“Damien.”
I look down to see Patty lying in the doorway to her store, blood pouring down her face from a nasty gash on her forehead.
“Stay still,” I order, quickly checking her for injuries. Finding no others, I lift her clumsily into my arms, carrying her into the store and placing her on a seat by the window. She’s clearly in shock; her face is much too pale and her lips are tinged a slight blue while she struggles to breathe. Spinning away, I race into the back of the store and grab a clean dishcloth, running it under the cold water tap and squeezing out the excess. I grab a jug of water and a glass from the fridge then take everything back out to the table.
Pulling a chair up opposite Patty, I focus on gently cleaning the blood away from the wound. It’s not deep, thankfully, and won’t require stitches. I pour her a glass of cold water and urge it to her lips. “Drink,” I say softly, but she stares past me out the window.
“Damien,” she says in a choked whisper. There’s something in her voice that makes me pause, and I slowly turn my head to where she’s looking. At first, I see nothing… then I look up. The plane we’d seen just moments ago is now embedded in a wall of smoke and flames in the side of the north World Trade Center. Liz’s workplace. I’m frozen in place as I stare helplessly out the window, too shocked by what I’m seeing to react.
“Damien,” Patty chokes out again, and I turn my head toward her. She’s saying something, but there’s a loud buzzing in my ears and I can’t make it out.
“… Liz… your phone…”
The haze clears as I pull my phone from my pocket and see three missed calls. Hitting redial, I shove my headphones back onto my head as I spin away from the window and start pacing the small cafe. “Come on, Liz, pick up,” I mutter, stalking back to the window and pressing my face against the glass, looking up at the plane once more. The World Trade Center is only a block away from where I stand. Pocketing my phone, I walk back to Patty and place my hand on her forehead. The bleeding has slowed and she seems to be breathing easier. I believe she’s going to be okay.
Crouching down beside her, I take her wrinkled hands in mine. “Patty,” I say quietly, waiting until she looks at me again. There’s a keen sadness in her once-wise eyes, and it presses against my chest, making it difficult to breathe. “Stay here,” I tell her, standing and patting her shoulder awkwardly. Part of me wants to stay, but I need to go. Something inside me screams that Liz needs me.
Stepping outside the cafe, I’m stopped by the sound of my phone ringing through my headphones. Pressing the button on the cord to connect the call, I stand outside the shop, leaning against the brick wall. “Hello?”
Damien?” Liz’s sobs come through the phone, putting me on immediate alert.
“Liz? Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m at work. There’s been an accident.”
“I know, baby, I saw it. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“N-no,” she stammers, and I feel my heart beat a little slower in relief.
“Okay, just hold tight, baby. I’m coming to get you.”
“Hurry, I’m—” Her shrill scream cuts out the rest of the words. I look up as another rumble shakes the earth and I watch in horror as a second plane enters the World Trade Center, this time slamming into the South Tower and exploding in a huge fireball. This is no accident. All around me, people are frozen in place with their hands covering their mouths. They, too, realize this is no accident. We’re being attacked.
“Liz!” I shout into the mouthpiece of my headphones. “You need to get out of there, right now!” I start running down the block toward the collision zone, dodging civilians as they run in a panic in the opposite direction. “Liz, do you hear me? Get out of there, now!”
“I can’t,” she sobs. “The door’s jammed.”
“Shit,” I curse savagely, thinking fast. “Okay, baby, I need you to hang up the phone, okay? I need to call the lieutenant.”
“No!” she screams, and my heart breaks.
“Baby, listen to me. I promise I’ll call you back. Just hold on, okay?” Hanging up on my pregnant fiancée, locked in a towering inferno, is probably the hardest thing I’ll ever do. But I do it. Quickly dialing the lieutenant’s private cell number, I slow to a stop and wait, listening as it rings hollowly in my ears. Ending the call, I shove my phone back in my pocket and sprint the rest of the way to West Street.
It’s pandemonium. Fire trucks line the streets and police desperately try to usher civilians back to a safe perimeter. No one is saying much, but all faces are turned toward the sky. I jog lightly past the crowd and push my way onto Liberty Street. The Ten House is buzzing with activity; everyone realizes the dangers and no one is sitting still. Spying a rookie near the lockers, I head over and start pulling on my gear.
“Keets!”
I glance over my shoulder as I dress quickly. “What is it?”
“It’s bad,” the rookie answers, his face etched with concern.
“I’m going in,” I say, walking past him as I grab my helmet. “Where’s Allens?” I ask over my shoulder, referring to the lieutenant.
“Everyone’s inside.”
My phone rings in my pocket. Shit, Liz. Shoving my headphones back on, I answer the call as I put my helmet on and run out the door of the station and down the road to the North Tower. “Liz?”
“Damien,” she sobs through the phone. There’s so much static coming through the line that it’s almost impossible to hear her. “It’s bad….I…ca-… Oh…God, it’s reall… bad.” The phone drops out and I swear loudly, fighting with my gloves to pull my phone out of my pocket. It slips out of my hands and is kicked away by a middle aged woman running down the street away from the disaster. Dropping to my knees, I crawl over and grab my phone. I swear that my heart stops beating for just a moment as I see the huge crack in the screen. Please work, I beg silently as I plug my headphones back and press a button on the phone. Relief floods through me when the backlight of the phone turns on, signaling that it still works. Thumbing through my recent calls list I press on Liz’s name and pocket my phone.
“Where are you?” I ask when she answers, fighting my way through the crowds of people. I stop dead, my eyes wide as I stare at a man leaving the Tower; the end of his jacket is on fire, and the skin on his hands and face are literally melting off the bone. He says nothing, just passes by me slowly, as though in shock. I think I’m in shock, too, because I do nothing to help him. Thankfully, a medic grabs him and puts out the fire on his jacket. I turn away and swallow hard as his pain registers the second the medic touches him, a handful of melted flesh sliding onto the road. “Liz?”
“Damien … Oh my God… they’re jumping.”
I don’t know what she means at first, but a woman’s scream has me spinning on my heel. Following the direction of her pointed finger, I watch in horror as an object falls from the tower. It takes a second or two for me to register what I’m seeing, but when the blood splatters violently against the pavement there can be no doubt. A wave of nausea sweeps through me and for a moment, I worry I’ll be sick inside my helmet, but thankfully I’m able to keep it together as I enter the lobby.
It’s in shambles; there are people climbing over the top of each other to get out and debris litters the ground, making walking in a straight line impossible. I see my team heading up the stairs of a fire escape with a large hose, but I don’t stop to help them. I can’t; Liz and the baby need me more than they do right now. Darting over to the other stairwell at the opposite side of the lobby, I make my way up, pausing every now and then to help someone as they stumble on the stairs in their haste to get away.
“Damien?” Liz’s voice in my ear is full of panic.
“It’s okay, baby, I’m here,” I pant as I climb the stairs. “I’m coming to get you.”
“No, Damien, I—”
A loud noise shakes the earth, and people all around me start to scream as the building sways. Instinct kicks in and I shout at the civi
lians who seem to be frozen in fear. “Get the fuck out of here!”
“Damien!” Liz screams in my ear.
“It’s okay, baby, hold on!” I yell, grabbing a support beam as the windows in the lobby blow inwards. I stare in horror as the South Tower seems to implode and comes tumbling toward the ground, spraying a pile of debris through the shattered windows.
“Oh, my God!” Liz screams, and my thoughts echo her fear. But after the storm comes the calm, and all is still as people slowly get to their feet, covered in dust as they cry helplessly. The entire South Tower is gone, decimated in a fraction of a second, reduced to nothing more than a pile of rubble.
“Are you okay?” I ask Liz, straightening myself and starting up the stairs. It’s slow work as a stampede of civilians come running down, anxious to get the fuck out of here before this tower falls. And it will, I know that now.
“Keets!” I turn as the lieutenant grabs my arm and yanks me forcefully back down the stairs. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going up,” I answer, wrenching my arm away from him. “I have to get up there. Liz is—”
“I’m afraid that’s a negative,” he says, shaking his head. “Orders are to evacuate the area immediately.”
“Evacuate?” I question, not quite sure I’ve heard him correctly. “You mean, leave these people to die?”
“Keets, now is not the time for your fucking morals. If you stay here, you will die. Do you understand that? This building is going to collapse at any moment.”
“I don’t care!” I yell, starting back up the stairs. “I can’t leave her.”
“Damien,” Liz’s quiet voice comes through the phone. “You need to get out of here.”
“Not a chance,” I answer, out of breath as I climb the stairs in my heavy gear. “What floor are you on right now?”
“101,” she answers. “But Damien, I—”
“No, Liz,” I answer firmly, pressing my back against the wall as a group of people squeeze by me on the stairs. “Don’t you dare ask me to leave you.”
“Babe,” she says quietly. “I’m above the plane.”
I freeze on the balcony of the second floor, my heart thudding in my chest so hard I can hear it. Liz is above the impact zone; no matter how hard I try, there is no way I’ll be able to get to her in time… and she knows it. “Babe.” My voice catches on a strangled cry. “I can’t leave you here. You’ll die.”
“If you stay, we’ll both die.”
I lean against the wall and slump down to the ground, all fight leaving my body. “Then we die together.”
“No, you can’t!”
“Why not?” I argue, pulling my legs up to my chest as a group of civilians climb down the stairs, covered in dust. “A life without you is pointless. It has no meaning.”
“All life has meaning. You need to get everyone you can and get the hell out of here.”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see it. “I can’t do that, babe.”
“You have to,” she insists. “I know you’re not a selfish man, Damien. You can’t let others die just because you want to.”
“I don’t want to die; I just don’t want to live without you.”
“You’ll never be without me, babe. I’ll always be here, watching over you.”
A lump forms in my throat. I can’t fucking believe we’re having this conversation. “What about our baby?”
“I’m so sorry,” Liz says as her tears start fresh. “You would have been an amazing father.”
I take my helmet and gloves off, wiping away tears with my hand. “How can I get up and walk out, leaving you behind?”
“By knowing that to do so means saving the lives of countless other people,” she replies. “Please, Damien, you need to do this. For me.”
I close my eyes as I resign myself to my fate. “What am I supposed to do without you, Liz?” I ask brokenly.
“You live, Damien. You live long, you love hard, and you never blame yourself for what happened here today.”
Her words instill a strength within me and I climb to my feet, stepping aside as a group of people pass. Someone grabs my arm and drags me along with them, down the stairs, away from her. Before I know it, I’m standing on the street, staring up at the North Tower.
“Keets, you need to move!” one of my co-workers yells, and I blindly stumble up the street to a group of cars.
“I love you, Damien,” Liz says in my ears, sounding desperate. “I fucking love you, baby. I’m so sorry. Tell my parents I—”
The connection is lost as a loud rumble shakes the ground, and people begin running and screaming up the street. Time seems to slow as I turn on my heels, watching helplessly as the tower crumbles. I’m shoved behind a large truck by the rookie as a flood of debris blows past, covering everything in a dirty, grey dust. I squeeze my eyes shut and put my head down as low as I can, protecting my body until all is still once more. Lifting my head, I stare around at the destruction. I can hardly believe that I’ve managed to escape unscathed.
“Holy fuck,” the rookie breathes, and I scramble to my feet to peer around the truck. There’s so much dust that it’s almost impossible to see anything—not that there’s anything to see. There’s a gaping hole where the tower once was, reduced to nothing more than a pile of rubble where I stood just moments before.
“Liz? Liz!” I scream into the mouthpiece of my headphones, willing her to answer me. “Come on, baby, where are you?”
Running forward, I drop to my knees amongst the rubble, pushing the debris aside in a vain attempt to find her. Strong arms grab me, but I fight them off and continue my frenzied rescue. “Liz!” I scream, shoving aside a large steel bar. I hear a small whimper, see a feminine hand moving, and my efforts are renewed.
“Someone help me!” I scream, shoving more debris out of the away. I’m joined by the rookie and several other members of my team and together, we lift a huge pipe with an almost inhuman strength. My heart drops when I see the woman’s face. It’s not Liz.
“Keets,” the rookie says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” I suppose he meant to be comforting, but all I feel is a cold, dark fury. Spinning on my heel, I rear back and punch him square in the face, feeling nothing as he crumples in a pile at my feet. A pressure builds low in my stomach, but quickly spreads throughout my chest.
Dropping to my knees, I hear a sound welling up from the pit of my stomach. When it finally comes from my lips, it’s animalistic in nature. It’s a roar of rage, of pain. Of fear. Tears pour freely down my face and I do nothing to wipe them away. She’s fucking gone. My best friend, the mother of my unborn child… Oh, God, my child. I throw my head back and scream in anguish for everything I’ve lost. For the smile I’ll never see again, the laugh I’ll never hear again, the child I’ll never meet. My throat is raw and my eyes burn, but nothing will stop my mourning.
Today, my whole world changed. I lost everything. A part of me has died along with my fiancée and unborn child.
I will never be whole again.
NATALIE
July 10, 2015
“What the hell do you mean, break up?” I shout over the ambient music playing in the restaurant. It seems as though all conversations cease and everyone’s eyes turn toward me as I stare wide-eyed at my boyfriend, Luke. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and gives the couple seated near our table a nervous smile, but I don’t care about them. Right now, my focus is solely on him. We’d come out for a nice dinner to celebrate our three-year anniversary, and this is the bomb he’s decided to drop over dessert.
“Natalie, do you think you could keep it down?” he whispers harshly, leaning forward to be heard as the other patrons resume their evening. It’s okay for them; they’re not the ones being dumped on their anniversary. “Why?” I demand harshly, picking up the toothpick that had been stuck in the top of the strawberry shortcake. My favorite dessert. I watch with mild fascination as the tip leaves little white marks
on the back of my hand, flinching when he leans over and snatches it away from me, waving it in front of my face. “This,” he says in disgust, dropping the toothpick on his empty plate. “This is why I can’t be with you, Natalie. You’re so involved in your own problems that you forget everyone has them. I’ve been so slammed at work, and have you cared? Even once?”
I struggle with an internal battle that I know I’m losing. Luke has been there for me since day one, holding my hand and putting his own law career on hold to spend his days with me, just to make sure I stay safe. He’s been so selfless, and I’ve done nothing but take advantage of his generosity and kindness. “Please, don’t do this,” I whisper, hanging my head in shame as I feel the first tear roll down my cheek. “I can change; I know I can. Just give me another chance.” I look up at him across the table, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces as she shakes his head. “I’ve given you chance, after chance, after chance,” he says softly, reaching across the table and taking my hand. His thumb rubs across my palm in the same gentle manner he’s always used with me, and my tears fall harder. I know I’m making a fool of myself, but I can’t seem to stop. He waits patiently until my quiet sobs subside, then silently hands me a napkin. Dabbing at my tear stained cheeks, I watch hollowly as he discreetly signals for the check. His manner screams authority, and I know the battle is over… and he’s won. Pulling out his credit card, Luke gives me a small smile of apology and stands, pulling on his suit jacket. He always looks so handsome in a suit, and tonight is no exception. Brushing his blond hair out of his eyes, he indicates for me to stand, and like a dutiful wife, I do as I’m told. Only I’m not a wife, and after tonight I’m not even a girlfriend. I hold my arms out as he helps me into my red jacket before placing a hand on the small of my back and escorting me from the restaurant. A few women glance up at me as we pass by but I keep my head down, not ready to see the pitying smiles they’re ready to give me if I make eye contact. There she goes, they’re all thinking. The girl who wasn’t good enough to keep her man. Stepping out onto the almost empty sidewalk, I push the sleeves up on my jacket. It’s a rather warm night in Dallas, Texas, and people are opting to stay indoors in the air conditioning. I turn and watch numbly as Luke steps back and shoves his hands into his pockets, clearly looking like he wants to be anywhere but here. With me. “I guess this is goodbye,” I say quietly, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks once more. “I guess so,” he says with a final nod. “Take care of yourself, Nat,” he says gently. “I’ll get my things out of your apartment next week.” That’s the final straw that breaks the proverbial camel’s back, and I let out a loud sob as I lurch forward, clutching at his arm. “Please don’t do this,” I beg. “Three years Luke, don’t they mean anything to you?”
Flawed (Blaze of Glory #2) Page 2