God Wore Black

Bozeman, MT - 6:30 AM

DJ rolled out of bed and groggily shuffled to his noisy alarm clock and slammed hard on the top to shut it off. The radio announcer babbled on... something about a special offer... slam! Again he slapped down hard on the buttons. "I hate that stupid thing..." he muttered on his way to the bathroom.

6:51 AM

He walked swiftly back to his room. He must have only hit the snooze button the first time because the radio was still blaring. "All we know at this point is that a plane has crashed in Lower..." This time, instead of sleepily mashing the buttons, he gently clicked off the alarm switch. DJ had never accidentally set his alarm to radio mode before.

Lower Manhattan, NY 8:45 AM Eastern

Jonathan Briley sat in his cubicle on the same chair that he had sat in for the past three years. He sat unblinking, staring at the cursor blinking at him from an empty spreadsheet. He sat, thinking of  Molly. She would be riding her bike through heavy traffic, courier pack full of legalese. He hoped she was riding safe. He sat on floor 106 with a hundred others. A regular day.

Without warning, a chilling shriek made him explode to his feet out of his old chair. He rose only to be knocked full force into his cubicle wall. He was deafened by a crushing, fiery noise. The squealing ring of his ears blocked out the yells of pain from those on the floor below. He lifted his bruised face up from his now horizontal cubicle in time to see a few bloody and blackened staff from floor 105 stumble with a plume of smoke out of the stairwell. They were shaking and dazed. So was Jonathan. He shifted a cubicle wall off of his leg, got to his feet and limped calmly over to the stairwell. As he opened the door, a pillow of heat pressed against his body. Fire was already making its way up. He thought of resting there, but the smoke made it hard to breathe. His head was pounding.

After awhile someone came running around the corner and almost ran straight into Jonathan, "...elevators don't work... and dat staiwell on da uder side already went up. You alright pal?" asked the man.

"I dunno..." said Jonathan.

"Yeah well, seems like we're trapped for the time bein'," said the man.

Trapped. The thought closed hard like vault doors around Jonathan's mind. No way out. No way out. No way out. I'm going to burn to death if I don't move, he thought. He walked slowly over to his old chair and picked it up. No way out. He stepped over debris and paper and headed towards the nearest heavily cracked window. One way out. "Hello Molly," Jonathan said as he threw his chair hard and followed it down.

Bozeman High School 8:32 AM Mountain

A class full of kids stared open-mouthed at the glowing T.V. screen. The morning's have-you-heards and rumor exchanges had died out, and there was only the news. Mr. Andriolo stood, dry-erase marker in hand, gaping along with the kids at what he was seeing. The algebra lesson was long forgotten. It was like a movie--a sickening thought. Then he realized that all that debris falling from tower one wasn't all debris. A closer shot of a falling man confirmed his horror and drew gasps from the girls. Is this real? This is real.

Cairo, Egypt 3:46 PM Local Time

Umayma Atta held a pot full of simmering Ful Mudammas, her wrinkled hands straining with the weight. Her head bowed with age, she leaned further over the pot and smelled the Fava bean mixture. It needs garlic. Seshafi could fetch me some. Though she gives me endless pain about going to market.

As quickly as the smell had filled her nose, all breath left her. She felt her heart begin to pound as if she had been running for days. Finally her grip on the pot failed and her meal splattered to the ground. She sank slowly to her knees, tears filling her eyes. Seshafi, drawn by the sound of the clanging pot, rushed into the room. "What have you done now Umay... Umayma?" The scared look in Seshafi's eyes made the old woman begin to weep. "What is it?" asked Seshafi.

"My son is dead," said Umayma simply.

He was there that day. He was among the wreckage, among the husks of buildings, among the bodies. He was there to receive them that passed. He was there with the new widows and new orphans. He was there with the armed and angry men. He was with Jonathan and Umayma and her son Mohamed. He was with ladder 11. And He wept with his children.

[These are all real people.]