In the theme of bright red, Fred’s curls bounced as she popped up from where she’d been sitting with three four-year-olds and an array of toys.

“Here’s the talent! I’m production manager, gofer, and assistant camera.”

“I thought I was the gofer.” Katie, mother of three, kept an eye on them from the arm of the sagging sofa Arlys knew Chuck often slept on.

“Co-gofer, and supervisor of the power boosters.”

Katie looked at her twins, Duncan and Antonia. “They’re excited. I just hope they—and everybody—know what we’re doing.”

“We make it go for Arlys and Chuck,” Duncan said, grinning at his mom. “Me and Tonia.”

“Push!” Tonia giggled, lifting a hand. Duncan pressed his palm against hers. Light glowed.

“Not yet.”

Hannah, blond and rosy against the twins’ dark hair, got up. She patted her mother’s leg, as if in comfort, then walked to Arlys. “When’s the baby come out?”

“Soon. I hope.”

“Can I watch?”

“Ah …”

On a laugh, Katie rose to swing Hannah up and kiss her. “She probably would.”

“I don’t know about that, kiddo.” Chuck swiveled around in his chair. “But you’re about to watch history, and the debut of New Hope Broadcasting.”

“We’re up?”

He grinned at Arlys, gave her a finger salute. “We’re up. Definitely up with some help from our boosters.”

The twins jumped up, eyes alight.

“Not yet, not yet.” This time Arlys held them off. “I need to look over my notes, and … things. I need a few minutes.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Chuck told her.

“Okay, um, just give me a few.”

Rattled when she hadn’t expected to be, she walked back outside with her folder of notes. Fred walked out behind her.

“You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“Oh Jesus, Fred.”

“I mean it. You’re so good at it. You were always good at it.”

“I got the desk in New York because everybody died.”

“You got the desk when you did because of that,” Fred corrected. “You’d have gotten it anyway, later, but anyway.”

Stepping closer, Fred put her hands on Arlys’s shoulders. “Do you remember what you did that last day?”

“I still have nightmares about it.”

“What you did,” Fred continued, “when Bob held a gun on you, on live TV. You held on. And what you did when he killed himself right there, right there sitting next to you? You held on, and more. You looked straight into the camera and you told the truth. You did it without notes, without the teleprompter. Because it’s what you do. You tell people the truth. That’s what you’re going to do now.”

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous about this.”

“Maybe hormones?”

Rubbing her belly, Arlys laughed. “Maybe. Hemorrhoids, heartburn, and hormones. Having a baby’s an adventure.”

“I can’t wait to have my adventures.” On a sigh, Fred looked over the back garden. “I want a zillion babies.”

Arlys hoped she’d get through having this one—and soon.

But right now, she had a job to do.

“Okay. Okay. How do I look?”

“Amazing. But today, I’m also your makeup artist. I’m going to powder you for the camera and do your lipstick, then you’re going to be great.”

“I love you, Fred. I really do.”

“Aw. I love you back, I really do.”

She let Fred powder and paint, did a few tongue twisters, sipped some water, did some yoga breathing.

When she came back in from the bathroom, she saw her father-in-law on the sofa surrounded by the children. He had a way of drawing them.

“Bill, who’s minding the store?”

“Closed it for an hour. I want to see my girl live and in person. Your folks would be proud of you. Your mom, dad, Theo, they’d be proud.”

“Consider this your anchor desk.” Chuck tapped a chair in front of one of his many tables. “You’re going to face this camera. I’ve got the angle. What we’re doing here, boys and girls, is a fu—a freaking simulcast. We got the ham radio, the live-streaming, and the cable TV going. I’ll be monitoring you and doing what I do over there. But pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. It’s your show, Arlys.”

“All right.” She sat, adjusted. Opening her folder, she took out the photo of her last Christmas with her family. She propped it against a keyboard. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Fred’s going to give you the countdown. Okay, kids, let’s make it boom.”

“Don’t say ‘boom’!” Katie threw up her hands. “You have no idea.”

“We make it go.” Tonia wiggled her butt in delight. “We make it push, Duncan.”

“Push.” He grinned at his sister, they linked hands. Light shimmered through their fingers.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Chuck dashed from monitor to monitor, adjusted, let out a whoop. “That’s what I’m saying. We’re a go, and I mean go.”

“Arlys.” Fred moved behind the camera. “In five, four …”

She used her fingers to finish the countdown, and with a brilliant smile swept the last one forward.

“Good morning, this is Arlys Reid. I don’t know how many can hear me, or see me, but if you’re receiving this, pass the word. We’ll continue to broadcast as often as possible, to give you information, to give you truth, to report. To let you know, wherever you are, you’re not alone.”

She took another breath, pressed her hands to her belly.

“Four years after the Doom, sources confirm Washington, D.C., remains unstable. Martial law remains in effect through the metropolitan area while gangs known as Raiders and the Dark Uncanny continue to attack. Resistance forces broke through security at a containment center in Arlington, Virginia. According to eyewitness accounts, more than thirty people were liberated.”

She spoke for forty-two minutes. Reporting of the bombings in Houston, the Purity Warrior attack on a community in Greenbelt, Maryland, fires set, homes raided.

But she ended with stories of humanity, courage, and kindness. The mobile medical clinic that used wagons and horses to reach remote camps, shelters for the displaced, rescues, and food banks.

“Stay safe,” she said, “but remember, it isn’t enough to stay safe. Live, work, gather together. If you have a story, if you have news, if you’re searching for a loved one and can get word to me, I’ll report it. You’re not alone. This is Arlys Reid for New Hope Broadcasting.”

“And we’re clear.” Chuck stood up, pumped his fists. “Fucking A.”

“Fucking A,” Duncan echoed.

“Oops.” Roaring with laughter as Katie just closed her eyes, Chuck jumped over to Duncan and Tonia, held out his fist. “Hey, totally awesome, kids. Fist bump. Come on! Fist bump.”

Their heads tipped together as they both lifted their tiny fists, knocked them against his.

His sparked. “Whoa!” He danced around a little, blowing on his knuckles. “Major power surge. I love it.”

Fred blinked at tears. “It was you-know-what A, and awesome.”

Will bent over, kissed the top of Arlys’s head. “You stagger me,” he told her.

“It felt … right. Once I got over the hump, it just felt right. How long was I on?”

“Forty-two awesome minutes.”

“Forty-two.” She swiveled in her chair. “I shouldn’t have kept the twins at it so long. I’m so sorry, Katie, I just lost track.”

“They were fine. I kept track,” Katie assured her. “They’re going to need a nice long nap.” She glanced toward Hannah, curled up and sleeping in Bill’s lap. “Like their sister. You look like you could use one. That had to take a lot out of you. You look a little pale.”