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Out of the Trade Center
As we leave the World Trade Center complex, some people pause to look back at the towers. Another policeman yells “Don’t look back! Keep moving! Go over to Broadway!” So we cross Church Street and then I look back. There is a large, jagged hole in the South Tower and there is fire and smoke! It looks like it’s from another plane crash, in which case it must have been intentional! I can’t believe it – I thought our air space was protected! The fire in the South Tower looks very close to where we work. I hope everyone on those floors left early. Now I remember another room on the 68th floor, just before the north exit to the corridor. It’s in my quadrant – the northeast quadrant – but I forgot to check it! Occasionally I would see some men leaving that room very early in the morning to work in other locations in the building. They didn't actually work with us, but still, how could I forget them! I can only hope that they are safe. Joe and I see another co-worker, Bridget, on Fulton Street. She must have arrived on the 68th floor shortly after we left because she wondered where everyone was. She figured there was a problem and decided to leave. Now she can see the problem – the damage to the towers – and she wonders what happened. Joe explains that it was a terrorist attack. Bridget asks if we have seen any other co-workers since leaving the buildings. I have not. She names a few who have been seen, so we know that those people got out of the buildings safely. We continue walking east on Fulton Street, along the fenced graveyard behind St. Paul’s Chapel. A television camera is recording the scene. I hear a cry from behind me so I turn to look. A young woman has her head down on her right hand, which is on the left shoulder of a young man. Her crying stops momentarily as she lifts her head and looks back at the South Tower. She looks toward the very top and then downward, moving her lips slightly as if counting the floors from the top of the building to the crash site. Suddenly, she lets out another loud cry and her head drops back down to the shoulder of the young man. It doesn’t sound like a cry of fear, but rather, a cry of grief. I try to call my daughter at her school but the call won’t go through. Maybe, if I leave this area, I will be able to make phone calls. Joe decides that he will walk to the ferry. There is no reason to stay here; we obviously are not going back into the building today – it will take a long time to fix the damage. I leave my two co-workers and walk north on Broadway for several blocks, and then turn west and go back to Church Street. When I look south down Church Street, I can see the hole and the fire in the South Tower. I can’t believe it. I turn and walk north toward the subway but, at each intersection, I turn around and look back again because I still can’t believe it! Crowds gather on the sidewalks and watch. I veer left near Canal Street and go down to the subway. There is a loud rumbling sound coming through the subway tunnel, from the south. It sounds like the rumbling of a train moving in the distance but it lasts much longer. Then, there is silence. Continue: To Midtown |