United We Stand (14 page)

The rescuers and paramedics reached down—they were taking somebody out of the hole and placing him or her on the stretcher and … No … it was too small to be a firefighter … Was it a child, or … ? It wasn’t a person … it was part of a body. I looked away.

The stretcher holding the body bag was carried right past us. There was an American flag draped over the body. Each person took off his hat, or helmet, holding it at his side or over his heart as the stretcher passed by. I did the same. Police officers saluted. There wasn’t a sound. Just the silence of respect.

I looked up at James. His eyes were on the ground. I wanted to go up and talk to him, offer some words of comfort, but I didn’t have any to give. The stretcher was loaded into a waiting ambulance. The doors were closed, and it started to pull away. There was no siren, no flashing lights. No need for either.

Coming up the line was a foreman, and trailing behind him were fifteen or twenty people who were going to replace those of us on the line who were ready to step out.

“Anybody need a break?” he called out.

I needed a break, but I knew I couldn’t leave James there alone. I looked over at him and … His hand was up! There were five or six other people with their hands up too. I thrust mine up.

“Okay, son, go and get some rest and some water,” he said as he gave me a pat on the back.

“Thanks, sir.”

“You’ve worked hard.”

I stepped out and a replacement took my spot.

“Thank you,” I said.

He nodded.

I walked back down the line. The bucket brigade hadn’t stopped, and pieces were already coming back down to the truck. I reached over and took a large piece of concrete from one of the men as it was being passed down the line.

“I’m going down anyway,” I said, and he mumbled something through his mask that I couldn’t understand.

It was harder to walk with the weight, but I didn’t want to abandon the job and the people doing it without taking one more piece. I came up to the dump truck. It was almost full. I’d need to really heave it to get it to the top of the pile. I didn’t know if I had the strength left in my arms to do it.

“Let me help.”

It was James. His face was covered in sweat and dirt and soot.

“I’ll take one end,” he said. “On three.”

We swung it. “One … two … three!”

We both strained as we flung it up and onto the top of the truck, where it landed with a loud thud.

“Let’s go inside,” I said.

“How you feeling?” James asked.

“Tired. Really tired.”

My whole body was exhausted, but I wasn’t shaking. It was almost as if I’d had the shakes worn out of me. My legs were dragging as we walked. All I wanted was to get inside, take off the mask and goggles, and get something to drink, something to eat.

As soon as we entered the church I pushed down my mask and took a deep breath. “That feels good,” I said.

James had removed his mask completely and put it and his goggles into his helmet. I pulled mine off as well.

Then I started to pull off my gloves. The right glove came off easily, but the left was stuck and hurt as it came off—as I peeled it off. Then I saw the reason why. One of my stitches had broken open and my hand had been bleeding. The blood had congealed into the glove, but now that I had pulled it free, my hand was bleeding again. I held it up in the air and examined it. It was funny, but I had the sensation that it wasn’t
my
hand I was looking at.

“You’d better have somebody look at that,” James said.

“I’ll go to the clinic near my house as soon as I get home.”

“You’d better have somebody look at it before that.”

I turned to James. “But … but we’ll be home in a couple of hours.”

“I want to go out for another shift … or two.”

“That’s not what we agreed to,” I said. “We have to go. I can’t keep stalling my mother.”

“You don’t have to stall her any more. You can just go home.”

“We already talked about that. I can’t leave you here by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself,” he said. “Look around.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know,” he said. “Look, let’s just get something to drink and sit down and talk about it, okay?”

I nodded my head. I did need water, but I wasn’t sure what there was to talk about. We needed to go home.
I
needed to go home. It wasn’t just because of my mother. Those anxious feelings had been getting harder to fight, and I wasn’t sure if I could force myself to go back out there again.

We joined a line of people waiting to get food and water. I had to try to think of what I could say to James to convince him that he had to come with me. I couldn’t leave him here by himself, but I really couldn’t stay any longer. I was caught. If I thought about it, though, I did have a way out, guaranteed. We really were too young to be here. If I wanted to,
I could just pull out that ace in the hole and tell somebody we were only fifteen. They’d have us out of here in a second. But I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to James. On the other hand, was James’s breaking our deal and refusing to come home fair?

We each grabbed a tray and shuffled forward. There were women behind a counter, and they put bottles of water—two each—and sandwiches onto our trays.

“What happened to your hand?” one of the women asked.

I looked down at my hand; it was bleeding onto the tray. “It’s nothing,” I said. “A stitch broke open.”

“You have to have that taken care of,” she said.

“I told him that,” James said.

“It’s just a little blood.”

“It’s more than a little blood. I’m a nurse. Let me see it.”

Reluctantly I put down my tray and held out my hand.

“These stitches are fresh,” she said.

“They were put in yesterday.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure, exactly.”

“It happened here,” James said. “He was here yesterday.”

“And you’re back for a second day to help? Good for you.”

“I wasn’t here to help yesterday. I was here when it happened. I got that when the tower collapsed. That and these cuts,” I said, showing her my other hand.

“You were here?” She sounded amazed—no, awed. “What was it like?”

“It’s hard to describe … hard to even understand.”

“You probably don’t want to talk about it,” she said.

She was right. I didn’t. Talking about it meant thinking about it. In my head, I wanted to pretend that I hadn’t even been here …
Denial
… I wanted to deny that I’d been here. Maybe there was more to what my mother had said than I was willing to admit.

“You have to be really careful with that hand,” she said. “You need to worry about it getting infected. Go and see one of the doctors. He’ll clean it out and stitch it back up.”

“I’ll do that as soon as—”

“As soon as you finish eating,” she said, cutting me off.

“You should,” James agreed. “Even if you’re leaving, it would be easier than going home, explaining it to your parents, and then going out to the clinic.”

I shrugged. I guess that did make sense. “I’ll have them look at it,” I agreed.

“How old are you boys?” she asked.

“We’re eighteen,” James said.

She eyed us suspiciously. There was that ace in the hole, staring me in the face. All I had to do was “accidentally” blurt out that we were really fifteen, and she’d gasp and then tell somebody and they’d escort us off the site. James wouldn’t have a choice. Then the decision would be made for us. And it really would be in James’s best interests and …
No, I couldn’t do that to him. I wasn’t going to say a word.

“Well, boys, you two go and enjoy your food, and you get that taken care of right away. I’ve got my eye on you,” she said, looking squarely at me. “If you don’t see a doctor I’m going to be angry, and you don’t want to see me angry, do you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. Now go and enjoy your food.”

“Thanks.”

I looked down at the cellophane- wrapped sandwich. I didn’t even know what type it was. Actually, I didn’t care. I was so hungry I wasn’t sure if I was going to unwrap it or eat it cellophane and all.

We wandered off and found a spot in a corner that was empty. It was one of the few places in the church that wasn’t taken. We slouched down against the wall and took a seat on the floor. James took the wrapping off his sandwich. I was hungry, but I wanted water more than food. I took a big slug from the bottle. It was warm but wonderful, tracing a path down my parched throat. I tipped it back and chugged it down, emptying the entire bottle.

“Funny,” James said, “this sandwich has no taste whatsoever.”

“What type is it?”

He pushed back the bread. “Ham and cheese. I just can’t taste anything. It’s more like a texture than a taste.”

I unwrapped mine and had a look at it. It was egg
salad. I hated egg salad. I took a bite. I couldn’t taste it either. “It’s like my taste buds are all burned out.”

I didn’t have time to worry about that. We needed to sort this out. We needed to leave. “James, I’ll have my hand taken care of and then—”

“Look!” James said, “On T V. It’s the president.”

On the screens along the church wall the president was standing behind a podium, giving a speech.

“I want to hear him,” James said.

I didn’t. All I wanted was to convince James to come home with me.

James got to his feet, and reluctantly, I followed behind. There was a crowd of people standing around the sets—firefighters, police officers, people in overalls and hard hats like us. We moved in close enough to hear.

“This enemy attacked not just our people, but all freedom-loving people everywhere in the world. The United States of America will use all our resources to conquer this enemy. We will rally the world. The battle will take time and resolve. But make no mistake about it: we will win
.”

There was a rumble of people agreeing with him.

“The freedom- loving nations of the world stand by our side. This will be a monumental struggle of good versus evil. But good will prevail. Thank you very much
.”

The president walked away from the podium, and everybody, including James and me, burst into applause. The clapping stung my hand. Somehow, in the middle of all this, knowing what I knew, having seen what I’d seen, this was what I needed to hear.

“James, is that you?”

I looked over. There was a firefighter standing a few feet away. His face was covered in a thick layer of grime and soot, hiding his features.

“Yeah?” James said. His expression indicated that maybe the man knew him, but James didn’t know who he was.

“It’s me, Charlie. Charlie O’Leary.”

“Mr. O’Leary … I didn’t recognize you … sorry,” James said.

“That’s okay. I hardly recognized you, either. Haven’t seen you in about a year, since that firefighters’ picnic. You probably recognize a lot of the other guys here. Every firefighter in the city is down here. I didn’t expect to see you, though.”

“We came down to help,” James said.

“Your father,” he said. “He’s …”

“He’s missing.”

“He’s with Ladder Fourteen, right?”

James nodded.

“The whole crew is missing,” Mr. O’Leary said.

“I didn’t know,” James said. “I just know about my father.”

“And your mother?” he asked.

“She’s at home.”

“Does she know you’re down here?”

James shook his head.

“How old are you, James? You can’t be any older than sixteen.”

I wondered if he was going to try to lie to him.

“Fifteen. I’m only fifteen.”

“You really shouldn’t be down here at all. You’re too young. Especially if your mother doesn’t know, and—”

“I
have
to be here. Please don’t make me leave. Please,” James begged.

Mr. O’Leary reached down and put a hand on his shoulder. “James, we firefighters always say we’re like family. You know that.”

James nodded.

“And those aren’t just words. We are family. All of us. The men on the line and the wives and kids we leave behind each day when we go to work. One big family.”

“That’s how my father sees it.”

“That’s how we all see it. What do you think your father would say to you if he were standing right here? Would he want you to be down here or safe at home?”

James didn’t answer, which I guess
was
an answer. This was perfect. This guy was going to force James to leave—force us to leave; I wouldn’t have to tell anybody or do anything, the decision would now be out of my hands.

“I know this is where you want to be. I know this is where you think your father would want you to be. But it isn’t. There are thousands of us down here to do this job, but only you can do the job you need to do.”

There was a pause and I waited for him to continue. What job was that?

“I’ve known your mother for almost as long as I’ve known your father. She’s one of the nicest people you’d ever want to meet. Right now she’s at home, still thinking that your father is going to walk in the door, isn’t she?”

James nodded his head ever so slightly.

“But you and I know the truth. There have been no rescues since this morning. We’ve moved from rescue to recovery—from trying to find people to trying to find bodies.”

I saw a small shiver run through James.

“You need to go home. Your mother shouldn’t be alone.”

“She isn’t alone.”

“She needs
you
to be there.” He took James by both shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. “I could make you leave, have you taken from the site, but I’m not going to do that, James.”

“Thanks.”

Why not
? I felt like yelling out.

“I know you just want to help, try to make a difference, like your father. Your old man was a great firefighter and a good man.”

Was
—past tense—as in,
He’s gone, no more
.

“I know,” James said.

“You decide what you have to do. I know you’ll make the right choice,” Mr. O’Leary said. “Now, I have to get back out and do
my
job.” He turned and walked away.

James and I stood there in silence. I tried to think
what I should say to him, but I just didn’t know.