I told Logan to cruise closer to the Manhattan side of the river instead of on New Jersey, fearing that the army would spot us. But as I scanned the other shore, there was no military activity whatsoever. The cities of Jersey and Union up to North Bergen were in chaos, the infection clearly spreading fast beyond the quarantined Manhattan.

"I still think we should head out to sea and sail south," said Yousef.

I turned and showed him the map of the lower bay, pointing to the narrow strait where Verazzano-Narrows Bridge was, a length of about two-and-a-half miles.

"If a ship or a boat this size gets out, it'll get spotted right away by anyone who's waiting out on the bay or with a good long-range radar detector. The Navy could blow us up," I said. I turned to Logan. "A ship this size will have radar reflectors, right?"

Logan nodded. "Yep. Big ones. This isn't a stealth boat; I mean, look at it. It's built for luxury if they see us: Boom. Drone strike."

"Or we'll get arrested," Aria suggested.

"And that's better? I'm not going to jail just to have a needle stuck up my ass. No 'effing way." Miguel flinched and turned to Henry, added, "Sorry, little guy. Cover your ears the next time I speak."

"I'm used to it," Henry mumbled softly.

"In any case," I interrupted, "more people will spot us upriver. There are hills and cliffs, and basically, more vantage points against us. But based on the broadcast, everything below I-88 is currently being evacuated, which means the military will be focused on the roads. They can't have all their resources drawn to the river. They have to patrol the entire Northeastern seaboard."

"So, what you're saying is, they needed a choke point?" Logan asked.

I nodded. "The choke point of Hudson River, for anyone who's trying to get out that way, like us, is the city of Albany." I then pointed to the city of Albany on the state map.

"Being the state capital, it's where DC and the army will take a foothold to control the region. That's where the governor will place a lot of his troops and resources to combat this outbreak. And This is our way out. See anything that's connected to it?"

Logan leaned closer. "I-88."

"I-88 runs through Albany. The army will use the interstate as a road to shuttle troops, maybe resources, and supplies. Plus, Albany has an international airport. My guess? They could also be transporting evacuees to safe zones out west. Albany also has most of all major highways and interstate converging through the city."

"And Felipe and I can hop a plane to France," Margot said, nodding.

I smiled. "And a way back to Oregon. Maybe even to Fort Wayne, Indiana," I said, looking at Luke and Yousef for the latter, knowing that's where they came from.

I continued, "Once we get closer to the city, or any of the surrounding areas, expect a ton of military presence. I mean, look at where the city is situated. It covers all traffic coming from Massachusetts, Connecticut, Vermont, and Rhode Island, three of the four states that are currently under Martial Law. They'll be heavily watching those roads. We'll anchor somewhere downriver on a small town, ditch the boat, and drive our way up from the west side of the river to Albany and the airport."

I looked at the map and the smaller towns scattered near the Hudson River. A lot of the folks living around there might not have any idea of the horrors waiting downriver. I glanced at my shotgun, knowing that I might have to point it to a living person just so that I could steal what they have.

"I spot a problem," said Luke, frowning. "We have to pass through seven bridges from this point on. All of them could have a ton of soldiers. If the army is trying to block travel from New England to the rest of the country, they'll be watching those bridges like a hawk."

"They could have blown them up already. Like New York," Logan said.

"That's possible, and I wish that is true." Luke then pointed his finger to West Point. "Or we can use a disguise."

My jaw dropped, and I started laughing, shaking my head at Luke's insane idea. Logan groaned beside me, a hand over his forehead, while the others merely stared at me, puzzled.

"What's West Point?" Margot asked.

I held my laughter a little, glancing at Luke again, realized he was earnest about this. "It's a military academy for the Army. A prestigious one. Oldest in the country."

"And what's there, ...Oh." Margot's eyes went wide. She stared at the map. "Disguise."

I added, "Luke wants us to steal military gear there, a place where five thousand cadets will be staying and on high alert. Five thousand armed cadets with months and years of training how to fight and use a weapon more than any of us."

"So, you've been there?" Luke asked.

"Yeah. Most military kids visit there at some point in their lives."

"They have an armory. Somewhere on campus? Your dad knows about West Point."

"He graduated from Annapolis. Not there."

"Is there a difference?"

"Big time! It's a different school for a start!"

"Well, no matter. They would have been the first to be evacuated. That's five thousand men strong to fight the vectors. They'll be scattered all over the state, holding the quarantine and enforcing martial law. The campus could be empty. We can raid their armory. Get better guns and weapons."

"We still don't know if the cadets left, and if they did, they might've emptied the armory already. I didn't get out of the city so that I can get captured later."

"It doesn't hurt if we scout the grounds," Luke said.

"What makes you think it'll work?" I asked.

He pointed at the NYPD vest I was wearing. "Who here thinks Bren looks like a police officer before you got to know him?"

Margot and Felipe raised their hands, and so did Miguel and Henry.

Fine. If we had to...

I studied the map again. What Luke proposed was tempting, no matter how dangerous it was to walk into the oldest military academy in the entire country, built on a hill that overlooked the Hudson River.

Though it might've been used as a fort in the past, I could barely call it one now. Much of the 17th-century walls had been taken down to make way for museums and visitor centers. Tourist attractions surrounded the entire hill.

Then, I remembered Sergeant Major Dean Clemons, one of my father's close military friends, who now led the cadets in the academy as the right-hand man to the Lieutenant-General. But three years was a very long time, and he might not be there, transferred to some other position somewhere else. But if he was (and hopefully he remembered me), he might be able to contact my dad and secure transportation out of the quarantine for me and the rest. I recalled that he lived in the nearby town in Highland Falls. I could find him there.

"Okay. We'll check out West Point," I said. "But if we don't see something we like, or that it gets dangerous, we bail, okay? I don't want anyone to get hurt. Plus, I might need to check on someone on the town proper."

"Oh? Who?" Luke asked.

"Well, hopefully, a friend."

—

The chilly winds kicked up as I walked out into the cockpit. There were a lot of floating dead bodies on the river, along with debris. We reached past Upper Manhattan, and I was sad to find out that its skyline was also burning. Out on the shores, Palisades Interstate Highway was filled with abandoned vehicles, snaking out to the horizon. Manhattan's skyline slowly got smaller and smaller.

"Hey," Logan snuck up behind me.

I jumped. "What did I tell you about sneaking up like that?"

"Sorry. Force of habit."

"Don't do it again."

"I won't," he chuckled. He drew his jacket around him. "For a sunny day, it's kind of cold."

"Add that to the list of weird things happening lately."

"Yeah. The world has turned upside down or something."

"And we should have seen one by now, at least."

"Shouldn't we be glad that we didn't?"

I shook my head. I still didn't know how to process it.

There was no military presence at all. I should be comforted that the army posed no danger that they would blow us up, but oddly, it only made me feel worse.

"Miguel found some canned tomatoes and chicken chunks and dried pasta in one of the cupboards. He might make us some meatless spaghetti for lunch," Logan said, changing the subject.

I smiled. "I haven't had pasta in days."

"We'll soon have a proper one, you know, once we get out of here."

"I hope. I want some clam chowder."

"I despise seafood."

"I remember. My mom used to cook your special meals every time you visit our house."

"Yeah. I do love her chicken parmesan. And she bakes the most bad-ass chocolate coffee swirls. I remember eating it up whole when we were kids."

I laughed. There were a lot of things I missed when we were kids. Most of all, pretending in Logan's treehouse that we were space pirates or some shit, and then went to my house to raid my mother's basement where the pantry was to loot the "emperor's treasures."

"You should come and visit once we get back. Mom and dad miss you."

"I will."

"I'll hold you to that. I got the curse of being an only child so, they're desperate to throw anyone at me to be my friend," I said.

"Well, we're friends again, so they don't have to worry."

A long pause. I could feel Logan staring at me like he would say something but held it back. I turned to him, raised my brows. "You got something else you want to say?"

Logan bit his bottom lip and stared out the waters churning at the stern. "Is...is there a reason why you want to go to West Point?"

"Well, I'm treating it as a supply run. We did abandon most of our stuff on the bus, and we don't have a lot of food to survive barely two days—"

"No—I know that. Let me rephrase. Who are you looking for in there?"

"As I said, I'm looking for a friend."

"A friend as in...?"

I regarded him fully, puzzled about his question. "My dad's friend lives around there. He's military, high in command. I didn't want to say anything and get everyone's hopes up if he's already moved, and we won't be able to ask for his help. Should I be looking for someone else in West Point?"

"No, it's just that...Wait. I thought you knew he was there."

He? "Knew who?"

"Bren!" Felipe hollered from the flybridge. He peered over the railing, waving for me to come up.

Curious, I walked up to the narrow staircase next to the glass sliding doors leading to the main deck. Logan followed after me. The flybridge was about the same size as the spacious living area, containing a second navigation dashboard on the starboard side.

Margot had the binoculars in hand, staring at something further up the sky.

"What is it?" I asked Felipe as I reached the top.

"Margot saw something. Here. Give it to him, love," said Felipe.

I grabbed the binoculars from Margot's hand and held the ocular up to my eyes. It was a Celestron brand and looked brand-new as well as very high-end. Etched to the side was the 25x100 magnification on it.

"I saw—tout petit—at the north-west. Over the hills," Margot said, pointing at something in the sea of blue.

I nodded. "Thank you, Margot." I adjusted the center focus wheel.

Saw a dot.

No.

Three.

I turned the wheel again, getting closer to the object, but the further I went, the more the lenses shook due to the boat's wake, making it harder to see. I asked Logan to slow the boat down to about two hundred yards per minute. I adjusted the focal wheel.

The three dots came to view.

"See it now?" Logan asked.

"Yep. They're ...fast."

"Military?"

"Looks like it."

"How far?"

I got to as far as I could turn the wheel. I briefly put the binoculars away, and I still couldn't see the dot with a naked eye. "My guess? Fifteen miles?"

"And you're saying they're heading toward us?"

I put on the binoculars again. The dots were getting bigger. I could tell they were planes. "Yeah. It looks like they have wings, not rotors, which makes it trickier to land in a park, don't you think?" Readjusting the focus, I saw dozens of smaller planes accompanying it, following close to the tail.

I gave the binoculars to Logan.

Logan let out a whistle. "Wow. Like a flock of metal birds." He gave the binoculars back to me.

I put it back on and aimed it at the larger three, watching it keep getting closer and closer.

"There's a no-fly zone in place here, isn't it?" Logan said, realized he was talking to Felipe.

"Yeah. But that was days ago."

I adjusted the wheel again, refining the lens. I realized what the smaller ones were. They were fighter jets, maybe F-22s. I then realigned the sights to the bigger three. All three were black with a tailless fixed-wing, looking like a giant, spread-eagled W, moving ahead of the F-22s, and I surmised that they might be escorting the three planes.

They were still heading toward the city, probably three minutes out.

I turned to Logan. "Logan? Take speed the fucking boat up."

"Is something wrong?"

"Just do it."

Logan walked toward the dashboard and slowly pushed the black control knob upward. The yacht lurched forward, speeding up against the river's current. I peered down to the cockpit and asked Aria to take Henry down below deck, and behind me, Felipe requested the same thing to Margot. I didn't understand her, but it was clear she wanted to stay up on the flybridge. Miguel and Luke came out to the cockpit, wondering what was going on.

Just then, the F-22s were close enough that we could hear them approach at a disturbing speed, though the three weirdly-shaped black planes flew quietly. Up in the clear blue skies, I could finally see them with my naked eyes, flying at least half a mile over our heads. I counted at least twenty F-22s. If they came from an aircraft carrier, they might be anchored out on the bay, and I was glad we didn't go in that direction.

Just then, the F-22s split up into groups of five in various directions. One group flew toward the Bronx.

The three black planes also split up, one headed to New Jersey, the other further east (later turned out to be Queens and Brooklyn), while the last flew straight for Manhattan.

We were maybe seven miles away from Harlem's center when an object fell from the plane's belly. A parachute of some kind, carrying something at the end of it. But after a few seconds, whatever straps the object was attached to snapped, and the object fell toward the city.

All I saw was the light, brighter than the sun, dwarfing almost everything in sight. Three more followed. I shielded my eyes. Logan's grabbed me by the collar and dragged me behind the navigation dashboard. His other hand never left the throttle, still at full speed.

Then, a few seconds after it exploded, I heard it, the loudest sound I had ever heard. It was like firing a thousand shotguns all at once right next to my ear. Logan held me close, wrapping his arms around me.

The boat rocked from side to side, and I held on to the railing, afraid that it would tip over and we'd be underwater. There were three, four, five explosions right after the other. I lost count beyond that.

I peeked out of the dashboard and saw buildings crumbled from a distance. Almost a quarter of New York's famed skyline went down. Clouds of yellow and orange filled the view, and not just Manhattan. Bombs fell onto Jersey and Union City. The F-22s were dropping them like flies, although these bombs weren't as powerful as those dropped by the three black planes.

The pungent smell of gasoline filled my nostrils, and I realized in horror what they were.

Napalm.

The US government was dropping napalm on US citizens, healthy people who were still trapped in there, burned alive as the entire metropolitan area was engulfed in scalding sticky jelly that would burn through the skin for hours. Terror seized me as I imagined what those people in Central Park must've seen, the bombs dropped over their heads, the realization that no help was coming. It wasn't the vectors that murdered them but the people they sought for help.

I put my hands over my gaping mouth. I felt something wet run down my cheeks, and I wiped my tears away. Margot was screaming nearby, and Felipe quickly wrapped his arms around her. She wailed, shaking, burying her face on his chest, shouting: "Pourquoi? Pourquoi?" Felipe was crying, too.

Logan took hold of the helm and steered the boat further to the center of the river, speeding faster away from the city.

From below, I heard Miguel cursed out loud, screaming, anger dripping in his voice. The city was his home, and I could only imagine the people he lost. People that he might've hoped quietly to himself got out before everything went to dust.

The F-22s were turning back, dropping more napalm on the surrounding neighborhoods and other areas where the more massive explosions couldn't reach it.

Towering billows of smoke filled the clear skies, blocking the sun.

A warm hand squeezed around my own, pulling me away from looking at the horizon. I turned and found Logan holding my hand. He leaned over and whispered to my ear, "You were right. It was a trap."

I didn't want to believe it, wanting to think that everyone in the park would be alright. But if I had complied with the others, had gone to Central Park instead of going for the boat, I would be there burning alive right now.

Logan paused. "What are we going to do now?"

"We'll have to be extra careful from now on," I said, returning the squeeze of his hand.

To where we're going, we needed to be more vigilant. If the military could drop a fucking bomb in broad daylight in one of the largest cities in the world, then they would also have the guts to shoot its citizens on the road without significant repercussions, especially in a time of crisis.

If the government would go to such drastic measures to stop the spread of the disease, everything must have gone to shit.

"We will go home, Logan," I said, "all of us will."

I needed to find Sgt. Major Clemons fast.

He's our only hope of getting out of this alive.