Fall and Rise: The Story of 9/11

by Mitchell Zuckoff

Brian remained on the 81st floor, yelling and waving the flashlight. With his hearing affected by the crash, Stan Praimnath could barely hear the calls of his would-be rescuer. Fortunately, above his head he saw a small ray of light behaving like a lighthouse beam, sweeping back and forth. “I can see your light!” Stan yelled, and started to call out “left” and “right” to help his rescuer line up the beam with his location, moving toward it until only a nine-foot wall separated the two men. The office’s false ceiling had fallen, so above the wall a gap revealed the steel bones of the South Tower, the support trusses that held up whatever remained of the 82nd floor. Stan gathered his strength, reached back, and called upon his karate training. He punched a hole through the sheetrock wall, thrust his arm through and waved madly. “Can you see my hand?” he screamed. Brian followed the waving hand up the length of the arm, through the hole to a soot-coated face. From the other side of the wall, the trapped man’s brown eyes locked onto his would-be liberator’s blue eyes. “Hallelujah!” Stan yelled. “I’ve been saved!” Yet the wall still separated them. Before they tried to breach the divide, Stan asked Brian what he considered to be the most important question of all: “One thing I gotta know. Do you believe in Jesus Christ?” Unprepared for a theological inquiry, Brian stammered something about church on Sundays. He wondered if the man he was trying to save had lost his mind. Brian ...