Joshua continued, “How far down the rabbit hole does this go anyway? Data can always be historically analyzed and made to say anything.”

Megan smoothed the wrinkles on her skirt and said, “It would seem that there are a lot less libertarian patriots and a lot more sheeple collecting a paycheck from Uncle Sam in this big glass house. If they couldn’t see the shackles forming around the feet of their fellow citizens now, when would they ever notice?”

Joshua let out a breath loudly, almost whistling, and then said: “I don’t know. Four justices? Who knows what other powers were granted to the president in the new law? Outlaw homeschooling? Ban firearms? Make us a one-world-government subject to the UN?”

“So do you want to stick around and see what happens?”

“What are you talking about?” Joshua reached out to grasp her hand.

“All I need to do is to go back in that office, send one e-mail to tender my resignation, grab my satchel, and I’m out the door.” Megan was completely serious.

“I e-mailed you this morning because I already discussed it with Malorie last night,” Megan continued.

“What you’re talking about here is pretty radical. I like you, Megan. I really like you. I find you fascinating. You let me meet your sister and your boys, which is something special, to be sure—but what you’re saying has huge consequences for me.”

Megan focused her piercingly blue eyes on him and said, “Look, I used to think of myself as trapped by Eric. When he called and broke the news to me about his escapade I knew that there was no way I could pay for the house without his salary, so for about thirty seconds I was willing to overlook his indiscretion while I lay on the kitchen floor crying with the phone in my hand. The very next moment, Leo crawled in, and I decided that I would not let him ever see me crying over their father. I told Eric to move on and that I would have his trash packed when he got back to the East Coast. I was not going to be trapped by a man. I was a woman given a charge by God to raise those boys and with His providence I was going to do exactly that. I started putting my money into tangibles, preparations, and the livestock that I knew we would need to raise for food. I called Malorie, and the rest you pretty much know.”

“You know that I feel a strong connection to you and your boys—even your sister. But what are you proposing?”

“Five minutes, I’m in that door and back out again pour toujours. I can call Malorie on the ride home, and we can be ready to get out of Dodge by tomorrow morning.”

“Go where?” Joshua’s passion had given way to the onset of anger. “Your native Maine is a thousand miles at least from here and your Accord is not ideal transportation. What family do you still have there anyway? Winter is coming, and if the power went out you would not be in a position to cut enough firewood to survive. Once you were there, I’m sure that you could find some pocket of backwoods Maine where you speak the local dialect and blend in; heck, you may even get across the border to Canada. But it’s the getting there that is your biggest hurdle. You’d have to get through Baltimore, Philadelphia, northern New Jersey, New York City, and then Boston—in case you haven’t heard, law and order is not in vogue there anymore.”

Megan smoothed her brown curly hair back and said, “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of the urban deathtraps en route. You’ve seen what it’s like leaving this area on a holiday weekend with the traffic; the situation now is ten times more hopeless.”

“Maybe not, because I’m actually one step ahead of you on this one.”

“How so?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Sure, we could ask the Honorable Clarence Thomas to perform the ceremony, I hear that he has a lot more free time these days.”

“Look, I knew that you were marriage material ever since we met for lunch after the morning I busted you in the Friedman Auditorium. Moreover, I’m a serious Christian looking for a godly woman. I’m also smitten with your boys. Maybe it’s my upbringing in the orphanage, but I don’t want them to be without a father—I’ve seen what that can do to a boy trying to figure out how to become a man.”

“How long do I have to think about it?”

“Probably about as long as it takes for me to go turn in my weapon and come up with a convincing excuse why I need to leave early today. We could beat traffic if we left now.”

“And for the ring?”

Joshua pulled out a zip cuff and handed it to her. “I wasn’t sure what size you were, but this is adjustable.”

•   •   •

Megan walked up to the turnstile and swiped her badge across the reader, and the green light lit up with the accompanying audible relay click allowing her to pass. The sun seemed to shine especially warm that early autumn afternoon and the air seemed to be that much more refreshing knowing that she had picked the day and time when she left—rather than stick around and hope for the best. She envisioned an ostrich with its head in the sand getting shot in the butt and giggled nervously as she realized the magnitude of what had just happened.

Joshua pulled up to PG-165 with the Jeep passenger door facing her; the small act of chivalry was not lost on her. She handed him her green badge without saying a word, and he knew it was destined for the box holding the rest of the visitors’ badges. “Uncle Sam will want his ID back,” she said to herself.

“Ready to go?”

“Not without my effects.”

“What?”

“I need you to go over to the visitors’ overflow parking lot, by the static guardrail display, which is where our commuter van is parked. Chuck did not want to wait in the long vehicle line this morning, so he parked over there and we simply walked across Canine Road through the visitors’ center gate. I have some things in there that I don’t want to do without.”

Megan reached into her satchel and found a spare key to the van. She pulled out a scrap of paper and scribbled a note to the van pool saying that she had a family emergency and would be taking some unexpected time off. Next, Megan went around to the rear of the van and opened up the two doors. There in the back was a wooden crate with some stenciled Chinese characters that Joshua could not recognize next to the words “Snew Chain Made in China.” Megan reached for the tire iron to break the metal bands securing the wooden crate closed. Inside the crate Joshua was pleasantly shocked to see Megan discreetly pull out a rough cotton cloth bag that she briefly opened to give him a peek at the collapsed AR-7 inside. Taking up the rest of the space in the wooden crate was one hundred rounds of carefully packed .22LR ammunition and a small cleaning kit. She put the contents in her satchel as she commented, “One of my friends from B Detachment was a Chi-ling”—Chinese linguist. “She works in one of the shops that deals with tracking new Chinese communications technology or something like that. Anyway, I had her print out the Mandarin characters for ‘snow chains’ and then I made the stencil misspelling to hopefully give the box enough credibility to not be opened should we have a random vehicle inspection like you were doing this morning. Since they usually cancel work when it snows, I thought it would be good cover with low probability of ever having someone who wants to open it. The rest of the van pool thought that I was just being overly cautious. This van is the only thing that keeps me going home nightly to my boys, so I prepare accordingly.”

Also in the back of the truck was a .50-caliber ammo can with one of those tamper-evident serialized metal one-time-use bands that was used to seal the door on a cargo truck. Written in a black marker across the top was BREAKDOWN BOX. Megan just smiled and said, “A girl has got to be prepared, you know.”

“So, as an NSA cop . . .”

“Former NSA cop—you just quit, didn’t you?” Megan quipped.