Ground Zero by Alan Gratz

Author:Alan Gratz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

A plane had hit the South Tower. A second plane. Brandon still couldn’t believe it. But he’d seen it. Flying in, turning at the last second so that it hit the South Tower full on. Not an accident. Deliberate.

An attack.

But by whom? And why?

Brandon was so distracted he almost tripped as he followed Richard and his floor mates down the stairs. They formed two rows, going down side by side: Esther leading Mr. Koury by the elbow in front, Anson and his guide dog behind them following the railing, Brandon and Richard together in the rear. Brandon wanted to run down the stairs, to get out of the North Tower as quick as he could, but Anson and Mr. Khoury couldn’t go any faster.

“At least the stairs are better than the last time,” Esther said. “After the bombing.”

Brandon looked up. “What bombing?” he asked.

“Terrorists set off a bomb in the parking garage under the building,” Richard explained. “Back in ’93.”

Brandon’s dad had been working in Windows on the World then, but it was no wonder Brandon didn’t remember it—he’d only been a year old.

“Was anybody hurt?” Brandon asked.

“A few people died, and a thousand more were hurt,” Richard told him. “It was a scary time.”

It couldn’t have been as scary as today, Brandon thought.

“It took us three hours to get downstairs that day,” Esther said. “The bomb took out the building’s power, and you couldn’t see a blessed thing in the stairs. They were total caves. It was chaos. All the smoke from the bomb came up the stairs. You couldn’t breathe. Now at least there’s fluorescent paint on the walls. But they didn’t make the stairs any wider.”

“Why did terrorists bomb the World Trade Center back then?” Brandon asked. “Is this another terrorist attack?”

“I don’t know, kid. Maybe so,” said Richard. “I don’t know who else would do it. The ones who bombed the building back in ’93 said they did it because we kept sticking our noses in the Middle East, and they wanted us out.”

“But why the World Trade Center?” Brandon asked.

“It’s a pretty easy target,” said Esther. “And a pretty noticeable one too. Sticking up taller than everything else around it.”

Brandon still didn’t understand. What purpose did attacking the Twin Towers serve? Hurting all these innocent people?

Down and down they went. Broken light fixtures hung from the ceiling, and water still streamed down around their feet. But not as much as before. There were more cracks in the walls too, ten floors down from where the first plane had hit. Through some of them, Brandon could see flames. Why were some floors on fire, and others weren’t?

They didn’t stop to find out.

“You doing okay, Anson?” Richard asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he called back, even though his voice sounded strained.

“How about you, Mr. Khoury?” Richard asked.

“I too am all right,” Mr. Khoury said in heavily accented English.

“You seem very calm, Mr. Khoury,” Esther told him. Brandon had been thinking that too. How could the old man be so chill with everything that was going on?

Mr.

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