Fred Baker is from Toronto, Ontatrio, Canada. He was very happy this morning. He and Susan Banks came here for a job interview at the north tower - the New York landmark. Susan looked bright and bubbly. Fred has brown eyes, medium height, medium build. Receding hairline, a slight paunch around the middle. He was wearing his best suit.

Fred is a McMaster University graduate with double degrees in Biology and Computer science. Susan is a graduate of University of Toronto majoring in Engineering Science. She worked for the computer giant Microsoft for one summer and held a teaching assistant position at U of T..

It is early Tuesday morning. He stood on the floor looking up the North tower, squinting against the fierce September sunlight. The morning was humid and bright.

He went up to the office on 61st  floor, which was big and elegant with blue shutters.

"Good morning, we have an appointment with Mr. John Smith" Speaking to the receptionist, Fred's voice was gruff, but he couldn’t quite hide the tiny catch in his words.

He had no expectation; he told himself and waited in his reticence for an interview to come.

Suddenly the tower was shaking with a big bang.

His breath caught in his throat. His heart skidded to a stop, then thudded into a jackhammer beat in his ears.

"What’s happened? Is it hit by something?" He asked with great vehemence.

His heart coalesced into ice-cold dread.

"I don’t think so, this tower had never been hit by anything" Susan cocked her head a little on one side.

Alarm sounded in the building, fire started at upper floors, and the building swayed to the right and left like in earthquake. The air is stifled with ashes.

People started running out. Following them, the couple sauntered toward the staircase.

Susan looked up at him, her dark eyes serious, and all traces of bravado gone from her voice.

"We got to run, it’s too dangerous here". She snapped at him.

He was surprised to see a faint sheen of tears in her eyes.

Are they going to die? The montage of his past happy years with his father reflected in his mind.

He scowled, but nodded. "Yes, we must go faster down the stairs’.

Smart as a whip, he held her small of back looking for escape. She didn’t respond to his touch. At least she didn’t flinched.

Arriving at the staircase, she cut him off with a flick of her hand to loose up the hold and start running down.

Suddenly rocks and debris fallen from the sky and blocked the escape route.

He ducked his head and shuffled out from the concrete and paper debris.

Nicked a vein by the broken glasses, his face was pasty with shock.

Susan shouted for help as a piece of metal lanced to her leg. Her voice sounded thin and reedy.

He was oblivious to his own pangs and came to the rescue of the woman he loves.

He found some gauze patches to stop her bleeding.

In the mean time, unknown of their fate, firemen are running up the stairs trying to control the damages

of fire. 

Together they tore down the stairs and out to the street for safety with the crowd.

By this time, another big bang and fire occurred at the nearby tower.

An airplane had just hit the south tower with big flame covering the sky.

A few newel posts perched precariously on the side of the building.

Twenty minutes later the tower melt down like chocolate layers of the wedding cake.

Ashes are so thick people could not even seeing their own fingers.

At that moment, the ambulance pulled up to the side door, and they were wheeled away. At the hospital, a doctor stopped the gurney and took a quick look at Susan’s injured leg and the scrape on her head, raising the woman’s eyelids to peer into her eyes with a pencil flashlight. "Looks clear. That’s a good sign. " he muttered.

Then motioned to the nurse who had emerged from the swinging doors marked "No Entry Without Permission" with an imperious wave of his hand. "Get her into number four. I’ll be right in.". He put his hands on Susan’s shoulders and turned her toward a kind-faced woman in a white hospital smock. "Show Susan where to wash up, She’ll feel better without all that blood on her hands".

The doctor then examined Fred’s injury.

There are bumps and bruises. Quite a cut on the right arm and a goose egg on his forehead.

They started working on the patient. A doctor sutured his arm. Two nurses began fastening a padded dressing over the stitches with long gauze strips.

They put a gauze patch over the cut above his eye, and someone had washed the blood from his face. But he was still and pale as death. He was shuddering at the image of ill-fated twin tower of New York.

Fred was tired and fallen sleep after a long day of darkness.

Tomorrow will be another day, he sighed!

*** Written by Sung-yen Wu in Windsor, Ontario ***