20

Dawn broke on Friday morning.

David awoke in his own cabin, all alone. His father and brothers were nowhere to be seen, but he didn’t mind. He’d been dreaming about the previous night with Marseille, dreaming about where it all would lead next. But suddenly he heard the sound of a floatplane coming across the lake.

David jumped out of his sleeping bag, threw on a sweatshirt, and stepped out into the frosty morning air. Everyone else, it turned out—including Marseille—was already awake and down by the docks as Old Man McKenzie landed his de Havilland first, followed by the others. David ran down to meet them, half-fearing the men might lynch the pilots when they finally taxied over to them.

But before any of them could say a word, McKenzie climbed out of his cockpit and apologized profusely, promising to refund all of their money just as soon as they got back to Clova. It worked. The men were grateful and surprisingly forgiving. What they really wanted to know was what in the world had happened and why McKenzie and the others hadn’t shown up on Tuesday morning, as planned. But no one was prepared for McKenzie’s answer.

“Believe me, gentlemen, we were all suited up and ready to come get you guys when we got word that morning that the Canadian government had just issued a no-fly order for the entire country. And it wasn’t just Canada. All commercial and civilian flights throughout North America were grounded. No one could take off, and everyone in the air had to land immediately.”

“Why? What happened?” David’s father asked.

“A group of terrorists hijacked four commercial jetliners—two from Boston’s Logan Airport, one from Newark International, and one from Washington Dulles,” MacKenzie explained.

David gasped.

“Two of the planes plowed into the World Trade Center,” McKenzie went on. “Another flew right into the Pentagon. The fourth went down in a field in Pennsylvania. Everyone on the planes was lost. No one knew if there were more hijackers on more planes out there, so the entire air transportation system was simply shut down. Believe me, we wanted to come get you guys. But the Air Force was threatening to shoot down any unauthorized plane in the sky. The only planes in the air were F-15s and F-16s, all armed with air-to-air missiles and ready for action. I’ve never seen anything like it. But again, I apologize for what you’ve been through. If there had been any way to get you—or get word to you—please know we would have done it.”

The group stood there in stunned silence. And then it got worse.

“Was anyone in the towers hurt?” Marseille asked.

David noticed that she was ashen, and her hands shook.

“I’m afraid the towers don’t exist anymore, young lady,” McKenzie replied.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean the towers collapsed not long after the planes hit them.”

“Both of them?”

“I’m afraid so,” McKenzie said.

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Are you kidding?” McKenzie asked. “At this point, they’re saying almost three thousand people have died, but there may be more.”

“Three thousand?” David’s father asked.

McKenzie nodded. “There’s a big gap in the middle of Manhattan where the towers used to stand. There’s smoke rising as far as the eye can see. Whole thing took less than two hours, and whoosh, they were gone, both of them.”

Marseille collapsed to the ground and began to sob uncontrollably. David looked to Mr. Harper, expecting him to comfort her. But Marseille’s father just stood there, the blood draining from his face.

Scared and confused, David cautiously knelt by Marseille’s side and gingerly put his arm around her shoulder. “It’s okay, Marseille. You’re safe. We’re all safe, right? Really, it’s going to be okay.”

But Marseille didn’t respond. She couldn’t speak. Neither could her father. They tried, but the words would not form. She was disintegrating, and her father was standing there like a zombie.

“David,” Dr. Shirazi said softly, his voice faltering.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Marseille’s mother.”

“Mrs. Harper?” David asked. “What about her?”

His father’s eyes welled up with tears. He took a deep breath and said, “She works for a bank, David. She works in the South Tower.”

David couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Mrs. Harper works in the World Trade Center?” he finally asked.

Reluctantly his father nodded.

David sank to the ground and sat for a long while, not knowing what to say.

“Maybe she got out,” he finally said, his lower lip trembling.