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that she probably looked like a homeless person, she mused.
    But then, she was homeless. Weren’t they all?
    “Thank you,” Pearce said, “for being cool about the two of us doing you.”
    “My pleasure,” she said, the unlit cigarette still dangling from her lips. “Definitely my pleasure.”
    Johnson came back then, shielding a tiny flame with his large hand. Carefully, he lit the cigarette in Jenna’s mouth and she inhaled deeply.
    She coughed immediately, laughing. “My virgin lungs!” she crowed. It had been way too long since she had inhaled.
    The cigarette tasted stale but she got an immediate rush of nicotine, something she hadn’t felt in ages. “We need to start growing tobacco,” she mused.
    “That’s a great idea,” Johnson said. “You should tell that to Colonel Lanche.”
    Jenna rolled her eyes. She tried to stay as far away from Lanche as possible. “Hey,” she said, sitting up. “You know my roommate, the short girl with the brown hair? Emily?”
    Neither man spoke. Did they know something?
    “She hasn’t been around the past few days,” Jenna said. “I wondered if anything happened to her. If anyone knew.”
    Pearce looked at her with interest. “She’s missing?”
    “Yeah, I guess so. Missing.” The word made her shiver.
    “Since when?”
    “Um, the past few days, I guess. I think. I don’t have a calendar, you know?”
    “Hey,” Johnson said to Pearce, “a few days is ago is when the ra—”
    “I know,” Pearce said sharply. “Enough.”
    The two men looked at each other. What was going on?
    “Good luck finding your friend, Jenna,” Pearce said, standing to leave. “Thanks again for the great fuck.”
    Jenna watched them leave, puffing her cigarette in the dark of the Tracks.
----
    Emily awoke in Mason’s arms, lying on a blanket on the floor of the abandoned hospital. She felt safe here, protected. Like if the army came to get her, he could keep her safe. Before her time in Grand Central, she’d have had no problem standing up to the soldiers. Now that she was free, she had to find that courage again within herself.
    Too bad she’d have to go it alone. She wished she could force Mason to come with her, make him see how much better off they’d be if they could get out of the city.
    How ironic, that she snuggled in the arms of a man who’d escaped from prison, when not long ago the thought would have terrified her. It still terrified her a bit. She wanted to know what he’d been doing time for.
    No—she was better off not knowing.
    She wished she could erase the past few days from her memory. If she never met him she’d never know what she would have to leave behind.
    Emily would have to just move forward and be strong. The first time she’d tried to make it without help, the army had picked her up after only a short time. The FEMA camp, meant to be a shelter, had quickly become a prison.
    How long would it take them to find her this time, especially now that the army had a reason to come get her?
    It wouldn’t take them long. She had been a sitting target, waiting, paralyzed by her fear. She could see that now. Crossing paths with Mason had awakened in her the strength to be a nurse again, and in doing so she’d snapped out of her frightened stupor. Mason, despite needing her help when he first arrived at Roosevelt, had the skills to make it on his own. He survived an actual confrontation with the soldiers, even. He didn’t get taken, or killed.
    If only he still had his gun. When the EMP had hit, anyone who had a gun, legally or otherwise—and in New York City very few people had a legal firearm, since they were banned—had to give it up.
    Homes were searched and guns were seized as property of the United States Army, or more specifically, the band of soldiers led by Colonel Lanche.
    But when only the soldiers had guns, no one could protect themselves against them. With martial law in effect, if any man tried to use a gun for protection, that gun got