Joshua jogged back to the house. He knew that the Agency would likely do a “pull” on his phone when they figured out that he was AWOL, using tower registration data and network metrics to locate his phone and presumably him with it. In recognition of this unique “global adversary” with its finger in every pie, he pulled the battery out of his department-store TracFone and threw it away. (He had paid cash for it, and had activated it from an out-of-the-way pay phone, with no cameras around.) Next he propped the phone on a rock up against a tire on his Jeep so when he rolled out the phone would be demolished under the weight of their getaway vehicle, making him radio silent.

Malorie had the news on, and none of it was good. She helped get the boys dressed, and Joshua had breakfast on the table for them all to eat one last meal together at the LaCroix homestead before departing for Kentucky.

The mood was somber, and toward Martinsburg to the north, they could hear a distant gunshot punctuate the early morning tranquillity. Malorie spoke up. “I’m going to have the boys feed the animals; I think that the grownups need to talk about our plan.”

Megan replied, “Good idea.” She turned to the boys and said, “Jean, Leo, go feed the animals, we’ll have breakfast ready for you when you get back—chop-chop.”

In a moment of relative privacy, Joshua said, “I got a text from Ken and Terry last night—not good.” Malorie and Megan could tell that Joshua was worried about his brother Ken in Chicago.

Megan said, “We’ll just have to pray for the Lord’s protection that we’re doing what we should be doing and that His favor will rest upon us as we make this trip.”

After they all took a turn and prayed together, Joshua started with the practical parts of the plan. “The way I see it is that any progress westward and southward is what we need. In a perfect world we could have left two days ago, but like they say, ‘hindsight is twenty-twenty.’”

“What about being tracked?” Megan asked. “I still have the battery out of my phone from yesterday.” She turned to Joshua. “If you got that text message, I’m guessing that you powered yours back on?”

Joshua cleared his throat. “Correct, I had to call in that I was not coming to work today, so I used my phone, saw that Ken wrote, and that Dustin responded, then replied all to say that we were mounting up. As you might have guessed, I purposely avoided being more specific than that.” Joshua grabbed Megan’s hand. (If they were going to have a disagreement, he wanted to start the habit of holding hands, because it is hard to lose your temper when you do that.)

Joshua continued, “As soon as I was finished I pulled the battery and put the phone under my tire so that when we roll I will be forever off the air.”

“I understand,” said Megan, and she looked at Malorie and said, “I’ll do the same to my phone; I’m sure that Sprint will understand. What about you, Mal?”

“I rooted my Android phone a few months ago with a tin foil hat ROM that allows me to kill the cellular board and verifiably turn on or turn off the Wi-Fi card, leaving the device completely passive in true ‘airplane mode.’ I have a ton of survival, first-aid, and wild foraging apps and military field manuals on there that don’t require a network connection. Personally, I think that with a twelve-volt DC charger that can be adapted to charge from a car battery if necessary, we’re better off having that information along with us.” Malorie may not have ever worked in the spook world, but she’d heard enough from her big sister to know that “one account, all of Google” was not your friend. Malorie put her phone back in her pocket and asked Joshua, “Do you have any GPS, Sirius, or XM installed on the Jeep?”

Joshua raised his eyebrows and said, “No, and I had a guy from my church go through and check to make sure that there were not any emitters on there. He works at the Agency, so he didn’t think that I was weird.”

Just then the boys came back in and sat down at the table for breakfast. After they had eaten and packed some coloring books and toys, Malorie shut off the gas and extinguished the pilot light on the stove, followed by turning off the well pump and draining the water in the line as best she could in a hurry. She knew that the bank or someone would eventually come for the house, but it was best not to make a bad situation worse due to neglect.

Joshua checked the weapons one last time and loaded them, with the adults holstering their pistols and positioning their long weapons next to them in the vehicle. Megan had remembered to grab some short bungee cords, which made it easy to secure the long weapons in such a manner that they could be easily presented. Megan let the boys run around to wear off some of their interminable energy before they were loaded up into the Jeep.

When you’re forced to summarize an experience, it’s typical to remember the first memory, the last memory, and likely any painful memories as well. The boys were distracted with getting to ride in a Jeep and unresponsive to Megan hugging them close to her for comfort. All she could think about was them. She thought of Jean toddling under the apple tree, and Leo carrying eggs in an old ice cream bucket up to the back porch grinning from ear to ear with pride. With one last look in the rearview mirror, Megan shed a tear as the Jeep rolled down the driveway, rendering two phones catastrophically destroyed. This would be a new life for all of them, in a world with nothing but the unknown ahead. Nostalgia and hesitation would likely be as deadly as the fires raging through Chicago or the strange, deadly new influenza strain in Charlotte. Joshua caught the gleam from the moisture in her eye in his rearview mirror and reached back to gently squeeze her calf between gear shifts.

As the sun started to paint the eastern sky orange they passed a gas station that had not been updated since the early seventies. Joshua was glad that he had wisely filled up with gas yesterday in Charles Town while the prices were still below seven dollars a gallon. There was a man sitting on a folding canvas camping chair in the back of a truck with a rusted cab; evidently the bed had rusted years before, as it had been replaced with a homemade welded frame and a deck made out of pressure-treated planks. He had a spray-painted plywood sign next to him that read:

Only Premium Gas

$7$8 $10 per gallon

CASH ONLY.

There was a dog lying contentedly in the shade of the truck, and two much younger men with shotguns were also visible. Malorie noted that the power was still on, because through the garage door window you could see the red Coca-Cola illuminated sign from the vending machine, although the rest of the building was dark.

Malorie, like Joshua and Megan, had been operating on very little sleep and by this time was feeling punchy. She mused out loud, “You know, when you think about it, actually four dollars seems pretty cheap.”

“Four dollars for what?” Joshua was not in any form to try to read her mind.

“Four dollars a gallon for gasoline, I mean before this ‘Crunch’ happened. People used to complain about the price of gas being high, but if you think about it we’ve traveled for miles already expending fuel that’s almost priceless now. Think about it: If we were walking, then how far would we have gotten today? Maybe twenty miles if we were really moving, but not likely—not with two small kids in tow. So at four dollars a gallon for the five of us to be traveling down the road at thirty-five miles an hour seems like a bargain. Heck, forty-four dollars a gallon would seem like a bargain to me if I was one of those people stranded on the 495 D.C. Beltway right now.”

“I can only imagine . . . that must be a massacre right about now,” Megan groaned.