Bradley James slipped in and out of consciousness. His skin itched and tingled and burned. His lungs were on fire. His chest heaved as cough after cough erupted from his mouth, each more painful then the last. His thick rimmed glasses were crushed and shards of glass cut at his eyes. His left leg was trapped by a heavy metal beam. He could barely feel it. Oh, His body ached.
He tried to move but rubble and scrap metal trapped him down. He couldn't even see the sky. He closed his eyes, as darkness came and went, remembering the last few hours.
Confusion as the elevators shut down and people began leaving work. The slight tipping. The footage. Oh those horrific pictures. A plane in the tower. Clouds of fire. The tower literally crushing. Then, you could feel it. The vibrations. The swaying. The lights flickered. Everyone began running, screaming. The type of screams of fear and terror that echo for all eternity in your head. They were running through Bradley's mind right this second. He had made it to level 6, and then the floor beneath him collapsed and he was swallowed up into darkness and ash and rubble.
The last thing he remembered was looking at one of his co-workers, Greg, right in the eyes. Greg's face went white, and he shut his eyes as if bracing himself for the blow. Then, darkness.
Bradley screamed in pain as the hot tears began seeping down his cheeks. What if he didn't make it? What about the thousands of others who worked above him? If he didn't come out alive, how would they? He knew the numbers would be significant, the losses great. Faces he had seen every day, he would never set eyes on again.
"WWWHHHHHYYYY?" He yelled in anger.
Something large fell on top of him, and he was knocked out again. Hours later he awoke, this time the pain in his body unbearable. He yelled in suffering several times, as if it could unleash some of it in his body. But it didn't. So Bradley James, age 34, real estate officer of twin tower two, prepared himself to die. He pictured his parents. His twin sister, Kelly. His two sons Michael and Brody. When he thought of his wife Abigail, he couldn't bear it anymore.
"NOOOOO!" He screamed, hot tears streaming down his face.
He couldn't lose them all. He didn't want to die yet. Then, faintly, he heard voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying exactly, but he knew they were there.
"Over.....did you....keep......hear.."
"HELP!" Bradley screamed. "I'M HERE! HELP ME!" He tried to move, but everything was trapped. Except his right arm. He lifted and reached as high as he could with it, pushing through rubble until it became fairly free. He waved it and shouted. "HELP!!!" Then he heard it. Running, digging.
"We're coming for you!" Someone shouted.
Bradley closed his eyes in gratefulness. "I'm here!" He barely let out, too exhausted to scream anymore. Finally, the weight lessened. And then a warm, strong hand grabbed his tightly. They started to pull him. Shots of pain ran down Bradley's entire body and he yelled in anguish. But he would rather experience this, than death. His leg was still trapped but after some more pulling, he was finally set free and they dragged him out of the rubble into the fresh air. "Thank you." Bradley mouthed, tears from pain and thanks still flowing. He leaned on the fire-fighter who had pulled him out and dared to look down on his leg. It was torn from the thigh down in a terrible gash. But he was alive. Thanks to this man.
"Thank you." He let out again, then began a fit of coughing. The firefighter put his arm around him as he led him out the rubble onto the dusty streets. "You're welcome, sir." He left Bradley sitting on the pavement, as he called an ambulance. Bradley didn't move, catching his breath, daring to look at the damage done to the towers. He winced. They were destroyed. Then he heard crying. No, not crying, sobbing. Wailing. He turned. An older woman in a red cardigan was sitting behind him, crouched down in tears. He stood up and hobbled over to her, though it took every ounce of strength left in him. "Are you ok?" It was a stupid question to ask, but it was all he could think of. "My son-" That was all she could say through the tears, but that was enough. Bradley knelt down next to her and placed his hand over hers. It was a gesture worth a thousand words.
