Chapter 73: Tragedy ... All Over Again

April 21, 2001

"Remember when," stated Evie, "I wanted us to take drastic measures right before the space shuttle exploded, to try to prevent it from happening? And when it actually happened, we found out what a naive and hopeless proposition that really was? This one is even more out of our reach. It's way too big, and far too elaborate." Inez and I nodded decisively, in full concurrence.

On an unseasonably warm late April Saturday afternoon, the three of us were lounging out on our sunny backyard deck, talking about the situation with Holly, and the larger issue of the upcoming 9/11 tragedy. We'd discussed it over the phone quite a bit, and it became apparent to us that a face-to-face conference was warranted. That had been difficult to arrange, due to our busy schedules. Evie had managed to get away for a weekend, and had flown to Albuquerque, passing it off as a friendly visit. Vince, as was often the case, was traveling on business that weekend. Their children (now three in number) were staying with Vince's folks. Meanwhile, Javier and Lupe had headed up to Santa Fe for their traditional day off. Our daughters were inside, planted firmly in front of the TV.

Inez, who preferred to approach problems in an organized and logical manner, spoke up next. "Let's outline the issues here. I think we're in agreement that complete prevention of the attacks just isn't in the cards, right?"

"It isn't, for lots and lots of reasons," I reiterated. "Exactly what could we do? Figure out a way to alert the authorities, and have the flights grounded? We could never do that without revealing our pre-knowledge. That's the big obstacle here – something large-scale is needed, and even if you assume we have the means to do it, there's simply no way to carry out an operation like that without giving ourselves away. If we had, say, ten years to come up with something, we might have a sliver of a chance. But in this time frame? Even if I was President of the United States, I'd be hard-pressed to take any action without alerting everyone that I knew the future.

"And there's another thing to consider. I lived through 9/11 once, and I remember how the mindset of the people in this country, and the government too, changed afterward. Wait until you see the hassle you'll have to go through to board a plane, or cross a border, or even attend a concert or sporting event. If 9/11 doesn't happen, neither will those changes. The point I'm trying to make is that if al-Qaeda is somehow foiled on 9/11, they'll try again, and none of the post-9/11 enhanced security measures will be in place. If I remember correctly, almost three thousand people died on 9/11. Suppose we somehow, some way managed to stop 9/11, but a future attack resulted in ten thousand deaths? How would we feel then?" I could see from the expressions on the faces of Inez and Evie that the point had been driven home.

"So what we should do," Evie opined, "is concede that these attacks are going to happen, and dial back our expectations."

"Which means focusing on just keeping Holly out of harm's way," commented Inez.

"Right," I agreed. "I've given some thought to making an effort to maybe reducing the fatality count just a little. A smaller-scale thing that wouldn't be nearly as risky. Problem is, once again, we just don't have enough lead time."

"What kind of smaller-scale thing?" wondered Inez.

"Let's say I located a contact in the office of Rudy Giuliani, the mayor of New York. I could get to know this person a little, and maybe voice some concerns about the structural integrity of the skyscrapers in Manhattan, or the evacuation procedures in the World Trade Center. It wouldn't be too hard to pass that off as normal instincts rather than fore-knowledge of a terrorist attack. But that would be a long shot at best, and in any case, it would take more time than we have to build up trust with the person."

"That would be grasping at straws," Evie agreed. "It's not even worth attempting."

"But keeping Holly out of trouble, even though it's not gonna be easy, is a little more feasible, wouldn't you say?" I asserted.

"Yes, it is," declared Inez. We conversed a little more. Our primary aim, we decided once and for all, was to ensure that Holly was nowhere near the World Trade Center on September 11, and we arrived at a tentative course of action. Then, we sat in contemplative silence for a moment. That's when Evie mentioned something that had already crossed my mind.

"I need to at least put this out there. Should we consider telling Holly that we know the future?"

My wife gazed over at me. "That's your call, sweetie. What do you think?"

I took a deep breath before replying. "I don't know very many people who I'd be more comfortable sharing our secret with than Holly. She's open-minded and completely trustworthy. But. The problem is, would it be wise to tell her under these conditions? I'm sure she has a lot of close friends in her office, and she'd certainly want to warn them somehow. She'd be torn apart that we wouldn't allow her to help. At that point, we'd run the risk of our tight little circle becoming a lot larger than we really want it to. And we know how dicey that would be, not just now, but in the future. Wouldn't it be better to work on simply keeping her out of the affected area?"

Another period of pensive silence followed; that idea had been shelved without further discussion, at least for now. If either Inez or Evie had any thoughts about pushing further the idea of letting Holly in on our pre-knowledge, they kept them to themselves. Both knew how adamant I was about keeping my secret within the three of us. I knew that in general terms, they were one hundred percent in agreement with me on that point. However, this was an exceptional situation, and I feared the mental second-guessing I'd be saddled with, should things backfire on us here.

Once again, Evie was the first to speak up. "For me, the most frustrating part of all this is the fact that we know something awful is about to happen. There's a part of me that feels we have a moral obligation to do everything in our power to prevent it. It's that same voice that was speaking to me before the Challenger disaster. Are we doing enough? I really can't say."

"'Everything in our power' is the operative phrase there," I pointed out. "But you know what? I know where you're coming from. Ninety-nine percent of the time, this fore-knowledge is a gift I'm eternally grateful for. But that other one percent? Sometimes, knowing the future really sucks."

July 30, 2001

The weeks seemed to inch past at a snail's pace. I tried to throw myself into my daily routine, and in most respects, succeeded. The one notable exception, however, was that I was unable to concentrate on writing. I pressed my publisher to postpone the deadline for my latest literary effort. My mind simply refused to stop wandering. Thankfully, I was able to secure an extra six months.

"You know, worrying won't solve anything," pointed out my wife, the psychologist, on one afternoon that found me in a particularly brooding frame of mind.

"I know that," I replied with a half-hearted chuckle. "There's just a little too much waiting going on right now."

To help lighten up our general spirits, we took two vacations that summer, which were much-welcomed diversions. In mid-June, right after school let out for the summer, our household of six made the long trek up to Glacier National Park in Montana. That was a visit that was certainly worth every mile, since the girls had never seen terrain like that. Then, in mid-July, we took off in the opposite direction. We drove down to San Felipe, Baja California, a town a little over a hundred miles south of the United States-Mexico border, right on the Sea of Cortez. Despite the oppressive heat ("Next time, let's come here in the middle of winter," joked Javier), we had a great time. Javier and Lupe enjoyed mingling with the locals, and as always seemed to be the case when they found themselves in a new setting, made lots of new friends.

Now, the time was finally at hand for the implementation of The Plan. I gave Holly a call that evening. I didn't waste too much time in getting to the point.

"Inez and I haven't seen you for awhile," I began. "Plus, we're excited to meet Linda. Why don't the two of you come out to New Mexico for a few days?" I suggested the second week of September as a time that would work for us, and offered to help out with the air fare if necessary.

"We'd love to come out," Holly replied right away, as my spirits rose momentarily. "But the thing is, I've got a real crunch with regard to vacation days. We spent two weeks vacationing in Maine back in June. It's been made clear to me that I have almost no vacation time left for the rest of the year. Why don't we plan something for early next year?"

And just like that, our attempt at displacing Holly on 9/11 - this first one, anyhow - had been swiftly cut off at the knees.

I spoke with Holly for a few minutes after that, talking about scheduling something next year just for form's sake, eventually handing the phone over to Inez. When she got off the phone, she looked over at me, wearing a grim expression.

"What do we do now?" she asked helplessly.

"We go to Plan B. What other choice do we have?" I sighed.

"I don't like Plan B. Too much can go wrong," she stated matter-of-factly. I didn't like it, either; it was Plan B for a reason. It would, to a large extent, require us to be reactive instead of proactive. And that was something I never relished.

August 29, 2001

"When did you say you'll be in New Jersey?" came Holly's voice through the phone.

"It's gonna be a really quick visit," I declared. "We're arriving late on Sunday night, September 9^th. The flight comes in at around 11:30. Inez will be at the symposium all day on Monday, and afterward, we're planning to visit my parents. On Tuesday, we need to be at the airport at about noon for our return flight. The one available block of time we have is on Tuesday morning, the 11^th. Do you think you and Linda could take off from work and meet us for breakfast?"

I should point out that the 'symposium' of which I spoke was a complete fabrication. Holly was silent for a moment; she appeared to be considering the possibility. I proceeded to sweeten the offer a little.

"I've talked to Dennis and Mayra, and they'll be there. They both have flexible work schedules and can get away for breakfast. I also talked to Paul. He's not sure if he can come, but he'll send Jasmine along if he can't make it. Her work schedule is a lot more flexible than his."

"I... guess I could go in to work late that day, or maybe use half a vacation day," she said doubtfully. "I'll have to check with the boss, and make sure it won't be a problem. I want to meet up with you, though. I really, really want you to meet Linda." I silently thanked our lucky stars for the Linda factor. Holly was practically jumping up and down to introduce her to us.

We ended the conversation with Holly having given me a definite maybe. The nervous tension was ratcheting up; there was no way of preventing this from going down to the wire.

September 10, 2001

Southern New Jersey

"Spending a entire day in a hotel room together, just the two of us, would be fun under normal conditions," said Inez in a serious voice. "But this is definitely not normal."

It was around two in the afternoon. We'd arrived the previous day, leaving Lexie and Tina back home in the able hands of my parents-in-law. The rest of the world – at least those who knew us – believed that Inez was attending a psychology symposium about eighty miles to the north. At the same time, I'd come up with a ridiculous alibi of my own. I'd told everyone that I was heading off by myself into the Poconos for the day, "to get some inspiration for this new book I'm about to write." No one questioned it; everyone thinks writers are a little flaky, even close friends and family members.

But nonetheless, here we were in a hotel room, not inclined to do anything but think or talk about what was to transpire. To distract ourselves, we decided to check out the pool for awhile. After that, we went back to our room and snuggled under the covers for a spell. And after an hour or so of that, we went down to the snack bar and had lunch. Neither one of us had much of an appetite. To soothe our nerves a little, I decided to call Holly. Naturally, she was at work, in her office in the upper reaches of the building where, less than twenty-four hours from now, true horror would be unleashed.

Talking to her in that manner didn't soothe my nerves. It made me shudder.

"I'll meet you at the restaurant tomorrow," Holly assured us. "8:30 sounds fine. That's kind of early, but it lets you guys get to the airport early, and it lets me head on into work well before noon."

At least on that front, things were going as well as we could expect.

At about five-thirty, Inez said to me, "Well, I guess my bogus symposium is over. Let's go over to your parents' house." She managed a wry smile. We checked out, hopped into our rental car, and drove over to visit with Mom and Dad.

Mom's radar sensed right away that we both were out of sorts. "I'm fine, thank you," smiled Inez in response to my mother's concerned questioning. "These symposiums are interesting, but they take a lot out of me."

"I've been driving all day," I fibbed, "and I guess my battery's on low, too."

I certainly didn't relish having to lie like that, but in this case, there's no doubt it was for the greater good.

We spent the night in my old bedroom. Having my sweetie in my arms in the sanctuary of my childhood was akin to being encased in a womb. I knew, however, that when we emerged from the womb in the morning, we'd be entering a world that was about to be forever transformed.

September 11, 2001

We were on the road by six-thirty, and heading north on the turnpike minutes later. The sun rose to reveal a deep blue, clear sky, just as it had in the other timeline. I remembered that small detail very well.

We said little for a good part of the ride. It was Inez who eventually broke the silence with a pithy observation.

"Look at the people in these cars," she said in a low voice, motioning out the window. "They're just going about their lives. They don't know what's about to happen. But we do."

"I've never been more unnerved by my pre-knowledge than I am right now," I stated firmly. "Actually, 'unnerved' is not the proper expression. Flat-out scared is."

At about 8:20, we pulled into the restaurant parking lot. Paul, who would not be joining us for breakfast, had nonetheless suggested this eatery as a suitable choice for this get-together. I liked it for one specific reason: it was located close to where Holly and Linda lived, and added convenience would reduce the chance that our plans might go awry.

We ran into Jasmine, who was two months pregnant, as we headed for the main entrance. "Paul can't make it," she said, telling us something we already knew. "He's tied up at work."

Inside, Dennis and Mayra had already gotten us a table. There was a tall, dark-haired lady seated with them. There was someone missing, though, and that realization made my hair stand on end. However, it was more than a realization. I recognized at once that what I was feeling was The Sensation, informing me that something was gravely out of whack.

"Hi, I'm Linda," said the dark-haired woman, as both Inez and I introduced ourselves. "I've heard a lot about the two of you. Looks like Holly won't be able to make it. She got called into work for some reason, after all, and she sends her apologies."

I'm hard-pressed to describe what went through my mind right then. It was a feeling of helpless horror that unceremoniously slapped me across the face, and it was immediately followed by excruciating guilt. You should have told Holly that you know the future! I berated myself. But no ... you had to be stubborn, and tried to have your cake and eat it too.

Then I looked over at Inez, the woman I loved, who was in a state of great distress and unable to hide it. A pained look was pasted across her face, and she was conspicuously wringing her hands.

"Are you okay, prima?" asked a concerned Mayra. "You don't look so well."

"I ... I think I'm coming down with something," she replied, not very convincingly. By now, Dennis, Jasmine, and Linda were also regarding us with worried expressions.

When I was a young child, my parents always used to tell me that God never gives you anything you can't handle. Had Holly actually gone in to work that morning, I don't believe that Inez or I would have forgiven ourselves. This time, at least, the spiritual platitude proved to be right on the money.

"Hey, everyone!" came a cheerful voice from behind us. I turned around, and lo and behold, a smiling Holly was on her way over to our table. I was startled to notice that The Sensation up and left the moment I laid eyes on Holly.

My wife and I immediately sprang to our feet. "Holly!" we shouted in unison, and ran over and embraced her.

Many would have been surprised and perhaps a little put off by an over-the-top reaction of that nature, but not Holly. She just smiled back at us, and said simply, "It's nice to see you both, too." I did, however, notice that our cohorts were wearing looks that clearly said, "What was that all about?"

But all was quickly forgotten as Holly took a seat and told us about her change in plans. "I was about a mile from the Holland Tunnel, on my way into work," Holly explained. "My boss called me, and told me not to bother coming in. All I had to do was give him a summary report I'd written, and he found it sitting on my desk." A normal conversation among old friends ensued. Inez headed outside to make a quick phone call, assuring a very worried Evie that Holly was now in our midst. There was a TV mounted on the wall in one corner of the restaurant, which happened to be tuned in to CNN. I wasn't sure at first if I was happy about that, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it would be easier for Holly to have easy access to the latest information. She would certainly want that, at least in the beginning.

I tried to participate in the discussion as best I could, while alternately peeking at my watch and the TV screen. Just before 8:50, it happened ... CNN cut away to a view of smoke pouring from the north tower.

Inez, now back at our table, caught it right away, and shot a stupefied look at me. She'd been married to me for fifteen years now. She'd seen plenty of other predictions of mine come true. I knew, however, that no matter how many times it happened, it was still a little bit frightening for her.