We All Fall Down: The True Story of the 9/11 Surfer Read Online Free PDF Page B

up and search Peter’s eyes. Is there something there that I don’t know yet? Is he—is anyone—hiding…anything?
    The phone rang, but now Joanne leapt up to answer as Louise sat watching, grateful not to have to talk to anyone—at least not until she knew about Pasquale.
    Along with Peter and Joanne, she kept her eyes glued to the TV screen, her only link to him and what he was going through. He’ll call any minute—from down on the street. He’ll call to tell me he’s coming home.
    Things changed on the screen in front of her. There was smoke, but not the way the smoke had been before, billowing out from the place where the plane had crashed. Something beyond a fire itself was happening. There were huge clouds, rolling black, and what looked like a huge gray waterfall, like dark fireworks, with streamers falling.
    The other building was coming down, Building Two! Louise watched, paralyzed and glued in place, as all that smoke became gray dust—monstrous, ugly mountains of rolling dust, as if a giant overstuffed vacuum bag had suddenly burst open. Quickly, with unbelievable speed, the invincible Tower fell, until there was nothing.
    “NO! NO! NO! NO!” She pulled forward. “NO! NO! NO! NO!”
    It was horrible, but that wasn’t his building. His was the one with the antenna on top; that crumbling monstrosity was the other. Her mind didn’t race, didn’t move. She sat frozen, watching as masses of debris and dust rolled through Manhattan streets, as people ran in front of clouds as high as the buildings. It was a horror movie. Death poured through Manhattan, rolling over people, over cars, over streetlights, over signs.
    Thank God Pasquale stayed where he was, she told herself and took a deep breath. It was good that he was safe, away from the debris and the ash clouds clogging the streets.
    She watched in disbelief, hugging Pasquale’s shirt around her. She more tightly clutched the crucifix she’d brought down with her.
    Bad things come in threes, she hurriedly told herself again and again . A plane hit his building—one bad thing. A second plane hit the other building—second bad thing. Now Building Two falls—third bad thing. This is the end. No more bad things will happen. Bad things only come in threes…
    It wasn’t a rational thought, but being rational was too painful; at that moment, there was no room for rationality. Don’t even think it, Louise! His building won’t fall too. If you think it, it might happen. Don’t think it! Don’t!
    Joanne had her arms around Louise. They watched and sobbed as a seemingly invincible part of New York City came to an end. They stood together, watching the destruction of a city on television.

CHAPTER FIVE
    The Twenty-Second Floor
     
    “And I felt the walls crack, that I was next to…that was when I knew the building was going.
    I was just praying and praying. And then I felt the walls separate…”
    ~ Pasquale Buzzelli
    (on WB11 News)
     
    People around Pasquale stood still, their eyes huge and their mouths opened, as if breathing might bring on a second shaking. “We’ve got to go!” someone shouted.
    “We’re going to be trapped.”
    “Something’s going on…”
    Steve patted the air in the direction of the nervous crowd. “It’s gonna be all right. Don’t worry. We’ll go.”
    An older man, his face tight, pushed forward. He was an engineer, a member of the Port Authority Structural Integrity Group. He looked from face to face and shook his head. “The building’s unstable,” he warned, his voice ominous. “That’s why it’s shaking, hit the way it was.”
    A few of the women caught their breath, and one began to cry.
    Steve patted the air toward them, but his face bore the same fear as the others.
    The smoke trickled in through the hallway doors. No one breathed deeply. The wet rags over their mouths helped, albeit not enough. And nothing could help the fear or that shake of the building—of everything around them not being as it