by Tom Rogers
When he reached the ground floor, he emerged into a war zone. Burning debris littered the lobby. Smoke hung heavy in the air.
He ran for the exit, then stopped at the windows. The outdoor plaza was covered with twisted metal and shattered glass and broken furniture. Part of a desk crashed to the ground twenty yards away, on fire, as more and more flaming debris fell from above.
He turned back and headed for the other side of the lobby just as a company of firefighters rushed in, nearly knocking him over. The firefighters charged upstairs, heavy hoses coiled over their shoulders. A nozzle from a hose caught the Man in the White Shirt on the elbow, and he jumped away, arm throbbing.
“Move it move it move it!” shouted a policeman, trying to herd people to safety.
The Man in the White Shirt kept moving.
When he reached the door, he could see pieces of wreckage lying around, but there wasn’t as much debris falling on this side, not as much stuff on fire. He hoped nothing would land on him. He lowered his head and ran.
A block away, he slowed down and turned back to look.
There was a gaping hole in the side of the North Tower, ninety stories up. Red flames billowed out, surrounded by black smoke from the burning jet fuel.
The Man in the White Shirt thought of those people trapped on the upper floors, and of the firefighters who’d have to climb ninety flights to reach them. He hoped they’d get there in time.
“How could an accident like this happen?” he wondered. The skies were clear and bright; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Didn’t the pilot see where he was going?
Someone screamed nearby. He looked over, but they were pointing off to the west. A big commercial jet flew past, heading south. It seemed unusually low. It followed the Hudson River out toward the Statue of Liberty.
And then it banked.
It made a U-turn and headed back towards Manhattan.
It was flying straight at the World Trade Center.
The Man in the White Shirt watched in horror as it disappeared behind the buildings. Seconds later, he heard a loud impact as the plane hit the other side of the South Tower, sending an explosion of wreckage and flames straight through the building and out the north side.
He knew then that this was no accident.
CHAPTER 9
Be There
10:21 a.m.
Alex stared out the window of the city bus, hardly noticing the familiar landscape as a series of images rolled through his head: Jordan, wishing him happy birthday with a smirk; the crushed cupcakes he’d left behind; his dad’s pants, the light catching on a faded crease; Mrs. Hamlin, her face as gray as ash; his mom, kneeling down to him, eye-to-eye.
Nothing made any sense today. And his birthday was officially ruined.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the window reflection. He looked like a pouty pre-schooler.
Yuck.
He looked away and tried to shake off his sulky mood. Then he noticed the strange silence on the bus. The other passengers all seemed to be staring at the floor. It was almost like his mood had infected the entire bus.
He heard a soft mumbling nearby. An old lady in the row behind him had her eyes closed while she counted her rosary, her lips moving silently as her trembling fingers pushed through the beads. A word of her prayer drifted to his ears.
“Father,” she whispered.
Alex shivered. He checked out the window; they weren’t even halfway home yet.
The light ahead turned red. The bus slowed to a stop.
He sat up a little straighter as he realized where they were: right next to the abandoned gas station where he saw the stray dog that morning. Behind a fence of jagged metal, the lot was covered in broken glass and rusty barrels. It was an ugly, dangerous place, and it made him feel bad to think of the dog all alone out here.
Then a new thought struck him: maybe that’s why the dog ran after him this morning. Maybe the dog needed him just as much as he needed that dog.
He closed his eyes tightly and made a frantic deal with the universe.
“If I close my eyes and count to ten,” he whispered, “he’ll be there.”
He counted to ten, forcing himself to go slowly. Then he opened his eyes.
There was no sign of the dog anywhere.
Alex slumped. For a brief moment, he had believed, really believed. Now he just felt stupid.
Outside the bus, a dog barked.
Alex jerked up straight and looked out the window.
The stray dog sat outside, staring up at the bus like he’d been waiting there all morning. Waiting for Alex.
Alex locked eyes with the dog. The dog barked again.
Alex pointed at himself and asked, “Me?”
The dog nodded. Alex was a hundred thousand percent sure of it.
The light turned green. The bus pulled away from the intersection.
But half a block down, the bus made a noise like someone had punched it in the gut and knocked its wind out.
Phhhhhooooooosssshhhhhtttttt.
The air brakes hissed as it jerked to a stop at the curb. The doors sprang open, and Alex popped out like a cork shot out of a bottle. He remembered to grab Nunu by the hand as he checked for traffic and sprinted back across the street.
“Alex? Where are we going?” Nunu panted, trying to keep up.
The dog watched them approach, his head cocked to one side.
“Alex?”
When he got ten feet away, Alex stopped. It was his first chance to see the dog up close. The mutt had an ice cream wrapper stuck to his back paw like a shoe; his other paws were covered in mud. There was a dark patch above his muzzle that made him look like he had a black eye. One of his ears stood straight up, while the other was turned inside out and flopped over backwards. And he was missing a bit of fur from his left haunch, where a patch of skin showed through, the same shade as the wad of bubble gum stuck to his tail. The dog shook his head, knocking the second ear back into place. His big pink tongue hung out of one side of his mouth, and as his head moved, it swung from side to side, flinging slobber.
He’s the most beautiful dog ever, Alex thought.
Alex dropped to one knee and put his hand out.
“Hey there, boy.”
The dog took one step forward.
Nunu knelt next to Alex, watching carefully.
The dog took another cautious step.
Then another.
Alex held perfectly still.
“That’s a good boy. C’mon.”
Alex didn’t take his eyes off the dog.
“Alex?” Nunu whispered. “What’re you doing?”
“Looks like I just found my birthday present,” he said quietly. Nunu’s eyes went huge.
The dog inched closer. He strained his neck forward to sniff at Alex’s outstretched hand. Alex didn’t move a muscle. The dog stuck his tongue out and tasted Alex’s palm. It tickled. Alex held his breath as he slowly reached out to scratch the dog’s ears.
The dog pounced, knocking him flat on his back. His heavy paws stood on Alex’s shoulders, pinning him to the pavement. Alex started to panic.
Then the dog licked Alex up one side of his face and down the other with that gigantic pink tongue.
“Good boy! Down boy! Down boy!”
The dog leaned over and licked a kiss across Nunu’s face, too, then stood back, his tail wagging like crazy. Nunu giggled as Alex burst out laughing. He rolled to his feet, and the dog let out a happy bark.
Dogs don’t talk; Alex knew this. But at that moment, he could almost believe that this dog—his dog—was speaking to him.
He was wishing Alex a happy birthday.
CHAPTER 10
A Dog’s Life
10:34 a.m.
Alex wanted to cram everything he’d ever thought of doing with a dog into that morning. He was sure his dog was thinking the same thing.
They were walking home, because Alex knew dogs weren’t allowed on the bus. Half a block down, the dog fo
und a stick and dropped it Alex’s feet. Alex gave it a gentle toss; the dog sprang up and caught it in mid-air as it left his hand.
Alex laughed. “So that’s how you want to play it?”
The dog crouched, poised, as Alex turned toward an empty lot and hurled the stick as far as he could throw it. The dog took off at full speed. He didn’t slow until the last second, paws skidding in the dirt, his butt sliding past as he lapped the stick up into his mouth. He raced back and proudly deposited the chewed-up prize at Alex’s feet and then crouched, ready to go again.
As Alex watched his dog chase the stick again, a fleeting thought briefly darkened his mood, like a cloud passing over the sun. His parents hadn’t gotten him a dog, so would they let them keep this one? But they’d have to, he thought. They’d have to! Once they met him and saw how great he was, there’s no way they could say no.
When they reached a playground with nobody else around, Alex and Nunu and the dog jumped on the merry-go-round. But as soon as Alex started to spin them, the dog jumped off, barking in confusion. Alex and Nunu whirled themselves dizzy, then staggered off, teetering in wobbly circles until they both fell over laughing as the dog ran back and forth between them, like he wanted back in the game.
Then Alex took off his belt, held one end tight, and gave the other to the dog, who grabbed it in his mouth and took off running. Alex leaned back onto the wheels of his Heelys, and suddenly he was flying, arms outstretched, wind in his hair, laughing.
Alex had dreamed of dogs for as long as he could remember. He had always known with absolute certainty that a dog would make everything better.
But he never knew it could be this good.
Having a dog more than made up for Jordan and the smashed cupcakes and the weird day. All the troubles of the morning just disappeared.
It was like all his deals with the universe had finally come true.
“Here, Max.”
Alex called to the dog, who had stopped to sniff a light pole. The dog didn’t respond but moved on to investigate a trash can.
Nunu looked at him funny. “Who’s Max?”
“I’m trying out my top ten dog names. Does he look like a Max to you?”
Nunu shook her head. “Here, Muffin,” she called.
Alex made a face. “Muffin?”
“It’s better than Max.”
“Dog names are like Rex. Or Charlie.”
“Here, Buttons,” Nunu tried again.
Alex rolled his eyes and called to the dog. “Here, Rex. C’mon, Charlie.”
Nothing.
“Over here, Fang.”
The dog ducked into some bushes.
Alex worked his way through the list: Buddy, Maverick, Genghis, Ralph, and Mugsy.
The dog didn’t answer to a single one. Alex was down to his last pick.
“Here…Annihilator.”
“That’s not a doggy name!”
The dog chased his tail, spinning in circles, ignoring them completely.
“We should call him Twirly,” Nunu observed.
“No.” Alex’s scowl only goaded Nunu on. She loved it when she could get under her big brother’s skin.
“Or Poochy.”
“No.”
“Or Daisy.”
“That’s a girl name.”
“How about Pee Pee?”
“Pee Pee??”
Nunu pointed: the dog had his leg up, leaving his mark on a mail box to alert the world that he’d been there.
“We’re not calling him Pee Pee.”
As they made their way through town, Alex still hadn’t found the right name for his dog. But in every other respect, the universe was smiling on him today—especially when they saw what was sitting in the window of DiSarno’s bakery. Right there in the main case, next to the trays of gingerbread men and fruit tarts and odd-looking foreign cookies, sat a platter piled four stories high.
With cupcakes.
Chocolate-frosted chocolate cupcakes. With chocolate fudge swirls on top.
“We’re not supposed to have sweets before lunch,” Nunu breathed, as the two of them stared in the window.
“Pick out the one you want,” said Alex. “My treat.”
The little bell over the door ding-a-linged as they stepped inside. The dog slipped in behind them. Alex tried to push him back out, but it was like trying to move a bus.
“Rex. C’mon. You gotta get out.”
The dog just stood there, drooling, as he stared around at all the goodies.
“It’s okay, Alex. There’s nobody here.”
The shop was empty. Even though the shades were up, the door was unlocked, and a neon sign buzzed “OPEN” in big red letters, there was nobody here. Alex jiggled the door to make the bell ring again. Still nobody.
He stepped cautiously behind the counter and peeked into the back. The baking tables were covered in flour. A big plastic tray full of glistening dough sat uncovered. An apron lay in a heap in the middle of the floor. Nearby, Alex could see a half-decorated cake with red letters on top that read Happy b. A piping bag lay on the table beside it, trailing a thread of red icing.
“Hello?”
No answer. It looked like everyone had left in a hurry.
“Weird.” He turned back to the store. “There’s nobod—HEY!”
The dog had his head buried in the display case and was licking an enormous white cake.
“Bad boy! Get out of there!”
Alex had to put both arms around the dog’s neck and pull with all his might to get him out of the case. The dog’s face was completely covered with white cake and icing. Then that enormous tongue poked out and spun clockwise around his face, squeegeeing the icing and cake away in one sloppy swipe.
Alex reached back into the case, lifted out two cupcakes, and handed one to his sister.
“One for you. And one for me.”
“That’s stealing,” Nunu said. But she didn’t give back her cupcake.
Alex dug into his pocket, pulled out his lunch money, and left three dollars on the counter.
While he was paying, the dog got back into the case and took a huge bite out of the white cake. Alex dug back into his pocket. He only had two dollars and forty-six cents left over, but he put it all on the counter, promising himself to stop by tomorrow and settle up.
Then something on the counter caught his eye: an open box of birthday candles.
He took out two green candles and poked them into the top of his cupcake, adjusting them so they stood side by side, straight and tall.
“There. Eleven.”
He found a pack of matches tucked behind the cash register and lit the candles.
“Happy birthday to me.”
Nunu joined in. When they got to “Happy birthday to A - LEXXXX,” the dog joined in too, howling all the way to the end.
“Happy birthday to MEEEEEEEEEEE!”
“Make a wish,” Nunu reminded him.
Alex already knew what to wish for. He knelt down even with the candles, so close he could feel their heat on his face. Then he made a silent wish, took a deep breath, and blew.
The flames flickered, pushed sideways by his breath, then went out, leaving two trails of smoke drifting slowly into the air.
CHAPTER 11
The Man in the White Shirt
9:59 a.m.
The Man in the White Shirt didn’t see the first tower fall.
He felt it.
The ground rumbled and shook beneath his feet. Then the shockwave hit him, a metallic groan that quickly became a roar. He turned toward the sound and stared in utter disbelief as the South Tower began to collapse, all one hundred ten stories, crumpling down on itself in an explosion of glass and smoke and steel.
His feet were frozen to the pavement as he watched.
This can’t be happening, he thought. There are people in there.
A chunk of glowing metal the size of a bus smashed down on the street in front of him. The shock of the impact blew out the store windows besi
de him and knocked him off his feet. He fell backwards and slammed his head on the pavement.
He didn’t feel his cell phone shoot out of his shirt pocket, didn’t hear it smash on the concrete and skitter in pieces into the gutter.
He pulled himself up and saw a woman lying in the street beside him. Her knees were bleeding, and she’d lost a shoe. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. She stared past him in horror and then took off running. He looked back.
A dark gray cloud was rolling straight at him.
It roared up the street like a tsunami, a boiling swirl of dust and smoke blown out by the falling building. Ten stories high, then thirty, it blocked his view of whatever was behind it.
He turned to run. But the gray cloud overtook him.
CHAPTER 12
Home Run
10:49 a.m.
“What are you doing here?”
“What are YOU doing here? You never come outdoors.”
“Mom said I had to,” said Doug, who hated leaving his computer for anything but school or dinner.
Alex ran into Doug and Kwan in the park when Rex bolted into the trees to chase a squirrel. (Alex had decided to go with the name Rex and see if the dog would eventually answer to it. If that didn’t work, he’d try a different name tomorrow.) This was perfect: he couldn’t wait to show off his new dog.
If only he could find him.
Alex glanced around: some boys were hitting grounders with a tennis ball over on a nearby baseball diamond, but the rest of the park was empty; he couldn’t spot Rex anywhere.
“My mom told me I couldn’t sit in front of the TV all day,” Doug grumbled.
Kwan nodded. “My mom said the same thing.”
“Yeah. But this time, she actually unplugged it.”
“My mom was acting all weird, too,” Alex chimed in. He shook his head. “Parents.”
Kwan and Doug nodded.
Alex heard a bark and spotted Rex rolling on his back in the outfield grass, wiggling and kicking his paws in the air. Nunu saw him, too, and giggled.