“Major McCrea,” she said. “I understand that you have your orders, but if you try to separate me from my kids, one of us—you or me—is going to wake up dead in the morning. Do not try me on this point, sir.”

McCrea saw fire in her eyes. His instincts told him she was speaking the truth. His orders were clear. He was to deliver Representative Victoria Emerson to the U.S. Government Relocation Center—the Annex. The rules said no family, but the facility’s rules and his orders were different things. He decided to let the Annex staff sort out their own problems.

“Very well, then,” McCrea said. “All of you. But we have to move now.”

Mrs. Emerson put an arm around each of her boys and ushered both out the door into the humid August air. “You heard the major,” she said. “Time to go.”

“Go where?” Caleb protested. “This isn’t how a bug-out drill works. Who is this guy?”

“I’ll explain in the car,” Victoria said. “We have to go.”

Once they were all out on the front stoop, Victoria closed the door behind them. Then she pulled up short. “Dammit,” she said. “I forgot my keys.”

“Keep going,” McCrea said. “I’ll personally replace anything that might get stolen.” He used a gentle touch on her backpack to keep the parade moving out into the yard.

Luke craned his neck to look at McCrea. “Are you really going to do that?” he asked. “Replace anything that gets stolen?”

“No,” McCrea said. “What’s in the rucksacks?”

“Survival gear,” Victoria said, and recited the list.

Ah, so they werere preppers. Interesting. “Any electronic gear in them?” McCrea asked. “Phones, tablets, e-readers, laptops?”

The boys stared, clearly a silent yes.

McCrea made a beckoning motion with his hand. “Hand them over. All of it. Cell phones too.”

“Why do you need them?” Victoria asked.

“Because my orders tell me to confiscate them. And, ma’am, you can bet that I have orders will be my standard answer to every question you might have. I’m not making this up as I go along.”

“What are you going to do with our stuff?” Caleb asked. He hadn’t moved.

McCrea felt his patience thinning. “Caleb, here’s the thing,” he said. “You can take them out carefully and hand them over, or I can have my troops take all of your stuff and leave it behind.”

Caleb looked wounded. “Mom?”

Mrs. Emerson showed annoyance, but it wasn’t clear with whom. McCrea would understand if she didn’t like him very much under the circumstances.

“Do what he says.”

“But, Mom—”

“Now, Caleb. You too, Luke. Take out all of your electronics and hand them over to the major.”