“We’re going to need supplies,” McCrea said.

“That’s going to get tricky,” Victoria said. “The people who live there aren’t going to be anxious to share. We could end up picking a fight we don’t want to have.”

McCrea replied, “Ma’am, if it comes to that—if it comes to a fight—we’re not going to be the side that has the most to worry about.”

“What kind of supplies are you talking about?”

“Are you serious about getting to Mountain View?”

“Absolutely serious.”

“Then think about it. A couple-hundred-mile walk. Winter’s coming and you don’t have warm enough clothes. We can forage and hunt for food, but I don’t have the skills to turn a deer into a jacket. Do you?”

Victoria looked back at the map. “So, are we just going to steal?”

“I hope not. I hope we can barter. But this is precisely the wrong time to be charitable. The game is survival now. Once we have what we need—or, at least, some of it—we can head out again.”

“If that’s the strategy, then we need to move fast,” Copley said. “If this is as bad as we all seem to think it is, supplies of everything are at the highest they will be for a long time. As shortages hit, people are going to panic and get really, really ugly.”

McCrea said, “It looks like a straight shot down this road. At least we’ll have a paved surface to deal with.”

“One last thing,” Victoria said. “Let’s let the boys sleep until sunrise. This is probably the most comfortable that they’ll be for a long time.”

* * *

No sleep came for Victoria. She tried, but every time she closed her eyes, her head raced with the magnitude of what had just happened. The thought of so many dead and suffering people. She was certain that her neighbors were all gone. And all those people who were not dead yet, but soon would be—

Movement to her left interrupted her reverie. “Can’t sleep either?” McCrea said.

“I hope the man who’s still awake is not going to lecture the lady who’s still awake on the importance of rest.”

“Mind if I join you?” McCrea asked.

“Of course not. Pull up your favorite bit of pavement.”

“How are you doing?” McCrea asked.

“Better than a lot of other people,” she said. “You know, it’s interesting. The thought of being disintegrated by a nuclear warhead doesn’t bother me. I mean, it’s awful, of course, but it’s beyond comprehension. And I like to think that for all the millions who died tonight, it ended quickly.” She snapped her finger. “Zap. Gone. Maybe there’s a blessing in there.”

She heard McCrea inhale sharply.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “Your family.”