Jack studied his partner through the leafy brush. He frowned. It had taken him over an hour to find the kid. Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the piny woodland around them. It was an obscure camping spot. Jack wasn't sure if any other human had ever been up here beside him and Mac. Jack rubbed his eyes and fought a yawn.
He had known Mac was in trouble on the plane home from a messed up mission in London. They had stopped terrorists from lighting up most of Westminster, but it had cost a number of first responders their lives. Mac had done the impossible and there was absolutely nothing any of them could do to save the men and ladies who sacrificed themselves so hundreds of others would live.
Mac, of course, put the heavy weight of their deaths firmly on his own shoulders. He had been silent the ride home. Jack didn't like the emptiness in the kid's eyes. While Jack bandaged Mac's burnt forearm, the kid had vibrated with nervous energy. Mac squirmed bouncing his knee. Jack knew he needed to run. If Matty hadn't split them up for debrief, Jack would have stayed with his brother. Jack shook his head. He had to admit if Mac truly didn't want to be found he wouldn't have been. He knew Jack would eventually come. As if hearing his thoughts, Mac called out without turning.
"I got some beans and franks on." Jack smiled surprised Mac allowed him to watch as long as he had. Jack barely made a rustle as he stepped toward the campfire. Mac handed him a warm cup of coffee without turning. Jack held the hot cup in his hands as he took in the camp. Mac had chosen a beautiful spot.
Moths circled in the light above the fire. The hoot of owls and coyotes mixed with the buzz of crickets and burp of frogs. Jack could see a vast panorama of stars spread above the small open dell. The perfectly pinned tent sat close in the shadows. The night felt crisp. Jack sipped the coffee and wrinkled his nose.
"Strong coffee." He commented. He crossed to the other side of the fire and sat across the flames, "It's like those old Western shows used to say 'strong enough to float a horseshoe in.'" Mac stirred a kettle of beans hanging over the fire. He didn't look up.
"Never saw them." Jack narrowed his eyes and studied the blonde. The kid still looked beat up. Jack's heart kicked in his throat. If it hadn't been for a pair of bobbies his kid would have been buried under that building too. Mac glanced up his sad eyes dancing with light. He tried a small smile and failed. He twisted and laid a ladle of beans on a paper plate beside three hot dogs he'd already made. He held it out to Jack. Jack smiled. The dogs were already done up like he liked them-piled with everything.
"You knew I was coming." Mac shrugged.
"You always do. Whether I want you to, or not."
"And...your happy about that?" Jack could read Mac's expression through the dancing light of the fire. Mac stabbed the fire with a long stick.
"You're here." Both men stared into the fire as Jack munched his supper. It wasn't bad. It was one of the few meals Mac could manage not destroying.
"You ate?" Jack asked. Mac's eyes flashed at him with annoyance then returned their vigil to the depths of the warm light. "So that's a no."
"I'm not hungry." Mac's voice was softer, younger. Jack knew the kid's brain was replaying the rising tide of screams and billowing cloud of dust and debris. Jack frowned at the flames. How many times had destruction come with the same tower of smoke, debris and destructions. And the screams...Jack rubbed his eyes and set aside his empty plate. The screams never stopped.
"Do you know what day today is?" Jack asked.
"Tuesday?" Mac looked at Jack puzzled picking up on the older man's unusually pensive expression. Jack rolled his neck trying to relax his muscles. After a long minute Mac's eyes widened.
"September 11th, I'm sorry, Jack. I forgot." Jack nodded at Mac's worried expression. The kid never knew why, but this day always kit the older man hard.
"Seventeen years today." Jack sighed; his shoulders slumped. The comforting noises of the forest circled them for a long minute. Jack looked at Mac curious.
"Do you remember it?" Mac scratched his chin.
"I was a kid. It was a year before my dad left. I remember all the teachers talking together in the hallway in hushed whispers. You could tell they were scared even though they tried to reassure us. We went home early. My dad had them drop me off at Bozer's house because he had to leave for some emergency meeting or other. Boze and I played video games all night, long past bedtime. We loved it, but it was weird for his dad not to make us go to bed. I didn't really understand why until I saw the towers fall on TV the next day." Mac studied his partner.
"What about you? You never talk about it." Jack sipped his coffee taking a minute to stare up at the stars. Mac truly had found a special place. It had the quiet reverence Jack had only ever found in a confessional.
"I was on a mission chasing terrorists." Jack snorted and shot Mac a dry smile, "Same thing different day, I guess. I returned to our bivouac late night/ early morning that Wednesday after. I was exhausted, dirty and smelly...ready to drop in my bunk for years. I know you know what that's like." Mac nodded and took the kettle of beans off the hook and set it beside the fire.
"Well, I got back and all the guys were in the mess...and it was silent. Eery silent. I went in and there it was playing in full color. I can't tell you...At first I thought it was a movie, ya know? I asked one of the guys and he gave me this look...horror and...I don't know what. They had it on a constant loop from a hundred different angles nonstop. Everytime I watched it was like seeing it the first time. It just wouldn't compute."
"Surreal."
"Exactly. My grandmother once told me what it was like to watch the attack on Pearl Harbor. She remembered seeing the boats on fire, some tipping on their sides and sinking. Of course then it was in black and white. Then she saw FDR give that speech-"
"A date that will live in infamy." Mac quoted. He wrapped his arms around his knees and leaned forward. Jack nodded running his hand through his sparse hair.
"She always had a...I don' know, kind of reverencial anger maybe?...when she talked about watching it."
"Reverencial anger?" For once there wasn't amusement in Mac's voice. Jack shrugged.
"What do I know? You're the brains. Anyway, I didn't get it until I was sitting there with brother soldiers a world away watching. Oh we were pissed, Mac."
"I bet."
"No you don't get it. We were there killing these son of a bitches to stop shit like this, then they go and fuck with us like that? We were ready for blood, and a lot of it." Jack's face took on a distance.
"You ok, Jack?" Jack shook himself and rubbed his hands across his face.
"As wiped as we were, none of us slept that night. We were all trying to call our families, find out what was going on, not sure of what our orders were-we were all messed up with worry and anger."
"I think everyone was," Mac said, "At least you were somewhere you could do something about it."
"We were and we were making progress...but Mac that was a kick in the balls."
"I know, partner." There was a long pause when even the forest around them seemed to stand in silence. Mac cleared his throat and rested his chin on his knees.
" I remember the president was in the air flying from air base to air base and there were rumors of planes aiming for just about every location across the country. We didn't have school and pretty much everything was closed. Police and national guard troops drove up and down the streets constantly. I think everyone else stayed inside and watched TV." Jack smiled.
"I'm impressed, most kids your age remember it, but don't remember the specifics...of course you're you so…" Mac smiled and rolled his eyes. He took a big gulp of coffee.
"The thing that creeped me out years later is rewatching the footage again and seeing things falling from the towers then realizing-"
"They were people jumping. Yeah, I remember that too." Mac noticed Jack's eyes were moist.
"Jack?" Jack rubbed his eyes and sniffed.
"I never...I never told you about Goldbug did I?" Mac shook his head. Jack's eyes softened with moisture.
"He was a blonde kid. Not like you he had a white kind of blond-"
"Goldbug." Mac added knowing the nicknames teams tended to saddle their newbies with. Jack laughed.
"Yeah, he was a weird one. Not weird like you, just...weird. He'd always get these boxes of food from his wife. She travelled the world for some pharmaceutical company-"
"I'm guessing one in the World Trade Center?"
"Building 1 the North Tower."
"The first one hit."
"And last one to fall." The two men shared a long look both imagining the terror of feeling the giant building shake, the darkness, panic. Watching the other massive tower fall knowing the same was going to happen to you. Jack shook his head not trying to wipe away tears oozing down the creases of his face.
"She was there. She was working overtime because he was due his furlough. They were on the phone when it went down."
"Oh god."
"Yeah, to see it in real time as he was talking...it was worse than a lot of battles I'd ever been in watching this poor kid shatter right there like that. The next day the hunt was on for ol' Osama and we were ready. We were hungry dogs wanting blood." Jack drifted into silence staring into the fire.
"Jack?" Mac asked softly. Jack looked up and for a second in the reflection of the older man's eyes Mac saw the flames of the bombs in London exploding. The heroic men and women who run into danger to save others even at the cost of their own...Mac felt the chill of gooseflesh bubble his arms. It had been worse in New York. 2977 killed total, of those 393 were first responders. Mac angrily wiped at wetness running from his eyes. Who was he to sit here wallowing in self pity when so many had died saving others? Mac jumped when a familiar hand squeezed his shoulder. Mac looked up into Jack's deep knowing eyes.
"I know, brother. I know." Mac nodded. Jack moved the cool pot of beans and sat beside Mac. Mac inched closer glad his friend was with him.
"What happened to Goldbug?" Mac asked. Jack's head whipped around to look at Mac surprised. Mac rolled his eyes. Jack sighed and sipped his coffee.
"The next day we came across a group of Tangos who were having a high time celebrating the Taliban's victory over the Infidels." Jack's voice hardened. Mac felt the man tremble and knew it was rage. Mac wasn't surprised that memory brought back the rage. It did for him, and he had only been a kid.
"Goldbug went nuts. He...damn Mac, you know what we've seen and been through? This was worse than all of that. He chopped into those guys and refused to take cover."
"Suicide?"
"Basically. We tried to bring him back, to talk him down, to cover him...hell, anything. But he just kept slashing. It took fifteen shots before they brought him down." A screeching bat darted into the light over their heads, snagged a fat white moth then skidded away. Mac shook his head.
"Humans are assholes." He muttered. Jack looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"What?" Jack's worry exploded. Mac never gave in to despair or pessimism. Mac tossed a twig into the fire and turned away avoiding Jack's eyes.
"Mac? Talk to me kiddo." Mac huffed and he hunched into a drooping question mark.
"Seriously, Jack. 9-11, Syria, London...it seems like everyday someone is blowing up something causing...I get so tired of it, you know? And what are we really changing? If we stop one, there's another then another…" Jack had never heard so much defeat in his partner. Jack nudged Mac with his shoulder.
"Mac, that's the wrong takeaway." Mac met his gaze with a hungry pleading look. He looked young in the firelight.
"My sister dragged me to New York back in 2005. I saw Ground Zero. It was a shitty rainy day. Even four years later, everything was heavy and grey like ash. Hell maybe it was ash, who knows. They had the entire hole where the towers stood dug out. You have no idea how massive the towers were until you see it man. More than a city block. Down there they have that cross up, you know the one left by two steel girders? A flag flies off it, the same flag the firemen had hung from it during rescue operations the days after 9-11. I don't know if you remember but all across America everyone had a flag hanging somewhere. All the streets were one huge flag parade and everyone was together proud to be American and very pissed off."
"Yeah, I remember. They handed out flags at school."
"I was proud to be doing my part and proud to be American, but standing in that grey ashy mud pile looking up at that flag…" Jack smiled and brushed away tears.
"It isn't only about being American, bud, it's about surviving. After that hell, digging into their elbows trying to hear a scrape or whisper of someone alive. The hours of back breaking work to save people, and not just the first responders and soldiers- the volunteers, the way people helped each other out, taking care of each other...For every heartbreaking story like Goldbug's there were ten more of little things people did to help out. I heard about a little boy who took bottles of water out to the rescue workers on his bike...hundreds of stories are told everywhere like this no matter what shitty thing happens."
"I want to believe that." Mac murmured.
"C'mon, Mac. I know you feel guilty about those bobbies and firemen dying, but it's not your fault. It's who they were. Cops, firemen, doctors, nurses, teachers, military...you name it, there are all kinds of people who make sacrifices for others every day, some at the cost of their lives. Even at that high of a cost, it's worth it, man. It's worth it. Both of us know that, right?" Mac stared into his empty cup moving it between hands. He nodded and smiled at Jack.
"That was pretty good, you rehearse that?" Jack laughed and put an arm around Mac's shoulders giving him a sideways hug.
"It took me all day to find you." Mac's eyes softened he held out a fist.
"I'm glad you , partner." Jack bumped it.
"Anytime, brother."
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm
**This story, as you can tell, is in homage to all of those men and women around the world who sacrifice themselves for the benefit of others. Sometimes it seems that everything is so negative and the future so gloomy, I think it's good to remind ourselves that there are decent people who do miraculous things around us every day. This was never more true following 9-11. I presented as many of my own memories as possible. I have many millennial friends and they remember 9-11 as if it were something that happened a long time ago. It was our generation's Pearl Harbor. We shouldn't forget the shock and pain of something so horrible happening on American soil. We are fortunate. Many people around the world face this horror on a daily basis. We faced it once and may face it again although I pray we never do. Abraham Lincoln once said, "Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it." I feel as if our world has become impermanent and rootless-never looking into history to understand what's going on today. Many kids I know (yes I am old enough you 20-somethings are kids to me-why do you think I get Jack?) don't know or care about the world around us now or then and here we are facing the same problems over and over again. On the other side of it, us old farts need to tell the stories and keep telling them or we as a species will never grow past our past. Sorry to be so preachy-blessings to all of you, Pox