Part III: tribute to lost fire-fighters (fictional 9-11 story)

Part III of the 9-11 Saga: Tribute to Fallen Fire Fighters

Mike and his dad returned to the apartment and flipped on the television, instantly seeing the horror of what the planes had done: two distinct columns of smoke rising into the sky, and floors burning in the middle of the Twin Towers.

Presumably on duty, his fire-fighter brother Patrick did not answer his cell phone, but Mike was soon paged to return to his unit immediately. Every first-responder mobilized in those early hours of the 9-11 tragedy, many commuted into the city as thousands fled.

He didn’t like leaving his aged father Jim O'Keafe alone in front of the television, worrying about his beloved son in the city and his other one heading toward the call of duty; but during the drive into Manhattan, Michael O’Keafe continued to ponder the nature of duty, family, and his upbringing. Having spent the morning on the lake contemplatively, it wasn’t difficult to consider the strange reality that he was probably closer to his work colleagues through their bond of a shared mission, than he was to his own family? He knew it in his gut.

Already anguished with interior conflict, the snarled traffic only increased the anxiety. During these thoughts, out of love and concern for his brother Patrick O’Keafe; he wondered what makes one human being head into an inferno, despite the danger, in order to save another, even one whom he hasn’t met?

His head throbbed uncontrollably, and with visceral churning Mike felt the natural effects of both internal and external chaos. He sensed the demise in the gloomy sky in front of him, light obliterated. The smoke's murkiness thickened into nightfall the closer he drove into Manhattan.

He pictured Patrick leading his company into a World Trade Center Tower in order to battle the asymmetrical threat of a raging fire. How does a single individual fight something as large as a commercial structure engulfed in flames?

Again he thought about art school, painting, and living by the Pacific instead of Manhattan, as well as the split-second judgment required to avoid fire-fighting catastrophe. Two different worlds balanced in his subconscious.

If  “purpose” is the eternal condition for success, how many fire-fighters actually feel the calling or purpose of their work, especially as they venture headlong into danger, even the kind of which might jeopardize their lives?

©Mark H. Pillsbury

[Part One posted September 10, 2011, see previous posts...]