by Katilyn S
“This is it guys.” Chief Parsons burst into the room. “Everybody get their stuff on. It’s time to go. They need all hands on deck.”
We all moved at once, running into the garage. We threw on our jackets, pants and shoes and were on the trucks in less than five minutes. We turned on the sirens and sped down the streets. Outside, the destruction looked worse than on a television screen. The sky was still black, thick with the smoke pouring from the buildings.
We passed by people screaming and cars speeding away. In the truck, there were frightened murmurs from the men. We stopped about a mile away from the foot of the buildings. There was too much debris to try a manuever around. We all climbed out, oxygen tanks in hand.
“Men, put on your helmets. People are going to get hurt,” Parsons yelled over all of the noise. We did as he said, noticing chunks of building raining down around us.
Down at the site, the screaming was increased and people poured out of the doors of the Twin Towers. Sirens blared all throughout the streets and other fire fighters were running around, trying to get people to safety.
Chief Parsons went to talk to the person holding a clipboard, asking where we had to go. I took the time to glance around. There was bits of the wall lying on the streets , some of them still smoking from the impact of the planes.
I looked up to the buildings and watched as large black objects were falling from the top of the towers, where the fire was. I looked harder and noticed that the objects were flailing about as they fell.
“Are those people?” Seth choked out beside me. I looked at him and then back up at the towers. He was right. Those ‘large black objects’ were people falling from the building. Or were they jumping?
My stomach lurched and I looked away. The rest of the men were staring, wide-eyed at the buildings. None of them were uttering a word and I didn’t dare to. Chief Parsons came back over to us and clapped his hands together.
“Okay, we are to go to the South Tower. There are people from the 78th floor and below that are evacuating right now. The people above floor seventy-eight are the people that we should be worried about. We need to get up there and start helping people get out.”
He glanced at every one of us-his eyes hardened when they landed on me-and held up his hands.
“Let’s go, guys. Let’s go out and save some lives,” he shouted and took off. We ran after him, sweating under the intense heat from the fires and smoke.
The oxygen tank on my back weighed me down and I struggled underneath it. But I took gigantic steps, wanting to get in and out of the towers as quickly as I could.
“Oh my God,” I muttered.
As we neared, the sights were horrible. Boodies were strewn all over the streets; some of them brunt to a crisp and others that were bleeding to death. Some were even still alive and called out to us. Asking for help. It took all of the strength I had to ignore them and continue on.
Right beside the South Tower, I was struck at what had actually happened that day. I couldn’t count the number of bodies that were laying on the pavement around us. People were running around, still screaming in terror. Paramedics were carrying bodies on stretchers where an endless line of ambulances waited.
Who would do such a thing that would cause this much devastation? Why the heart and soul of New York City? Who would attempt such a mass murder on this Tuesday?
Emotions ran through my body like a huge gust of wind and I felt a tear slip down my cheek. I shook the thoughts from my mind and continued on. I suddenly tripped over a large object in the middle of the street.
I thought it was a piece of the building until I caught another glance. The sight froze me in my tracks. The thing I tripped over was a body burnt way beyond recognition. You could see the white bone on of the arms and I blanched at the sight.
“Herring,” Andrew tapped me on the back. I turned away, grateful for the distraction. “Right behind you,” I replied and started to walk away. I didn’t make it far before throwing up on the sidewalk.
I straightened myself, wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my coat. Andrew watched me with concern and gestured impatiently for me to hurry up. I complied and ran after him. As we were about to walk inside the building I heard screaming.
I looked over and saw the expression of horror on a woman’s face as she fell in front of me. As I turned away, I heard a sickening thud. The thud of her body hitting the pavement. I shook it off and followed Andrew into the lobby of the South Tower.
“You guys will have to use the stairs,” a guy explained. “There is only one elevator running and it is being used to transport victims down here. So, you can’t use it. Your station will be on floor 83. Good luck to you all. God bless you.”
I nodded at the man and ran after Andrew to the stair well. We walked inside and started up the steps. People were tripping down the steps, trying to evacuate. Faintly, I could feel the building trembling, but I paid no attention to it as we started up the steps.
Four. Five. Six. Seven.
The floors passed by slowly and by the tenth floor, my breathing was labored. We passed by a man passed out on the eleventh floor, but ignored him just as the pedestrians were doing.
They were pushing by us, crying out for help. We pushed ourselves up the steps, one floor at a time.
Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eightteen.
On the twentieth floor, a lady stopped me, pushing me to the side. I stared at her in astonishment. She pulled a man behind her and gestured at him.
“I’m scared about his heart,” she explained. Thoughts ran through my mind and I watched him glare at her.
“Now, leave me alone,” he wheezed. He was a little out of breath and he pounded his chest. “I am as healthy as a horse. Now, leave this young man alone and come on.”
He pulled her away as she screamed out for me. She tried to pull away from his grasp but stopped when the reached the next floor.
I was about to start up the steps when something-or I should say someone-knocked me to the ground. I stood up and brushed myself off.
All around me, hysteria was building up. I stuck out a hand and pulled the man up. I noticed that my helmet had fallen off and landed in the man’s hands. He was staring into my helmet where I had placed a picture of Claire. My throat closed up.
“That’s my love,” I choked out. The man nodded and handed me my helmet back. I stuffed it on my head and turned away. I blinked back the tears and started climbing the steps again.
“Help us!” A woman shouted out running past me down the stairs. I didn’t let my gaze stray from the stairs in front of me as everybody started screaming for help.
“Oh Claire,” I sighed under my breath. The name alone made my skin tingle and I tried to shake the feeling off.
I can’t think about that right now. I have to get up to the 83rd floor first and save people. Then, I can think about her.
I frowned and pushed myself forwards, up the steps. I caught up to Andrew and trotted behind him.
“How many more floors left?” A guy called out.
“About forty,” Andrew replied. Everybody moaned and started pushing each other to move faster.
I started to count the floors again, letting that be the only thing my mind was focused on.
Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three. Forty-four.
Chapter 26-September 11, 2001; 9:28 a.m. (Claire)
I reached out and grabbed the handle to my drawer. I yanked it open and pulled out my purse. I rummaged through it for a minute before producing my cell phone from its depths. I turned it on, tapping my foot impatiently.
The screen lit up and it showed that I had four new voicemails. Frantically I listened to them all. They were all from Michael. The first three were calm and his voice was soft and loving. But the fourth was the one the caught me off guard. I replayed it and listened to Michael’s voice fill my ears.
“Claire, we are about to be called in. I love you, baby,” his voice broke and he took in a shuddering breath. “I wil
l be back, safe and sound, by seven tonight. Don’t worry. I promise you that everything will be fine.”
I fell into my desk chair and dropped my phone onto my desk. Surprisingly, the tears weren’t coming.
“He must be okay. I know he is,” I whispered violently. I shuddered and my hands clenched into fists.
Suddenly my phone rang and I snatched it off the table, flipping it open.
“Michael,” I murmured into the phone.
“Honey, it’s mom.” My mother’s voice was frantic and I snapped to attention.
“Mom!” I exclaimed. “Are you okay? How is everything?”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. They just order us to evacuate. I am standing about three miles away from the Pentagon. I keep waiting for something to happen, but so far nothing has.”
“Mom,” I whispered again in agony.
“Honey, how are you? I heard about eveything that is happening in New York. Are you safe? What’s going on there?” Her voice slipped up a notch and hysteria built in it.
“I’m safe. I am at school right now and we are watching everything on the television. Mom, its horrible,” I said. “There are people that are jumping from the towers. Jumping.”
“Oh, honey, I know it must be frightening-”
Suddenly everything went quiet and my mom whispered, “No.”
Just then, I heard an explosion through the phone and my mom screamed. I took in a sharp breath and looked at the television screen. The reporter was still on, giving updates. He paused mid-sentence and gasped.
“I have just been informed that the Pentagon has been hit, I repeat, the Pentagon has been hit. It appears we are under some sort of terrorist attack.”
“Mom!” I yelled into the phone. Some of my students gave me frightened looks and I frowned. I could hear harsh breathing from the other end. “Mom! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she gasped. I felt relief flood through me. “The Pentagon was just hit by a plane too. It was the worst thing I have ever seen.”
“I’m glad you are away from it all,” I whispered.
“Me too,” she agreed. “Back to you though, how are you holding up about the Twin Towers?”
“Mom, Michael is in there,” I told her.
“Michael?” I could hear the confusion in her voice. I swallowed loudly before answering her.
“My boyfriend. The one I love,” I explained. She gasped and I listened as she let out a sob.
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry. Does he work in the towers?” She asked. I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me.
“No, he is a firefighter,” I said. “And I don’t think he is going to get out alive.”
My voice cracked and I let a few tears fall onto the floor below me. My mom made a tsking noise with her tongue.
“I have always told you to stop being so pessimistic about everything,” she warned. “Now, I believe that he will come out alive and you will see him later tonight.
“I really hope so, mom,” I replied, swallowing a sob.
“Don’t worry,” she cooed. “Now, I have to go. I have another call coming in. Love you.”
“Love you too,” I said and heard the click of the phone as she hung up. I placed the phone back onto the table and placed my head in my hands.
All of a sudden, a pair of arms were around me. I looked up into Alex’s face and choked out another sob. He frowned at me and placed his head on my shoulder. Suddenly, he froze and let out a breath.
“Mom,” he stated. I nodded through my tears and he stared at me in shock. “What happened to her? Is she okay? Please tell me she wasn’t in the Pentagon.”
“It’s okay,” I soothed. “She is completely safe. They evacuated her before it hit.”
Alex relaxed and took in a deep breath. I studied him carefully as he took a step away from me. The tears were not coming down his cheeks and I wasn’t surprised. Even though, this was the most devastating day in history. He stiffened again and glanced at me with aprehension.
“Michael?” he asked. I shook my head, letting more tears stream down my cheeks.
“He left four messages and they came in a few minutes ago. But I’m scared. I can’t lose him. Not now. Not when I have finally found what I have been missing. What if he doesn’t make it out alive? What if-” I stopped, unable to speak anymore. Alex placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he told me. “Everything will be okay. You just have to believe it. Claire, he will come out alive and he will be at the apartment tonight. I promise you that.”
“Promise?” I repeated. He nodded and crossed his heart.
“Promise,” he declared and I immediately felt a little bit better. I knew Alex and he never broke his promises.
“Okay,” I said and slumped back into my chair.
I turned to watch the news and as I did, I could feel a memory tugging at the back of my mind. One that I have remembered ever since I was that age.
It was the spring of 1988. I was only eleven years old.
One night, my dad had gone out to drink away his ‘sorrows’ as he called it. He claimed to be upset over the divorce between he and my mom. He left and I was at home alone with Alex, who was four at the time. I was doing my homework and Alex was coloring on a piece of paper beside me.
“Claire?” he asked. I looked over at him and smiled. He had a stripe of red marker on his nose and his long dark hair was falling into his eyes.
“Yes, sweetheart?” I cooed, setting down my pencil. He reached over and lightly touched the purple encircling my eye.
“What happened to your eye?” he asked curiously. I laughed tensely and hesitated. I never lied to my brother and he deserved to know the truth.
“Daddy hit me,” I explained and forced another smile at him. Alex frowned at me and crossed his arms over his chest. He studied me for a moment before picking up his marker again. He started to color and I let out a sigh of relief.
I went back to working on my homework when Alex tapped my arm. I looked over at him, expecting him to ask about dinner. It was almost six and I could hear my stomach growling.
“I promise that I will keep you safe,” he declared. “I don’t want daddy to hit you again. You don’t look as pretty with the purple.”
I watched him silently for another minute, while tears welled up in my eyes. I set my pencil down again and reached over to him. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it gently.
“Thank you Alex,” I said and smiled warmly at him. He smiled his toothy grin back and pulled his hand out of mine.
“You’re welcome,” he replied and went back to coloring.
Later that night, I had tucked Alex into bed and was headed back to my room when I heard my dad come into the house. I froze in mid-step and listened as he stumbled into the kitchen. He made himself another drink and I rolled my eyes. The bar was never enough for him.
“CLAIRE,” he bellowed and my name echoed off the walls in the hallway. I shivered and backed up, trying to get to my room. His large frame filled my vision and I cringed into the corner of the wall.
He stumbled towards me and I could smell the alcohol rolling off his body in waves. I wrinkled my nose in distaste and curled my lip up.
“Why wasn’t my stuff ready when I got home?” he asked, raising his voice. I glared up at him under my lashes.
“I was on my way to do it right now. You got home early,” I hissed. “And be quiet. You will wake up Alex. I just got him to go to bed.”
“Don’t you use that tone of voice with me young lady,” he slurred. “You don’t wnat another one of those eyes would you?”
“Do it if you dare,” I warned. He reared back and was about to lunge forwards when Alex stepped in front of me. My dad froze in his tracks and stared hard at him. My eyes were wide as I contrasted my brother’s toddler frame, with my dad’s bulky football player frame.
“Move son,” he said. Alex shook his head and stood his ground. He crossed his arms over his chest and
glared at our dad.
“Leave her alone,” Alex replied harshly. “You don’t need to hit her anymore. You are being a big meanie.”
“Why, you little,” my dad fumed and lunged at Alex. Closing my eyes, I screamed and heard a crunch.
When I reopened my eyes, Alex was laying beside me, clutching his arm. Tears rolled down his face and I noticed that my dad was gone.
“Oh, Alex,” I muttered and rubbed my hand over his back.
“It hurts,” he whimpered and rolled over. I smiled sadly and kissed his cheek.
“Come on,” I said and lifted him into my arms.
I shuddered violently and shook the memory away. I glanced over at Alex who was standing beside me. His arms were crossed over his chest and he stood as if he had a purpose. The pose reminded me of the way he protected me that night. I smiled slightly and touched his arm. He looked down at me and his eyes lit up.
“I love you,” I mouthed. He smiled sadly and nodded.
“You too,” he whispered. I turned back to the television, watching people running for their lives. It made my heart drop and I felt myself yearning to pick up the phone to call Michael. It used a lot of strength to stop trying to.
Chapter 27-September 11, 2001; 9:43 q.m. (Michael)
“Help us. Please. Somebody help us.” People were screaming all around me. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion. I took each step one by one and tried to ignore the cries beside me. I took in a shuddering breath and hesitated for a minute.
“Come on, Michael,” I uttered and pushed myself forwards. I followed close behind Andrew, trying not to lose him in the midst of the hysteria.
Seventy-nine. Eighty. Eighty-one. Eighty-two.
We reached the eighty-third floor and stopped. The flow of people had slowed and I could hear yelling on the other side of the door. Somebody tried the door but it would budge.
“It’s stuck. It won’t open,” they called out. I frowned and let out a gruff sigh.
“Okay, men,” Andrew shouted above the noise. “On three.”
I braced my shoulders and took in another breath. I closed my eyes for a brief second and saw Claire’s smiling face. Grimacing, I tried to push the picture out of my mind. It proved to be a difficult challenge.