Page 100 of Longing for Liberty
“Your kids are?—?”
“Yes.”
She touched her lips, lost in thought. “Lib. The Three are wanted all around the world for war crimes.”
My heart skipped, and my brain began to jog, then run, then sprint. “I didn’t know that.”
“Only one guard, you’re sure?”
I nodded. “Mm-hm.”
Kathy let out a low laugh worthy of a bog witch before she schooled herself and shook her head.
“I hate what happened to you,” she said. “But it’s not your fault, and you can’t think of it as a failure. Plans have simply changed. I think you already know that though.”
Kathy and I angled our heads to look at each other, and we smiled.
* * *
I stoodat the bus depot with my suitcase, wearing a navy skirt suit with a light cream sweater that had a high neck to cover the yellowish-gray bruising. Amos’s driver had dropped me off moments before, and we’d shared a long kiss that made me want to puke again. I’d been so relieved to get out and watch them drive away.
But I was nervous to see Jeremy. Crazy, right? My husband of twelve years. Before Amos ordered me to stay with him, I’d never gone a single day without speaking to Jeremy. After weeks apart, what would it feel like? Would he be arriving on the neighborhood bus? I looked all around the station, surprised at the number of people traveling. Most were wearing business clothes like me, which made them OM. Some of the OM had workers in drab clothing accompanying them. I spotted two maid-helpers.
A dark sedan pulled up to the curb, one of the official OM vehicles. My heart gave a start as I watched the back door open and a State Force trooper climbed out, followed by a long-limbed man with soft brown eyes.
A tiny whimper escaped me, and I pressed my lips together, standing taller. We met eyes, and I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t. I watched as a series of emotions played out across his face.
Sheer joy switched to apprehension. Then alertness as his eyes scanned the area. Back to me with protectiveness.
This man was my home. My safe place.
“Liberty Carson?” The forceman lifted the badge from around my neck and studied it.
“Yes, sir,” I told him.
“Do you have your paperwork and tickets?”
“Yes, sir.” I held them up.
He nodded and motioned for me to move. I kept my gaze lowered as we made our way down the platform, but I could feel Jeremy behind me, looking me over. What did he think? Seeing me dressed like one of them, my hair and makeup over-the-top, did he think I’d changed? The thought made me feel like I’d swallowed something bitter.
I couldn’t worry about that.
We climbed aboard a travel bus, which was luxurious compared to the school bus that had brought us from Maryland to Texas years ago. I felt the ghost of stiffness, fear, and loss when I thought of that nightmare trip.
The forceman pointed to an open row. “You’ll sit together, but no talking.”
I got to sit next to Jeremy!
I took the window, and he slid in beside me, leaving a couple of inches between us. His natural scent hit me, and I held back my natural response to touch him. Our guard, whose name I still didn’t know, sat in the aisle seat beside us. Ten minutes later, the bus pulled out of the station.
It hit me then. This was really happening. We were going to Italy.
I lay my head back and closed my eyes, trying to get a hold of myself. Thankfully, Jeremy was blocking me from the guard, so when tears trailed down my face and I discreetly wiped them away, he didn’t seem to notice. But Jeremy, ever so slightly, pressed the side of his bicep into my arm, while keeping his hands still in his lap, and the touch was so calming, so reassuring, that I cried all over again. This time, I turned my face toward the window until my eyes dried.
Hours passed. The men played different games on their phones. Yes, even the guard. I mostly stared out of the window, morbidly fascinated by what used to be America’s landscape. How much time and money had they put into demolition? Strip malls. Movie theaters. Bookstores. All gone.
On every corner were piles of former buildings and businesses, some of them blackened from being burned down. These were all on the outskirts of neighborhoods, farmlands, and industrial centers. Anything that wasn’t directly being used for housing or work was torn down. I suppose it was smart of them to get rid of places that might be secretly used by runaways or resistance members. These areas could be remade as the populations grew again, but right now it just looked like a war zone.
