9/11

_________Into Hell

            I don’t know if I hear the impact or feel it. The explosion rocks the entire building, and the windows shatter in a waterfall of glass. At the same time, a cacophony screams in my ears. I feel myself blown backwards in the air, as limp as a rag doll. I crash into something, and pain slams into my skull. It is almost with gratitude that I pass into unconsciousness.

            The first thing I am aware of is the screaming. Choked, desperate screams, punctuated by guttural sobs. A low ringing drill into my skull, and I become slowly aware of a concentrated burning sensation fixed just above the nape of my neck. I have never experienced pain like it. I realize that my voice has joined the screaming hoards without my permission, and tears are streaking down my face. An uncomfortable feeling spreads through me as I realize that I’ve wet myself in terror. With a surge of pure willpower, I relax my mouth, and crush my lips together.  My resolve to get up crashes and burns as I shift my hip an inch or two. A wave of agony washes over me, black and piercing. I begin to scream again, unable to hold back the flood. Slowly, painfully, I claw back control of my body. I pant, each exhale a breathy whimper, and in one fast, excruciating movement, yank myself into a sitting position. I nearly pass out, drowning in the pain.

            I yell aloud, and then settle against the smashed frame of the café display. Glass is scattered around me in deadly piles, spread with a ruby sheen of blood. My blood, I think in horror. With trembling, tentative fingers, I probe the back of my skull, prompting another rush of torment. I scream as I extract a lethal shard of glass from the back of my neck. I drop the dagger, coated in blood, on the floor next to me with a clatter, and lift my head slightly. Somehow my day gets worse.

            Fires- random hazes of red and gold- have begun in a few places, and the room is slowly filling with smoke. A lot of the walls have shattered, leaving dangerous gaping holes leading to hell around me. The double doors from the café to a long corridor are obscured by the rivers of smoke pouring through the seams. Somehow the doors failed to shatter at the impact. Bodies are littered around, a few unconscious, most up, trying to stifle the smoke. I see at a glance that the effort is futile, but God, I wish I could do something to help. Anything, instead of just sitting here.

            I know it’s stupid- probably the dumbest thing ever, but I cannot help but fish my phone from my pocket and dial 911. I place the phone against my ear, and then frown as ‘Systems busy’ appears on the screen. I pull another shard of glass from my upper thigh- this one not as deep, and sigh in pain and frustration. My eyes widen, as i look at my contacts list. Why not? It seems like a really dumb idea for some reason, but I am so desperate to speak to her before I leave this world, I don’t care. I have to hang up twice, and redial as my numb fingers keep pressing the wrong buttons, but on the third try I get it right. Please pick up, I think desperately. Please.

“Hey Oscar. Is it your break already? I-“

“Jesse.” I interrupt her; my voice crumbling from hearing her voice, smooth as melted chocolate.

“You alright, love? You sound really weird.”

“Have you, er, seen the news?”

“No, should I have?” She sounds worried now. Like ripping off a plaster, I tell myself.

“I’m going to die.”