Page 22 of Longing for Liberty
Over six years ago…
Jeremy’s brother, Aidan, and his wife had left the country the day before with Jeremy’s parents. They’d been smart and liquidated their savings last week while we were busy with soccer games and an elementary school play. Looking back, I felt both marvel and disgust at how life rambled on while the country fell apart. Inside our community, life was quiet and seemed normal, despite our worries and the things we knew were happening at the government level. Things just…kept going. Like the way an octopus’s tentacles twitched after its head was chopped, giving the illusion it was still alive.
For years, the news had constantly covered a myriad of attacks on U.S. soil from both foreign and domestic terrorists, but since social media had been shut down, we didn’t get any commentary or alternative views. We learned things through word-of-mouth. Living so close to Washington, D.C., Aidan had a federal worker friend who told him the market was about to crash. Again. But worse this time.
I figured he was being overly cautious when he told us to get our money out, but when we went to the bank, I’d never seen it so busy. A line was out the door. People grumbled into their phones and argued. A disturbance started inside, raised voices, and we all craned our necks to try to see what was going on. Finally, a woman in a suit came out and yelled.
“Everyone, listen up! We’ve run out of cash—” I gasped in surprise, and everyone started to talk, but she shouted over us. “Don’t panic! We are expecting a shipment in the next two days. If you’re here for cash, you’ll have to come back!”
Jeremy and I looked at each other when we were back in the car. His family had already left the country as a precaution, but now it felt like more of a necessity. We had tickets to join them in two weeks after we’d had a chance to sell off as many belongings as possible, but that felt too far away now. A sense of urgency filled me.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
I pressed my palm to my chest, considering our options. “I know Aidan says the banks can freeze all of our cards and assets, but do you really think that will happen?”
He shook his head, a furrow between his brows. “I don’t know. But if they do, we’re broke.”
My intuition was screaming for us to run as fast as we could. But we wouldn’t get far without money. “Okay,” I told him, picking up my phone. I’m going to change our tickets to two days from now. We’ll get our cash and go.”
He agreed. As he drove, I searched for tickets. Baltimore. Washington Reagan Airport. Dulles Airport.
“Shit!” I said, my heartthunkinglike a hard ball ricocheting back and forth inside my ribs. “Literally, every flight is full in all the local airports. Let me expand.”
I expanded, and expanded again, my fingers flying frantically. As we pulled into our driveway, I stared blankly at the phone in disbelief as panic fluttered like a sickly bird in my chest.
Then I did a quick map check and time calculation.
“What?” he asked. “What did you find?”
“There’s nothing open for domestic airports, like the whole country! Everyone must be trying to get out. We have to drive all the way up to Toronto, Canada. There’s one flight with openings two days from now. It’s at ten PM, and it’s normally an eight-hour drive.” Which meant at least eleven hours with stops and traffic if we were lucky. Thank God we had updated passports from a family cruise last year. Hopefully, Canada was letting people cross.
“Buy them.” He put the car in park. “We’ll get to the bank before sunrise to be the first in line and go straight from there.”
I nodded.
It was such a relief to have a plan.
The next day, Jeremy waited at the bank all day while I stayed home and packed, but the cash drop didn’t come. When the next morning came, we were not the first in line at five AM. People had stayed overnight. We took our place on the asphalt and sat like many others, sipping coffee from travel mugs. I leaned my head on Jeremy’s shoulder, and we watched the sun come up through landscaped trees and buildings. We hadn’t slept well the past two nights. It was madness to be abandoning everything we knew and fleeing. I’d always had a bleeding heart for refugees but never imagined I would be one.
At eight-forty-five, everyone stood and stretched, preparing for the doors to open in fifteen minutes. A buzz of anticipation was in the spring air. As nine o’clock approached, we all began looking around and getting fidgety.
“Is there a back door?” I asked Jeremy. “I haven’t seen any employees go in.”
It was like the entire crowd realized at once. People ran to the glass, peering in and yelling, banging on the windows. I heard a man shout, “Nobody’s in there!” Some people ran for their cars, speeding off, but most stayed.
Stubbornly, we waited fifteen minutes. Thirty. Forty-Five. I was nauseated, and every time someone shouted or people started to fight, my blood pressure rose.
“They’re not coming,” I told Jeremy, who still looked hopeful.
“Fifteen more minutes,” he begged.
But my intuition was screaming. I shook my head, already moving. “We have to go. Now. Let’s grab our things and get on the road.”
We were nearly home when Jeremy got a text from Aidan in Italy. He pressed the truck’s dash screen to have it read out loud.
“Dude WTF why did two missiles get shot from Norfolk to DC??? The US is attacking its own self? Are you guys okay?”
Jeremy and I shot each other wide-eyed looks.
