One man in particular seemed much calmer than everyone else.
“Something tells me that first plane may not have been an accident. What happened to this building may have been as a result of structural damage to the North Tower, but more than likely it was another plane. At this point, we all need to start down the stairs and continue until we get to the bottom,” he said.
“But, she’s pregnant,” someone said, pointing at their pregnant coworker.
“I’ll help her,” the man said.
Damita was terrified, like everyone else, but somehow this man made her feel safer; like everything was going to be okay. She didn’t recognize him as an Underhill employee, but she figured he was a visitor or maybe a new member of the staff that she had yet to meet. Either way, she was glad he was there.
He helped the pregnant woman, as he said he would and even stopped every now and then to make sure others were doing okay. He would encounter someone who had fallen or been hit by a piece of falling debris and try his best to assist. At one point during their descent, Damita noticed an older man slumped in a corner, his leg oddly twisted. His face was contorted in agony and she stopped to see if she could help. She tried to help him to his feet, but his leg was obviously broken.
“You can’t get him down more than seventy flights of stairs. You’ll have to leave him. Rescue personnel will be along. They will need to help him.”
“Maybe if we all—,” she continued.
“We can’t. You have to keep going. Rescue personnel are here. Anyone who has been left behind will get help.”
Damita looked around at her coworkers and others she didn’t recognize and wondered if in addition to working together, they would die together.
He saw the frightened look on her face and tried to reassure her.
“You know, we’re actually in good shape, under the circumstances. Judging from the smoke and fire that seemed to be coming from North Tower, we’re good. There’s barely any fire and if we move quickly we can get to safety before the smoke becomes life-threatening. Everything is going to be okay; really.”
Damita forced a smile. There was an overpowering odor. “What is that smell?” she asked.
“That’s jet fuel,” the man answered.
Damita saw him try to help Mr. Underhill, who seemed close to being catatonic. She watched as he continued to navigate the stairs despite his head injury and apparent shock. Debris and smoke further impeded everyone’s progress. Every now and then the man would stop to remove debris. She wondered what had happened to Mr. Underhill when he was on the seventy-eighth floor, especially since he reported back that everyone on that floor was dead. She took notice of the scent of fuel and wondered if there was a threat of an explosion. There were gaping holes in some areas of the stairwell and at one point, Damita stepped directly into a hole, twisting her already fragile ankle. The man who was helping everyone stopped to help her as well and reminded her to keep going.
“I don’t know how much time we’re all going to have to get out of here. With that much jet fuel, we’re in a great deal of danger,” he said.
The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her and everyone else even more, but he felt it was important that they understood time was of the essence.
The pain in Damita’s ankle was excruciating, but when she considered the alternative, she realized it was imperative that she push through the pain. As she continued on she noticed that others had been injured. Every now and then pieces of debris would fall. She was comforted by the presence of the man who had been by her side throughout her efforts to make it to the bottom. Some fire-fighters passed her on the stairs and she couldn’t help but think how frightened they looked. She was happy to see they were there and would be able to help the old man she had to leave.
By the time she exited the stairwell and made her way into the World Trade Center complex mall, there were firefighters screaming and frantically gesturing to get out of the building. Damita did her best to speed up, despite the shooting pain in her ankle. Confident she was out of danger, she turned to thank the man who had helped her just in time to see a huge block of the structure fall, separating the two of them. Yet, she could still make out his voice, even above all the other voices and chaos.
“Keep going, Damita. You’ve got to get out. The structure is weak and the building won’t remain stabilized for much longer. Keep going. If you don’t survive, it will all be for nothing.”
Damita wondered what he meant by that. What would be all for nothing? She realized that under such extreme circumstances anyone was capable of saying things that didn’t make much sense. She realized he knew her name and since she hadn’t told him what it was, she assumed he had picked it up from someone else.