“I want to see the rule book.”

Johnson seemed genuinely amused. “For what reason? Established policy is established policy. It cannot be changed. Not by me, and certainly not by the politicians whose behavior the policy manages.”

Penn felt his blood pressure rising. “Where do you get off—”

“Mr. President, this conversation is over. In sixty days, when the blast doors open, you’ll be free and clear of me. Until then, you will follow the rules and I will enforce them. They’re really pretty simple, sir. Don’t try to open the blast doors prematurely, stick to the meal schedules and stay out of places where you don’t belong.”

* * *

McCrea was only the second person to arrive at the ruined Simmons Gas and Goodies. George gave him a hard look as he approached. “Don’t bother trying to talk me out of this,” he said.

“That’s not what I’m here to do,” McCrea said. He forced a smile and tried to keep his tone light. “I’m here to join the fight.” He extended his hand.

George wasn’t sure he wanted to take it. “Why the change in heart?”

“Are you gonna shake my hand, or just leave me hangin’ here?”

George shook McCrea’s hand, but his expression remained uneasy. “What’s your game, McCrea?”

“I’m not sure I have one.”

“You come into town like you own the place, your lady friend threatens to shoot me, and then decides on her own to let a couple of thieves get away with thieving.”

McCrea saw no upside in even attempting a reply, so he remained silent.

“And now, here you are on a fight that you don’t believe in. None of what I just said is normal for anyone.”

“Okay, I’ll take the bait,” McCrea said. “We arrived here because it’s a place to be. We were driving miles away from here when the attack happened, and that’s where our vehicle remains. It might as well be a lawn ornament now. When we finally got here, we saw a lynching in progress and stopped it. Vicky Emerson did a hell of a job in there getting people focused on the jobs that need to get done. Now, as for why I’m here on a mission I don’t believe in, this is not new territory for me. I’ve spent my entire adult life fighting battles I didn’t believe in, but I’m still alive because I’m good at fighting battles.”

“I’ve survived a few battles myself,” George said. “I’m a Marine.”

McCrea caught the present tense. There literally was no such thing as a former Marine. Once one, always one. “Good to know,” he said. “I’ll be sure to use smaller words.”

George puffed up, offended, but then he relaxed and smiled when he got the joke. Interservice rivalries. “You still haven’t told me why you changed your mind.”