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The Ground Before Zero by Craig S. Faris
May 2006 My wife, Beth, was driving as we neared the entrance of the Manhattan Bridge upper roadway that crossed the East River. Just prior to reaching the first tower, I caught my first clear view of lower Manhattan’s financial district where only five years earlier had stood the twin towers of the World Trade Centers. Once again, as it had so many times, my mind drifted back to that crystal clear September morning. Standing before my desk on the eighty-fifth floor of the South Tower, looking out towards the Southeast at the shape of a jet airliner, its left wing tipped down in a slow arch as it began its final approach directly towards our building. Seeing it come right at us, growing larger and larger, and then that terrible ripping sound, explosion, and searing heat of the fireball. “Why you?” Beth said, snapping me out of my trance. “Did you even know this person?” “No, not really,” I said glancing down at the summons lying in my lap. Other than basic details, for years I had remained virtually silent on what happened that morning in the South Tower. But now I needed to picture it once again in my mind, since my account would surely be required if I needed to testify. Our relationship had improved greatly since both Beth and I realized how close we came to losing each other. But now, due to this summons to appear before an arbitration hearing, all of those terrible memories came flooding back. Beth knew that I didn’t like to talk about it, and for the most part, she understood. * * * 9/11/2001 The alarm that morning woke me from my dream at the worst possible moment. I rolled against my wife’s back and reached for the snooze button. The clock displayed 5:01 a.m. I was already running late and needed to leave the house in twenty-six minutes, to catch my train. It was Tuesday, not even the middle of the week yet. Beth murmured something. “I’m late,” I said. “Go back to sleep.” My wife of eight years was dressed in flannel pajamas from neck to ankle. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her completely naked, but as a full-time mother of two, most days we were just too tired for romance. “Be sure to kiss the kids before leaving,” she said. “Ok,” I replied from the bathroom door. “Steve,” she added, “it’s important to them.” “Okay!” I closed the door and switched on the light. The shower was cold, but it had the desired effect of clearing my head. I tried to remember the dream, where I had been sitting at a
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