Rising from the Rubble (12 September, morning)

Since this month is the 25th anniversary of 9/11, I shared almost the entirety of “Charlotte’s Most Terrifying Prophecy,” from my magnum opus Cinnimin, in installments. Now I’m moving to “Rising from the Rubble,” which begins on the first day of After and follows the survivors as they heal and rebuild their lives. There’s an extreme content warning for the descriptions of news footage in Raizel’s segment.

The morning of September 12 dawned on a battle-scarred, wounded world torn asunder, populated by people left in a traumatized daze, shell-shocked, their emotions too raw and discombobulated to even make an attempt to try to begin making sense of what had happened to them yesterday, a day which had started in a world which now seemed to belong to a primordial era long agos and worlds apart, in the era of Before which had forever ended and been cruelly replaced by After.

But in the safe haven of the Poconos which Mancika, Ammiel, and the Brandts had sought healing refuge in last night, that precious world of Before seemed on the surface untouched. The fresh air, unblocked sunlight, unpolluted waters, undisrupted grass and trees, and scenery devoid of mushrooms clouds of sadness, toxic debris, and the haunting reminder of the presence of absence and the absence of presence, strongly stood as a defiant, powerful reminder of how life always stubbornly, insistently found a way of carrying on despite everything. Yesterday hadn’t been the end of the world, but rather merely the last day of an old world which existed no more and now lived only in memory.

Mancika awoke entangled with Ammiel as early morning light shone through the curtains. For a brief moment, she wondered where they were and what had happened. Then she remembered the events of yesterday and how the worst day of her life had ended as one of the most beautiful days of her life. Nothing had been a dream.

Ammiel stirred awake and gently stroked her face, his eyes bathed in adoration. Mancika responded by snuggling against him and wrapping her top arm around him more tightly.

“So this means you don’t regret anything we did last night and that you still love me as more than a friend,” he said in relief. “For the briefest moment, I couldn’t help wondering if you only reacted from the heightened emotions of yesterday. Deep down I knew that was as genuine as it comes, but it seems natural to feel some insecurities the morning after.” Ammiel ran his fingertips along her body.

“Now you’re back to being a beta,” she teased him. “Usually it’s the woman who feels insecure the next morning. You must be all alphaed out after everything you did yesterday.”

Ammiel grinned at her. “Believe me, I’ve still got plenty of alpha left in me. I can give you a morning treat right now to show you. A good night’s sleep was just what I needed to get all my energy back.”

[Sex scene redacted so I don’t get bounced off of WordPress.]

They lay in one another’s arms afterwards, catching their breath and gazing at one another. After a few minutes of afterglow, they coupled a second time, and then a third. Mancika couldn’t believe how lucky she was, and hoped they never evolved into a boring couple who took their togetherness for granted and were too busy with other things to partake of the physical side of their relationship on a regular basis, or even at all. They’d been so perfectly matched the entire time they’d known one another; it seemed utterly unfathomable that they might ever grow out of their young lovers phase, even when they were no longer young.

“As much as I wish I could spend all day in bed with you, we have important work to do.” Ammiel brushed a lock of hair out of her eye. “We need to unpack, start making this cabin a home, and wash our clothes from yesterday. Our new feline friend also needs fed and watered.” He looked down at the very pregnant stowaway cat still sleeping soundly on her nest of pillows. “Last but not least, we need to wipe down everything we touched yesterday. That’s probably a bit overkill, since only our clothes and the suitcases got significant dust on them, but better safe than sorry.”

“Can we have breakfast in bed before you do any of that?” Mancika nuzzled against him.

“That I can do. What would you like?”

She tried to remember what foods they’d brought, and unhappily remembered everything still sitting in her fridge in Tribeca, destined to rot unless someone broke in or the cops went from apartment to apartment recovering abandoned belongings and throwing out bad food. “Instant oatmeal in apples and cinnamon with dried apricots. Do you have any tea?”

“I took all my tea packets. Would you prefer raspberry, strawberry, orange, or ginger peach?”

“Ginger peach sounds best for my health. I still want to get my lungs checked as soon as possible.”

“Your wish is my command.” Ammiel kissed her and reluctantly dragged himself out of bed. “Everything will be just fine. By next month at this time, you’ll feel so much better, and yesterday will start seeming more like a distant nightmare that happened to someone else.”

Mancika slowly pulled herself up and reached for her robe, her only article of clothing that hadn’t been contaminated by all that frightening, foul dust. Ammiel was also putting his robe on. Though wearing her own clothes would help her to feel more normal again, there was a definite benefit to wearing only robes. There would be far fewer clothes to have to remove when the next urge struck them. Now Mancika understood why so many of her friends and Agnieszka had done that constantly in their early days of a sexual relationship. Just tasting those delights once or twice a day wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy one’s lustful hunger.

Ammiel presently returned to bed with a tray of two bowls of oatmeal, two cups of tea, a plate of dried apricots and pineapple rings, and two giant chocolate chip muffins. Also on the tray were miniature honey packets and sugar cubes.

“I bought the muffins when we stopped at the convenience store on the way here last night,” Ammiel explained as he put the tray over her lap. “I thought they’d be a nice surprise for you in the morning. There’s more food in the dining hall and restaurant.”

Mancika reached for a spoon. “I’d prefer to stay here with you as long as I can. I feel safe inside, protected from all the ugliness and evil lurking outside. Here, I’ll never had to run for shelter at a moment’s notice, and I know you’ll protect me.”

Ammiel ruffled her hair and got back into bed. “What happened yesterday was the kind of thing that only happens once in a lifetime. I’m really on-edge too, but we came to this place to heal and forget about the outside world.”

Mancika took a bite of oatmeal, followed by a sip of tea. She’d had almost no time to process the traumatic events of yesterday, and it felt almost as though they were just a horrific hallucination or bizarre nightmare. But despite her shellshock, she couldn’t deny the raw reality she remembered all too well, those images, scents, sounds, and experiences, and that primal feeling of fear that would reside in her brain as long as she drew breath, no matter how desperately she wanted to forget or pretend it had never happened. And when all was said and done, at least she was lucky enough to get out of New York and be in this peaceful sanctuary far from the scene of her trauma, and to have a very high percentage of her belongings with which to rebuild her life. So many other people were still stuck in that infernal city of doom and hadn’t been able to recover more than a few possessions before evacuation, if they’d even had homes to return to. Unlike her, they’d have no choice but to be confronted by the physical, visceral reminders of their ordeal every single day.

Raizel awoke in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room full of strange objects. Her confusion increased when she became aware of dull aches in her ribs and legs, two IVs in her left arm connected to nearly-empty bags of mystery fluids, and foreign objects in her lower leg bones and on the back of her head. Sitting on a chair was a large plastic bag, and her purse was on a nightstand. Then a sensation of shivering struck her, though she was covered by several blankets.

Only when she saw the teddybear and stuffed Dalmatian tucked under her arms did it slowly start to dawn on her. She wasn’t waking from the strangest dream of her life, but waking in the hospital she’d been taken to after the worst real-life experience ever. Instead of putting on some of the nice new clothes she’d bought for her new life at NYU, she had no choice but to wear an ugly hospital gown for the next few months, and instead of going to breakfast at one of NYU’s kosher eateries, she could only eat milkshakes, broth, and yoghurt for the near future. She wouldn’t be going to her part-time waitressing job at Windows on the World or her classes either. No one had any work in a building that no longer existed, and it was impossible to go to school in such an injured, traumatized state.

Raizel reached for the nearby remote control and turned on the TV, which was affixed to the ceiling by a moveable arm. The clock on the wall indicated 9:00, so there must be some talkshows on the air. Those were always fun to watch when she was home from school, even if her parents nagged about how they weren’t intelligent entertainment and probably featured some guests just making up wild stories for their fifteen minutes of fame.

Instead of the crazy, hilarious antics of Jerry Springer, Jenny Jones, Maury, Ricki Lake, or Sally Jessy Raphael, Raizel’s eyes filled with the sight of the macabre, sprawling pile of rubble she had very narrowly escaped being buried alive in. She’d only gotten a limited view from a safe distance in triage yesterday, but now she could see the entire pile stretched out on all sides, smoke and flames rising from it, a cruel commingling of tower walls, cement, shattered glass, wood, paper, metal, the gutted remains of buildings, and a strange thick dust coating everything. A menacing cloud held court in the air above, as though a nuclear bomb had gone off.

Charlotte’s Most Terrifying Prophecy (10:00 PM–12:00 AM)

Since this month is the 25th anniversary of 9/11, I’m sharing “Charlotte’s Most Terrifying Prophecy,” from my magnum opus Cinnimin, in installments. These posts are much longer than usual, but they’re all split into sections as the story is told montage-style.

Under the dimmed lights in her room, Raizel looked through the items in her purse. She’d been sleeping on and off since finishing her last milkshake, but was still too wound-up to let herself fall into a deep sleep. She also feared the nightmares that would doubtless come as soon as her weary body succumbed to the inevitable REM stage of sleep. Staying awake, even in a very drowsy state, would protect her from reliving the most horrifying day in her life, and looking at these objects would help to remind her she’d had a life before the apocalypse and that normalcy and happiness still existed out there somewhere. It might be a very long time till a semblance of the pre-apocalyptic world returned, but it would happen someday, after the darkness had lifted and healing light broke through.

Her parents had taught her to only put important things in her purse so it wouldn’t be weighted down unnecessarily or compel her to constantly dig through a lot of clutter to find something. Raizel, however, had always had other ideas, and not only filled up her purses with as much as they could hold without bursting the seams, but also bought the largest purses she could find and afford. This purse, which was almost as big as a totebag, came from a booth at a street fair Raizel had happened upon shortly after her arrival in the city a few weeks ago. She’d been drawn to the patchwork quilting in a rainbow of colors and how it was one of a kind, which appealed to her far more than any high-end luxury purse from a company like Dolce & Gabbana or Hermès. It was far better to be one in a million rather than one of a million.

Each item inside reminded her of the mundane, predictable life she’d taken for granted before 8:46 this morning and had naïvely assumed would indefinitely continue. The keys to her dorm and mailbox. The compact-sized prayerbook and Tehillim she’d received as a gift for her bat mitzvah in 1995. The 9×12 sketchbook and miraculously unbroken set of thirty-six Faber–Castell Polychromos colored pencils she’d bought at an independent art store Roger had recommended in the Village. A small storage case embroidered with bumblebees, containing several types of art erasers, her Faber–Castell pencil sharpener, a few graphite pencils which were also unbroken, four paintbrushes, and a blending stick with a hair-thin crack in the middle. The starter set of twelve Sennelier soft pastels she’d spent some of her high school graduation money on. A couple of blue ballpoint pens and regular pencils. An eight-ounce bottle of Poland Spring water. An unopened bag of jellybeans from the Jelly Bean Factory, hopefully devoid of pear, lemon and lime, and sour lemon flavors. Her blue hand-woven wallet, stuffed with money, her NYU student ID, the New Jersey state ID she carried in lieu of a driver’s license, her library cards, and her World Trade Center ID that was now useless. Her address book. A hand-sized notebook she put all sorts of miscellaneous notes in. An English translation of Ivo Andrić’s novel The Bridge on the Drina, which her grandmother Svetlana had highly recommended. A bentscher from her bat mitzvah, stamped on the cover with her name, the date, and the location in gold. A Sennelier watercolor pan of twenty-four colors gifted to her by her grandfather Jozef for her birthday in March. If she were going to be stuck here for the next few months, at least she could draw and paint to pass her time.

There was also a plastic bag with her dusty, smoky clothing on a chair. Raizel couldn’t see herself voluntarily wearing any of them after today, even if they were boiled, bleached, and beaten. The residue of smoke and dust might be completely eliminated, but the trauma, heartache, depression, and fear they’d absorbed could never disappear. The memories of today would cling to those clothes forever, constantly reminding her of the unforgettable.

A smaller bag with her jewelry was on the side table. She reached out for it, taking care not to tug on her IV lines, and gently shook out the contents, which had all been bought at the same street fair where she’d found her extra-large purse. A vintage silver mood ring with a huge oval stone. A painted enamel elephant brooch. Aquamarine earrings converted from outdated clip-ons to English lock closures with hinged levers. A much smaller pair of scarlet jasper earrings, one of the old March birthstones. A silver necklace with a large red jasper cabochon pendant, which somehow hadn’t flown off her neck when she was flung through the air.

Though a hospital wasn’t the typical place one had need of jewelry, Raizel nevertheless slipped the earrings on. Wearing them made her feel more like a human being after her sense of humanity had so violently been robbed from her, and as Hillel had written two millennia ago, “In a place where no one is a human, strive to be a human.” She couldn’t let the people who had tried to kill her succeed in crushing her spirit along with her bones. The survivors of this cataclysm would rise from the ashes and emerge even stronger, just as her older relatives had done two generations ago.

***

Dvora took her seatbelt off and opened the station wagon door the moment H.G. brought the vehicle to a stop. She sank onto her knees on the soft, clean, fresh grass and deeply breathed in the clear air while H.G. freed Naomi from the carseat and put her into the stroller. Since 9:37 this morning, when normalcy and her sense of safety had vanished, it seemed as though a thousand years had passed. Now here was a world untouched by any of those ugly, cruel, hateful things, a world where peace, comfort, and security still existed.

“Where are we?” Yael asked sleepily. “I hope the bad guys can’t find us here.”

“This place is called the Poconos,” H.G. explained. “This region is famous for its beautiful mountains, lakes, and hiking trails. Many people come here for vacations and honeymoons. I don’t think anyone will attack us here, since there are no obvious targets, and all planes are grounded.”

“You’ll have lots of children to play with,” Dvora said. “Some of your cousins are here, and more families may arrive after Wilhelm puts ads in newspapers. If we like this place enough, we may never return to Washington.”

“We can’t hide out here forever,” H.G. said. “This is just until everything settles down. I’m not interested in living the rest of my life on a commune in a rural hamlet, and I’m sure the girls prefer city life too. But as long as we are here, we’ll have lots of fun and won’t have to think about anything serious. Think of it like the reset button on a computer.”

Dvora pushed Naomi’s stroller while H.G. lugged two of their suitcases to the cabin specified by Wilhelm. Yael trudged along and fell asleep almost as soon as she was pointed into her bedroom. Dvora gently pulled her shoes and socks off while H.G. made a return trip for the sleeping Tehilla and Penina. By the time he arrived with the final pieces of luggage and locked the door, Dvora was running a bath.

“Care to let me join you?” H.G. asked.

Dvora looked up. “Sure, though I imagine taking a bath together isn’t nearly as fun and romantic as movies make it seem.”

“Since when have I ever been the type who takes my cues from romance novels and films?” H.G. inspected the tub. “This seems more than big enough for two. The honeymoon tradition of the Poconos is still alive and well, even in a cabin designed for a family.”

Dvora grabbed a shaker of bath salts and liberally sprinkled them into the water. “I don’t think we’ve had many chances to relax and be alone like a normal couple since even before we were married. So many things prevented that, and I was so used to us not being like everyone else, it never occurred to me to feel cheated until it was too late to do anything about it. Until we moved to Washington, I truly had no idea how unusual and laughable most modern people find it to marry your first and only partner, marry fresh out of high school, and almost immediately start having a whole slew of kids. Yet if we had it to do all over again, I couldn’t bring myself to not have our girls. They’re supposed to exist in exactly the way they were created. If they were born at different times, they wouldn’t be our same girls.”

“Aunt Cinni feels the same way about her kids. As open as she is about only four of them being planned, she can’t imagine not having those particular children. If she’d postponed motherhood, put longer spaces between her kids, or only had three or four, she wouldn’t have had the family she was destined to create. Even more than that, her kids wouldn’t have had their own kids, and they in turn wouldn’t have their same kids. It’s kinda like the time travel paradox, where making seemingly small changes leads to a radically different future. We can only know the destiny that was meant to unfold for us.”

Dvora tossed in a strawberry bath bomb. “I’m just glad our destiny wasn’t being killed today. That plane was flying so low, I thought it was about to crash on the road and kill everyone instantly.”

“I’m sure we’ll find out many more details in the coming weeks and months, though I’m not eager to watch the news or read the papers. Living through it was bad enough, and the attacks in New York sound even more apocalyptic.”

“You can sure say that again. I wish it had never happened, but it gave us a very dark blessing by sending us here.” Dvora turned off the faucets and swirled her hand in the water. “Now let’s start enjoying our unconventional delayed honeymoon.”

***

Mancika wrapped herself in the pink robe hanging on the bathroom wall and stepped into a pair of matching slippers. For the first time since 8:46 this morning, she was finally wearing clean clothes, untainted by smoke, dust, debris, trauma, and fear. She could never regain the state of mind she’d had early this morning, but it felt so good to be physically pure and shed those tainted garments. Now all she needed was a good night’s sleep, hopefully safe from nightmares, and she’d be one step closer to incrementally getting back to a semblance of normalcy.

When she entered the bedroom, the cat was curled up in a nest of throw pillows Ammiel had put on the floor, fast asleep. Mancika silently raged on behalf of all the animal survivors who’d been forced to endure so much terror and been chased from their own homes right alongside the humans. Her species wasn’t the only one that had suffered today and now desperately needed healing. Surely many other animals, probably all very small, had been killed too, with no way to escape in time or understand what was going on.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Ami?” she asked as she sank onto the bed.

Ammiel took her hand and began speaking in a shaking voice. “I’m sorry if I sound like a broken record, but all those hours when I had no idea where you were or if you were even alive were the worst moments of my life. Until then, I never realized just how much you mean to me, and what the thought of losing you could do to me. Maybe these feelings were brought on by the drama of today, but I think it’s more like today’s events helped them come to the surface and made them impossible to deny. Feelings like that don’t just arise out of nowhere in the heat of a crisis, particularly not from someone like me. The more I think about it, the more it seems like they were there for a long time and developed so naturally and gradually I wasn’t aware of them. When the realization hit me today, it was the most obvious thing in the world. We’ve always been such perfectly-matched twin souls, more than ordinary best friends. Now I know we need each other. Losing you would’ve been like having all my oxygen cut off. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Mancika squeezed his hand. “I knew what you were going to say even before you started, and your answer is yes. I could tell your feelings for me had changed after you saved me from the rubble, and I instinctively realized I felt the same way too all of a sudden. Like you said, it seems so right and natural, like we were always meant to be together in every single way, even when we genuinely believed we were just super-close opposite-sex best friends all these years. It doesn’t seem like we even have to transition from best friends to a couple, since it’s just the natural next step that happened without us being aware of it.”

His face flooded with relief. “You have no idea how worried I was, thinking you’d laugh at me and insist I wasn’t thinking straight in the heat of the moment. I was afraid this might end our friendship forever or create an awkwardness between us.”

Mancika put her other hand on his shoulder. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with. I was also afraid this might spoilt our friendship, but we’ve always been so perfect together, this can only make our bond stronger.”

Her heart pounded in unison with his as they kissed as lovers instead of friends for the first time. From the very first moment, it felt so right and perfect, and she knew she never wanted to be with anyone else. She and Ammiel had been specially created just for one another, though it had taken seven years for them to finally realize this.

[Sex scene redacted so I don’t get bounced off of WordPress.]

“I love you,” he declared after he rolled onto his back. “That was the best experience of my life. I couldn’t imagine doing that with anyone else.”

Mancika put her head on his shoulder and wrapped her free arm around him. “I love you too, Ami. That was incredible. I can’t wait to try that again. Who knew such a powerful tiger lurked inside of you.”

Ammiel stroked the side of her face. “I had no idea I could do any of that either. Once the initial awkwardness passed, I lost all my inhibitions and let my animal urges take over. I’ve heard most women don’t get off from just that, so I used a few tricks I read about. Not that I would’ve minded getting you off in other ways afterwards, but I wanted that manly validation the first time.”

“Believe me, you’re all man where it really counts. You’re a beta in the streets but an alpha in the sheets.”

“Do you mind if your alpha feels too exhausted to do that again tonight? That took all my energy out of me.”

Mancika kissed him. “You’ve more than earned a good night’s sleep after everything you did today. Until this trial by fire, I never realized just how strong you are in so many ways. I’m the one who couldn’t think straight and refused to leave a danger zone until it was almost too late.”

Ammiel held her a little tighter. “You’re the one who personally experienced things I only heard about or saw from a distance. Only a very strong person could survive all that and stay until the last possible moment. I’ll never take you for granted after I came so close to losing you.”

“I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful best friend. There’s no one else I want to belong to. It really is true that couples are matched up before they’re born and created just for each other, even when they’re too in denial to realize how perfect they are.”

“It doesn’t matter how long it took us to figure it out. All that matters now is that we’re finally united in every single way and have the rest of our lives together to look forward to.”

Mancika turned her head to check the time on the nightstand alarm clock. Never before had she been happier and more relieved to see both hands standing straight up. Today hadn’t been the end of the world if midnight could arrive to usher in a brand new day. The passage of time could never erase the past or the pain, but it would gradually ease the rawness and intensity. Darkness only lasted as long as the nighttime, and never failed to fade away with the arrival of daylight.

And thus it was that the day of Charlotte’s most terrifying prophecy finally came to its end and was mercifully replaced by September 12, imbued with a heaping helping of hope and the powerful promise of starting over. One of the darkest days in history may have thrown the survivors down to the saddest, ugliest, most depressing and hopeless place possible, but the only way out was up, up, up through happier, more beautiful and hopeful places, until at last they emerged from the darkness of the rubble to behold again stars.

Sunday Snippets—Lara’s sermon

Though the long-running Weekend Writing Warriors seems to be officially over for all intents and purposes, I’ve decided to keep its spirit alive by sharing my own snippets on Sundays. There are no more rules about a certain number of lines, so we get to decide how much to include now!

Since this month is the 25th anniversary of 9/11, I’ve been sharing “Charlotte’s Most Terrifying Prophecy,” from my magnum opus Cinnimin, in installments. The final installment will be tomorrow, so for today I’m changing to “Rising from the Rubble,” which begins on the first day of After, as I call it.

It’s now the third day of After, 14 September, and Rabbi Lara Brandt-van Acker, the sixth of Gary Brandt’s seven children, is giving a sermon at Friday night services in the safe haven many of the characters have escaped to in the Poconos.

“Tomorrow we’ll be reading Parashah Nitzavim, which talks about how Divine retribution will rain down on those who turn away from God and join the idol-worshippers so common in Antiquity,” Lara began. “I’m sure there are fundamentalist rabbis who’ll use this connection to claim Tuesday’s events were a punishment for supposed sins, but I refuse to go down that route. Instead, I’d like to focus on the last few lines. God says he has put before us life and death, blessing and curse, and begs us to choose life, that we may long endure.

“Since Tuesday, we have seen the very best of human nature come to the fore, and people performing acts of righteousness and lovingkindness simply because they’re the right things to do. People have particularly done good deeds for strangers they owed nothing to, like the firemen who carried my niece Raizel down ninety-one flights of stairs, and everyone who evacuated survivors across the Hudson when the only way off Manhattan was by boat. We’ve also read in the papers and seen on TV many other great, noble acts not just in New York and Washington, but across the entire country and even around the world.

“In the coming weeks and months, I’m sure we’ll hear many more such stories reaffirming our faith in humanity. Though we’re morally behooved to remember the evil acts of Tuesday and those who were lost, we’re equally compelled to remember and bear witness to the good of humanity that was awakened and demonstrated so amply. The enemies who attacked us wanted to destroy us, but they only physically destroyed buildings. They didn’t destroy our human decency and love for one another, and we’ll make full use of that inherent goodness as we move forward, rebuild, and heal.”

Charlotte’s Most Terrifying Prophecy (9:30–10:00 PM)

Since this month is the 25th anniversary of 9/11, I’m sharing “Charlotte’s Most Terrifying Prophecy,” from my magnum opus Cinnimin, in installments. These posts are much longer than usual, but they’re all split into sections as the story is told montage-style.

Stars twinkled in the clear night sky as Mancika staggered out of the VW bus on Ammiel’s arm. She knew they were somewhere in Pennsylvania, based on the road sign welcoming them to the state, but not the exact location. Though regardless of where this was, it really did seem like the perfect place to unplug from the madness she’d escaped, and the total opposite of the concrete jungle she’d loved so much until this morning. There were soft grass and dirt paths underfoot instead of sidewalks layered in mystery dust; a gentle breeze was blowing healing fresh air instead of acrid, toxic filth composed of God knew what; the sky retained its natural color instead of being painted an unnatural, ugly grey; insects chirped in place of blaring fire engines and police sirens; all the buildings were between one and three stories high instead of ascending dangerously far up into the sky and making escape uncertain; and clusters of tall trees, big rock formations, a waterfall, and mountains were visible in the background in place of flaming, torn-apart ruins and a phantom presence in the wounded skyline. The wind hadn’t carried that grotesque mushroom cloud here, and this didn’t seem like a place any terrorist would want to attack, let alone even know existed.

“Are we in the Poconos?” Mancika guessed.

“Indeed we are,” Ammiel said. “Once we’re in our cabin, you can finally have a proper shower and get rid of the last of that dust. In the morning, we can start exploring the grounds, and maybe you’ll be up to going into nearby Stroudsburg. Wilhelm says their downtown is wonderful. This place has a small farm with rescued animals and food we can harvest for our own.”

Mancika leaned against the bus as the two moving trucks were unloaded and Wilhelm directed people into cabins. Until this morning, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere but a huge, bustling metropolis that never slept and always had something fun and exciting to see or do, but the horrors she’d lived through had changed her perspective on many things, perhaps forever. She couldn’t fathom ever getting back to a headspace where she felt truly safe and relaxed. Now there was only today and everything afterwards, the old world of normalcy and this terrifying, twisted new world unleashed in its infernal wake.

“This place is a work in progress, but it’s intended as a mix of resort, summer camp, and self-sustained commune that’s affordable for the common people,” Ammiel said when he returned after moving all their luggage into the cabin. “Wilhelm and his family bought part of the land and one of the cabins last year, in the hopes of transforming it into the kind of place Tamiment was in its glory days. The family who spearheaded the project lives here full-time. There’s also an inn with a big common room with lots of books, games, and sporting equipment.”

“This seems almost too good to be true.” Mancika continued looking around in wonder. “Are you really sure we can stay here indefinitely?”

“Wilhelm wouldn’t have taken us here if we couldn’t. Once he places those ads in the papers, more people will start coming here, and it’ll feel like more of a real community. We never have to go back to New York, or move anywhere else, if you don’t want to.”

Mancika took his hand and followed him to their cabin. The cat walked alongside them and darted inside as soon as Ammiel opened the door, settling down on a dark red rug. Mancika put Bugs on a chair next to the rug.

“We should bag up our clothes first,” Ammiel said. “Who knows what’s in that dust on them. They need to be washed separately and kept away from our other clothes. Then we need to wipe down or wash anything else that got dust on it and let it air out.”

“Before we do that, I ought to phone my mother. She’ll want to know where I am and that I got here safely, particularly after our earlier conversation ended so abruptly. I should also call my other family to check in. Presumably my mother already told them I’m alive, but they’ll appreciate hearing from me personally.”

“In that case, maybe I should shower first. It’ll take awhile for you to finish all those calls.” Ammiel patted her shoulder. “Just shout for me if you need anything.”

Mancika tapped the number into Courtnie’s phone and paced back and forth as she waited for someone to pick up. The entire day, she’d been cut off from the outside world, and now desperately needed confirmation it still really existed, even if a giant, gaping, yawning chasm had opened between herself and anyone who hadn’t been there. Perhaps someday she might rejoin that other world on the surface level.

“Hello, who’s calling?” Judi Kate asked.

“This is Mancika. I’m in the Poconos with Ami and the Brandt-van Ackers. We plan to stay here indefinitely, until we’re assured it’s safe to return to New York, though I’d just as soon never leave this place. Did Mother tell the rest of the family I’m okay?”

“Yes, she phoned and e-mailed everyone. There are probably lots of e-mails waiting for you. What was it like to see all that in person? We only saw it being replayed on TV after we were sent home from school, and they only showed the buildings on fire and collapsing. Lally’s already drawing pictures of it.”

Mancika almost choked. “Why would she want to draw that? Bad enough I had to watch it and run for my life over and over again! This was a real event, not an abstract subject!”

“You know her, she loves anything depressing or macabre. I don’t think there’s any danger of this suddenly becoming her favorite artistic subject after so many years of loving spiders, bats, and ravens. She’s a Goth through and through.”

“Tell her not to show me any of those pictures. Right now I just want to forget today ever happened, and don’t need any reminders of it. I still don’t know where my roommate is. I’m calling from her cellphone, which she left at home. The entire day seems so surreal and unreal, I keep thinking maybe the whole thing was just the worst nightmare of my life, and I’ll wake up any minute in my apartment in Tribeca. Then I’ll go to breakfast at Windows on the World with Courtnie, spend the morning at the mall, go to my classes, have lunch with Ami, and go home in the early evening, an ordinary day like any other. Please don’t ask me to talk about what happened. I already gave my testimony to a news reporter while I was waiting for a boat and asked a photographer to take my picture. That’s my limit of revisiting this experience.”

After a few minutes of smalltalk, Judi Kate put Ophelia on the phone, and Mancika repeated the update about being in the Poconos and not wanting to return to New York anytime soon if she could help it. Before she hung up, she promised to e-mail Agnieszka, Dora, and Rózsika tomorrow.

Her next call was to her paternal grandparents, the call she’d mentally scheduled after that odd feeling this morning, before the apocalypse had been unleashed. Mancika had innocently assumed that gnawing feeling so similar to the one her grandmother had described on the eve of her own world radically changing was because someone in the family might be sick or about to die, or maybe that there was an upcoming divorce, economic recession, anything but the terror she’d lived through.

“Hello, Grandma,” she said breathlessly as soon as Cinnimin answered. “This is Mancika, calling from the Poconos. I had a very strange feeling of dread and foreboding this morning, like the one you had at the Woolworth Building observation deck, wishing that moment might last forever, or wanting to wrap it up and put it in my pocket to revisit when times get tough. I never dreamt I was about to experience the most terrifying day of my life. Is there anything in Charlotte’s book about this? I wanted to call and ask you about it when I had that funny feeling.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Yes, I just saw that prophecy for the first time last night, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I thought you, all the Brandts who live in New York, and H.G. and Dvora’s family were about to die.”

“Do you mind reading it to me? I’d prefer never to relive those things as long as I live, but I’d like to know what exactly she wrote.”

“I memorized it from reading it so many times while I watched the nonstop news today.” Cinnimin paused again. “‘On the morning of the eleventh day of the ninth month of the second year of the twentieth millennium, flying machines steered by zealous religious fanatics from the Levant shall attack New Amsterdam’s towers of mercantilism and the national capitol’s pentagonal military fortress. The sky shall be swollen with fireballs of immense size, rising high into the heavens and fanning out in all directions, commingled with heavy, dark, acrid clouds of smoke taking away the pure air. Many buildings in the vicinity shall also suffer great damages from fire and heavy objects crashing and gashing into them.

“‘Just shy of three thousand innocent souls shall perish on the day of the attacks, and as many as twenty-five thousand shall suffer injuries. For five months, foul, poisonous dust shall penetrate the air closest to the site of the cataclysm, and a fire shall burn for nearly one hundred days. In future years, nefarious sicknesses caused by the poisonous miasma shall sicken half a million people or more, and many of the afflicted shall die of their ailments.’”

“I’ve got lung cancer!” Mancika screamed. “I just knew that toxic dust made me sick! I was there for hours and hours, breathing it in all day! Does Charlotte say anything about how long I’ll live and when I’ll be diagnosed?”

Ammiel came running out of the bathroom, wearing one of the robes that came with the cabin. “Calm down, Manci. It’s far too early to assume you automatically got cancer, but if you’re that worried, I’ll take you to a doctor as soon as possible.”

“My fourteen-greats-grandma said more than half a million people will get sick and die from the poisoned air!” Mancika’s voice became faster and faster, higher and higher, shriller and shriller. “She foresaw everything that happened today, and all her other prophecies about my family and the world have come true down to the letter! She said almost three thousand people died! Courtnie might be among them! And that disgusting dust won’t go away for five months, and the fire won’t go out for a hundred days! I was right on the pile of ruins, breathing in that scent up-close and personal! My lungs are ruined because I just had to stand around waiting for Courtnie to come out! Maybe she never noticed her phone missing, and she died in the collapse! I got sick and experienced all that terror for nothing! If we’d remained enemies, this never would’ve happened!”

Ammiel wrapped his arms around her. “You stood vigil all morning because you’re a very good person and loyal to your friends. If you and Courtnie had gone your separate ways after Columbia, you might’ve been there for a different person or reason. It was almost impossible to avoid that smell entirely, even uptown and in the other boroughs. The most important thing is that we’re well out of the way of it now, and won’t return until it’s guaranteed safe.” He took the phone from Mancika and put it up to his ear. “May I ask to whom I’m speaking?”

“This is her grandma Cinnimin Kevorkian. She wanted to know if there was anything about today’s events in a very old book written by an ancestor with a gift of prophecy, and I confirmed it. The first time I saw that section was last night, and it left me so terrified I could barely sleep. I truly believed Mancika and the New York Brandts were all about to die, and that my nephew H.G. and his family in Washington would be killed as well.”

“You’ll never guess where I found Manci.” Ammiel pulled her in closer with the arm not holding the phone. “Prowling around on top of the mountain of flaming ruins, looking for her roommate and Raizel Brandt-van Acker. And before that, she spent the morning across the street and had very narrow escapes from both collapses. She was in the mall when everything started, and she refused to go home to safety. I don’t want to think about what might’ve happened to her if I hadn’t found her when I did. Manci often had breakfast at Windows on the World, and I was terrified she was trapped up there. Wilhelm and I had to help her onto the boat taking us to Jersey and put her lifejacket on for her, and when the boat docked, we practically carried her off. We’re staying in the Poconos as long as it takes for the city to be cleaned up.”

“That’s an excellent idea. You were right to distance yourselves from that poisoned air immediately. I’m sure the powers that be will try to downplay its seriousness so they can get back to business as usual as soon as possible and not scare people, just like they did when Three Mile Island melted down. Maybe this isn’t quite the same as a nuclear reactor disaster, but those clouds of dust I saw on the news must be composed of all sorts of toxic stuff, and they’re blowing through the entire area. I don’t want one of my own grandchildren to be one of those people who gets sick from it and dies before her time. She, you, and everyone else with you must get your lungs checked as soon as you can. Lung diseases are nothing to fool around with. The earlier they’re detected, the higher chances you have for survival. Hopefully none of you caught anything, but better safe than sorry. Take it from someone whose generation smoked like chimneys and didn’t think all those cigarettes had any negative health effects.”

“Trust me, I’ll see to it. It’s my manly duty to take care of Manci, and I take that responsibility very seriously. Once we get a little settled down here, we’ll look for a good local doctor. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her.”

“Can I talk to my grandma again?” Mancika asked. “I need to say goodbye to her before I scrub off all this filth. I don’t want Courtnie’s phone bill to be too high or use up her battery.”

“Sure thing.” Ammiel handed it back to her and let go of her. “Let me know if you need any help. I’ll clean the tub tomorrow to get rid of the last of the dust.”

Mancika numbly put the phone to her ear as Ammiel went into the bedroom. “Can you believe the change in him, Grandma? This is as close to an alpha male as he’ll probably ever get, and I must say I really like it. If he hadn’t taken charge of the situation, I’d still be searching that pile of rubble or aimlessly wandering around the city. When push comes to shove, he knows how to be active and assertive instead of debating politics and philosophy nonstop.”

“You can sure say that again. Beyond what he said to me and what you both described, I detected a change in the tone of his voice.”

“Was it that obvious?” Mancika asked in Armenian, which she was positive Ammiel didn’t understand more than a few random words of. “I thought only I could sense that. His entire demeanor towards me is different, like he suddenly sees more as more than his best friend. We’ve always had such an unusually intimate relationship and never thought of each other as anything but very close friends, but now it’s like that love has mutated into romantic interest. Ami hasn’t said anything to betray such thoughts, but it seems obvious what’s on his mind deep down. I never saw this coming a mile away, but today was so intense, he can’t be thinking clearly. Once this all calms down, we’ll be back to our old type of love and friendship.”

“And what if you don’t go back to exactly how you used to be? Everyone who’s ever observed you together has thought you’d be a perfect couple and that you’re in denial of just how close this friendship really is. Max has been my best male friend since before I could remember, but we never slept in the same bed, said ‘I love you,’ kissed on the lips for several minutes, or saw each other naked like you and Ammiel. Opposite-sex best friends have lines they don’t cross if they’re not interested in each other as more than just friends. Do you act like that with any of your female friends?”

“No, I don’t have the same kind of soul connection with any of them that I’ve always had with Ami. I think I love him as more than my best friend too, but everything would be spoilt if we tried dating and it didn’t work out. How can people go back to just being friends after they’ve been together romantically?”

Cinnimin didn’t attempt to stifle a laugh. “Ask Max and any of our friends he slept with before finally growing the hell up and committing to Allie full-time. Or ask Sparky and Krzyś, Tina and Harry, anyone who realized they were better as friends than a couple. That’ll always be part of their memories, but they don’t constantly think about it so many years later. You and Ammiel, though, don’t seem like the type of couple to decide you’re better-off being only friends.”

“It does seem like the natural next step, as though it just happened without either of us being aware of it. But now everyone will say ‘I told you so’ and refuse to believe we really were just best friends all these years.”

“Do you really care what anyone else thinks? They’re not the ones in the relationship, and aren’t inside your minds. You and Ammiel will know the truth, even if everyone else proclaims themselves authorities on what really happened.”

“When do you think I should tell him, if he doesn’t bring it up first?”

“If he remains as decisive and assertive as you say he’s been all day, I bet his declaration won’t be long in coming. All men get a primal thrill out of marking their territory, even if the woman is the one to make the first move. Just think, if you declare your mutual love tonight, something happy will have come out of this terrible day, a beautiful new beginning in the midst of so much destruction, and you’ll always remember today as more than just the day you narrowly escaped Death. After what you’ve gone through, those three little words can hardly be the scariest experience of your life.”

“No, but it’s scary in a different way. If Ami really doesn’t feel the same way, or if we fail as a couple, it’ll be really awkward for a long time.”

“I can’t think of many other opposite-sex best friends who’d make a better couple than you. It’s been so obvious the entire time you’ve known each other, like you were matched up before you were conceived.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Mancika moved the phone away from her ear at the sound of a strange tone, and saw “Battery low” on the screen. “I’ve got to go, Grandma,” she said in English. “The phone needs recharging. I’ll call again later this week.”

“Sure, have a good night. Don’t forget what I told you.”

Mancika went into the bedroom and handed Ammiel the phone. “Do you mind recharging this for me while I shower? We did so much talking today we drained the battery to almost nothing. Courtnie’s charger is in her jewelry box.”

“Your wish is my command.” Ammiel took the phone from her. “Don’t forget to put your clothes in the plastic bag. It’s in the bathtub.”

Mancika went into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door, and frantically pulled her clothes off as though they were toxic waste. She flung them into the plastic bag and tied it off as tightly as possible, wishing she could burn all those clothes instead of washing them. Even if every last microscopic speck of dust was washed off, those pieces of fabric would still bear the memories of today, representing wounds that couldn’t heal as easily as wounds healed on bodies or hearts. Things had longer memories than people.

The moment she stepped under the running shower, she flashed back to the mall’s broken pipes and sprinkler system spraying out water as thick tidal waves of smoke and big fireballs marauded through the halls. She gasped for breath as she shut off the shower with shaking hands. Once the water had stopped, she sank onto the shower floor, buried her head in her hands, and drew deep breaths, trying to remember to keep breathing in and out so she wouldn’t hyperventilate.

“Was there a problem with the water?” Ammiel called. “I didn’t think I’d used up all the hot water.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever take a shower again! It’ll always remind me of all that water pouring down in the mall, doing nothing to put out the fire and smoke blocking all the exits! The whole building shook like there was an earthquake, and a deafening boom rent the air, and we were all screaming and running like we were one person, and when people finally came to direct us out, the plaza was littered with dust, debris, and body parts!” Her voice became more and more ragged as she struggled to breathe. “I looked up and saw a huge gash torn in the building I’d just escaped, with more smoke and fire pouring out, and then someone jumped out and turned into nothing but watermelon guts! I’ll see today’s events in my nightmares forever!” She looked up at the sound of running water and saw Ammiel standing by the bathtub.

“Do you think you can get into the tub by yourself, or do you need me to help you? If you’re too shaken-up, I don’t mind washing you.”

She pulled herself up on wobbling legs, grabbed a fluffy white towel hanging by the shower, and wrapped it tightly around herself. “I think I can manage to bathe myself without your assistance. Let me have some dignity.”

“Okay, if you insist.” Ammiel draped several washcloths over the tub and put a thick, round bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo, and Mancika’s fingernail brush in the caddy hanging on the side. “After you’re done, I need to talk to you about something very important.”

A wave of numbness swept through Mancika. Unless she had severely misread the situation, this conversation very probably had something to do with Ammiel’s changed feelings towards her. But since she wasn’t one hundred percent sure, she refrained from saying she had something important to speak with him about too, or that she had a good feeling what he wanted to talk about and that her answer was yes. If her hunch were correct, such a comment would rob Ammiel of the primal thrill of being the first to declare his intentions and further shed his beta male personality.

When the tub finished filling, Ammiel gave her a little smile and left the room. Mancika dropped the towel onto the floor and stepped into the tub. The warm water washing over her skin instantly lifted off dust particles that had escaped the search and destroy mission in the bathroom of the restaurant, or that had been hiding under her clothes all day. Before long, the water was black. Mancika was relieved Ammiel didn’t have to see this as she drained the tub.

During her second bath, she scrubbed every square inch of her skin as hard as possible with a soapy washcloth and scrubbed under her nails until they almost drew blood. The water turned black again, but not as dark or copiously as before. She drained and filled it once more, with the end result that the water only turned a lighter shade of grey. Slowly but surely, all that depressing, disgusting dust was relinquishing its macabre, oppressive hold over her.

The water finally stayed clear during her fourth bath, and the new washcloth didn’t pick up any filthy residue. She took advantage of this to wash her hair, using three lathers just to make absolute sure no speck of dust was missed. Her mind, heart, and soul still felt soiled beyond belief, but her physical shell had regained its former state, the way it had been before such a great evil was unleashed and divided the world into Before and After. Purging herself of the dust made her feel like a real human being again, not someone defined solely by surviving a terrorist attack.

Charlotte’s Most Terrifying Prophecy (7:30– 8:15 PM)

Since this month is the 25th anniversary of 9/11, I’m sharing “Charlotte’s Most Terrifying Prophecy,” from my magnum opus Cinnimin, in installments. These posts are much longer than usual, but they’re all split into sections as the story is told montage-style.

Adam stumbled through the door of his house and dropped his hosed-off briefcase onto the shoe tray. Golda immediately rushed forward to hug him, and Basya and Rifka hugged him from the sides. Jozef, Svetlana, and Mrs. Jurić also came forward, their faces etched with uncertainty.

“We made get-well cards for Raizel,” Basya said. “When can we visit her? I wish she’d been able to come home with you.”

“I begged her doctor to let me do that, but he insisted she needs to stay in the hospital. Only people like cops, doctors, and firefighters are allowed below Canal Street for the near future. Everyone else who lives and works there had to evacuate.”

“I imagine you don’t have to go to work tomorrow, even if you’re well above Canal,” Jozef said. “A lot of schools and workplaces here are closed too.”

“I have no idea when the ad agency will reopen. I hated having to leave Raizel all by herself, but hopefully we’ll be able to visit sooner rather than later. All my siblings and their families also decided to leave the city, which means Raizel won’t have anyone to visit her except the firemen who saved her.”

“What are their names, and what’s their firehouse address?” Rifka asked. “We need to make them thank-you cards and buy them gifts. It must’ve taken a lot of strength to carry her down over a hundred flights of stairs.”

“Ninety-one,” Adam corrected her. “Raizel wasn’t in the restaurant when it happened. She was looking at the modern art before her shift started, which may have saved her life. I hate thinking about such a thing, but Raizel might’ve been on the highest floor of survival. She didn’t hear anyone coming down the stairs in all that time she was trapped under a desk, and so many people couldn’t have all evacuated in the few minutes her ears were ringing after the plane hit.”

“They probably took the elevators or evacuated by the roof,” Basya said. “You shouldn’t think so fatalistically and assume the worst. We all prayed for everyone before we were sent home from school, and then we went to synagogue to pray some more.”

“Yes, that’s probably what happened,” Golda said, looking meaningfully at Adam. “I’m sure the newspapers will publish a list of survivors, and everyone will eventually be accounted for. It’s too chaotic to know anything for certain now.”

“Can we send Raizeleh care packages or arrange for florists and bakeries in the city to deliver things to her?” Svetlana asked. “When we’re cleared to visit in person, we’ll bring more gifts.”

“Right now, the most important thing for Raizel is to physically recover from her worst injuries and not feel so depressed,” Adam said. “Can you believe she wanted her legs to be cut off rather than having surgery to fix them? Those metal things that were temporarily installed do look odd, but they won’t be there forever. By next year at this time, she’ll be walking again on her own real legs. She doesn’t need prosthetics when modern surgery was able to save both legs.”

“Did you take any pictures?” Rifka asked.

Adam shook his head. “I didn’t have a camera. But speaking of technology, the events of today convinced me of the importance of owning a cellphone. Your mother and I will be buying them as soon as we do some research, and Raizeleh will also get one. They’re not nearly as expensive as they used to be, and it was wrong of me to assume I’d never need to call anyone or receive a call from a portable device. The world is changing so much from the way it was when I was growing up.”

Basya’s eyes lit up. “Can Rifka and I get cellphones too? They come in so many pretty colors, and the newest ones have games.”

“That’s not the reason to buy a phone,” Golda said. “Perhaps we’ll buy you one as a high school graduation present in three years, but there’s no reason you need one now. You can always call us from a payphone in an emergency.”

“Have you heard anything about your father, Adam?” Jozef asked. “I never suspected Gary had a heart condition or was at risk for a stroke.”

“I haven’t been able to get in touch with anyone in Atlantic City,” Adam said. “They must all still be at the hospital.”

“Uncle Omri has a cellphone,” Basya said. “Why don’t you call him?”

“I could only get the call through if he’s not in the hospital. Cellphones emit waves that interfere with medical equipment.”

“You could at least try,” Golda said. “Maybe he’s in the cafeteria or another area of the hospital that doesn’t have sensitive machines. Visiting hours will be over soon, so he might be home by now. The sooner he knows Raizeleh is alive, and the sooner we know he’s alive and in stable condition, the better.”

***

Omri was browsing the aisles of the hospital gift shop when his phone rang. He stepped outside to answer, hoping he wouldn’t be reprimanded for having a personal conversation within earshot.

“Omri, it’s Adam. I just got home after the worst day of my life. Did any of our siblings get in touch with you about Raizel? The last I heard, none of them had been able to reach anyone in Atlantic City.”

“I just spoke with Lara, and she gave me the wonderful news. As soon as we can, we’ll go to visit Raizel and send her lots of cards and presents. I have good news of my own to convey. Vati’s heart attack wasn’t caused by anything serious, though he needs to remain here for observation for a few more days. It was a classic case of stress and heartache, not a real heart condition. He didn’t even need surgery.”

“Praise God. Does he have a phone in his room? I can phone Raizel’s hospital and ask them to give her the contact information.”

Omri provided Gary’s room number and Atlantic City Medical Center’s phone number. After they exchanged a few more details about Gary and Raizel’s respective medical situations, they ended the call and Omri went back into the gift shop. Even the world’s most lavish, expensive present couldn’t make up for or erase the horrors of today, but it could help to lift his niece’s wounded spirits and make her feel more fully human again.

***

Raizel was nursing another chocolate peanut butter banana milkshake when Kim came into the room with a large teddybear in an FDNY uniform, complete with hat, and a stuffed Dalmatian. Her eyes lit up.

“Someone from the fire department delivered these, along with a note,” Kim said. “They’re yours to keep.”

Raizel tucked the bear onto her left side and the dog on her right side. She opened the folded note as she sucked her milkshake up a straw.

Dear Raizel,

We thought you’d appreciate these cuddly friends to help with keeping you company and making you feel better while you’re in the hospital. Our firehouse has a supply of stuffed animals and dolls to give to children who survived fires and other emergencies. When we told our chief we wanted to give you some too, despite your age, he agreed you more than deserve them as much as any child. We’ll come to visit you as often as we can, and when you’re able to walk again, we’ll give you a tour of our firehouse and a free jacket and shirt.

Very sincerely yours,

Your friends Leon and Jeremy

“Your uncle Omri also called the front desk and asked us to give you the hospital phone number and room number for your grandfather in Atlantic City,” Kim said. “He’d like you to call as soon as possible.” She handed Raizel an NYU Downtown Hospital business card with the information written on the back. “After you’re done on the phone and finish your milkshake, you should probably try to get some sleep. It’s the best thing for you. Your night nurse will do her best to avoid waking you up when she comes to check your vitals.”

Raizel reached for the phone with her right hand, careful not to lean too far over she risked pulling on the IVs in her left arm. She pressed in the eleven numbers on the card, grateful this phone was touch-tone instead of rotary dial and thus didn’t require her to wrench her arm around over and over again. When a receptionist answered, Raizel provided Gary’s room number.

***

Gary stared at the ringing phone on his nightstand. “Who in the world could be calling me? A doctor or nurse would just come in the room if they wanted something.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Omri said. “It’s probably a relative or friend who’s worried about you and hasn’t been able to get in touch all day.”

Gary picked up the phone. “Hello, who is this?”

“Is that you, Grandpa? It’s me, Raizel.”

Gary sat bold upright and looked around the room. “I must’ve died too this morning, or I’m just now waking up from the worst nightmare of my life. Where are you, Raizeleh?”

“I’m at a hospital in New York, and I had leg surgery earlier today. Believe me, I’m as alive as you are, though I have a lot of injuries to heal from.”

“You’re really alive? You’re not talking to me from the other world or in a dream?”

“Yes, I’m very much alive, though I had to wait almost an hour to be rescued, and the firemen who saved me got me out of the building with seconds to spare. It was already starting to collapse when we were inside, and then I passed out from a piece of debris that hit me on the head.”

Gary’s entire body shook, and he couldn’t stop the thick grey clouds in his eyes from bursting and cascading down his face. “God be praised. My firstborn grandchild’s life was spared. I waited so long to become a father, and I was thrilled beyond measure I didn’t have to wait nearly so long to become a grandfather. All eighteen of my grandchildren are my eternity and so special to me, but my firstborn grandchild is a treasure in a class all by herself. The people who risked their lives to rescue you should be blessed unto eternity, along with their descendants. As soon as I’m cleared to travel and New York is open again, I’m coming to visit you and thank your rescuers in person. I should’ve known your name was written in the Book of Life for this year and that you wouldn’t be taken away from us so close to the new year. You’re destined to live a long, long, long life. May you live even longer than Moses just to spite those evil people who did this to you.”

“I love you, Grandpa. I can’t wait to see you again. You’ll probably be out of the hospital long before I am.”

“I love you too, Raizeleh. I wish you didn’t have to spend even a single day in the hospital, but you need to keep reminding yourself you won’t be there forever, and that the most important thing is your life. Material possessions can always be replaced, and health can be regained, but you can’t get a new life so easily.”

“No, I’ll never take my life for granted ever again. Those terrorists, whoever they were, tried to murder me and everyone else in those buildings, but the Angel of Death decided to pass me over at the last minute. Every single second of the rest of my life will be revenge against the forces of evil.”

“That’s exactly how my generation feels about surviving the Nazis, may their names be erased. You can’t let this experience destroy you or feel forever chained to it. You’ll heal physically, emotionally, and mentally, and use the past and the pain to emerge as the strongest person you can be. I can’t promise this will all happen easily or immediately, but you will heal eventually. The determination that kept you alive today despite everything will help you to rise triumphant from the rubble, no matter how long it might take.”