United We Stand (9 page)

I looked at my watch. It was just a few minutes past one. If everything went the way it should we’d be back by four, five at the latest. We’d be back before any -body could discover where we’d been. There was no way I wanted my parents to find out. Especially not my mother. I knew that she’d be worried about my going into the city even under normal circumstances. But really, what could happen? It wasn’t like the towers were going to fall down again.

“Thanks for coming with me,” James said.

I changed seats so that I was sitting opposite, facing him. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I would. But you must be trying to figure out why I want to do this,” he said. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“That’s good, because I don’t think I could explain it to you, you know, put it into words.”

“I think maybe I know why you need to go.”

“You do?”

I nodded my head. “I think so.”

“So?”

I took a deep breath before starting. I wanted to make sure I said it right. “I was down there yesterday,” I began. “I was
in
the building. I almost died, and now, today, I’m watching it on the TV and it doesn’t seem real. It’s like some bad made- for-TV movie.” I paused again and thought carefully about what to say next. “You need to go down there because for you
none
of it seems real.”

“None of it,” he agreed. His voice was barely audible above the noise of the train.

“You need to go down there to see.”

For a split second I almost mentioned what my mother had said about open caskets to see the dead person, but I caught myself in time. There was no point in talking about dead people or caskets or funerals.

The train started to slow down as we came into the first station. There were only a few people waiting on the platform. It came to a stop, the doors opened, and we waited as nobody got onto our car.

“I’ve never seen it like this,” James said. “You know, almost nobody on the train.”

“Yeah, it is pretty empty.”

The doors closed and the train once again started moving. I stared out the window. It was then I noticed that it wasn’t just the train that was empty. Like our neighborhood, here, too, the streets were almost empty, stores and schools and businesses closed and dark. It was like there was some sort of holiday … although it was nothing like a holiday. I was going to say something about it to James, but he
was staring intently out the window and I didn’t want to bother him.

The door at the far end of the car opened and the conductor came in. He stopped at the first man, took his ticket, punched it, and then returned it to him. There were so few people that he wouldn’t have much work to do today. He quickly worked his way along the car until we were next.

The conductor looked as if he hadn’t slept. His eyes were red and he had a stubbly beard—he obviously hadn’t shaved.

“Tickets, please,” he asked.

James continued to stare out the window. He hadn’t heard or noticed the conductor.

“James,” I said, tapping him on the leg.

He turned to face me. He looked unsure, confused. He glanced up at the conductor but it was like he didn’t understand who he was or what he wanted.

“He wants our tickets.”

“Tickets? Didn’t you get the tickets?”

“Me? I gave you all my money, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

“So you boys don’t have tickets,” the conductor said.

“No, I’m sorry. We each thought that the other one had bought them,” I tried to explain, but it sounded pretty lame even to me.

“I’ve heard that story more than a few times,” the conductor said.

“It’s not a story, honest!” I suddenly had visions of us being arrested or given a big fine—they were allowed
to fine us about five hundred dollars each. “We could pay you now,” I pleaded. “James, give him the money.”

The conductor shook his head. “Keep your money. Today, it’s okay. Hard not to be distracted. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you so much. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s not worth worrying about. Not with everything that’s going on. What stop are you boys going to?”

“Grand Central,” I said.

“And from there?” he asked.

“We’re going south.”

“That could be a problem. The subways are running off schedule, and some of the lines have been closed down completely. Better to go on a surface route, take a bus. Besides, I’d be nervous getting on a subway right now. You know, they could be targeted.”

“Targeted for what?” I asked.

“Lots of rumors. Who knows what the terrorists are going to try to hit next?”

I felt a rush of fear surge through my body. I hadn’t thought about any of that. Yesterday we’d heard rumors of other attacks but nothing had happened. Of course, that didn’t mean something couldn’t happen today. People were talking about America being at war against the terrorists who’d done this, and it seemed like we were living in a world now where anything, absolutely
anything
, could happen.

“How far south are you going?” he asked.

“Down close to the bottom,” I said, without saying exactly where.

“Can’t get too far down. The whole southern tip has been barricaded off. It’s restricted to emergency personnel.”

“Thanks. That’s all good to know.”

That’s what I’d figured. And maybe now that James had heard it himself we could just turn around and go home.

“Take care, boys,” the conductor said. He started to walk away and then spun around. “I was just wondering,
why
are you boys going into the city today?”

I clearly knew the answer but I didn’t know what to say, or what I
should
say to him.

“The authorities have requested that anybody who doesn’t need to be in the city stay away,” he told us.

“We have to go,” I said.

“Yeah?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” James said. “My father is down there. He’s a firefighter.”

“Your father is one of New York’s bravest?” the conductor said.

James nodded.

“In that case, I have something for you two.” He took his pad and scribbled something on it. He ripped off the sheet and handed it to James. “You boys don’t need to buy a ticket on the way back, either. If you get stopped by a conductor you just give him this.”

“Thanks,” James said.

“No. Thank you, and thank your father. Good luck, boys.”

The train went underground as we got close to Grand Central, and the car got dim. I suddenly started to feel anxious all over. My chest began to tighten up, and I could feel my stomach starting to churn. That was stupid. I’d been on this train a hundred times, and a hundred times I’d entered the tunnel leading into the station, but now, today, I just felt unnerved … I couldn’t help thinking about those people who had been underneath the towers when they collapsed, the people in the concourse or in the subway below. Most of them would have been killed, but some of them might have been trapped. Right now, they’d be waiting
for rescuers. I couldn’t even imagine the terror of lying there in the dark. Praying … waiting either to be found or to die.

When the train glided into the platform and light spilled in through the windows again, the darkness and that anxious feeling went away as quickly as they had come. The doors opened and we went out to the platform along with the other passengers. There couldn’t have been more than twenty of us on the whole train. There was a strange quietness. It wasn’t just that there were so few of us, but also that nobody was talking. There was no noise. I could hear my feet against the platform as I walked.

Up ahead I could see two policemen waiting at the platform exit, stopping each person who tried to pass. They were looking through briefcases and purses. What were they doing that for? We joined the back of the line and shuffled forward. As we got closer I started to overhear what was going on. They were searching people, looking for weapons, looking for explosives.

It was hard to argue with that. To a terrorist, Grand Central Station, the transportation hub that connected New York City with every other town and city on the map, would have looked like a promising target. On ordinary days, there had to be hundreds of thousands of people passing through. But did I look like a terrorist? Did that woman they’d just searched, or the elderly man in line next? On CNN they’d said that the terrorists were sixteen men—four each from
the two planes that hit the World Trade Center, the one that attacked the Pentagon, and the one that went down in Pennsylvania—all from the Middle East. None of the people here on the train looked like they were … Well, that man three up from us did have a darker complexion. He could have been Muslim.

I watched as he was searched. I was close enough to hear some of the questions and answers. He didn’t seem to speak much English, and I was sure that they were taking longer to search his bag than they did the purse of the lady ahead of him. Finally they let him go. The next two searches took almost no time and we were up next.

“Hey, boys,” one of the officers said.

“No parcels or packages, right?” the second officer asked.

“No, nothing,” I said. I opened my jacket so they could see underneath.

“Go through,” the first officer said.

“Thanks.”

We moved along the corridor toward the big hall.

“Can you believe that?” James asked.

“I guess they just want to make sure. I’ve heard that a lot of people are worried about another attack.”

“Yeah, I know,” James said. “That’s why they grounded all aircraft. They were afraid another plane was going to be hijacked.”

“Like the four others.”

“Those people in Pennsylvania, they fought back,” James said.

“It didn’t help them.”

“But it did help the people on the ground. I just wish the passengers or crew on the first two planes had fought. Maybe the towers wouldn’t have been hit.”

“The people in those two planes, especially the first, they didn’t know what was going to happen. Who could have imagined that?” I said. I kind of felt as though I had to defend them.

“I guess nobody,” James admitted.

“And even if they had known, they hardly had any time to react,” I added. “In the fourth plane they had more warning.”

“They knew they were probably going to die,” James said, “but they were heroes. They made sure nobody else would die.”

“They
were
heroes.” I paused. “Like all the firefighters and all the police officers.”

We walked into the Great Hall of Grand Central. Both of us stopped walking and gawked at the sight. I’d been in Grand Central a hundred times and I’d never seen it like this. It was silent and practically empty. And of the few people who were there, most weren’t commuters passing through. Police and soldiers were all over the place. They were at every exit in pairs and groups. The soldiers were in fatigues with helmets and packs, and they were carrying rifles or machine guns.

“This is so unreal—it’s like an army movie or something,” James said quietly.

“I guess it should make me feel safe … but somehow …” I shrugged.

“Yeah, it’s sort of unnerving.”

“I guess this would be a natural target.”

“I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to even try to think like a terrorist. Let’s just get to the bus.”

We moved across the hall. I looked away from the soldiers and up to the painting of the constellations on the ceiling. I always thought that was so cool. We passed under the watchful eye of four soldiers standing at the door. They didn’t seem that interested in people leaving the building, but they were searching everybody who came in. They let us go without a word or a second glance.

We went through the door and onto the street. There were more soldiers holding rifles at some of the intersections. Except for the soldiers, the sidewalks were almost deserted, as were the roads, which held nothing more than a few taxis.

“Where do we catch the bus?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. When I come in it’s usually with one of my parents. How about if we just start walking south?”

“It’s got to be seventy blocks.”

“We won’t have to walk the whole way. We’ll just go down Park Avenue. We’ll look for a bus while we’re walking,” James said. “Besides, I can’t just stand and wait. I have to keep moving.”

“I guess that’s better.”

We started south and crossed 42nd Street—we hardly had to look; there was virtually no traffic at all. It was so
un
-New York.

“Can you smell it?” James asked.

“Yeah, it’s like somebody is burning garbage. The air is even a bit hazy.”

“This is New York,” James pointed out. “The air is always a little bit hazy.”

“I guess you’re …” My phone rang and I started, stifling a little yelp. I fumbled for the phone and pulled it out of my jacket. “Hello?”

“Hello, Will.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“You were going to check in,” she said.

“It’s been less than an hour,” I said.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right.” She sounded genuinely surprised. This had better not be a new phase, I thought, where she needed me to check in every hour like I did when I was twelve. That wasn’t going to be happening.

“I was just about to call,” I lied.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m good.”

“And James?” she asked.

“My mom says hello,” I said to James.

He nodded and waved.

“Oh,” my mother said. “He’s right there, so you can’t really talk about him … right?”

“Right. And James says hi to you, too.”

“Are you still just walking?” my mother asked.

“Still walking.” It was nice not to have to lie.

“Do you know when you’ll be home?”

“Can’t really predict that right now.” Again, that
was the truth. “I gotta go. Talk to you later.” I flipped my phone down and hung up.

“Maybe you should call your mother,” I said to James.

“Probably should.”

He pulled out his phone and took a seat on a bench. I moved off to the side. I wanted to give him some privacy. There was no telling what news he might get.

I looked to the south. I knew we’d traveled only a few blocks and were a long way away, but still, I thought maybe I’d be able to see something. Maybe if I moved into the center of the street or went to the boulevard in the middle, I could see farther. I stepped out onto the road but jumped back when a loud horn jarred me. A gigantic truck with a crane on its back was coming down the road. I’d been so distracted that I hadn’t even thought to look. I watched as it rumbled by. I expected the driver to make some sort of obscene gesture, but instead he waved and gave me a little smile. That was really strange—a polite driver in New York. He had to be a visitor to the city.