Music is "Casualty" by Hidden Citizens feat. Tash.

Picture is of Assistant Chief Gerard A. Barbara as he looks up at the burning towers of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001 in New York City. Moments later, he would go in, never to return. Photo by David Handschuh of the NY Daily News Archive.

···········

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Eyes of a Child

{September 11, 2001 -- Seventeen Years Ago}

N E W Y O R K

I'm not alone for long. I hear shouting behind me, the familiar voices of Olympia and Thomas. The two firefighters I've known since the Academy follow quickly behind me, their gazes set for the burning building ahead of us. I see the engine of the second plane fall through more of the floors, settling in the center of the building as the blades continue to spin and spew metal shards.

When I get to the building, I'm unsure of what to do next. I hear screaming inside, but I don't have the proper equipment to handle a continually exploding fire. I know there are people trapped on the other side of the building, but the engine could fall on top of them at any moment.

Then I hear it, the sound of a child crying.

I don't hesitate. I don't slow but pick up speed. I shield my eyes and run straight into the building, letting my uniform take the blunt force of the fire. The ash makes me cough and my eyes water, but I continue onward. If only I'd kept that damn helmet.

"Imogene!" Olympia shouts from the front of the building.

I turn to glance over my shoulder. Both Olympia and Thomas are trapped outside as the front of the building collapses, sealing me inside. I have no exit and no backup. If I'm going to get out of this building alive, I'll have to make my own exit.

The engine starts to shift overhead. It only makes me move faster. I look around, desperately searching for survivors. All around me I see dead bodies. Scorched, battered, crushed people who were dead the moment the engine collapsed the structure. I move quickly past them, knowing there's nothing I can do for them now, and head towards the continually crying child.

"I'm coming!" I manage to shout, instantly regretting opening my mouth to let the ash enter. I cough it away.

The child starts crying even louder. Either they're in more danger or I'm getting closer. I pray it's the latter. I shuffle along the hallway, dodging holes in the floor and falling debris. I roll out of the way of a blade from the engine falling through. The sharp metal misses my face by less than six inches, and I breathe a shaky sigh of relief.

The child's cries stop suddenly. It's enough to make me pause and listen intently, using my hearing along to search for the sound that has been guiding me through the building. When I hear nothing for a long moment, my eyes widen as a though of horror crosses my mind.

No. I won't let myself think it. I'm not too late.

"Darling?" I call out, covering my mouth with my hand. "Darling, shout something! Let me find you!" There's no response, and my heart starts to pound even harder in my chest, if that were possible. "Damn it!"

The engine above my head shivers, sending vibrations through my body. It's slipping. I have a minute, maybe less. I could only have seconds, but I won't give up. I will find this child. Everyone in this building is dead. If there's even one person still alive, I will save them.

I press onward, pushing debris and metal out of my way. I fight the fire, forcing myself to keep moving through the blaze. The child's voice is still silent, so I follow the direction where I last heard it. Just ahead, to the light, in a lower room. I still can't tell what this building used to be. It appears to be a warehouse.

When I come to a metal door, I don't bother opening it the proper way. I pull back my leg and give it a good kick. It falls off the hinges, collapsing onto the scorched floor with a slam. On the other side, the fire is starting to consume the room. Bodies lie around the center of the building. They were probably trying to escape the fire. It would've worked, and it wasn't the fire that killed them. It was the roof falling in on them.

My eyes land on the small child a few feet away from the pile of bodies. They're unrecognizable, but this child is. It's a small boy, not any older than two or three years old. He has dark hair and beige skin with Asian features. His eyes are closed, and he's curled up in a ball on the floor. I pray he's only sleeping and that I'm not too late.

I leave the doorway in a hurry. Running over to the little boy, I instantly scoop him into my arms. I look around the room for a sign of someone else, anyone else, that might have survived. I give it another look, searching specifically for the boy's parents. The pile of crushed bodies in the center of the room is a lost cause, so with a heavy heart, I turn back towards the exit and bound up the stairs and into the hallway.

Continual prayers fill my mind as I shield the boy with my arms. I refuse to let the fire touch him. The engine screams overhead as I dash down through the building. There are more obstacles than the last time I walked these halls, but I easily dodge and jump over them. Nothing will stop me from getting this boy to safety. I don't fear for me; I fear for him.

I see the obstructed doorway from the end of the last corridor. Through the cracks, I see Thomas and Olympia. They're trying to pull the bricks and metal out of the way, partially succeeding. I hold my breath as I run, stopping not even to look up as the roof starts to cave in.

"Move!" I shout at my fellow firefighters as I get close. "Move!"

Without waiting for them to get far enough away, I put my arm protectively around the boy's head and close my eyes, turning my shoulder and back towards the exit at the last second. We blast through the debris, falling to the pavement on the other side. My shoulder and back scream in pain as I land hard on them, but the child is unharmed by the landing. I open my eyes just in time to see the engine of the second plane fall through the rest of the building, erupting as it burns a hole straight through the building. Seconds later, the two sides of the structure collapse in on themselves, putting the fire out as it turns to dust.

I breathe a little lighter for the first time since I escaped, coughing up ash and dust. Thomas and Olympia are by my side in seconds.

"Imogene, you crazy woman!" Olympia exclaims, looking from me to the boy. Her eyes widen. "He's not breathing. Imogene, he's not breathing!"

I turn sharply to the little boy in my arms. Olympia is right. He hasn't made a sound since before I found him, and his eyes have been closed this entire time. I sit up, pushing away the pain in my own body as I place the little boy on the ground. I bend down, listening for the sound of breathing. I find none, and tears fill my eyes.

"No!" I cry. I put my hands on his small chest, performing CPR. I do ten compressions, then give him two breaths. I listen for breathing again.

Nothing.

"We need to get him to the truck!" Thomas exclaims in a hurry. "There's a medical kit there! We can get him some oxygen--"

"--What fucking good will that do if he's not breathing?" Olympia interrupts.

I ignore the siblings bickering and continue with alternating breaths and compressions. Pain shoots up my arm, into my shoulder and back, at my actions. I couldn't care less. I can't let the one person I saved from that building be lost. I won't let this little boy die. For better or for worse, I'm his savior. Whatever God had planned today, if he had a damn thing planned, he wanted me to save this boy.

He won't die on me. Not now. Not ever. He's my responsibility. Despite only knowing of his existence for less than minutes, I feel entirely responsible for him. His parents were probably in that pile. They're dead. He might not have anyone else in the world.

Just like me.

Another set of compressions causes the tears to fall down my cheeks. "Come on, damn it!" I shout, voice quivering. "Live!"

As if my words have some sort of magic, the little boy's eyes shoot open. For a split second, I think they're blue. I blink my eyes, and the blue is gone. The little brown eyes of this Korean boy stare up at me, and he begins to cry. Despite his cries, a relieved smile spreads across my face. I pick him up and cradle him to me, running a hand up and down his back.

"It's okay!" I tell him, not knowing if he can hear or understand me. "It's okay. You're safe. I have you, Darling. You're safe with me."

The little boy wraps his small arms around my neck as he continues to cry, out of pain or fear I'm unsure. I know I'd be crying if I were his age. I allow myself a look at the area around me, seeing the fires burn and people scream for help. More firetrucks and police officers arrive, causing me to breathe a little easier. Lights and sirens fill the streets, letting those in trouble know that help is on the way.

Thomas and Olympia help me and the little boy back to our truck. Irene drives it towards us, meeting us half-way. She runs for the oxygen and hands me a mask. She tries to put the second over the boy's face, but he screams and thrashes away from her.

"Here," I say, taking the mask from her hand. "Let me."

Irene relents and hurries back to Delmar, who is extending the ladder on the back of the truck towards a nearby building to help get civilians out. Olympia and Thomas join them, and Win takes control of the truck. I remain in the back with the little boy.

I place my oxygen mask over my face, ensuring that he's watching me. I give him a smile and pull the mask off. "See? It's safe. It will help you." I put the mask on my face and leave it there, enjoying the oxygen fill my lungs. "Want to try?"

The boy makes no response, not even a shake of the head. He sits on my lap, staring up at me with big, brown eyes.

"Can you understand me, Darling?" Again, no response. I sigh and pick up the mask. The boy flinches, but when I give him a nod of reassurance, he lets me place the mask over his nose and mouth. He breathes deeply, instantly relaxing as the oxygen flows to his lungs. "There we go," I whisper, patting his back gently. "You're a fighter, aren't you?"

The boy leans against my uninjured shoulder, finally at peace. His eyes scan the area outside the truck, seeing the disaster zone that is Manhattan. While his attention is on the firefighters and police officers on the scene, mine shift skywards towards the World Trade Center towers. Both have been hit, North and South, and they're both smoking. The South Tower is in worse shape, surprising since it was only hit a few minutes ago.

My arm around the little boy tightens as I see dark shadows falling from the Towers. It could be anything. Debris, pieces of the plane, furniture from the offices, but in my heart I know that it's much, much worse.

Those shadows have human silhouettes.

END CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Eyes of a Child.