The walk was longer than it looked, and the hill was steeper than it appeared in the dark. As he’d feared, their effort to jump the line was pissing people off. As they passed one identical SUV after another, headlights flashed and a couple of horns bleated. They’d reached nearly the halfway point when someone up ahead opened their door and a beefy Army lieutenant stepped out to block their way.

“If you belong here at all, you will wait your turn,” the soldier said.

“Stand down, Lieutenant,” McCrea said. He faced off against the other soldier, silently daring him to make a move while the family moved on behind him.

Victoria spread her arms to gather her boys. “Keep up,” she said, and they closed in tighter.

The young officer who’d confronted them had played out his bluff, apparently. “I’m sorry about that, Major,” he said. “My protectees told me—”

“Don’t worry about it, Lieutenant. One way or the other, this will all be over soon, and this kind of shit won’t matter at all.”

“Vicky!” a voice yelled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’ve got to go back to work,” McCrea said. He jogged up the hill to retake his place in the lead. “Don’t engage with anyone, ma’am,” he said.

Victoria kept walking. “Stay close, boys,” she said.

“Vicky!” the voice called again. “It’s me. Parker Wortham. I’m talking to you!”

McCrea recognized the old guy as a senator from someplace out West. Wyoming, maybe? He only recognized the face because he’d been on the news for campaign violations.

McCrea didn’t understand the game Victoria was playing here. Why piss off the people you’re going to be holed up with while the earth either died or repopulated? How did she think she was more important than all the others who’d been waiting more or less as long as she had?

As he’d feared, Victoria’s decision to jump the line had triggered others to do the same. It started with just a few, but within twenty seconds, members of Congress started exiting their vehicles like children hurrying to get to the front of the ice-cream line.

Everyone was on the feather edge of panic as it was, and Representative Emerson had poked the self-restraint balloon with a pin. Every face he saw showed equal portions of anger and fear. “This is irresponsible,” he grumbled. He considered challenging her on this, but the damage was already done. She’d inspired a mob scene.

Senator Wortham trotted up to join Victoria—no easy feat for a man of his significant girth—but First Sergeant Copley blocked access. “Stay back, sir,” he said. There wasn’t a hint of politeness in his tone, and no room for argument.