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radio back. If he couldn’t get the radio, he’d have to kill anyone who knew about it who wasn’t on his side.
    That radio supplied vital information, since someone who knew what went on at the Federal Emergency Management Agency would periodically broadcast.
    FEMA headquarters apparently had been less hard hit than most places.
    According to the vice-president’s speech on the radio, the FEMA buildings were dome-shaped, earth-bermed structures. Under the earth a copper mesh extended out from the base secured by grounding rods, which helped keep the Pulse from destroying the electronics inside.
    Of course, without power, vehicles, and planes to transport supplies—hell, without supplies—FEMA was practically useless. But the headquarters were there, and that was a start.
    They’d been able to help him get set up. Given him authority to run the camp. Authority to do whatever it took to keep the people safe.
    And they were only safe if they were under control.
    The vice-president had taken charge since the president had gone down on Air Force One, along with thousands of other planes that had been flying when the EMP hit.
    Every plane crashed simultaneously. The wreckage over JFK and LaGuardia alone had been incredible, so Lanche could only imagine the rest of the country.
    Pearce and Johnson came back, leading a terrified-looking young woman with dirty blonde hair. Hope glimmered in her eyes when she saw Colonel Lanche.
    “Hello, sir,” she said, her voice shaky. “We’ve met before. I’m Jenna.”
    Lanche nodded, eying her. He didn’t say a word. In his experience, the less he spoke the more the person he interrogated did.
    The best part was, she didn’t know yet that it was an interrogation.
    “Private Pearce told me you were worried about my missing friend,” she said. “Frankly, sir, I’m surprised you care—but I appreciate it. Of course.”
    He smiled broadly, first at her, then at Pearce for being so ingenious. He might not need to cane the girl after all. That’s too bad.
    “I care about the well-being of all of our residents here at the camp,” Lanche said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “It’s a very dangerous world out there. If your friend is missing, we must find her.”
    Jenna nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You don’t think she got hurt, or kidnapped, do you? Oh God—”
    Lanche pulled a chair out and gestured for her to sit down, which she did. Lanche remained standing to remind her who was in charge.
    “Gentlemen, you may go,” he said, dismissing the soldiers.
    Jenna looked startled to find herself alone with Lanche, and he pressed the advantage.
    “Did you see your friend go, perhaps?” he asked sternly.
    “N-no.”
    “Did she tell you about anything—any reason she may have for leaving?”
    Suddenly a cloud passed over the girl’s eyes and she tilted her head as if listening to a far off sound. When she looked back at Lanche, he could see she would no longer be as cooperative as he’d hoped.
    Perhaps he would get to use his cane on her after all.
----
    Jenna stared up at Colonel Lanche, a shiver rolling down her spine. Something wasn’t right—he was after something.
    After Emily.
    Of course he didn’t care about finding her… unless there was a reason that directly affected him.
    Jenna searched wildly back through her memory, trying to recall anything, anything at all Emily might have mentioned.
    Nothing came to mind other than the fact that Emily hated the soldiers and living on the Tracks. It was no surprise she’d run off.
    But did she take something with her?
    Did she know something?
    Emily’s a big girl , Jenna reasoned. If she wants to come back to Grand Central, she will. So there’s no reason to assume she needs to be saved by these men.
    Right?
    And if that was the case, then maybe Jenna shouldn’t be helping them find her. But that was crazy—this was the US Army, or a faction of it, anyway.
    Jenna had always trusted authority figures.