Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7 "It looks like Tower One," Uncle Benny was saying, his phone pressed to his ear as he and Lucas ran back to the firehouse. "The North tower… no, not a small plane. It was a jet. A big jet. Yes, I'm sure." Uncle Benny was shouting now. "I saw it with my own eyes!" Lucas kept glancing back, each time hoping that the tower would be magically healed.

But each time he looked, there was more and more black smoke. The sound of sirens filled the air. "Get ready," Uncle Benny was saying. "We're going to need everything we have. There has to be at least ten floors of fire." Ten floors of fire.

Dad had told Lucas that every floor of the Twin Towers was about the size of a football field. Lucas tried to imagine what ten football fields would look like — each one on fire. How many firefighters would it take to put those fires out? And what if each of those fires was almost a quarter mile in the air? That's how high the towers were. Lucas knew how much firefighters hated high- rises. Elevators were usually too dangerous to use in a fire. They could stop working suddenly and fill up with smoke. But the only other choice was to lug heavy hoses and fifty pounds of gear up endless flights of stairs. Georgie once told Lucas that it could take two minutes for a firefighter to walk up just one flight of stairs. Lucas looked back at the tower. That fire was near the top — maybe the eightieth or nintieth floor. That meant it could be two hours before firefighters could get there. Could the people on those floors wait that long for help? The Seagrave was already out of the garage when Lucas and Uncle Benny got back to the

firehouse. Georgie was at the wheel. Men from both shifts were piled on. Benny ran over to grab his turnout clothes and helmet. Lucas followed after him. "Uncle Benny?" he said. "What will you do?" Uncle Benny stepped into his bunker pants and boots. "We'll do what we always do," he said. He put his hand on Lucas's head for a moment, then ran to the truck. Chief Douglas called out to Lucas from the truck. "Your dad is heading to the scene," he said. "You sit tight!" "Take care of things for us, buddy," Uncle Benny said. The truck pulled away, its siren wailing. The garage door shut. And Lucas stood there, in shock. Alone. He ran to the phone and called Mom. She didn't answer. He left a message, struggling to keep his voice from cracking — that he was at the firehouse, that he was fine. That she should call him. He hung up and stood there, his mind spinning.

Uncle Benny's words whispered in his head. We'll do what we always do. What they always did. Fight fires. Save people's lives. Yes, that's what they'd do now. The FDNY was the biggest fire department in the world. They were the best. And they would do what they always did.