The 95th Floor

by N R Brooks

  We ended up just laying in bed for much longer than we usually do. Neither of us wanted to get up or really do anything. I was depressed because she was leaving me in a few hours. She was depressed because she was going to be alone again in her studio apartment.

  I would have to snap out of it by Wednesday. I had work to do and would have to endow myself with social skills that I wasn’t born with.

  When we finally arose from bed and took a shower, neither one of us was feeling frisky. It was your standard get in, wash up, and get out type shower. We didn’t mope around, but neither were we very animated. We made sure she had everything packed and didn’t leave anything at the house, and we finally departed for the Sarasota airport which would take her to Newark where Pops would pick her up and bring her home. Pops was more than happy to pick Keiko up. The man is a life saver.

  When we got to the airport, I walked her as far as I could before she would have to go through security and get on her flight alone. It was one of the sadder moments in my life.

  It was about twenty minutes before her flight was scheduled to begin boarding when I walked her over to the security lanes to check her bags and walk through the metal detectors. We embraced one last time, and she began to cry on my shoulder. It took everything I had to hold back my own tears.

  “I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here with you.” She whimpered behind a waterfall of tears.

  “I know. I wish you could stay too, but you have a good job, and my stay here is only temporary anyway. It is going to be hard for both of us, but we will make it. I promise.”

  “But I don’t want to go without you. I know I can do it, I just don’t want to.”

  This made me smile. Sometimes Keiko could sound like a spoiled kid when she talked like this.

  “Look at me. You know it can’t happen that way, right? If I got everything I wanted, we would be back in bed, naked, and getting the best workout we have ever had.” This finally got a reaction out of her.

  “Oh stop it, now you are just teasing me.” She gave my chest a light slap and smiled.

  “That is better. No more crying, I only want smiles out of you.” I said holding her head up to look at me.

  “I’ll try.” She whispered after the smile vanished again.

  “Call me as soon as you arrive. Okay? You wrote my phone number down?”

  “Yeah. I’ll call you the second I walk in the door.”

  “Please do. And make sure to give Pops a big hug from me, okay?” I already missed the big guy.

  “Okay.” This was all she uttered before she broke into tears again and we embraced for another minute.

  When we finally parted, I watched her go through the security check and kept watching until I could see her no more. When I was sure she made it to the terminal safely, I finally left the airport and drove home. This was the final stretch before my life would take a drastic turn, and I would surround myself with known terrorists who would attempt to claim the lives of almost three thousand innocent people. That would only happen if I failed or if I took no action. That simply was not an option.

  On the drive home, I decided that sitting in the house would just cause me to feel mopey and depressed. Instead, I found a nearby gym and let them convince me to sign another year membership. At least with Keiko not being around, any further toning of my body would be more impressive to her with the long gaps between visits.

  I also figured I would use my time before flight school started to find a part-time job; something easy to find and one that is close by. Sure enough, there was a gas station only a mile away right where Englewood and Tamiami Trail merge. That was good enough for me. Something I knew well, and a place that everyone uses—even terrorists.

  I stopped in at the gas station just before heading home and filled out a paper application. The only references I had were Keiko, Pops, and Ian. That shouldn’t be a problem at all. I gave the application to the man who was working, purchased a case of Surge—I didn’t remember when they stopped selling it so I figure I would stock up—and went home.

  Nothing sounded fun, and I couldn’t think of anything to do. All I could think about was Keiko and how she was lying next to me only a few hours earlier. Now I was all alone and depressed. I had to find something to lighten my mood. What did I do before I arrived in New York? Ah, I remember now.

  I got up and got back in my car. It was time to find a bookstore.

  Chapter 17

  I spent the next two days talking to Keiko every chance I got. She would call me in the mornings before she went to work, and again in the evening before bed. During the time I wasn’t talking to her, I spent it reading books—both history and flight manuals, working out at the gym, and…playing Snake on my new/old Nokia cell-phone. I had actually forgotten how fun this game could be.

  When Wednesday finally rolled around, I was mentally prepared. Today was the day that everything would begin. My pulse was amped up from the adrenaline rush I was getting just thinking about what was going to happen. I decided to skip the coffee for fear of getting the jitters.

  I got up at my usual early time and took an early morning session at the gym to get my body stretched and warmed up. Again, I just made do with my usual rounds; about an hour total of exercise. I still had a few hours before I had to show up for my first day of class.

  I drove back home and took a nice cool shower. The muggy heat in Florida made it so I broke a sweat incredibly easy. Some days I would sweat just from a normal walk. A cool shower felt good in this kind of climate.

  When I finished my shower and got dressed, I saw that I had a missed call and a voicemail on my phone. Lo and behold, it was the store manager from the gas station I applied at on Sunday. She wanted me to come in and interview for a part-time position. I promptly returned the call and scheduled an early morning interview at the store tomorrow morning. Since I made my visit to the gym today, I would have tomorrow open to visit the store.

  Today was dedicated to finally meeting up with the person I came down here to see. The man that I would hopefully convince in disowning his murderous plans and to return to Germany where he came from.

  When I hung up with the manager of the gas station— she said in a thick southern drawl her name was “Jeni with an I”—I dressed in casual clothes, made sure that I was prepared physically and mentally, took a deep breath, and got in my car and drove to the flight school on Airport Road.

  I arrived just on time for class to start at the Venice airfield. The class was held in a cream-colored sheet metal sided aircraft hangar. The parking lot next to the hangar only had a few vehicles in it. Our class must have been a small one. Actually, for all I knew this was typical size of a normal class.

  I walked in the hangar and followed the signs that guided me to one of the few classrooms that were housed inside the big open airplane hangar. When I found the only one that was occupied, I walked in and took a seat. The instructor was taking roll of everyone in attendance. I counted only eight other people in the class; none of them resembling Ziad.

  “Felicia Escham?” The instructor called out.

  “Here.” An older blond lady with a British accent responded.

  “Okay, it looks like that is everyone on the list, although we have a couple people who aren’t here yet. You, who just walked in. Name?” The instructor said, looking at me.

  “Uh, Stan.” I blurted out before thinking about the alias I was supposed to be using.

  Shit. Well, I’m off to a great start. Get with the program…Chuck.

  The instructor scrolled up and down his roll sheet looking for the name I just gave him. “Stan…Stan…I don’t have a Stan on the roll sheet.”

  “Sorry, it should be Chuck. Chuck Winkle. I go by Stan.”

  “Ah, there you are. You go by Stan, huh? How do you get that from Chuck? Or Charles for that matter?” He asked looking intrigued.

  “Well, just a nickname I have been called since I was a kid. Silly story actually.” I nervously
scratched the back of my head as I just replied with whatever came to mind.

  “Ah, well you will have to tell it to me sometime. Looks like we are only missing one p—” The instructor was interrupted by another person bursting through the door, huffing as if he just ran a marathon.

  “Sorry,” The man said with a thick accent. “Ziad. Ziad Jarrah.”

  He had finally shown up. I immediately received a rush of adrenaline as I was mere feet away from one of the most notorious terrorists in history in my own timeline. Except right now, he was just another man with no real crimes to his name. Not yet.

  “Ah, Ziad. Interesting name, where are you from?” The instructor asked. He apparently liked to build a bond with his students immediately.

  “Germany,” Ziad replied, still breathing heavy.

  “Very nice. I’ve been to Germany a few times myself. Beautiful place, very nice people. Welcome to America, Ziad. Glad to have you.” He said before addressing the rest of the class. “Glad to have you all here. Looks like we have quite a mixed group. We have someone from Germany, a couple from Britain, one from Manhattan, one from Jamaica, and a few of us regular old Americans. Welcome to flight school…”

  Our instructor went over the usual boring business that most schools make you sit through on the first day of class. Going over the syllabus, expectations, tuition payments, yadda yadda yadda. Flight school was not much different from any other school aside from being able to fly aircraft.

  The first half of class got the introductory material out of the way. When we finally got our first break, I figured it was time to finally do what I came here to do. Try and strike up a friendship, or at least a conversation with Ziad. According to all the information about him from the reports post-9/11 in my original timeline, he is a pretty outgoing man with a somewhat extroverted personality. This would come in handy as I was almost the complete opposite. I was hoping I could trigger a conversation and then let him take over from then on.

  Ziad was standing outside in the grass just beyond the mechanical door on the side of the hangar. He was talking on his cell phone, I would guess either with his fiancé back in Germany, or one of the other future hijackers, most likely Mohamed Atta. I waited inside the hangar enough that I could still see him. When he finally ended the phone call, I casually walked outside toward him to strike a conversation.

  “Hey there. Ziad was it?”

  “Oh, hi there. Yeah, Ziad Jarrah. Nice to meet you.” He said, extending his hand for a friendly shake.

  “Nice to meet you too, I’m Stan.” I already told everyone in the class that I go by Stan, so I figured there was no use hiding it at this point.

  “So I like it here in Florida,” His accent made it come out as Flo-ree-dah. His English wasn’t perfect, but it was more than sufficient. “Much different than Germany. Are you from here?”

  “No, like you I just moved here, but from Manhattan. My house is still pretty bare. I haven’t had enough time to fill it up yet.”

  “I just flew into America yesterday. I was actually looking for a place before getting here. That was why I was in such a hurry. I ran here from those apartments across the street.”

  “Oh yeah? Any luck finding anything?” I asked.

  “No, I just gave them my paperwork, so I don’t expect to hear anything for a few days at least.”

  “I see.” I was terrible at holding conversations with people. I didn’t know what to say next. It was weird meeting a stranger where you already knew most of their backstory before even talking to them. “So you came here from Germany, right? I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but your accent doesn’t sound German.”

  “Oh, you are a wise one. I came here from Germany, but I am originally from Lebanon. That is where my family lives.” He didn’t seem to mind me asking at all.

  “Okay, that makes more sense. I figured it was more of an Arabic accent. That is cool.” Even though I had nothing but malice in my heart for this person, he made liking him on a personal level quite easy.

  “Yeah, I came here because America is a wonderful place and has the best flight schools.” I knew this was all bullshit, but I couldn’t show it.

  “Yeah, it’s not bad. I am not very well traveled, so America is all I really know. I have heard great things about Germany. Modern Germany anyways.”

  “It is nice there. Not as wonderful as America though. Land of the free! Right?” He said, trying to push the fake patriotism a bit too hard.

  “Right.” I desperately wanted to change the subject. It was getting awkward. “So hey, I know we just met and all, but if you need a place to stay for a while, my house has an extra bedroom. If you would be okay with sharing the rent, you can definitely stay for a while if you want.”

  “Whoa, really? That would be great. Saves me much time. You Americans are wonderful people.” He said with a big smile and a pat on the shoulder.

  “Hey, no problem. It’s what we do. Just make sure to follow me after class today. It is not far from here.”

  “Will do. Thank you so much, we will make good friends.”

  “No worries, Ziad. No worries.” I said, keeping my thoughts of contempt locked far away in the back of my mind.

  “We better get back in, yeah? I think class time starts again soon.” He said signaling for me to follow him.

  “I think you are right. Let’s head back in.”

  We went back into class for the second half of the day which consisted of more interesting topics than what was discussed earlier. We received the bare basics of what we would be covering in the coming weeks and months. Touched on what we would go over in our instrument training and also the different courses offered. I knew Ziad would be going into commercial aircraft training after acquiring his private pilot’s certificate. I would not be following him for that. I really didn’t need to, and my purpose here was primarily to meet him. I truly did want to learn to fly, but that was more or less just a cover for coming down here.

  When class was finally out, Ziad met up with me and then he walked across the street where his rental car was parked in the visitor parking at the apartment complex he visited just before class. He kept a close distance behind me until we got to the house on Pompano Rd.

  When he got out, he had all of his possessions in a backpack and a medium sized dufflebag. I suspected that he really didn’t care how big or clean the house was, to him it was simply a roof over his head until he could do what he came here to do. I didn’t mind though. I wasn’t planning on letting him carry out his plans.

  I walked up to him as he was getting his possessions out of the rental car and introduced him to his new home.

  “Well, here we are. It isn’t a castle, but it has a roof and running water.”

  “Looks great to me. I don’t require much. A roof and water are perfect.” He replied after getting everything out of the car.

  “Is that all you have?” I asked even though I knew it was.

  “Yeah. All I need. Shall we go inside and look around?”

  “Sure. Come on in.”

  I unlocked the door and gave him a mini tour of the house. I let him know that the furniture in the living room wasn’t mine, it belonged to the landlord. I guided him to where everything was and which room was his. My room was pretty much bare aside from the mattress and bedding wadded in a heap on top of it. I never was one to make my bed.

  “Hey, it looks great. Thank you again, Stan. We will make great friends.” He said, shaking my hand again.

  “Like I said, no worries. I’m glad to help.” I replied as other thoughts ran through my mind.

  I really hope we do make great friends. For your sake and for mine.

  Ziad put his things in his room and took off shortly after. He would be gone again for most of the night. What he was doing is anybody’s guess. Unlike the other hijackers, Ziad actually excelled at blending in with American culture. Even things that were frowned upon by others of his brand of Islamic faith, he had no qualms about drinkin
g or partying. He just didn’t do it to excess.

  Nevertheless, this would prove handy as it would make it just that much easier to get on his good side, enough to sway him later on down the road. Until then, I felt I was already off to a good start.

  Chapter 18

  The next day was my interview at the gas station for my part-time job. Luckily, I had some nice clothes to wear for the interview. I didn’t need a business suit and tie or anything, just a nice polo shirt with a collar and a pair of slacks. That should be more than sufficient for such a frivolous job as a gas station attendant.

  I walked the twenty-minute distance to the gas station and entered through the door to hear a sound that I was all too familiar with.

  Ding-Ding.

  That sure brought back a ton of memories.

  “Welcome.” I heard the attendant say in a thick southern drawl.

  The girl behind the counter couldn’t have been more than twenty-one. She was a short blond girl—almost the same height as Keiko—with a large bust, almost disproportionate with the rest of her body. She didn’t look like she let it give her any problems though.

  As I walked up to the counter, I noticed that she was quite a looker. She had a round face with pronounced cheekbones and hazel eyes that cut through the smoky eyeshadow like the sun on a cloudy day. I am ashamed to say that after hearing her on the phone yesterday morning, I had the mental image of a ditzy girl with missing teeth and a lazy eye. I should know better than to rely on stereotypes—although she did still strike me as a regular southern girl, just not the one from my original mental image. No matter how attractive she was though, nobody could take my devotion away from Keiko.

  “Ah, yes. My name is Chuck, I’m here to interview for the part-time position.” I said, making sure my eyes were looking at her’s and not at her distracting chest.

  “Oh, hi Chuck. I see you are all dressed up. It isn’t really an interview per se, just I need to get a good look at ya and make sure you aren’t some tweaker or anything. Ya know?”