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by Scott Normandin
He listened intently to the voice on
the other end and replied, "Yes officer,
we are both alive in here, and both okay."
He listened some more and then held the
phone out to Tom and said, "Say something
into the phone so they can hear you."
Tom yelled, "Get me outta here you
freakin pigs... I am sitting on a bomb in
here and I really really gotta take a piss!"
Roger put the phone back to his ear and
listened again. Tom was focused on everything
Roger said in hopes he might gain some insight
into whether or not Roger was going to let
him go. The only thing Roger added to the
conversation was "My demands? Give
me a half an hour to talk to him. I just
want to say a few things to this son of
a bitch and then I will let him go. Once
he is out of the building, then you can
come in and get me. That's all I want. I
do have a panic button here so if you try
to come in the building, he dies."
Then Roger hung up the phone.
Roger looked at Tom sitting in the chair.
His fingers gripped the armrests of the
chair so tightly, the tips of his fingers
were white and he was trembling. There were
large drops of sweat beading in his forehead,
his expensive shirt looked like it went
for a dip in the pool, and Tom's face was
as white as if he had been doused with large
doses of talcum powder.
Roger looked at the ceiling. "I
told the cops I would let you leave in a
half an hour and I meant it but I am going
to make you sit there and listen to me.
"A year and a half ago, when I was
on that fishing trip, I had no idea that
the plane was going to crash in that field
nearby. I mean, damn, I had never seen a
commercial jetliner crash like that, it
was incredible.
"Nothing could have prepared me
though for what I saw when I walked over
there to get a better look. I admit I was
a curiosity seeker at the time, and I just
wanted to look.
"When I got close I saw the fuselage
was still intact, and through the twisted
metal I saw all those people strapped into
those chairs, I had no idea if any of them
were alive or not. One thing I knew for
sure, was that if any of them were alive
they were going to die in that fire before
any help could arrive. I saw families on
that plane. Husbands and wives, parents
and children.
"Something took over me and I ran
into that wreck through the thick smoke
and tried to see if anyone was still alive.
I called out but no one answered. I was
choking on the horrid smell of jet fuel
and the heat was burning my lungs. I had
to act fast. I just started pulling those
people out of those seats and carried them
out not knowing if they were alive or dead.
It didn't matter. I even knew there was
no way I could get them all out, but if
I could just save one life, it would all
be worth it."
Roger looked down at his hands. Tears
filled his eyes as he recounted the story
with all the intensity as if it happened
yesterday.
"So, I kept pulling them out, two
or three at a time. My clothes were burning,
my flesh blistering and bleeding in the
heat. I never even took the time to consider
what I was doing, or even enough to notice
someone taking pictures. When the rescue
workers arrived, I was still in that mode
and they had to hold me back from going
in again. I pulled twenty-two people from
that plane, but I wished it could have been
more. If you were any kind of man, Mr. Jamestone,
you would have put down that camera and
helped me."
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