The only thing she remembered thinking one second after the order was that she got to miss the last five minutes of math class. In the future, people would write about the order, people would analyze it for hours on end, but can anyone truly recognize the importance of history as they are living it? Some may think, “no school!”, “early vacation!”, or “I can finally get out of this God-awful oven of a classroom!” But no one can predict the future events that will unfold, nor the simultaneous events that are occurring anywhere from ten minutes to two hours away.
Ten minutes after the order, the only thing she could think about was the text from her father. The only image of him was his office in the city, and of the line of cars in the picture he sent. There were kids running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and teachers sharply whispering about what to do, but she was in her own world, only focused on how, or rather if she could get back to her family.
An hour after the order, her school was empty, and she was still alone. She searched every crowd on every street for her brother, and his face has still not appeared. She has cursed the fact that her house is all the way across town for the fiftieth time, she’s cursed her lack of the car all her friends seem to have, she has wished and wished she had run more so the dash home would pass more quickly. The panic had set in, but she still thought there was hope that this will only be a minor inconvenience. She thought it couldn’t be too hard to get out.
Another hour post-order, and she officially found out that the only one home is her cat. She not only wanted, but desperately needed to talk about it with someone, so she spilled her guts to the feline. That she did not want to die, and yet how she could not imagine moving to a new state without her immediate family. She spilled her plan to hop on the train to Connecticut where she knew some members of extended family live, members who she hoped would take a chance on their teenage niece who they hadn’t seen in years. She took five minutes to cry and gathered the supplies: sneakers, granola bars, first aid supplies, all the water bottles she could find, and, while she’d never tell her friends, the stuffed animal she'd had since she was a tiny baby.
Four hours after the order, and she was on the side of the train as it zoomed to Connecticut. Yes, while that morning she would never believe it, she was literally hanging taped to the side of the train with the climbing rope the kind young adult she had met along the way brought. The wind rushed and inside the train babies scream and crows fly slightly too close for comfort, but she is closer by the minute.
Eight hours after the order, she can see the sign. Time is running short, but she sees the Welcome to Connecticut, and allows herself a brief moment of calm, betraying her father, brother, and mother by only caring that she is safe. She knows it is a long road to her aunt’s house, but she will live past midnight, and that will have to be all she cares about for now.
After a week-long relaxing honeymoon in Hawaii, the newly wedded couple was on a plane back to their home along the coast of the bay. Both of them had jobs in the ferry business, giving rides to tourists for sightseeing and whale watching.
Neither of them knew of the pain that many others were experiencing and that they only narrowly avoided through the stroke of luck that was their honeymoon. Neither of them knew that their boat was currently being stolen by their neighbors, friends, and complete strangers, who were all desperate to get out of the state. Neither of them knew of the law yet.
Suddenly, their flight took an unexpected turn, literally and figuratively. They were two hours from their destination when the announcement came on, letting the passengers know they would have to land at an airport in New York. Later, they will think back about the situation, and realize that the pilot spoke with a very melancholy tone of voice. But now, in the moment, they feel only a slight sickness at the sharp turn of the plane and a worry caused by their desperate need for this week’s paycheck, which they now would no longer be able to get.
After landing in New York, they, along with the rest of the passengers. Other flights had to take an unexpected landing at the airport as well. Flights from everywhere from down south to up north. Passengers looked around in confusion.
Their phones provided more information as to what the order had proclaimed and the terror that was ensuing in the couple’s dear home state of Massachusetts. Everyone in the airport from the Bay State seemed to be communicating with their loved ones still back home, and tourists from around the world showed the article to their companions and gossiped about the horror and fear, secretly just glad they weren’t as affected.
The couple held hands as they walked worriedly, through the airport. Their neighbor had informed them of the situation and what had happened to their boat. Both of them were aware of the necessity of it being used. They were glad that it would be used to help others. They believed everyone was at least somewhat deserving of an exemption from the gruesome death that would await them if they couldn’t get out of the state before midnight.
If it was put to a vote, none of this would have happened. If it was put to a vote, it would have been a unanimous no from everyone who huddled in cramped apartments, knowing that family was all they had in this state. He would have voted no. His few young colleagues, the ones he knew from secret conversations behind the water coolers and closed doors cared about more than just money, would have voted no. His dog would have voted no.
But it wasn’t put to a vote, and now they were all in deep trouble, all thanks to the eccentric trillionaire’s birthday bash. He has always known that it would be more important to give some of the money to the man he saw on the edge of his death on the streets instead of the trillionaires.
He had decided early on that he would not be leaving the state. Everyone knew the order was unfair, but they were all too scared to speak up about it. Someone had to challenge the authority, and that someone would be him. They say everyone wants to be a hero, but few will ever stand up when they get the chance. He’s going to prove that saying so wrong it won’t know what hit it.
Seconds before the order was released, he grabbed possibly the last plate of eggplant parmesan from his favorite Italian restaurant since childhood and made himself a cup of extra thick hot chocolate, just like his mother had taught him. He laughed about how skilled he was at preparing a delicious last meal on such short notice, laughed at the absurdity of what their country had become, laughed and laughed and laughed until he didn’t know what he was laughing about anymore, just that laughing was the best choice he could possibly make in this specific moment.
As he waited for his death, he saw the rest of the state leaving. Mothers held their young children in their arms, constantly stealing glances behind them as if some imaginary force was chasing them through the street. Teenagers and young adults in their twenties helped the elderly to walk. Even the many pigeons living in the capital city knew something was up and seemed to be flying a little further and walking a little faster, eager to leave.
Outside the apartment, the sky turned shades darker as the city emptied out. As he entered one of his only chances to see a night in the city without lights in buildings, he saw something he has almost never truly seen before: stars. He hears footsteps on the stairs, growing ever closer to his door, and yet he stays by the window and stairs at the stars.
EXECUTIVE ORDER 637
All individuals must evacuate the state of Massachusetts for the duration of one month effective at midnight tonight. There are no exceptions to this rule regardless of age, disability, military status, government status, economic status, social status, or citizenship status. All those found to still be within the borders of The State of Massachusetts by one o’clock in the morning will face immediate death by firing squad at the nearest state prison.