I woke up with a start. My alarm screeched as I groggily reached over and struggled to turn it off. When I finally found the button, I lay down for a few minutes before I started my day. It was Tuesday. No events planned at the office. I sighed heavily and rose with effort. As I wearily made my way to the bathroom, I prepared myself for a long, typical day.

As my morning continued on, my Nokia kept ringing with messages. The debate between answering them and leaving them continued on in my head, but eventually I decided it could wait for a while. I still have a long life left to answer them.

My morning consisted of my usual shower, a light breakfast, and change of clothes. Finally, I left my house, and the time came to decide on my method of transportation, car or bus. I stood and thought and decided that I was too tired to drive. As I drowsily walked over to the bus stop, I couldn’t help but feel something in the pit of my stomach, a feeling of danger, of fear. It was 7:00 in the morning; nobody would try to hurt me.

The bus arrived, and I found a seat; that feeling of unease remained. For an unexplainable reason, I just couldn’t shake it. I thought about calling friends but decided against it. The morning continued on, and more and more people boarded the bus. About 30 minutes later, the bus pulled to a stop, and many people, including myself, got off. I read the map at the bus stop, with the big “You are here” sign pointing at Lower Manhattan. I stopped by at my normal coffee shop and exchanged a couple of dollar bills for a cold coffee. After a short walk, I came close to my building, but first marveled at the best sight in New York, taller than the Empire State and a huge tourist attraction. The buildings that signified the glory of New York: The Twin Towers.

The next 30 minutes went by with a blur, walking into my building and onto my office floor. The floor felt familiar in what seemed like a foreign morning: the receptionist desk to my left as I walked in and office desks all throughout the rest of the room. To the left, the entrance to the conference room remained open. A short walk later, I was sitting at the desk reserved for myself, and I began to type on the computer that sat in front of me.

Thirty minutes of constant typing had passed when I heard a voice to my left. “Is anyone else getting the feeling that there’s something major about to happen?” I identified the voice as a friend and colleague, Chris.

“Yeah, thought it was just me,” I answered curiously.

“Not just you two either. I’m also getting this abnormally weird feeling,” said Jennifer, or Jen, as we all called her.

Voices overlapped one another across the room, mostly consisting of people saying how they didn’t feel anything out of the normal.

“Well, Cody, you, me, and Jen seem like the only people who feel it,” Chris said to me.

“Seems like it.” So it wasn’t me going crazy, though I was a bit frightened now that I knew it wasn’t me.

The next ten to fifteen minutes continued as normal. Quiet conversations here and there, Chris cracking a couple of jokes from time to time. Though they sometimes made me laugh, they were usually terrible. I was just about to tell him to shut it when a loud, thunderous boom echoed through the whole building. Everybody looked around as coffee mugs fell, tables shook. People tripped and some fell, myself included. The ground seemed alive as it shook and rumbled.

Decades passed, and the terror finally ended. Everybody rose cautiously. My hands were out in front of me for balance. After a short recovery, people began to relax a bit. Shoulders that were raised high in fear slumped back down. People exhaled in large, tense breaths.

Chris finally spoke up. “What in the world was that?!”

“If I knew, I’d be telling you,” I answered back. “Something buttery.”

“Everybody stay calm while I call for help.” The receptionist, Skylar, frantically pushed a few buttons on a phone none of us could see due to the wall that concealed it. She put the phone to her ear, and everybody waited in dead silence for anything, waited for somebody to walk in, somebody to answer the phone, waited for another odd shaking.

“I’m on hold,” Skylar informed us. She made a motion of pushing a button, and calm music began playing from a small speaker in her direction. I didn’t think the music was working.

The room looked as if a terrorist had walked in, knocked over everything he could, and ran out. Tables were tipped on their sides like they were taking a nap. Clocks and pictures that rested on these tables were on the ground, mostly shattered. I ran to the conference room window to get any clue about what happened. I was shocked by what I saw.

“Guys, come see this!” I shouted to the entire office.

Chris and Jen came running in faster than a racecar at full speed.

“What is it?” Chris asked.

“Take a look.” They both gazed out the window at the horror I had just seen. The North Tower had been hit. Fire and smoke poured out like water from a faucet.

“What are those…” Jen’s voice trailed off in horror as she witnessed something she thought she’d never have to see. People, real people, jumped from the 80 story tower, meeting their demise at the ground.

“What are those people thinking?” Chris asked in shock. I couldn’t blame him for wondering that.

“At that point, you don’t have much of a choice. Burn in the tower, and die from falling. Take your pick,” Jen responded half sarcastically.

I looked towards the South Tower, and the plane that was advancing towards it. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that when that tower got hit, the debris would hit this building.

Chris gazed with terror when he realized what was about to happen. “Oh--”

And the plane hit the tower at what seemed like hundreds of miles per hour. A trembling explosion happened that was similar to the previous one. Only this time, we were more prepared.

I grabbed Chris and Jen by their arms as I dragged them towards the other side of the room, the building shaking us and all the fallen furniture. As I took the next step out of the conference room, a huge chunk of the South Tower came crashing down on the roof and took that part of the building with it.

Everybody glanced at us worriedly as we ran across the room, wanting the terror to end. When we got to the other side of the room, we gazed over at what was previously the conference room, now a giant hole. Fire had also begun to take its place.

Chris pulled himself free of my grasp and nodded his head thanks. Jen grabbed the nearest wall and sighed heavily, catching her breath. Chris and I turned towards the room and faced everyone in it. Their faces looked as if they’d seen a ghost. I didn’t blame them for not talking, but some chatter would’ve calmed my nerves.

“Alright, the call is still going through, just a little longer,” Skylar informed us.

“No thanks, I choose life.” Chris started towards the exit of the building. “I’m assuming you guys do too.”

“So, how do you plan on getting out, Chris? The stairs aren’t an option considering a piece of building fell on it,” I reminded him.

He was about to respond but realized he couldn’t say much and backed off.

As if on cue, the building announcements came on. “Attention, the fire department is on its way to evacuate all staff and non-staff members. Please remain patient as they make their way here. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Nobody spoke much for the next five minutes. I watched the fire as it gradually began to spread. Everybody had moved to the far end of the room. All of us were thinking the same thing; would tomorrow be a reality?

“Finally, help has arrived!” Chris shouted to us all. As tired as I was, I rose up as fast as I could and ran towards the fiery hole in the building. Sure enough,  four fire engines and five police cars raced through the commotion filled streets, sirens blaring loud enough for everyone to hear.

From a police car, a loudspeaker amplified an officer's words, “This is the NYPD. Please wait as the fire marshalls evacuate you from the building.” On cue, three fire engines rose their ladders up to the different floors and began the evacuation. The fourth fire truck sprayed water in the direction that the ladders were going.

As the ladders ascended, the announcement continued. “As soon as you reach the ground, run across the Brooklyn Bridge towards Brooklyn. There, you will find buses to take you home. Please note: all flights have been banned from takeoff and have been forced to land.”

That was all I wanted to hear. He announced more and more instructions, but I knew what to do. Run. Run and don’t look back.

When I got down, I took one last look at the building I used to work in, knowing that it may never be the same again. Then I turned around and ran. Everybody was separated from each other. Right now, people’s only intention was to make it home alive. I turned in the direction of the bridge and broke into a run.

          A couple of minutes passed, and I had to stop. My heart was beating faster than it ever had before. My legs ached, my side was sore, and my body was shaking. The memory of the explosion flashed before my eyes, reminding me of its existence. I couldn’t ponder on what had happened. Instead, I had to live to tell the tale. I looked up at the sky, and it was an unnatural color. Smoke endlessly poured out of the former Twin Towers, polluting New York City. After a minute of rest, I took off again, making like a rocket towards the bridge.

When the bridge finally came into sight, I stopped and exhaled in relief. I watched what seemed like hundreds of people run across the bridge, showing me the thing I must do. The city was now full of smoke and smelled like burned corpses. I made an assumption that that smell came from all of those people who jumped off that building. All those people who had abandoned hope and decided to take that jump rather than to try and survive for their families.

I couldn’t go down this line of thought. I took a deep breath of determination, locked my eyes on the bridge, and began to run. When I got on the bridge, people screamed all around me in fear of all the events that had taken place. The sound began to fade out, leaving me with my thoughts, which mostly consisted of hoping that I would make it home alive.

My side began to hurt. I couldn't keep up with my breaths. I needed to stop, but there was neither time nor space; the bridge was a giant clump of hundreds of people. Instead, I occupied myself with even more thoughts. What should I have for dinner tonight? If I make it till then.

Thinking didn’t seem to be helping right now.

          Then, as if on cue, something else caught my attention. A plane that was flying towards the bridge. I didn’t think too much about it, but my mind reminded me of something; all flights were banned. Panic seized control of me. I was in the middle of the bridge. There was no way to get to the end of it. I realized there was only one way. I urgently ran to the side of the bridge and put my feet on the edge. I grabbed the railing for support and got ready to jump. The water that was at the bottom would keep me from dying from the fall. I was determined to survive.

Suddenly, the plane’s loudspeaker came to life. “This is the U.S; we are here to help. I repeat, this is the U.S., and we are here to help.”

A sense of relief and safety washed over me like a tidal wave and seaweed. Around me, people began to vocalize that feeling. Cheers of triumph and happiness surrounded me. I may have even smiled, but I couldn’t tell over the sound, my thoughts running wild throughout my brain.

          I walked the rest of the way to the other side of the bridge, knowing that a U.S. plane was right above my head, keeping me safe. The walk seemed to last forever, but finally, I made it to Brooklyn. Multiple buses were parked there, some already leaving. I boarded my designated bus to take me home.

          On the bus, all I wanted to do was sleep, but my thoughts kept me from doing that. Most of my thoughts consisted of the fact that I could’ve died. Now that it was all over, I wasn’t sure what to do. I looked out the window at New York City, now covered with orange smoke, infested with the smell of corpses and fire. I felt empty. My Nokia, still somehow in my pocket, came to my mind. I pulled it out, unlocked it, and answered all of my messages I didn’t answer before.

 

 

 

 

-Paarth S.