Plastic. The tarp was melting in the heat.

  “Go,” her father ordered. “As fast as you possibly can, Lana. We can’t stay here. Now!”

  Lana punched the gas.

  Her world narrowed to nothing but fire, smoke, heat, and around nine yards of road at a time, fed to her from the maelstrom ahead. A burning branch appeared. She swerved around it. A truck’s back end protruded from a ditch, she jerked the wheel to the right and narrowly missed it.

  Ahead, orange light shifted, falling through the smoke, and in another second, a tree fell in front of them, temporarily suspended as its burning branches caught in trees on the other side of the road. The SUV coughed in protest as she gunned it, rocketing ahead to duck beneath the burning branches before the trunk collapsed and trapped them.

  A loud crack and Derek braced beside her. Sparks and flames licked the side mirror as Lana jerked the wheel again to miss another falling tree. The heat from the burning trunk blossomed against her window.

  And then, as if a curtain was suddenly drawn aside... they were through it. Smoke still spewed and heat still clung to the SUV, but the burning forest fell away around them, leaving a vast field of smoldering and burning ground. The haze of smoke thinned.

  Lana kept her foot on the gas, steering wheel still gripped so tight, her fingers were stiff and sore. Her eyes flicked to her father’s face in the mirror. His expression was dark, furious. He jerked his chin at the road. “Keep moving. We’re not out of it yet.”

  The burning patch of woods receded in the rear view until the mirror contained the whole swath. It wasn’t as big as it had felt driving through—just a stretch of woodlands bordered by wide, blackened fields that had probably been crops of some kind, or pasture, before the ash and cold had smothered everything and the fire had come through to burn the husks.

  It was like the world had been dry brushed with black. Here and there, a patch of ground had hints of color still, even if it was mostly dull brown, and some of the farmhouses they passed, set back from the road amid the fields of pitch, had managed to keep part of a wall, or a painted door, or part of the roof.

  Everything smoldered. Partly fallen trees still glowed with embers as the insides were gradually eaten away. She kept driving until the air seemed cleaner and visibility was better. There was no getting away from the smoke, but it wafted over the SUV now in wisps, instead of solid walls.

  At last, the tension in her chest broke and she inhaled. Her foot eased off the gas, and her knuckles colored as blood flooded back into them. The aftermath of adrenaline hit, muscles twitching with fatigue. She let the car slow on its own, until it rolled to a stop.

  “Let’s check the top.” Her father’s voice was curt, thin. When Derek reached for the handle of his door, Caleb clarified. “Just Lana and me.”

  Lana would have been embarrassed for Derek to know just how quickly, and how hard, her stomach sank. She hadn’t felt that particular type of guilt since she was sixteen and got caught sneaking back into the house at two in the morning.

  “It’s fine,” she told Derek. Not that he’d checked with her. Maybe she needed to say it out loud for her own benefit. She opened her door and stepped out as her father did the same.

  At first, he said nothing, turning and surveying the slagged wreckage that now crowned the SUV. The gas hadn’t ignited, at least, but it would be inaccessible until they cut away the melted tarp and rope blackened into hard lumps around the rooftop rails.

  “We’ll need a new tarp.” Her father’s voice came out even and low.

  “I’m sure we’ll find one,” she said with forced ease. “There’s got to be a few barns around here. If one of them didn’t burn down, a tarp should be—”

  “What the hell were you thinking?” It came then. The disappointment. Anger. Fear. “I told you to stop the car. We needed to think through what we were doing.”

  “You weren’t the right person to drive, Dad.” She squared her shoulders. Braced.

  He waved an arm at the roof of the SUV. “Even if you were, Lana, there were still things to think about! You can’t make unilateral decisions like that without thinking everything through!”

  She flinched at the growing volume in his voice, and her eyes flitted to the melted plastic as her mouth worked to form words. “I... I’m sorry. But what were we going to do? Bring the gas inside? We’d have passed out from the fumes, and at least if it ignited on top of the car, we might have been able to get out. Would you really have left it all behind? At least this way the tarp melted over it. The gas cans are probably fine.”

  Caleb shook his head in frustration. “That’s not the point. Lana... lately it seems like you’re too willing to jump into things without thinking it through. It’s not good, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes narrowed as the fear of being dressed down morphed into irritation at being treated like a child. “You mean it worries you that I’ve got a spine? That I’m not as soft and delicate as I used to be? That I’m not afraid to kill someone? That I’m not your little girl?”

  She knew the moment she said it that she was overstepping. Lashing out. Her father’s expression flattened. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  He turned away from her, stared out at the fire in the distance. “Before you punch the gas pedal and fling all of us head-first into a raging wildfire, you stop and assess all the risks and mitigate as many of them as possible. You do that by stopping for five minutes to think, Lana.”

  He twisted to face her, eyes full of concern and love. “I’m glad that you’re adapting, that you’re stronger and harder and that you’re willing and able to defend yourself. I need that. I need to know you can keep yourself safe and... even that you can keep your mother safe, if I’m not here to do it.”

  Her father glanced at the ground and swallowed hard. “I’m so damn proud of you. But, honey, none of that matters if you aren’t careful, if you don’t strategize a little and look at the whole situation before you make a move.”

  Her cheeks warmed at the combination of praise and truth and she chewed the inside of her cheek to quell the residual anger. He was right and she needed to admit it.

  She inhaled, triggering a short fit of coughing as the smoke irritated her nose and lungs. When it passed, she shrugged self-consciously and glanced at the door. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try to... slow down. Be thoughtful.” She kicked at the ground. “Do you want to drive?”

  With a quiet laugh, her father closed the distance between them and wrapped her up in a brief but tight hug. “Kind of a moot point now. If you’re not too shaken up, you or Derek can drive. We need to find an intersection and see where we are.”

  He let her go and she moved to the door, pausing as her hand slid around the handle. Her father stared at her, an expectant tension still hovering between them. His lips twisted into a half-smile of pride. “That was some pretty fantastic driving.”

  Lana grinned as the last bit of tension uncoiled in her belly. “No idea where I learned it.”

  He opened the door, grunting as though it were an effort. “Oh, I know where. You get your lead foot from your mother.”

  “Hey!” her mother protested from inside. “I’ve only gotten four speeding tickets. I do not have a lead foot.”

  “Yeah. But you got them all in the same year, baby.”

  Lana whistled and looked back at her mother. “I had no idea you were such a speed demon, Mom.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and Lana took a moment to enjoy it before she put the car into drive, and headed for the nearest intersection, trying to keep her attention focused and her mind working on moving forward again. After all, the fire was mostly behind them. It was the least of their worries.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Cheyenne Mountain Complex

  Thursday, July 19th, 3:37 pm CST

  “With all due respect, Madam President, while I understand what you’re trying to do and I appreciate it, St. Louis is managing just fine on its own.” The mayor’s voice crackled over the satellite communication line set up by Apex. “ We’re happy to discuss trade terms, or even mutual military support, but we will maintain our independence as the nation of St. Louis. That’s what my people voted for. It’s what they want. We’re a democratic nation.”

  The way his voice paused was obviously accusatory. As if the US no longer was democratic. Margaret Welcher showed none of the fury building inside on her face, and when she spoke, her words were calm, measured. “Mayor Lambert, in light of the terrible events of the last month, I understand the need to keep your people safe, and keep them hopeful and focused on the future.”

  She managed to smile. “To that end, banding together and declaring St. Louis a new nation unto itself was certainly a bold and, I hope, successful move. But we’re past the dark days that marked the first weeks of this disaster. The United States Government is still intact, we’re re-establishing communication and transportation infrastructure, and it’s simply no longer necessary for St. Louis to stand on its own. You’ll be stronger with us, and we’ll be stronger with you.”

  There was a long pause. The four men with her, including Norman Wilson now that he’d returned from his diplomatic mission, watched the radio with stony faces. One glanced up with an expression somewhere between irritation, frustration, and disappointment. Some of it, she couldn’t help but feel, was directed at her.

  Eventually, Mayor Lambert responded. “Like Lebanon is?”

  Directly across the table, Wilson’s face darkened.

  President Welcher resisted the urge to clear her throat or react to Wilson’s contempt. Instead, she put on her best politician’s voice as she responded to the thinly veiled accusation. “Lebanon is thriving under the current leadership,” she told both men. “It’s part of a large network of fortified transit points connecting the Midwest. They have ample medical services, clean renewable electricity, and are quickly becoming one of the greatest success stories of the current time.”

  She ran her tongue across her teeth. “Mayor Lambert, I’m happy to arrange for you to have a tour of the place to see firsthand how well the city is coming along.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” He almost cut her off. “I’ve sent two teams down there. One didn’t come back. The other brought more than enough intelligence to make an informed decision. I’m sorry, but St. Louis remains independent. If you’ll please excuse me, Madam President, I have a number of other matters to attend to, like the fire headed our way.”

  “Certainly.” She forced graciousness into her voice. “I look forward to continuing our conversation.”

  The line clicked as the transmission was cut from his end.

  “That went well,” Wilson quipped.

  Welcher’s eyes bored into the man’s skull, and she wished he felt it. Or that she could reach across the radio waves and break Mayor Lambert’s neck. A Mayor, of all things, from a city that never rated in the top ten, for that matter. Hanging up on the President of the United States of America because he had more important things to do.

  Inside, she seethed. Outside, she was the picture of unperturbed calm. “As well as could be expected.” She smiled at Wilson. “I think we all knew St. Louis wasn’t ready to cooperate. But it was incumbent upon us to give them the chance to rejoin the Union.”

  Wilson raised an eyebrow slightly. “A chance? If they don’t want to rejoin the US, Madam President, I’m not sure what else we can do about it. Unless you think we have the resources to invade St. Louis and take it by force.”

  Wolverton stared as Welcher turned to look at him. “I’d have to agree with that assessment. What’s the status of the B61-12?”

  Before Wolverton could answer, Wilson stood up from the table. “What the hell do you mean, status?” He looked around the men at the table, and then at the President, eyes wide with shock. “What the hell’s been going on while I was away?”

  “The business of state,” Welcher snapped at him. “And the defense of this country.”

  “You call nuking a US City, on US Soil, defense of this country?” The general demanded. “Margaret, this is going too far.”

  Welcher fixed him with a cool look. “I believe you meant Madam President, General Wilson.”

  Wilson collapsed into his seat, face suddenly pale.

  Her eyes hard, she stared at each of the four men in turn before she spoke again. “We are on the precipice of success or failure. We have a tenuous hold on a considerable territory, and that stability is balanced on a knife’s edge. If we allow St. Louis and their allies and partners to remove themselves from the Union, our hold will slip, the knife’s edge will cut deep, and if it nicks an artery, the United States of America will bleed out and die.”

  She leaned forward, palms splayed across the table. “If you get gangrene in a limb, you cut it off before it spreads and kills you. That’s what we’re looking at here. A sacrifice, absolutely. A regrettable loss of life, certainly. But we must show strength. We must let this country know that we are still a nation, and that tearing it apart is not an option. Making an example of St. Louis will ensure that the rest of this great country survives.”

  No one looked at her, or at anyone else. Each man stared at the table. The silence was awful, and heavy, but clear.

  At last, Wilson gathered the will to speak. “You’ll be remembered as a traitor, Madam President. As a monster. For the loss of life and for the impact on our environment. St. Louis will be a monument to treason, and when all of this is passed it will be that for a thousand years before the radiation allows anyone to come within a hundred miles of the place.”

  President Welcher squared her shoulders and met Norman Wilson’s eyes. “If it means that there is a country left to write histories about, General, then that is a price I am absolutely willing to pay.”

  She looked around the table, studying each face in turn. “Any other remarks?”

  When there were none, she had Gervais bring her the order. When it was signed, she passed it around. All but Wilson signed, but she’d expected that. She knew she’d find his resignation on her desk soon. But that hardly mattered.

  That was why she was President, not him. Now, none of the men left on her cabinet would doubt for one second that she was fully capable of making the most difficult decisions under the worst imaginable pressure. That she was stronger than Daniels had been.

  Let history remember me as a monster. So long as the people who write it are safe and secure enough to bother with it.

  I won’t be the president who let the nation crumble.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CALEB

  Outside Jefferson City, MO

  Thursday, July 19th, 5:32 pm CST

  “Head toward the city.” Caleb motioned at the sign proclaiming Jefferson City, five miles ahead. “The Missouri River’s wide enough that the fire might not have spread to the other side. “Given the way the land around here looks, I’d be surprised if we find anything worthwhile on this side of it. It’s a detour, but the river runs down from Kansas City, so that’ll make for a good next marker.”

  He leaned back as Lana turned the SUV. For all his constructive criticism, and anger at Lana’s insistence on heading straight into the fire, she’d done well. Really well. Caleb had to admit she was strong and capable and ready to survive on her own if it came to it.

  He glanced out the window. Blackened land stretched as far as the eye could see, with occasional pockets of smoldering fire here and there. Smoky haze covered everything and made breathing outside the SUV’s confines difficult. It wasn’t as bad as the early ash fall, but they were all congested from it. With any luck, the air would be cleaner north of the river.

  So far, whether it was thanks to the fire or the distance, they hadn’t come across a single working vehicle of any type at all since emerging. No Apex, no military, no opportunistic militia types. It seemed likely that the fire had run most people, if not all of them, out of the area.

  As the outskirts of Jefferson City came into view, Elizabeth spoke up. “Did those Apex people say anything about how far out their operation goes? If there was less fire on the other side of the river, that could mean more people.”

  Caleb nodded, frowning. He’d considered that as well. But now that they were here, their choices had been slightly narrowed. “Depending on where the fire spread, it might be a while before we find supplies. Our gas survived the fire, which was lucky, but it won’t last much longer. Another hundred miles, maybe? Those cans are only five gallons each. We’re going to need to refill soon. If we stick to this side, we probably won’t run into anyone for a while, it’s true. But we also might not get very far before we’re on foot again.”

  Lana groaned. “If we have to walk in this smoke, we’re going to suffocate.”

  “Or freeze to death,” Derek added. “The last couple of nights, it got down to low twenties, and it’s only going to get colder. We aren’t geared for that kind of cold.”

  Elizabeth chewed her lip as she stared out at the charred buildings. As a rule, they generally avoided anything bigger than the smallest towns, where there were either very few people, or everyone had left for the safety they hoped bigger towns and cities would offer. This would be the first semi-large city they drove through since leaving Greensboro and she was right to be nervous. So was Caleb.

  “There are other places to cross,” Caleb offered.

  His wife glanced at him with a grimace of guilt. “I don’t mean to make anything difficult,” she started, “I just—”

  “Hey,” he reached out and rested a hand on hers, “you’re not. None of us wants another Greensboro. We can scout it out, see what’s up. If the inner part of the city isn’t burnt out, we might find some supplies, maybe even some gas, and if that’s the case we can stick to this side of the river, cross further up. Or take a turn south and take our chances—could be easier that way, if we’ve got the fuel for it.”