None of the roads they traversed from the Maryland checkpoint to Megan’s house were unfamiliar, but the collective sense of urgency and uncertainty was very high between them. They listened to the radio and said little, except for what the immediate actions would be when they arrived at the homestead. Joshua pulled in the driveway and Megan hopped out of the Jeep. After he triple-checked his mirrors to make sure that there were no kids behind him, Joshua instinctively backed up the Jeep toward the house. He opened all the doors and the hood (Malorie would likely want to inspect the Jeep from headlight to taillight), grabbed his footlocker, and headed into the house.

Malorie and Megan had already made most of the arrangements for a quick exodus in the weeks before. Since their original plan was to head to Maine, they intended to pack the Honda Accord’s trunk very lightly. That afternoon, Megan had called Malorie before leaving her office to say, “Malorie, il est temps. Je serai à la maison bientôt. Je t’aime.”

After she had hung up the phone with Megan, Malorie acted immediately and called the nearest neighbor with a homestead up the road. She offered them all of the livestock to raise or slaughter as they wished, including the fifteen laying hens they had. Malorie also said that whatever was still in the house after twenty-four hours was theirs to take. Malorie had the boys’ items packed and both of their bug-out bags ready by the door.

When Megan walked in she saw the boys prone on the floor zooming their cars back and forth in what looked to be the most intense race in the history of mankind’s pursuit of speed. She got down on her hands and knees to kiss them, while they stayed fixated on their race. With all of the pending turmoil, it was nice to know that they still thought that everything was normal. Malorie was in the kitchen making dinner when she looked up and caught her sister’s eyes. They didn’t need to say anything, for they were in lockstep already. They exchanged a quick hug and continued working.

Joshua came through the front door, set down the footlocker, and joined the race with the boys for a few minutes before helping Malorie get dinner on the table. Dinner was solemn. Not a whole lot was said in front of the boys about what would be happening in the next few hours. Megan bathed the boys while Joshua did the dishes and helped clean up from dinner.

Malorie had gone into the basement to dig out one of Eric’s old large-framed backpacks. “I assume that is for me?” Joshua asked as he moved from the kitchen to the dining room, where Malorie was laying out the contents of her bug-out bag.

“Yes, it is. I saw that you didn’t have a bug-out bag with you, so I’m going to lay mine out here on the table. You can make yours match or customize it as you see fit, cafeteria style. We should have extras of all of these items in one of those tubs over there—help yourself. What do you have for weapons?”

“I have a Glock 19 in my footlocker with five magazines and a thousand rounds of ball ammunition. I also brought my Remington 870 with a hundred double-ought buck shells and my scoped .270 for long-range work with about three hundred rounds for it. I knew that we wouldn’t be able to take it all, so I brought what I knew would be necessary.”

“I think that we’ll be fine if we split the load between us.” Malorie looked solemn and then added, “I’m guessing that we won’t be able to drive the entire way there for whatever reason, so dismounting becomes easier if you pack for that contingency.”

Joshua answered, “I agree; wow, that is quite a spread there. It sure does look like you have fine-tuned that load quite a bit.” Without knowing it, Joshua was in for an education in bug-out bags.

Malorie continued, “This is my ten-by-eight tarp in dark earth tones, and Megan also has one just like it. We can put zip ties around the edges in the grommet holes to make a large sleeping bag. Which brings me to this little Snugpak Jungle Bag—small, light, perfect for what we would need.

“Nature is a cruel and unforgiving teacher, and chance favors the prepared gal. You only have to be caught once in the woods in Maine, cold and wet after dark, to realize how insignificant you are in the forest. We have two little boys that depend on us for everything; we’re not taking any chances. Go ahead and grab an extra few boxes of .22 long-rifle ammo if you believe that you can manage. We can always trade it or use it for my sister’s AR-7.”

Malorie heard the boys being wrangled into pajamas upstairs and she smiled as she continued, “We each have one of the McNett Outgo microfiber towels. They are big enough to dry an adult and a child each, and they also come with this mesh pouch that comes in handy to put our toiletries in. Over here I have a small bunch of zip ties held together with this bread bag tie, grab whatever size is clever. Here is a military lensatic compass, indispensable, in my opinion. I’m not sure if we have an extra one of these, though.”

Joshua replied, “No problem, I actually have my old one from my Air Force days in my footlocker over there.”

“Great, redundancy is key. Next I have about ten one-gallon Ziploc bags and fifteen or so quart-size bags. I find that they are helpful for organizing little things at the end. Megan swears by these Maglite LED XL-50 flashlights, so be sure to grab one for yourself. Each of us also has a small strip of kitchen sponge that we’ve bleached out and let dry in the sun. It’s useful for collecting rain water or can even be lowered on a string to a water source that is out of reach, like a well casing, if need be. We each have a multitool, and I see that you have one there on your belt. Grab a boonie hat for yourself over in that bin; you don’t want to be sunburnt out there.

“Grab one stainless steel spoon for yourself and a canteen cup if you want one. Do you have any junk silver—you know, the pre-’65 stuff?”

“Actually I do. I have a roll of quarters and a roll of dimes. Plus fifteen Maple Leafs concealed in a belt, and ten of the one-tenth-ounce gold American Eagle coins also concealed the same way.”

“Cool, you’re hired. Okay, here is where Megan and I divide the one-of items. I carry the collapsible fishing pole and the Go Berkey water filter. Since it’s only a one-quart capacity, please grab the only other one we have over there to take with us in your pack. At a halt we’ll be able to process twice the amount of water. Megan carries the extra ammo and extra food. We have to assume that the boys cannot carry much of anything except for perhaps a quart of water.”

Joshua wanted to key in on a detail here and asked, “Splitting the load should be easier with the three of us. You mentioned ammo. What calibers do you have?”

“We’ve standardized our calibers between us, knowing that something like this could happen one day. So we both have Smith & Wesson .357s, which can shoot a variety of rounds, like .38 S&W and .38 Special, as you may know. I also managed to get an M1 Carbine for each of us. Megan has her AR-7 and I have a twelve-gauge Mossberg 500. We bought all of those guns without paperwork through private sales, so in some instances beggars can’t be choosers. These should be adequate for what we would need them for, though.”

A chorus of “Auntie Malorie” broke out from the top of the stairs, and Joshua smiled and said, “Sounds like you’re needed for tucking-in detail.”

Joshua stood there alone next to the dining room table. As he packed things in his developing bug-out bag, he thought of what it must be like to live in a house where you have parents who care for you so much and where you’re tucked in every night as an individual. All of this was foreign to him, but he imagined that he could get used to it.

Malorie and Megan came down the stairs together, and Malorie asked, “We haven’t discussed it, but I assume that we’re taking the Jeep and not the Accord?”