Page 40 of Rushed

Click.

Click, click.

The dust clings to our faces. The burning building materials waft around us as papers and soot fall through the middle of the staircase. I look up the center, seeing the progression of people that is consistent and continuous; like a snake winding its way down a tunnel. Still, holding onto Gail’s hand makes me feel secure. It’s funny that a hand hold can give you a false feeling of security in an obviously dangerous situation.

“I don’t understand all of this?” I whisper to Gail, who quietly shushes me. They said we were safe to return to our offices.

“Don’t worry” they said. “No problem here” they said.

“It’s the other tower. Go back to work” they said.

So I did. Now I’m walking down a staircase with hundreds of countless others when we could’ve left earlier. As we pass the sign for the eleventh floor, other soot-ridden and tearstained bodies stream in, joining our parade of pantomimes. Silently, we trudge on.

Click. Click. Click.

I can hear the screams of others from high above us. As they grow in intensity, blending into a high-pitched orchestrated wail, everyone in this awkward group is fearful.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Can be heard as another tremor rocks the building. Looking up, you can see the building shift and buckle, turning askew like a bent spine or a swaying tree. People start to panic and shove against the walls, pushing against those ahead of them. They’re yelling to move faster—go faster! Like we have a choice. We’re boxed in like cattle.

Gail turns to say something, but I can’t hear her. The sound of everyone now in this tight space has become deafening as it bounces off the surfaces.

CRACK! There it is again.

As we progress down the staircase, people shove and attempt to push past. We’re pushed forward, so much so, that if there were no people ahead of me, I would have spilled down the stairs. I lean on a suited man as he leads us down the dark staircase where the only light is from the emergency exit lamp. Even that flickers and blinks before going out. Gail and I try to keep up with the ebbing tide of bodies, but in high heels, it’s hard to traverse these stairs on a good day, let alone circumstances like this.

“Gail, I’m scared. What’s going on up there?” I squeeze her hand tighter as the ground shakes once more.

“Hang on, Jules. We’ll make it to the bottom. It’s only five more floors. We can make it outside. Just hold on, okay?” I can’t see her face, but I can tell she’s trying to reassure us both.

Nodding my head, I agree and push forward. Five floors. Five floors. Five floors.

Left, right, left, right, left, right…fourth floor light…left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right…third flo—

CRACK! SNAP! The sound of buckling metal, shearing bolts and the screams from both men and women wailing is all around and above us. The concrete step we’re standing on raises and lifts, as if pulled from the walls and I fall.

I don’t know how long it’s been, but as I tumble down the side of the railing in slow motion towards the bottom, I see the scared and terrified faces of those who fall with me.

Then…nothing.

“Run! Run!” Someone close by yells out. I see nothing. I only hear a vacant voice as it yells for someone to leave.

“Don’t stop, keep going!” Another says, passing by.

“Leave them, just go!”

“I can’t! I have to help! I can reach them. Someone just help me!”

The sounds of voices I don’t recognize are all around me. Who are these people?

“I’m tryin’ to help ya.” A deep male voice tells me. “I can’t move this by myself. I’ll need ya to push against it too. If ya don’t, I can’t get yer friend.”

“Friend? What friend?”

“The lady whose hand yer holdin’,” he says.

Turning my head to the right, there’s a chunk of shattered concrete and an exit light smashed against my shoulder; the red shards crowning around my head. Craning the other way, I see a beautiful woman, obviously in serious trouble.

“Is she dead?”

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