Title- Delta in the Morning Author- Yali Email- yalika@caribe.net Rated- PG-13/R in some parts (for graphic descriptions) Classification- Story, Angst, a painful reality Summary- Tuesday, September 11, 2001. From 8:45 A.M. and beyond Spoilers- after I finished writing, I reviewed it for spoilers that came out unnoticed, and here they are: We the People, Code Blue, Embassy, Rogue Categories- Best Tear-Jerker, Best Drama, Best Harm/Other Romance Disclaimer- JAG characters are property of CBS and Paramount Television. No copyright infringement has been intended. The rest of the characters are an exclusive and private property of the author. Any resemblance with any person, live or dead, is purely coincidental. Sadly, what happened on September 11, 2001 was for real In Memoriam of all the victims in New York City, Washington, D.C. and Somerset, PA What happened that fateful Tuesday will be a truly Ad Augusta per Angusta: To the pinnacle from the lowest May justice be done Author's P.S. note- I wrote this story as an aftermath response to the shock when a secretary ran into my office telling that a plane crashed into the WTC. I moved to my boss' office and became the liaison for my colleagues in search of news on the Internet. From the window I saw the turning planes since my workplace is located on the way to the Luis Munoz Marin International Airport. One after another. Don't ask me how it was, I just can describe what I felt, and this story does it for me ********** 0920 EST Price Waterhouse Coopers, LLP Puerto Rico Branch Popular Center Building, Hato Rey Since 9:00 A.M., workload was suspended practically all around Puerto Rico. The Puerto Rican branch of the CPA firm of Price Waterhouse Coopers, LLP was the reflection of what was going on elsewhere. The stunning news of a plane crash in New York City ran from office to office, shocking and startling everyone. From the CEO to the messenger boy to the early client sitting in the lobby that stared aghast to the TV wall set as the morning talk show was abruptly interrupted for the satellite signal to link to ZNN. Everybody dropped whatever they had on hands and walked together to the lobby, shoulder with shoulder, to confirm the absurdity many of them heard on the radio, or as they entered the office and their good mornings were greeted with hushes and wide-open eyes and mouths. CPA Sofia Torres was so immersed into her stack of files that she didn't notice what was going on until a co-worker knocked on her open door. -Hey, Sofia. A plane crashed into the World Trade Center.-he didn't believe it himself. -What?-she asked, raising her eyes from the electronic calculator,-When?- -A few minutes ago. Didn't you hear it on the radio? It's on the news.- -No, Soto; I haven't turned on my radio yet. I'm dealing with these overbalances... What happened?- -Seems that the pilot was flying too low and lost all course and smashed into one of the Twin Towers.- -God...-her eyes opened wide with astonishment,-Is it on TV?- -Yeah. They've interrupted all programming. We're watching it on the lobby.- -Does Arevalo know about this?- -He was the one that turned the TV on.- Mrs. Torres joined Mr. Soto and the others at the lobby, as they watched how the North Tower burned and smoked through a gaping hole near the top and commented how something like that could happen. Suddenly, a gasp raised from everybody assembled there. Another plane appeared from nowhere in sight, described a curve in the air and smashed into the South Tower, live and in direct. A great ball of fire erupted from the upper half of the Tower, crumbling that side. Many eyes watered. Some people began to sob. Others shook their heads in disbelief. Mrs. Torres, pale and terrified, voiced what everybody there already thought: -This is terrorism!- From that minute on, not only that office but the whole building turned into a mare magnum. Phones began to ring at once. People came in and out, looking for more information or a pinch that would wake them up from that daytime nightmare. At Price Waterhouse, people logged to their computers, scoffing at the impossibility of connecting to news sites at once. Mr. Arevalo allowed Mrs. Torres to use his computer, since hers was too slow. From the CEO office window, she saw several AA planes crossing the sky, and it gave her the goose bumps. By that time it was known that both crashing planes were AA's hijacked at Boston and Newark. Not so long ago the FAA grounded all domestic flights, in both continental US and the territories, Puerto Rico included. Every local flight should be redirected to the nearest airport, and the international ones should return home. And the President declared that the past incidents in New York were 'an apparent terrorist attack'. Each 'This Page Cannot be Displayed' and roaring aircraft sounds gave Mrs. Torres the goose bumps. She clenched her fists and muttered a prayer under her breath. At 9:45 A.M., a secretary ran down the corridor, exclaiming that another plane crashed into another building, this time in a place Mrs. Torres couldn't precise because she closed her eyes and pressed her nose bridge, saying 'Oh, God, not again'. She showed her head at the door and asked to the first one she saw: -Irizarry, where did it fall this time?- The answer, given to her with fearful glances and heavy sighs from those around Ms. Irizarry, weakened Mrs. Torres' knees and made her see black and cry a bloodcurdling cry. -MARIANGIE!!!- ********** 0943 EST Room 314 Bernard P. McDonough Building Georgetown University Law Center Mariangie was in the middle of answering a question to a student when suddenly a fellow professor entered the classroom, pale and visibly altered. -Sorry to interrupt, but...-she panted for breath,-Prof. Torres, ladies and gentlemen...there has been a terrible accident in New York.- Mariangie approached her as the students commented intrigued between them. With a hand movement she told them to be quiet so she could listen. -What happened, Addams?- -Two airplanes crashed into New York's Twin Towers almost an hour ago. They're on fire.- Mariangie opened her eyes wide and the students gasped in surprise. -They say it's a terrorist attack. The President told it so in the news...- -Calm down, Mildred.-Mariangie placed her hand over one shoulder as a supportive gesture,-Where did you hear it?- -Me, on the radio. But they're showing it on TV. They say one of the planes dived into one tower live-and she bursted in tears. -'She has a son who works at the WTC.'-Vladimir Brent ventured to her fellow colleagues that exchanged surprised glances when seeing the imperturbable Prof. Mildred Addams crying. Mariangie invited her to take a seat. -Come on, Mildred. Everything is going to be fine. I know it.-but her words got drowned in a roaring sound that surrounded the place and shook it to the ground. The students covered their ears and winced. Mariangie staggered back. Prof. Addams grabbed firmly the chair arms. -God, whatever it was, it sure came close the ground!-a back row student exclaimed from the heart. A middle-aged gentleman dropped by. -Torres, Addams, come right now to the Center.- -What's happening?- -ZNN is transmitting live from Florida. The President is giving a speech on the New York accident. The Dean has allowed everyone to come down and watch it.- -In a moment. Please, Holtermeyer, take Addams to the infirmary and help her to make contact with her son's family. Ladies and gentlemen, we'll stop here and go to the Students Center. Please gather your belongings and come downstairs in an orderly manner.- They all obeyed her. Mariangie looked quite poised and controlled, but deep inside, she was shocked to hear such news. The 1993 World Trade Center bombing came to her mind. How there could be people like that in the world? How do they manage to sleep peacefully after committing such atrocities, here and overseas? She felt a great repulse the more she thought of it. As she and her students came downstairs, human traffic became more and more heavy. A myriad of voices commented what they heard about what was happening at the WTC. Lots of students, faculty and non-faculty members couldn't hide their apprehension, trying to guess what would happen next. When Mariangie reached the end of the staircase, a booming noise shook the ground. The building trembled from left to right. She grasped the rail to maintain balance. Deep silence. People glanced at each other in fear. Mariangie's heart plummeted to her stomach. -Oh, no, God, please.-she mumbled and shook her head, trying to get rid off the scary thought she just had. Vladimir Brent helped to make way for her to the Student Center lobby. He even pulled out a chair for she to get up and have a view- the enormous amount of people gathered there already, combined with her 5'2 height, wasn't of much help. People watched with tearful and/or angry eyes the steel torches the Twin Towers had became from the past hour, but suddenly, those horrid images were replaced for a local news anchorman that gave an equally horrid announcement. -Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt our ZNN broadcast to inform you...-he cleared his throat and winked, his eyes reddened,-Just a couple of minutes ago, exactly at 9:45 A.M. Eastern Time Zone, another aircraft has crashed right onto one side of the Pentagon, headquarters to the principal military agencies of our country. It is presumed that the plane was hijacked at Dulles Airport in Washington, D.C., crossing low over the Mall to nose-dive into the West side of the building.- Then everybody realized to whose the booming noise belonged to. The horrific realization was devastating. The crushing silence was broken with uncontrollable sobbing as the first images of the Pentagon's blazing wall showed up on the screen. Students, professors and personnel alike embraced each other, grieving over what they had just heard and saw. Mariangie stood frozen over the chair, her hazel eyes crystallized and wide-open, both hands covering her mouth. Never in her life she imagined something like that could happen. ********** 1000 EST JAG Headquarters Bullpen Falls Church, VA Gathered in front of the TV wall set connected to ZNN that transmitted continuously what was happening in New York City since 0845 EST, a hundred uniformed souls dared not to blink or breath. When the first report on a plane crash broke into the airwaves, all work stopped. It was hard to determine who was the first to drop the pencil and back away from the desk to go near the screen, but in less than five minutes the bullpen was crowded. From the clerical officers to Adm. Morris and Capt. Sebring, even Mattoni and Turner and their clients (adversaries on a case of drunken target-shooting practice at midnight, using a C.O.'s car as target); they all were there, standing in a compact human mass. Only the MP's detached at the main entrance and Gunnery Sergeant Gessner at the lobby weren't present, but each one had a small portable radio to compensate it. Bud was the first one to come out of his office, as he read a news flash from his Internet web courier service. He found Harriet standing beside her desk, staring incredulous to the screen. She virtually had no color on her cheeks. He held her by the shoulders, and she clutched his hands without turning her head to him. Mac came out as she got intrigued when neither Tiner nor Gunny responded to her calls. She stepped out at the exact moment the second airplane crashed into the South Tower. Gasping in horror, she rushed out to have a better view. Loren Singer was just coming out the ladies room when she got to see the sickening live image of the second crashing. She made her way into the bullpen, pushing here and there, forgetting about ranks and medals, but they were too stunned to protest. Harm was just beginning to read his Intranet mail when he caught a glimpse of Mac and Singer running to the TV wall set. From his office he also saw Adm. Morris entering the bullpen and the astonished look he shared with several officers that began to slowly pour over there. He left his desk to walk over there. The images of the WTC Towers set ablaze and surrounded with a thick cloud of steel-gray smoke captured his green pupils and slowed his pace, and the sight of people jumping out from that towering inferno sent a chill down his spine. He located himself near Harriet's desk, where he met with Mac, Singer, Bud, Tiner and Gunny. He crossed his arms over his chest and absorbed the vivid terror telecast live from New York. He had been through several life-threatening situations before, but nothing could compare to that. What kind of sicko could be capable of such atrocity? As if echoing his thoughts, Mac repeated once and once again that it surpassed what she lived in Bosnia. And that coming from her lips meant a lot. -And I thought I had seen everything in Vietnam.- And Adm. Chegwidden echoed Mac as he joined them, observing the wall monitor with tightened lips and arms solidly crossed over his chest. His eyes darkened as they watched the terror blazing in Lower Manhattan. And then, at 0945 EST, before the astonished eyes of the Navy JAG Headquarters staff, another hijacked airplane crashed into the Pentagon, blowing off and igniting one big part of the wall. A heavy veil of silence covered the entire room. Hearts stopped beating and cold chills ran down many backs. Adm. Chegwidden tilted back his head, opened his eyes and mouth wide, but no sound came from the latter. His eyes now reddened and filled up with tears. Harriet sobbed and sunk her face into Bud's chest. Her husband fought back his own tears to console her. Harm opened his eyes to the max and his jaw fell to the floor. Adm. Morris took off his glasses, not giving any credit to his eyes and ears. Mac gasped in horror, and covering his mouth with both hands, she began to cry with her eyes open. Capt. Sebring pressed a fist against his mouth. His eyes watered in less than a second. An appalled Tiner offered his handkerchief to Mac, but she refused it. The usually imperturbable Gunny Galindez couldn't conceal his horror. His dark eyes glistened with tears as he blinked to keep them back. Singer arched her body violently to the front and bursted in tears. Harm, who was nearby, held her by the arm, and Singer clung to his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. This time, she wasn't playing any games. Harm gave her a consoling embrace, subduing his own grief. Everyone there tried to comfort each other, though feeling helpless and violated. Pearl Harbor-the movie as well as the historic event- came up to many minds. Such vicious attack against the principal military installation in the country was indescribable. The crash of the World Trade Center Towers was terrifying, but that strike to the Pentagon went very, very far from any worst case scenario taught at the Naval Academy, OCS, West Point, boot camp, whatsoever. Almost immediately, the phones began ringing. Harriet breathed deeply and reached for her Meridian extension, but Adm. Chegwidden had picked it up already. -Navy JAG Headquarters, Adm. Chegwidden talking.-he answered in his usual calm voice. His subordinates held their breaths as they heard him talk with the Secretary of Defense. -Yes, sir, my people are fine. Glad to hear that you're fine, too. Yes, sir, our office is connected to ZNN and we all watched in on the news. I speak for all my staff when I say we're terribly sorry for what has happened. What?-his body tensed, and his staff imitated him,-Yes, Mr. Secretary. No problem, Mr. Secretary. As soon as I hang up, Mr. Secretary. Yes, sir.- The admiral's tall figure straightened up after he hung up. His voice reverberated into the expectantly silent bullpen. -Ladies and gentlemen, due to the unfortunate events we had just witnessed this morning, every military branch in the country has been placed into ThreatConDelta. As you may know, that's the highest level of emergency for this government. Every military officer, no matter his or her rank, is now on the alert. Our country is being victim of terrorist attacks, beginning in New York and now here in Washington, D.C. Every place in this city is under great risk, including us, since we don't know where the next assault would be. Right now the Secretary of Defense has told me that a fourth plane has been hijacked and its route is unknown. A set of F-14's is being sent to trace it. An evacuation order has been issued, extending to every government building in Washington, D.C. At this moment, the Capitol and the White House are being evacuated, and of course the Pentagon. Any trial, hearing, interview and assignment had been cancelled from now until further notice. We must leave this building in approximately ten minutes according to the disaster evacuation plan designed by FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency) and the Department of Defense. Right now, put away any important document into a fire-resistant safe box and leave this office in an orderly but quick manner. Any news regarding our duties at JAG will be announced when the time comes. I can understand that we're nervous and upset, but getting into hysterics won't be of any help. That's an order. Dismiss.- -Aye, aye, sir!- Eyes were hastily wiped, deep inhalations were made, feet and hands were ready to obey. Harm was just turning on his feet to go to his office when his cell phone rang. Not stopping his pace, he answered it. -Comdr. Rabb.- -Harm!!!- Then he stopped flat. His heart gave a thump inside his chest. It was Mariangie. And screaming and yelling and police sirens could be heard on the background. -Mariangie! What's up? Listen, I can't talk to you right now- -Harm!!!-she interrupted him. Her voice sounded desperate, although she didn't seem to be crying. Alarmed could describe her better, and she seemed also to be short of breath,-The plane over the Pentagon...!!! It flew right over Georgetown!!! Right over me!!!- -What?!-Harm stopped short again. He paled so intensely, that the admiral, Mac and Turner went right up to him. -I felt the explosion!!! It almost swept me off the floor!!! Harm, I felt it!!!- -Are you all right?!-his free hand began to quiver. -They're evacuating us!!! I just had time to grab my purse and run!!! They didn't let us go to our cars!!! I'm-we are on the streets!!!- As she screamed to him, Mariangie was part of a running crowd that went up North Capitol Street. The midmorning sun was scorching. The stampeding roar and clamoring on the street were too much for her and for anyone. Tension was rampant. She ran with all her energy and pressed her purse against her chest. The hands-free cell phone earpiece allowed her to keep her unit inside her suit pocket, so she could look around without any much trouble. -What's happening, Commander? Anything wrong with Miss Torres?-asked the admiral. Harm retired the phone from his ear. -Mariangie heard the explosion at Georgetown! The plane flew over there! She's been evacuated! She's on the streets!- The admiral opened his eyes wide, like those around him. -Ask her where she's right now!-and he urged those around him to continue preparing for evacuation. Mariangie overheard the admiral. -I don't know! I guess I'm on North Capitol Street! I'm going with the crowd all the way up!- Harm stepped into his office and began gathering documents, sandwiching the cell phone between the right shoulder and the chin. -Mariangie, I'm also being evacuated! I must get out of JAG in ten minutes! We're on maximum alert!- -Oh, God!!! Harm, I'm scared!!!-Mariangie trembled as she ran. Harm was also scared to death, but he couldn't show it for her sake. -Mariangie, keep the lines open, so I can locate you! Whenever you are, wait for me! Don't turn off the phone! I'll look after you!- And to the astonished stare of his superior, who happened to rush in front of Harm's office on his way out, he exclaimed: -Sir! Permission to rescue a civilian in danger, sir!- -Commander, do you know that if you do so, you'll be entering a high-risk area?!- -Yes, sir! I'll assume the consequences, sir!- The admiral saw the not-so-well concealed anguish in Harm's eyes. -Permission granted! You have five minutes left!-and the admiral went to the corridor to help his other subordinates. Harm kneeled to open the safe box located under his desk. -Mariangie, I'm on my way!-he exclaimed. -Harm!!! Harm!!! Don't hang me up!!! Please!!!-Mariangie's screams had such a high pitch that they could be heard outside Harm's cell phone. -Don't worry, darling! I won't hang you up!!! Don't you hand up!!! Stay right on line, that I'll be with you as soon as I get out of here!!! I promise!!!- -PLEASE!!!-on the other side of the line, Mariangie lowered her run to kick off her shoes and push them into her purse. Harm slipped his phone into his jacket to have his hands free to struggle with the safe box key. Definitely, he would buy an earpiece for his model, but any other day. He grabbed his briefcase and slammed the door behind him and joined his colleagues, heading to the emergency exits. Exactly in ten minutes, the whole Navy JAG staff was outside the building. Adm. Chegwidden was the last one to get out because he wanted to be sure that everybody did it fine. A large detachment of armed MP's was displayed all over the perimeter, guarding the exit for as long as necessary. On her way to her car, Mac's cell phone rang. A little exasperated, she answered it with a harsh 'Lt. Col. Mackenzie!' -Hello? Sarah?-a deep male voice asked cautiously. Mac stopped flat, not giving credit to her ears. -Mic?- -Maybe I'm calling at a bad moment, but here in Australia we got to know about the terrorist attack over there and in New York. How's everything there? How are you? Are you all right?- His voice showed a sincere concern and worry. It was true. Such gesture touched Mac deep inside. She never felt more alone and helpless like she did then. Clutching the cell phone in both hands, Mac let out a moan that turned into sobs. Her hunched body trembled uncontrollably. Gunny rushed to her side to aid her. -Sarah? Sarah!-Mic's anxiety grew more then. ********** 10:10 A.M. Federico Degetau Federal Building Hato Rey, PR The voice of the U.S. District Attorney for Puerto Rico sounded cool and calmed as it resounded through the speakers distributed alongside the building. It ordered the immediate evacuation of the entire building in no less than fifteen minutes, according to the disaster evacuation plan designed by FEMA and the Federal Courts Administrative Office. It was due to the terrorist attack perpetrated in New York and Washington, D.C. The whole building was placed on ThreatConDelta as well. No one could ever guess that the man behind the announcement clenched his fists and buried his nails on his palms to control the tears that wanted to roll down his face. Like Adm. Chegwidden and many other high-rank chiefs, directors and supervisors, he was the last one to come out, making sure his subordinates made it safely. Well before the evacuation order, half of the staff was distributed among those offices and conference rooms that had a TV set. Many of them hoped against hope that they were seeing the sneak preview of an ultra-sophisticated sci-fi movie. Those who had family and friends that either lived or worked on Lower Manhattan almost went into hysterics. Cell phones and regular ones began ringing and dialing at once. When the third plane crashed into the Pentagon, the names of Mariangie Torres and Harmon Rabb, Jr. came up and prompted a prayer to many lips. For Alfredo Soler, the name Sarah Mackenzie also flashed in his mind, and it wrung his heart so violently that his chest ached. Everybody rushed outside, wishing fervently that those they knew were fine. And they prayed and sniffled with open eyes as they drove home. ********** Harm arrived to the core of the District going against the traffic flow, mainly directed to get out of there. State and military police stopped him to search his car, releasing him as soon as he showed them his USN I.D. and it was verified to be real. By following Mariangie's directions on the phone, he entered North Capitol Street and went to the National Shrine. Harm did his best to hold onto the phone, but most of the times he had to place it on the passenger's seat, and when police halted him, he slipped it in his jacket. Either on the seat or under the chin, he could hear screams and cries that chilled his blood, and undistinguishable voices on the background. Mariangie wasn't crying, but Harm could hear her panting and sucking for breath. He knew she was trying hard to be calmed. Around him, people ran to different sides, screaming and imploring for help. He had a terribly accurate view of what was going on way up North. Adrenaline rushed through his body. Harm griped the steering wheel and swallowed hard, his inner voice demanding for an immediate stop that such mayhem. He tried his best to sound reassuring for his sake and Mariangie's. She urged him to drive carefully every now and then, and he thanked it, but his nerves sprang up when a shriek came out of the phone on the seat. -DIOS MIO, NOOO!!!- (-OH, GOD, NOOO!!!-) It was Mariangie. Harm stomped into the gas pedal, and everything around him became blurred. ********** Harm parked on a green patch in front of the National Shrine. There were many people scattered on the area. Some of them sat on the ground, receiving either medical and/or spiritual help. Some others dialed frantically cell phones and yelled at the top of their lungs. Others gathered around someone who had a Watchman. Some others hugged and cried with each other. They all shared common sentiments- grief, despair, angst, fear, hope. Harm stepped out of his SUV with the keys in one hand and the cell phone in the other. -Mariangie? Mariangie!-the signal was off. Alarmed, he stashed the phone into the inner pocket of his jacket and began looking around. He only ventured a few steps when a well-known voice reached his ears. -HARM!!!- He looked to the front and ran to the encounter of the barefoot figure in a pink dress suit with a sun-burnt face, tousled hair and her heart on her hands. Mariangie was among those surrounding the Watchman fellow. Then, as if guided by some kind of instinct, she lifted and turned her face to the exact place and moment Harm arrived. She turned off her phone and ran up to him, oblivious to anything else. They met each other and melted into an embrace that made them one wild heartbeat, one trembling body, one shaken soul. -Harm!-her voice broke, yet she didn't sob. Instead, she closed her eyes and buried her face into his chest. -I'm here, Mariangie.-he said, pressing her against him and caressing her hair. He swallowed hard and blinked to keep tears away,-Finally, I'm here; I'm with you.- It was 11:00 A.M. The South Tower collapsed at 10:00 A.M., and within 18 minutes of difference, the North one. A car-bomb exploded in front of the State Department at 10:19 A.M. Fortunately, there were no deaths or injured ones. The crashed side of the Pentagon collapsed at 10:10 A.M., and it was feared that there were more than a thousand victims. Another plane was hijacked from Newark Airport, but it didn't made it-it crashed at some point in Pennsylvania shortly after 11:00 A.M. ********** 1745 EST Adm. Chegwidden's house Mclean, VA By mid-afternoon, the admiral's house became sort of an impromptu headquarter. When he finally arrived, he found the Roberts with their boy, Tiner, Mac, Gunny, Singer and Turner waiting at his doorstep and porch. Mariangie and Harm arrived shortly after the admiral. Their faces reflected the unmistakable shadow of fear. At the different places they went after being evacuated, none of them felt safe anymore. They all realized in a sudden that they all lived near potential targets. Bud and Harriet, when picking up little A.J. at daycare, realized that Rosslyn is located near the Pentagon. Singer's place was on the way to Dulles Airport. Union Station and Georgetown were neighboring Pennsylvania Ave. Reports said there was a fifth plane on the loose. Also, the main highways and roads were crowded with vehicles and people, and MP's and local police were posted everywhere. It was pretty difficult to get back home. The only safe place that came to their minds was Adm. Chegwidden's home. The admiral was a bit stunned to find them there, but by all means he welcomed them. Immediately, he made space in his garage and in the driveway for their cars, the six of them. Tiner and Gunny had to drove Singer and Mac, respectively, because they were unable to drive. Gunny even had to finish Mac's call, because she trembled and cried uncontrollably. He briefed Mic onto the current situation and urged him to call later. The admiral promised them their cars were safe at the JAG HQ multilevel parking. Mariangie's car had to remain at the Law Center due to the evacuation. Turner and the Roberts arrived in their own vehicles. Once inside, the admiral cleared a closet for purses and jackets, pulled out chairs and cushions to help them to get comfortable. He also provided firm handshakes, reassuring words and solidarity hugs. He understood that right now his responsibility was to support his subordinates and families in every way within his reach. That's why he stopped at a Red Cross mobile unit to donate blood and money. He left his cell phone on to be available at all time. Mariangie approached timidly the admiral to ask him if she could use the kitchen. For sure no one had eaten since morning, and she wanted to be useful around there. And to distract her mind, too. The admiral looked at her and nodded. He knew from Harm that cooking worked as a therapy for her. And some comfort food for sure could be more than welcome at that moment. Bud took care of his little boy as Harriet volunteered to help Mariangie. Mac joined their ranks, and soon thereafter, Singer. Still she was all shaky, but she could help to mix and fold ingredients. While they whipped a lunch with whatever was available, the gentlemen monitored the news-everything was pretty much the same on the tube. The admiral's cell phone didn't stop ringing, since he was in touch with the Department of Defense for the latest turn of events. The ladies tried to carry on a normal conversation, but their eyes drifted away to the TV set and their ears unwillingly caught pieces of news and non-edited audio. Then, their eyes watered or either they gulped, sharing an anxious look. Finally, a beef stew could be done. All of them had a bite or two while watching ZNN, sitting around the TV set with their bodies slightly hunched to the front. And no voice dared to interrupt the ghastly account that accompanied the repeating images once and once again. Only Mariangie's cell phone did. The ring made everybody jump. She jumped too, almost spilling the leftover content of her plate on the skirt. She picked it up before the second ring, plugging the device on her right ear. -Hello, Torres speaking.-she answered in an altered tone. Then, her eyes watered and thick tears-her first ones on the day-rolled down her paled face,-Mama!- After passing out at her office when she heard the third plane crashed in Washington, D.C., Mrs. Torres was given permission to take the rest of the day off. Many co-workers offered to drive her to wherever she wanted to go, but she insisted she was perfectly capable of driving. On her way to the parking, she called her husband and briefed him on what happened in the States. She didn't tell him anything concrete about Washington, D.C. wanting to avoid giving him a big stress. He was already at the UPR's Faculty of Commerce' Student Center watching the news; classes were suspended. He knew about the third plane plummeting into the Pentagon, and was pretty sure Mariangie was fine, yet he didn't mentioned her to his wife. By the tone of her voice he guessed her nervous state, and he wanted her to drive safely. Mr. Torres agreed to meet her at their home. When Mrs. Torres arrived, the radio cleared away some of her fears-the incident was at the Pentagon, very far away from Georgetown. But the notice on the District evacuation sprang up her nerves. While waiting for her husband, she checked all answering machines, beepers and voice and e-mails. No messages from anyone. When Mr. Torres finally came, she had the chance to voice out her fears and be consoled in return. The news confirmed her husband's account on the District' strike. Now, to be sure, they only had to call her. For the first fifteen minutes, there was no contact-'The circuits are currently busy, try again later'-, either dialing to George-U, Union Station Court or their daughter's cell phone. Husband and wife took turns at the phone. Finally, when contact was made, nobody answered at the Law Center or her place. And the cell phone sounded busy at first, then the voice mail kept on recording their frantic messages until now. The sound of Mariangie's voice at the other side of the line was angelic music to Mrs. Torres. Not even when she said 'mama' for the first time she cried that much. As for Mariangie, she never missed her mother so much until then. Mr. Torres put the phone in speaker mode to listen to Mariangie's account of what happened in the District before and after the third crash. He and his wife could hear her cry. They held each other and tried hard to stifle their own sobs. Mariangie cried with open eyes as she relived that experience. Those around her sobbed too as they listened her. Harm placed his arms around her and held her during the whole call, only raising a hand to wipe his own eyes. Singer buried her face in a cushion. Tiner did not bother to conceal his tears. Gunny swallowed hard and turned away his head towards. Turner rested his head in his hands. Little A.J., sensing that something awful was going on, cradled against Mommy's chest, whimpering softly. Mac walked towards a window, crying abundantly. The admiral inhaled deeply, trying to remain centered as he asked Mariangie to speak with her parents. He assured the Torres that everything was all right, considering the situation. He also promised them, in the name of the United States of America, that the culprits would be found 'even if we have to fly to the very end of the Universe' to make them pay for such crime. His eyes darkened and his clenched fist turned white. A.J. Chegwidden, USN Rear Admiral (Upper Half) really meant it. Then, everyone's cell phones rang incessantly. Friends and relatives who finally found the lines clear, just wanted to hear that their loved ones were safe. Calls poured from San Diego, Wyoming, Italy, Florida, New Mexico, Puerto Rico and Australia. Mac now could talk more or less calmly with Mic-no references to the aborted wedding were made. That didn't matter now. Even Alfredo called; it was the first time they talked since last November. And there were no hard feelings. Only genuine preoccupation for each one's safety. And Mac was grateful for it. Even Mac's mother called to check on her. Her Caller ID couldn't identify the origin of that call, but that also didn't matter now. The highlight of the calls was the one from Prof. Addams, telling Mariangie that her son was all right. He woke up late, and he was on his way to the subway when the crashes happened. Mariangie closed her eyes and breathed in relief, as she held Harm's hand against her cheek. At least, something turned out to be okay. As the sun began to set, the admiral retired to prepare the rooms. He would leave his own to the Roberts family. The ladies could sleep in the guestroom, and the men on the living room. He reappeared with a pile of T-shirts and boxers in one hand, and a stack of dark green and navy blue towels in the other. -This is like boot camp, one-size-fits-all.-he smiled feebly, as he tried to make that a light moment,-These towels are clean, and if you wish to wash your clothing, my laundry room is available. There's plenty of detergent, so don't be stingy. Also, there is hot water on the shower. The only thing I don't have in enough quantities are toothbrushes, but I have an antiseptic rinse that can do the job.-everyone there thanked him,-Ladies, the only kind of soap that I have is antibacterial, but my daughter Francesca keeps here a package of some sort of bathing cream or gel, I don't know, but it's new, if any of you wants to use it. She understands the situation.- The ladies thanked him for the lavender-scented bath gel. A funny moment occurred when the admiral went to the laundry room and Harriet volunteered to help him. The men looked a bit uneasy with the idea of someone else seeing their underwear, and she told them: -Sirs, I do this on a frequent basis, and believe me, you must not be so different from Bud after all.- They chuckled lightly, and a couple of minutes after 2110, everyone had clean underwear to continue using it. By that time, everybody was bathed and changed into their sleepwear. Some of them had seconds of the beef stew, some of them had crackers to accompany the coffee Mariangie made. Only little A.J. was sleeping, clean, fed and changed into the clean clothes Harriet carried in his diaper bag. He rested in his mother's chest, and she rested her head on Bud's lap. The rest of them remained eye-opened, tense and silent, scattered around the living room. No one went away, unless it was for going to the restroom. By that time, the only illumination was the one provided by the TV set. Everyone wanted to be together, sticking around the TV set, even though it repeated basically what they all knew: that it was presumably a terrorist attack, that the WTC was in ruins as well as the West side of the Pentagon, that every military corps was on the alert, the airports were closed and flights were deviated, and the first suspect was some Arab fugitive called bin Laden. It was impossible to have any sleep at all. On the verge of midnight, a knock on the front door startled everyone gathered on the living room. The admiral signaled with his hand to keep silent and quiet. Whoever it was, it knocked the door persistently. At once the admiral grabbed his pistol and handed another to Mac, the second senior officer in the room. The other military officers adopted attacking positions. Singer grabbed a pair of kitchen shears. Mariangie jumped off the sofa and grabbed a broom from the kitchen cabinet, and with surprising velocity, she twisted off the bristles and held the stick in attacking position too. Harriet held her son tightly against her chest with one hand and with the other grabbed a porcelain vase in the coffee table, right in front of her. No preventive measure was too little at that moment. The admiral gestured Mac to mute the TV set. He approached cautiously the door as his subalterns took their shooting positions. -Who's there?-he demanded in a voice that reverberated in the stillness of the night. -Admiral, it's me, Webb!- Everybody's eyebrows raised in surprise. That shrilly voice couldn't belong to Clayton Webb! Adm. Chegwidden took a small flashlight he had over a corner table and pointed it to the window adjacent to the door. -Yes, it's Webb!-and he promptly turned on the lights and opened the door. Clayton Webb stepped inside the house without thinking it twice. He wore a business suit, and a grief-stricken mask on his face. His presence hasn't ever been more welcomed than then. He was received with sighs of relief and even the ladies ran up to embrace him, tearful and anxious. They pulled him to a chair and asked him what happened. He recalled the horrible moment of the car-bomb explosion at the State Department (he was in the building across the street) and the chaos that followed afterwards. He volunteered to help on the evacuation of the surrounding area, and then the smoke coming from the burning site choked him. He was taken to the Washington Memorial Hospital, but since his case was not one of extreme urgency, direct victims were prioritized. A medical checkup proved that he was all right, and when he got discharged, he made sure his mother was safe. She labored at the State Department, but that fateful day Mrs. Webb took the day off for running some errands. The crashing and bombing news got to her at the Post Office. He felt reassured, but he suddenly didn't want to go home. And he drove to McLean. Webb's account watered many eyes. Mariangie squeezed his hand, as Harm palmed him on the back. Gunny brought him a cup of coffee. Mac held him from the shoulders. Bud sighed deeply and cleared his throat. The admiral just looked at him and asked: -Webb, what the heck happened today?- A profound silence fell over the place. Webb met the hard look of the admiral. -I wish I know, A.J.-he said with tears in his eyes, and his voice broke,-I wish I know.- ********** This fanfic ends here, but this story is not finished. That's why I don't put a 'The End'. America will rise. The world will rise. Justice and Peace will rise. But we need to have a clear mind to act. They claim they did it in the name of God. The God I know is not a God of violence and hate. He's a God of Peace, Justice and Love. The best example we can give is to act judiciously. Violence only produces more violence. We don't need and mustn't descend to the level of such dark-hearted people.