One Tuesday Morning (21 page)

With his free hand, Hisel kept his T-shirt smothered against his face. He only coughed twice as they struggled back down West Street and finally found a waiting ambulance. Two paramedics saw them coming and grabbed a stretcher.

“Where'd you find him?” one of them asked as he helped Hisel and Landers position JB on the stretcher.

“He's a firefighter. Jake Bryan from Engine 57.” Hisel's sides heaved, but he hadn't felt better in all his life. If Jake got help right away, he would make it. Hisel was sure.

With expert quickness, the paramedic strapped JB to the stretcher and began an intravenous line. “I know JB. We've worked lots of jobs together.” The paramedic looked up and met Hisel's eyes. “Where's his buddy, Larry?”

“We didn't find him. The rest of the men from Engine 57 are …” Hisel sunk his hands into his pockets and realized something. If the men he'd sent out to handle the search didn't find the missing men, they might all be dead. Eight firefighters from one station. Even more devastating was the fact that every other station in Manhattan had to be facing similar casualties. The enormity of the department's loss was something Hisel refused to consider yet. He cleared his throat but couldn't find his voice.

Landers stepped up and finished the thought. “The rest of the men are missing. We have teams of firefighters looking for them. That's how we found JB.”

The paramedics worked to load Jake into the waiting ambulance. One climbed into the back with JB, and the other shut the doors and headed for the driver's seat. “He'll be at Mount Sinai Medical Center,” the driver shouted as he climbed in the front seat. “Someone call his wife.”

Hisel and Landers watched the ambulance pull away, sirens blaring. When the sound had faded some, Landers drew a deep breath. “You ever meet Jake's wife?”

“Jamie?” Hisel's voice sounded choked. The events of the day were catching up to him, and a cold wind blew across the plains of his heart. He was not a man who cried easily or who expressed his emotions without being prompted. But here, standing in the ashes of the World Trade Center, facing the loss of hundreds of firefighters, Hisel had the strangest longing to find a quiet spot and simply weep. Of course that was impossible; the rescue was nowhere near finished. He exhaled slow and easy, steadying himself. “Sure, I've met her.”

“Yeah, well …” For a moment it looked like Landers wanted to cry too. Instead, he sucked in hard and gave a shake of his head as he patted the back of the ambulance. “Tonight, when I can't fall asleep because of the people we lost down here, I'm gonna think about Jamie Bryan. We may have to call a lot of wives and tell them their men are missing. But Jamie won't be one of them.”

Landers was right. Headquarters needed to be contacted immediately. People were no doubt frantic trying to find out who had survived and who was missing. He grabbed his radio from his back pocket and pushed a series of buttons. “This is Captain Aaron Hisel with Ladder 96. All of our men are accounted for and searching the rubble for survivors.” He hesitated. “Their wives need to know they're okay.”

There was static at the other end, and Hisel had to put his hand over his other ear to hear the dispatcher. “I'm sorry, I missed that.”

“We'll make the calls.” This time the words were clearer. “What about Engine 57 from your station? The unit was assigned to the sixty-first floor, south tower, is that right?”

“Right.” Hisel felt sick to his stomach at the thought. Eight men, all friends of his, more than sixty floors off the ground when the tower collapsed. It was unimaginable. “Most of the unit's missing, but we just found Jake Bryan near the station's rig on West Street. He was alone, so we're not sure what happened to the others.”

“I've got hundreds of people calling. Keep us posted as soon as you hear anything.”

“Will do. Hey, in the meantime do me a favor.”

“Anything.” The dispatcher was quick to answer.

“Look up Jake Bryan's file and add his wife to your list of calls.” Hisel thought about that for a minute. “In fact, call her first. She needs to get to the hospital.”

“I'll do it right now.”

Hisel could hear a smile in the man's voice. There'd been precious few bits of good news that morning. This was one of them. And as they hung up, a single ray of light shone through the shadowy cloud of smoke and ash and devastating loss that darkened most of Manhattan. Because in a few minutes, Jamie Bryan would know the truth.

That though the world had been hit hard that day, her part of it was still intact.

****

The sirens rang out in the deepest area of his brain. He opened his eyes wide and looked around. He was in a vehicle of some kind, traveling very fast, and next to him was a man in a uniform.

“JB, can you hear me? How're you feeling?” The man leaned closer and looked hard at one of his eyes and then the other. “Looks like you got banged up pretty good.”

He blinked.

TB? Who's TB? And where am I?
He wondered why was he in the fast car and who was the man next to him? He closed his eyes again and tried to remember.

“Jake, we're in an ambulance. We're getting you to the hospital.” The man's voice was kind, but urgent. “Hang in there, buddy.”

Panic punched him in the gut, and he opened his eyes. Who was Jake, and why did the man beside him think they were friends? He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain sliced through his head and he cried out.

“Take it easy, JB. Relax. Everything's gonna be okay.”

He let his head fall back against the stretcher. At almost the same time, the car stopped and the doors flew open. Suddenly, a blur of people surrounded him, carrying him from the vehicle toward what looked like a hospital.

A hundred questions came to mind, but he couldn't make his mouth form a single word. The moment they entered the building, a nurse came up alongside his stretcher and took his hand.

“Jake … we're so glad you made it.” Her expression changed, but she kept up with the stretcher as the men from the ambulance moved him down a hallway. “What about Larry? Did he leave the building with you?”

What was she talking about? What building? He'd been in a car, not a building. He tried to open his mouth, but his face was in too much pain. Finally he forced his lips to work, ignoring the searing feeling tearing at his cheeks. “Who … who's Larry?”

The men carried the stretcher into a large room where more people were waiting, but the nurse stayed at his side. “Larry Henning. He works Engine 57 with you.”

“Engine … what?” The room was growing blurred, and he had trouble making out the faces around him. The skin on his face hurt so bad he wanted to scream, but he couldn't work his mouth, and nothing made sense. Was he dreaming? Or had he merely woken in a world he knew nothing about? His words were barely audible, and he could feel his strength draining. “I … I don't know what … I don't know.”

Alarm filled the nurse's face, and she gripped his hand tighter than before. “I'll be right back.” She left, and almost immediately she returned with a man in a white coat. “This is Dr. Adam Sonney. You've met him before. Do you remember him, Jake?”

He squinted, trying to make out the details of the doctor's face. His head throbbed in a way that coursed through his entire body. All he wanted was sleep. He winced as he opened his mouth again. “N—n—no.”

The nurse whispered something to the doctor, and the man muffled an answer. From his place on the stretcher, he caught none of what they said, but he noticed that the nurse had tears in her eyes. A piercing pain tore at him from somewhere near his left foot.

Dr. Sonney approached him and bent over, so his face was inches away. “Jake, do you know where you are?”

Why wouldn't they leave him alone? And why did they keep calling him Jake? “My head …”

“You're at the hospital, Jake. We're going to run some tests and get you fixed up, okay? After that we'll call your wife.”

The pain was getting worse, and his vision was fading. The doctor's words were breaking up, so he only caught every other word. Something about calling a wife, but that was impossible. He wasn't married. At least not that he knew about. He felt sick to his stomach, and he shut out the doctor's voice. Why was everyone trying to confuse him? “My head …”

This time the doctor sounded like he was talking through a megaphone. His words were loud and blurred together. “You've had a head injury, Jake. Let's take a look at it and see what we can do.”

“Jake?” The nurse's face appeared again. “I'll call Jamie for you, okay?”

He rolled his head from one side to the other. He wanted to yank it from his shoulders and shake it until the pain went away. On the other side of him, someone jabbed him with a needle, and he winced. Almost immediately warmth began spreading across his body, taking the edge off his pain.

“Can you hear me, Jake?”

He was fading fast, but he had one final question that needed to be asked before another minute went by. His eyelids were heavy, but he blinked them open and searched the faces near him until he found the nurse. “Who … who's Jake?”

The woman looked alarmed. “Don't you know who you are?”

The nurse started to say something else, but it was too late. The warm feeling had spread to his brain, and he could do nothing but go with it. He had no idea why people were calling him Jake, but the nurse's last question was the most frightening of all.

If he wasn't Jake, then who was he?

Despite the speed with which he was going under, he was able to concentrate enough to consider the question. And worse, the fact that he had no answer for himself. It was one thing to not know the people at the hospital or the names they were throwing at him. But he didn't know his own name. In fact, he couldn't remember a single thing about who he was or what he did for a living, or why he'd been brought to this hospital with a head injury.

His eyes closed. Next to him he could hear several voices, but they all blended together, and gradually the sound grew quieter. Then, out of the recesses of his mind, a name suddenly came to him. The only name that meant anything at all. He opened his mouth and used all his remaining energy to say it.

“S … Sierra …”

He heard the word and felt some sense of order return. The vision of a beautiful little girl flashed in his heart, and he was certain this time. Whoever she was, he'd known her before this moment, so he said it again. “Sierra!”

The pain was gone, and he felt himself being sucked into the deepest sleep he'd ever known. He wanted to say her name one more time, but he couldn't make his mouth and brain cooperate. The last thought that filled his head before he blacked out was this: Somehow a little girl named Sierra would be part of the puzzle whenever he woke up. And maybe she could help him answer the questions.

Who was Larry and what was Engine 57? Who was he married to and for how long, and how come he couldn't remember a thing about her? And, of course, the biggest question of all.

Who in the world was he?

F
OURTEEN

S
EPTEMBER
11, 2001, 11:04
A.M
.

For thirty-six minutes, Jamie held the receiver in her hand and stared at it.

During that time she did nothing but remind herself to breathe and will someone to call about Jake. So when the machine finally broke the silence and rang, she dropped the phone and nearly fell out of her chair in her scramble to grab it off the floor and click the talk button.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Sergeant Riker at the FDNY. Is this Jamie Bryan?”

“Yes.” Her face felt cool and clammy against her fingers. She was certain she was floating, because she had no connection whatsoever to the woman sitting in her kitchen waiting to hear news that would change her life forever. She squeezed the phone and ordered herself to sound normal. “This is her.”

“Mrs. Bryan, your husband's been found alive. He's—”

“Jake!” Jamie let the receiver fall slowly to her lap as she screamed his name. He was alive! The relief was like a gust of air in a room where she'd been suffocating. Jake hadn't been in the south tower after all, and now he was alive! Just as he'd promised!

Suddenly, she remembered Sergeant Riker, and she jerked the phone back to her ear. “I'm sorry, I … I missed that last part.”

The man hesitated. “I was saying he's been injured, Mrs. Bryan. He's at Mount Sinai Medical Center being treated. I promised I'd call you.”

In a rush, the oxygen left the room once more, and a paralyzing fear returned to Jamie's voice. “How … how hurt is he?”

“Actually, the doctors will have to tell you that, Mrs.—”

“I don't want to talk to doctors, Sergeant!” Jamie was shouting now, on her feet and pacing the kitchen. “You must've gotten some kind of report. Please …” She forced herself to calm down. “Please tell me what you know.”

Again the man paused, and for a brief instant Jamie felt for him. How many of these phone calls had he been asked to make this morning? “Captain Hisel made the report. He said your husband had burns and a head injury. But he thought he'd make it.”

The relief offered only enough room to breathe. If Jake had a head injury, anything was possible. She needed to get to the hospital right away, be with him, talk to him. Assure him that everything was being done to get him better.

“Thank you, Sergeant. That means a lot.” She was about to hang up when she remembered Sue's request. That Jamie call the moment she heard anything. “What about Larry Henning? Is he with Jake at the hospital?”

“Larry's part of Engine 57, right?”

“Yes. Same as Jake.”

“No,” the sergeant sighed. “I'm afraid we haven't heard anything from any of the others.”

The emotional extremes from the past few minutes were taking their toll on Jamie. She dropped to the chair near the phone and hung her head. “Nothing?”

“Mrs. Bryan, your husband was the only one they've found from Engine 57.” He paused, and there was something defeated in his tone as well. “They were headed for the sixty-first floor of the south tower when the building collapsed.”

Jamie gripped her stomach and gritted her teeth. The whole day had been nothing but a series of nightmares. The only reason she had survived at all was the hope that Jake was somehow alive. But now that he … what would she tell Sue? And how had Jake lived if his entire unit was missing? She found her voice once more. “Th—thank you for calling.”