Take Me Home

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001

8:45 a.m.
New York

BANG! CRASH! BOOM!

"DAMIAN!!" Mrs. Fischer screamed.

"MOMMY!!" The three year old cried back.

Mrs. Fischer picked up her son and ran to the front of the apartment, grabbing very little of their belongings in a small bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

She looked around for the picture of her husband. Pam Fischer rushed in the flaming kitchen to find the a picture of her husband, James Fischer, dressed in his military uniform, in a small frame. She quickly shoved it in the small duffle bag, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Mrs. Fischer knew her son Damian would never get to see his father alive again. Not after today.

She strapped Damian in his stroller and quickly exited the small living quarters they had occupied for a few years of their lives. The Fischer's had bought this apartment brand-new, when they first moved to New York.

James and Pam were only twenty three, and Pam was pregnant with Damian.

"Goodbye" whispered Pam as she closed the door. Her and a squealing Damian rushed down the hallway of the first floor, and out the lobby exit.

She looked above her. The World Trade Center was tumbling to it's destruction. Some pieces of debris were landing on top of their apartment building. The people of New York City were frantically trying to find a safe place, and avoiding falling debris.

Her husband, Damian's father was somewhere up there, leading the troops.

Mrs. Fischer left her squealing Damian in the stroller on the sidewalk, while she stood in the middle of the street and waved down a taxi.

She went back to safety, grabbed Damian and their bag of belongings, and hopped in the taxi.

"Anywhere but here!" She shouted at the cab driver, "Hurry!"

"You and me both, woman," replied the driver. He had a scruffy and smelled of alcohol, and eyes that were constantly looking in the rear view mirror, which was adjusted so he could see down the loose shirt Mrs. Fischer was wearing.

As the yellow cab passed the Twin Towers, Mrs. Fischer looked up to the crumbling skyscraper.

"I'm going to miss you, James. I'll take care of Damian. I promise," is all she could manage to choke out without bursting into tears and putting the drivers attention off course.

Her husband's last words played in her head. It's was just minutes ago:

Debris from the tower had fallen on the apartment building, causing it to shake. Shelves in the apartment had come off the walls and glass was everywhere.

"Pam!!" James shouted from the living room. He had already gotten his uniform on. He was Officer and Head Chief of the troops.

"Pam, I have to go," he stroked her cheek. His green eyes stared into her blue ones, lost in the sea of love. But his boat started to sink. He had to leave her.

"They need me-"

"You can't leave. What about Damian? He'll have no father!"