. He unslung the rifle. They continued more slowly. The shapes coalesced into humanoid forms. He raised the gun, but lowered it when he saw the people were still alive. There were three of them, more ill-dressed than Helena and himself. They gave his rifle a greedy glance, but made no attempt to take it. Helena steered a path away from the group, picking up the pace until they were slowly jogging through