Nine Eleven (#Wattys2015)

Chapter 20

"There isn't any time!," he screams.

Edith, her boss Michael, and her two co-workers, Mary and Martha kneel beside an open window. Smoke rolls its hot hands on the open air. Grey billows climb and clutch the three as they huddle helpless under their desks. Its hot; sweat and fear keeps tranquility at bay.

"We have to jump!," Michael screams to the three women.

"Hell no! I'm not jumping!," cries Mary.

"We have to! If not we'll die here by smoke-inhalation. It'll be hell. If we jump now it will be quicker, easier. Jump with me!" Michael shouts.

Mary stares at Edith curled under her coat jacket. She cries. Because she dreams of her wedding. Of Orlando, and the desperate fact that she'll never see him again. She weeps as she stares at the bright diamond snug on her ring finger. It's brightness pierces through the hot smoke. She weeps imagining his face, the face of pure love and years of waiting, as she'd walk down the aisle to him. She imagines the church, the choir, the steeple. She hears the bells, the music, the music the joy. The thousands laughs, and garrulous sounds of jocundity and celebration. The face of her father, of her mother. She imagines her husband's heart beating fast, and the silent kiss of their lips as the priest speaks the words "you may now kiss the bride." A life she'd never know. Thoughts she'd only hold in her mind-dreams that would disappear smothered in smoke and hate. It hurts. It's hope that truly kills her.

They wait to be rescued at the 100th floor of Tower One of the World Trade Center. They waiting impatiently. Yet hope can only reach so far, its grip on them is wading.

They start to relieve to suicide. Death from death, pain for pain-jumping from the building rather than breathing death's shapeless form. Like steady bees smoked out their hive, their nest burns as well as their comfort.

Mary and Martha turn to Michael. "If you go we'll go," they say.

Martha ruminates of her husband waiting patiently at home. The picture of him over the counter pouring her a warm cup of coffee, turning around and setting the white cup in front of her as she sits placid in the cozy september morning. His smile makes her warm. The sun barely rising, the small swirls of smoke rising from the young cup into the yellow kitchen light. She smiled then, now she stares blankly at the white wall, a tear runs down her face.

"Okay,"shouts Michael, "lets do it together," he cries over the roar of the sirens and the cascade of chaos melting into the building.

They knew they'd die. Across the hall and through the glass doors Mary stares at a man waving what looks like a red scarf outside his window. Trying to call for help outside. No one was coming. No one was coming and no one had came for a while. Yet that man tries, waiting-an impatient Rahab making a way for help. But unlike Rahab, the man will get no response.

The smoke curls hot over their heads. "We have to do it fast, just get it over with, just jump and get it over with. Let's do it! Ready!?"

"Yes," cries Martha, follow by whimpers-she squeezes Mary's hand tighter.

"Okay, I'm gonna jump-then give me ten seconds then the next person. We all don't fit through the window at the same time," says Michael. "Okay?"

"Okay."

Michael rises up. His upper body is lost in the smoke. His feet march toward the window.

"Let's pray!," Martha says to Edith and Mary.

"Pray!? We're about to kill ourselves. I doubt it's going to change anything. I know we-"

"Please just pray with me!"cries Martha.

"Okay."

"God have mercy on us! God have mercy on our souls! God-help! We're sorry. We're sorry. We're sorry."

A long deep scream breaks the prayer. It trails off. Following Michael as he falls to his death.

"I'm next," says Mary. "I love you, both of you! I love you." She gets on to her feet abruptly. She stumbles her way through the darkness, we're she enters alone. By the window she waits. She grabs the metal windowpane and glances with hope into the cloudy blue sky. She climbs onto the ledge.

Behind the angry smoke Edith and Martha wait quietly, listening for the sound of Mary screaming-the scream fading, and the understanding that she's gone.

The room gets hotter, they start coughing more frequent than before. Mary's scream impels the coughing. It breaks their hearts. The end is near. An end to life, to hope, to love, and a fearless jump into forever waits, waiting with the bloody concrete floor.

"I'm sorry I have to leave you alone Edith,"says Martha staring intently through her watery eyes. "I'm sorry-"

"I'm not going to jump."

"What, why? You're gonna die here! Just jump."

"No, Orlando's gonna come save me."

"Honey-"

"He will, I know."

"Honey the plane crashed under our floor, there's no means of escape or entry. It would be impossible for him to make it. Don't you think he would have been here by now? He won't come Edith."

"He will!"

"Okay. I love you Edith. Its been nice knowing you, even for the short amount of time it's been. If you do get out--please tell my husband that I love him-and that I'm sorry."

Martha leans over to Edith under her desk. She kiss the top of her head. Edith cries into her knees, hugging her legs. Martha lifts her head into the smoke, and with a quick two steps she is gone into the darkness.

Edith cries into her knees. She cries as the fire roars louder under her floor. Alone. She waits for her soulmate. She waits for her Life to save her from the fire, and impending death. She waits in faith. She waits quiet. Papers lie unshifting on the carpet floor. She coughs into her coat.