Mom, Sydney and I were eating lunch at The Cheesecake Factory when visiting Mom earlier this month. It was Sydney's choice for lunch, and Mom and I were all in, because Cheesecake is delicious. We were seated in the atrium section of the restaurant, which is a blocked-off area with about 25 tables in it, outside of the restaurant proper and in the mall entry area. We had already ordered, and in fact, had our food, though we were only about halfway done with it.
At some point, I distinctly remember hearing footsteps, a lot of them, and they were getting heavier and louder and faster as they got closer to us. And I remember seeing one woman, with blond hair, actually running toward the mall doors, and she was clutching her bags to her side. The man with her was holding her by the arm, and he was running, too.
Then we started hearing the calls, the shouts: "Gun" "Shooter" "Get Out" "Run" "Shooting."
... And then all the people started running. It was like a wave as people in the booths at the restaurant started jumping up, grabbing each other and hurtling toward the exit. I heard glasses and plates getting knocked over. I heard some screaming, I think, and more people shouting to get out, just leave.
Mom and Sydney were across from me, and in an instant, Mom had grabbed Sydney but the arm and was pulling her out of the booth. I slid out, too, and we crouched on the floor by the end of the table, as others around us were huddled here and there. I reached back into the seat to grab my purse and phone, and having secured them, I grabbed Sydney's other arm and we all made our way up a couple tables closer to the exit. People were still running and yelling, and for the moment, huddling where we were was the best way to assess the situation.
But then I was like, "No. Keep moving."
I gripped Syd's arm tighter and looked at Mom. I'm not sure if I said anything or not, but I knew that as I got more securely to my feet again, she would be right behind us. And we ran. We were crouched and keeping our heads down, and running to the exit.
Can there ever be air sweeter and cooler than what we breathed as we got outside? I'm not sure. In the parking lot, people were grouped into circles, and everyone was pretty obviously terrified. We stopped there, just as a car from the sheriff's department drove up. The officer jumped out of the car: "Have you seen anyone leave with a gun?" None of us had. A guy asked him what we should do now. "Just leave," he said. He cocked his own shotgun and made his way to the mall entry, taking up position just outside the door.
So we just left. We got in the car, and were stuck in traffic leaving the parking lot. And I was reading Twitter. All the reports there claimed an "active shooter" situation. We were panicked that we were there. I slid into the backseat to keep Sydney calmer as we left. I kept refreshing my Twitter feed, knowing that it was the only real source of information currently on top of it all.
What happened: A divorced guy walked into a store and shot and killed his ex-wife, who worked there, then turned the gun on himself, but lived. It was a "targeted" shooting.
This, in the grand scheme of things, makes the entire day easier to process because we, as a general populace, weren't in any real danger from this guy. But let me tell you, those few minutes, moments, seconds were among the most terrifying of my life. The powerlessness and helplessness of thinking that there's a guy with a gun roaming and shooting, and not caring who he hurt or killed, is the worst kind of horror.
Like I said, it's easier to process, but I vividly remember the fear of those moments, and the very real emotion in assuming we were fleeing for our lives, and it won't be anything I ever forget.
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