Unbelievable story... Part 2

Eventually some security person directed us away from there, and I walked through the building nearest to me, and back out onto the street and up to another vantage point. I kept looking at people, and the towers, and trying to call someone on my phone, and just generally trying to cope with everything I was observing. Then the unimaginable happened. With a deep rumble and an explosion, I saw the top floors of the building drop down, almost in slow motion. I stood transfixed, as the structure dropped down upon the lower levels, imploding and careening towards the ground. Then the survival centre in my brain began shouting the alert for me to run, run for my life in fact. I ran down the street, my legs pumping as fast as they could, dimly aware of both the people running in terror in front of me, and out of my side vision someone who had fallen down on my left side. I was next to a building, and I headed for the corner of it, throwing my head over my left shoulder, I gave a quick glimpse of Armageddon coming down the street behind me, pieces of the building, debris, and a massive cloud of dark gray smoke. I hung a left, and the pieces of building blasted past where I had been just milliseconds before, like a runaway freight train.

I dove around the corner of the building and underneath a steel door that was just inches from closing, behind another guy and a cop. I’ll never forget as long as I live the sight of all the cops who had previously been trying to maintain order and keep people safe, suddenly all running at top speed away from me and the carnage.

Inside the building, the air was clogged with debris, you could barely see or breathe. The young squat cop immediately shifted from being afraid and running for his life, to concerned about the welfare of all of the people now in his realm of responsibility. He asked if anyone was hurt, and ushered us towards a tiny office in the back of the building. Two garage attendants offered us water at a small sink, and provided us with shirts to put over our mouths and noses to breathe through. Outside it was black as night, you can’t imagine the depth of the darkness. Then, after a few minutes I guess, the young cop was talking on his radio and said that we had to evacuate that building, our refuge. I again got that scared feeling, like we were in imminent danger of the structure collapsing. We got our breathing cloths in place, and proceeded out into hell. The black had given way to a dense gray, and the air was still chokingly thick with debris.

We made our way to a deli where others were huddled, and inside we got more water, and I set about cutting up my breathing shirt with a large knife, to give to others that were without. People were frantically grabbing for the pieces I was cutting, not even mindful of the large and very sharp knife I was using. I had to keep warning them to please be careful and watch out while I was cutting. I couldn’t cut and tear fast enough. After a few minutes one of the cops said we had to get out of there too. They instructed us to take as many bottles of water as we could carry. I stood there, with a bottle of water in my pants pocket, and dumping one into my eyes, and the young cop next to me was grabbing bottles, and he turned to me and said “its like we’re looting the place.” Then we left and headed out onto the street again. While walking, people were just coming up to me and asking if I needed water, if I was okay, everyone just seemed to be pulling together in this mutual moment of need. Finally I wound up at the entrance to the Brooklyn Tunnel. Cops were telling people either to go into the tunnel or to head towards South Street Seaport. I decided to try the tunnel, since that’s where my sisters’ place was anyway.

The tunnel didn’t provide much refuge from the debris, I found to my dismay. I kept the breathing cloth pressed over my mouth and nose and forged ahead, walking on the catwalk, just above the sea of abandoned cars. I walked on and on, seeing few people along the way. I gave one of the people my water bottle, for him to take a drink from, and we continued walking together. Finally we got to where the cars ended, and from there we walked in the roadway. Ultimately, I ran into a bunch of detectives, in suits, and I walked with them, while the other people that I had been with got on a bus that was slowly backing its way out of the tunnel. While walking with the detectives, a cop drove up and we all piled in. He drove us the rest of the way out of the tunnel, and then left us at the mouth of it. I walked slowly towards the toll plaza, and then the overwhelming feelings began to flood in, and my emotions crashed upon me, interspersed with brief footage inside my head of what I had observed just a short while before. I wept as I walked, and two kind policemen came up to me and comforted me, and gave me a bottle of juice, and talked with me for a while. Their looks of concern and their kind words helped me to calm down a little, and I gave them my information, and then asked them how to get to fourth and Pacific. They gave me directions, and some more words of comfort, and then I headed out for the last leg of my journey.

Walking along Atlantic, I turned around as I heard a car approach, and two Spanish guys pulled up and asked me if I was okay. I said that I was and I asked if they could give me a ride. They told me to hop in. As we drove, the driver told me he was headed to the 59th street bridge, to pick up his wife. He said he’d drop me off before he turned.
They said something about how we were all going to have to pull together now. They took me about a mile and a half, and then dropped me off, and wished me luck.

Then I walked for blocks and blocks, pausing every so often to look over my shoulder at the huge pall of smoke that was rising above Manhattan. It was surreal in Brooklyn, because no one here really knew what had just happened in such close proximity to where they were. People were just going about their business, for the most part, talking, laughing, making phone calls, walking along the street. None of them knew what had just transpired a short way across the river. I walked, and wept periodically, not paying much attention to the people on the street, and they not paying me any mind as well. Finally I made it to Fee’s apartment, where I now sit, trying to comprehend what has happened. Watching it on T.V. is just making it more unbelievable. I’ve seen footage of the second plane hitting the building, and I’ve seen footage of the buildings collapsing, but I still cannot fully grasp it all. I keep feeling like I’m going to wake up from it, and it will all be a nightmare. The human remains, the personal effects, the pieces from the aircraft, the guy falling, the panic in the streets, the buildings collapsing, it will all just be a nightmare. I wish I could wake up from this.