THE SQUEAL OF THE CIVIL DEFENSE WARNING TONE ON MCCREA’S cell phone was the most terrifying sound Victoria had ever heard. As a child in West Virginia, the warning was a simple tone on the television or radio, sometimes combined with the wail of the fire siren, depending on where she was, in town or out in the country. Back then, everyone always knew it was a drill. Or maybe a tornado. One time, it was a forest fire. But you knew it never meant Armageddon.

Tonight it was a harsh squeal, and she knew very well what it meant. She pulled her boys close, and for the first time in a very long while, she prayed.

First Sergeant Copley reached for the radio dial, while McCrea stroked the screen of his phone. “Oh, holy shit,” he said. “The Russians have launched from submarine platforms. They’re launching on the U.S.”

“That can’t be,” Victoria said. “That’s mutual suicide.”

“This shit’s been baked into military doctrine since 1950. If we launch, they launch.”

“But Iran started it. They fired the first shot.”

“Does that really matter now?” McCrea said. “The Russians’ first salvos will be aimed at our launch facilities. That means we need to launch back at Russia, if only to save those birds from being destroyed in their silos. In about two minutes, the entire world will be shooting at each other.”

“We’re about six minutes out from the trailhead,” Copley said. “What’s the anticipated flight time on their warheads?”

“About eleven minutes, last time I checked.”

“Will we make it in time?” Caleb asked.

“We’re sure going to try,” McCrea said. “I’m not aware of first-wave targets within a hundred miles or so. That will buy us some time.”

“What about the bunker we just left?” Victoria asked. “The Annex.”

“Not a high-priority target,” McCrea explained. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but members of the House and Senate aren’t worth much without presidential leadership.”

“But the Speaker of the House becomes president if the president and vice president are killed.”

“That takes time to work out the details,” McCrea replied. “You have to understand that if this war goes all the way, it won’t last more than a few hours. Munitions will mostly be spent in the first hour or two, and what’s left won’t have the infrastructure around to launch them.”

Caleb reached forward and put his hands on Copley’s shoulders. “How well do you know the way?”

“GPS doesn’t lie,” Copley said. “After we get there, we follow a path.”

“You’ve seen it at night, right?” Victoria asked.

The front-seat occupants exchanged looks. “After we get there, we follow a path,” McCrea said. “We’ve only seen it on a satellite map.”

Victoria read the message that lay between the lines. “Boys, get out of your seat belts.”