Status: Ongoing writing process. R rating will not become apparent until later. Just FYI :)

Butane and Bullets

Chapter 1 - "And we all fall down"

Frank walked into the house, looking forward to some down time in his room with a CD blaring before some well deserved sleep. He'd just got in from doing the night shift at work so he was incredibly tired. And bored. Flipping burgers didn't exactly nourish the mind. His ears perked up at hearing his name, albeit spoken quietly from down the hallway.

"Frank."

Eyebrow quirking, he leant his head back to steal a glance through the window at the driveway he'd just walked up. Just one other car besides his own. The only person home was his mother. Sharing the same name as both his father and grandfather had led to the requirement of different nicknames over the years, so the fact that his mum had called him Frank rather than Frankie struck him as slightly odd.
"Mum? Did you mean me?"
"Frankie, come here."

That was a yes then. Oh hell, what had he done now? He wracked his brain for a second or two to try and remember if he'd done anything before going out that his mum would disapprove of. He didn't think so, actually. For once.
"Mum, come on, I just got in. Can't I go make some breakfast first?" he whined, still standing just inside the front door of his family home.
"Frankie."

There was something in the way that his mother spoke his name that immediately put him on edge. She sounded weak, resigned and ... just sort of lost. Fuck, what's happened? All traces of tiredness fled. That short walk through the hallway into the lounge caused the highest concentration of butterflies that Frank had ever experienced fluttering in his belly; even in comparison to stage fright. His mind was racing, desperately clutching at straws to find some sort of answer before his mother could give it to him. The options were all bad ones, and he started to feel sick as he dragged his rucksack on the floor behind him.

He hovered in the doorway to the lounge. Linda, his mother, was standing in the centre of the room and turned when she felt his presence. She gave the smallest smile at the corner of her mouth to try and put him more at ease.
"Mum, what's happened? Is Dad okay? ...Grandpa?" He gritted his teeth in anticipation of the answer.
"Oh, yes honey. Sorry. Yes, they're fine."

Frank exhaled shakily, and gave a similar half-smile to the one she'd given him, taking another step into the room now that the worst scenarios had been erased from his mind.
"Look" she said softly, turning once more and moved closer to where she'd been looking before he'd entered.

Stepping to the side, Frank realised she was looking at the television. He hadn't even realised it was turned on in all the worry. He looked then.

Smoke.

"Wha-" he began, but then quietened to listen to the news reporters and let his eyes wander over the flames and massive clouds of smoke apparently engulfing the top half of a skyscraper. The words weren't sinking in; gibberish with American accents. So he finished his question. "What happened? What's going on?"

Linda winced, but didn't turn. She realised she was gently going to have to explain to him what was going on.
"That's the World Trade Centre in Manhattan, honey. It got hit by a plane."
"A plane? What the fuck was a plane doing flying that low?"

Under normal circumstances she'd have berated him for his use of foul language, but these certainly weren't normal circumstances.
"No one knows, baby."
"Fuck... that's one crazy accident."
"Yeah, it is."

They stood in silence together for a couple of minutes, eyes never leaving the screen, and the words spoken by CNN reporters finally registering as the English language in Frank's ears. Eventually he spoke up again.
"So Dad's definitely okay?"

Frank's father didn't work in either of the towers obviously, but worked very close nearby.
"He hadn't even made it in to Manhattan yet. A colleague called him on his cell while he was still on the road. The boss had told John to pass on the message that your dad didn't have to come in after what's happened. So he's on his way home. He's safe."

Frank blew out another breath and repeated what she'd said.
"He's safe."

Nodding, Linda focused on the screen again. Sure, all three Franks in her life were safe. But how many other people did she know who commuted to Manhattan every day? She was soon going to have to face the fact that someone she knew might have been hurt in the accident. She doubted that had even crossed Frankie's mind, but she didn't want to bother him with that knowledge just yet.
Mentally, she sent a prayer for those still inside the building, and the other wives standing at home in front of the television set with far less certainty than herself that her husband was out of harm's way.

Frank shifted his weight from one foot to the other, at a loss of what to do or say. What had happened was tragic, and he knew that people wouldn't rest until the cause of the accident had been discovered. He was prepared not to see anything on TV or in the papers but the sight of that smoky building for a while. Like I'm gonna forget it anytime soon anyway...
He shuddered.

All of a sudden, any trace of calmness that resided in the room was ripped away. Whilst the voices of the news reporters were detailing the event over live footage of the smouldering building, another plane circled and smashed into the second tower.

Immediately Linda screamed and sank to the floor with her hands fisted in her hair. Letting go of the rucksack Frank was not even aware he had still been holding, he rushed to his mother, sliding onto his knees and encircling her with his arms. He turned her face inwards to his shoulder, his chin on her head so that he still had a clear view of the television set; a clear view of the carnage.

"Mum-" He wanted to tell her it was okay. However, he didn't want to lie.

She sobbed away into his shirt, and he let a tear slip down his own cheek as he watched the smoke and flame billow out of the gaping hole the aircraft had left in the side of the building. Wait; in both buildings. It wasn't an accident. He realised in that moment that it was not in any way feasible that those planes had each crashed into one of the towers by accident. His blood ran cold and he ran his hands up and down his mother's arms.

"Mum." He spoke quietly into her ear as her chest heaved with difficult breaths. "Mum, I've got to go outside. ...Are you going to come?"

Her head moved in such a way that Frank assumed it was a nod, and he took her hand to help her to her feet. Wiping a hand under her eyes she nodded at him swiftly and motioned as if to tell him that she was okay, she would follow. He broke into a run and crashed out of the back door into the garden. His chest rose and fell heavily with the breathlessness of fear upon seeing whispers of smoke in the distance above his roof.

New Jersey is effectively just across the pond from Manhattan, so he and his neighbours in Belleville could just about see the destruction from their back yards. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his gaze, and he turned his head to meet the eyes of his asshole neighbour, who was also standing in his garden.

He was a haggard chubby man who always looked upon Frank with disgust. He'd often taken to calling Frank names when he saw him, disapproving of his tattoos, piercings and general appearance. Today the look Mr. Hubert gave him was exhausted and defeated in contrast to Frank's hyper-aware fearful expression. Silently, an understanding passed between them as their gazes returned to the horizon. Frank couldn't see too well given the positioning of the houses behind his and the tree at the bottom of their garden. He stood on tiptoes, straining this way and that to try and get a glimpse, just to make sure it wasn't a hoax.

"Hey pansy."
Frank didn't need to look to his left to know that it was Hubert who'd spoken, but he did so anyway. The term hadn't been spat with the usual malice or teamed with the disapproving sneer of the norm. Today it was just a harmless nickname spoken from a weary man. Plus Frank suspected that they guy didn't actually know his real name.
"Come on over here, you'll be able to see better."

Hopping over the short decorative white fencing Frank stood just to the side of his neighbour, fixing his eyes into the distance. And indeed, across the river he could clearly see the gigantic plume of dirty smog rising into the sky amongst the faint flickers of orange flame. One building was easier to see than the other; the other was simply a pillar of smog that you couldn't see past. If he could see – and faintly smell, he realised – the damage from that far away he daren't think what it must be like in the centre of Manhattan right at that moment.

They stood like that for a great deal of time, simply watching the cloud grow larger. Eventually his eyes flicked to the side and noted that Mr. Hubert's face was puffy and red around the eyes.
"Uhh... sir?"
The taller man regarded Frank with a level look. Frankie continued.
"Anyone you know in Manhattan right now?"

Hubert coughed once, before looking away from Frank's eyes. It was then that he answered.
"My wife works in the World Trade Centre."

Frank's throat caught on what felt like a knife, as he tried to find the next words to say to the man. Hubert sighed and relieved Frank before he had to.
"I'm so lucky, shrimp. She called in sick today."
The knife dislodged itself and Frank let his breath escape.
"She's in bed watching the TV right now, crying so hard she can't move except to vomit. All the people she knows and works with are in there. She can hardly stand it. I had to come outside because I'm just so glad she's home that I don't care about them right now."

"Frankie?"
He altered his gaze to look at his mum who'd finally made her way out of the house. Her voice was wary. She had a sneaking suspicion that Brian Hubert from next door didn't like Frank very much. She didn't have any proof, it was just motherly instinct. He and his wife were always perfectly pleasant to her though.
"It's okay, Mum. ...I can see the skyline better from here."

She smiled weakly at Mr. Hubert in response to Frank's reassurances, but simultaneously noticed the red around his eyes. In a rush the knowledge of Hubert's wife's profession came to the forefront of her mind, and Linda gasped whilst pressing a hand to her stomach.
"Brian, is Jessica-?"
"It's alright, Linda. She called in sick today."
"Oh thank God!"
"Yes indeed. Praise the Lord."

Frank merely raised an eyebrow at that one. I know the guy is thankful his dame's still alive, but many others aren't. Why would God save his wife and not all the others? Why would God allow this to happen? He wasn't especially religious himself, despite having attended a Catholic School. It was events like these that made him question why anyone is. He took one last look at the harrowing sight along the horizon before nodding at Hubert and stepping back over the fence.

"One of the towers just fell to the ground" Linda informed them. "I guess the structure just couldn't support that much damage."

That explained the tower that was seemingly made of smoke. It actually wasn't standing anymore. What is happening?

After a few minutes of discussion between the two adults, Hubert bid his goodbyes to the two of them and ventured inside to undoubtedly console his wife. He told them before he left that they were welcome to go back into his yard if they wanted to take another look. As Frank nervously chewed on his lip ring he noticed his mother had an address book clutched in her hand. He merely looked from her hand to her face until she noticed.
"My mind's gone blank. I can't think whether we know anyone who might be..."

Their eyes met, shimmering slightly. They were upset at both the notion of losing someone they knew in the – he didn't want to say accident, but what other word was there at that point? – accident, and the idea that they might have forgotten someone who could be in certain danger at that very moment. Or worse.