“It’s not just about food, Mrs. Emerson,” Johnson said.

“It’s Congresswoman Emerson,” she snapped. “It’s about beds, then? Have people hot bunk, share beds. Toilet capacity? Don’t flush as often.”

Behind her, people were just now coming to grips with the reality of what they were up against.

“You’re creating a scene, Congresswoman Emerson,” Johnson said.

“No, sir, I am doing no such thing. I am merely stating facts.”

“Ma’am, I have my orders.”

“And your orders are going to hurt people.”

Something broke in Johnson, and he took a menacing step forward, prompting both McCrea and First Sergeant Copley to close ranks in a kind of pincer movement. Victoria might be a bitch, but she was the kind of bitch McCrea admired.

“Don’t talk to me about hurting people,” Johnson said. “Those decisions are made by the high-and-mighty members of Congress and the occupant of the White House. I am strictly in the business of keeping those decision makers alive.”

Oh, this had the potential to go very ugly, very quickly.

Victoria seemed to grow taller. “And that is my only point, Mr. Johnson,” she said. “We members of Congress honor ourselves by anointing ourselves as inherently more valuable than those whom we represent. I want no part of it. Please advise Speaker Glendale that I hereby resign from Congress. And please feel free to give my spot to someone else.”

Johnson looked stunned. “I, um, I—”

Victoria turned to McCrea. “I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience, Major. If you’ll forgive me, I’ll ask you to take us back to our home.”

Johnson said, “You know, your decision affects Mr. Mulroney, too, right?”

The words blasted wind from her sails, but only for a few seconds. She said, “When you speak to Oliver, tell him to go home and hug his family.” She hugged her own a little closer. “Let’s go, boys.”

McCrea didn’t move. “Mrs. Emerson, I don’t think you understand exactly what is going on here. I cannot allow you to return to your home. My job is precisely to not allow that to happen.”

Victoria tried to puff up. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me. I just resigned from the United States Congress.”

“Good for you,” McCrea said. “But I did not resign from the United States Army. I have a duty to keep you safe, and the area where you used to live has a high likelihood of becoming Ground Zero.”

The buzz among the forming crowd was blossoming into something much bigger. As more people left their cars, it became clear that Victoria was not the only member who believed that they could talk their families into the bunker.

“Vicky?” It was Abbi Sinclair, the wife of Burton Sinclair, of Oklahoma’s Fifth District. “Did I hear right? Families are not allowed inside?”