Butane and Bullets

Standing in the garden Linda and Frank flicked through the address book together, making calls from his cell phone. Neither of them wanted to go back in to use the house phone where the television would be broadcasting death, despair and grief. They had to attend to their own before they could think of strangers. Between making calls they were also receiving them; people wanting to know whether the Iero family were okay, especially as they were ignoring the house phone indoors.

Just after taking one of those calls from one of Linda's relatives Frank Sr.'s car pulled into the driveway. He rushed out of the car in a sprint, leaving the door wide open and the engine running. He embraced his family between strong arms, gripping them to him as if he'd never let them leave. Tears flowed down all of their faces at that point, simply relieved that they had each other.

After some conversation and declarations of love, both Franks stepped into Mr. Hubert's yard and took another look together, the elder's arm slung across the shoulders of the younger in support. The cloud of smoke was now so large that Frankie didn't understand how it would ever disappear.

He supposed in some way, it never would. That cloud of rancid smog was a metaphor for the mist of terror that would remain among the nation and in some respects the world, for months and perhaps years to come. Eventually the three of them huddled together again and returned to the task of flicking through Linda's address book, swapping to using Frank Sr.'s phone.

They were lucky in that no one they knew collectively as a family had even been in New York when the two planes hit.
"I just need to call a couple of old buddies to check they're okay. All my other friends were either in that book or from work, so they're all fine" stated Frank Sr. "What about you Frankie? What about any of your friends?"

Frankie took a moment to think. His heart thrummed away in his chest as he clicked slowly through the contacts stored in his primitive cell phone. It was when he hit M that his heart skipped a moment. He forced himself to continue and check the remainder of the names before he let himself panic.

Coming back to that M, the knife of cut-throat emotion had wedged itself back to where it had been previously. M for Mikey. Mikey Way. He was a tall skinny kid a year older than Frankie. They'd become friends in the last few months when Mikey had come to some of Frank's band's shows. However it wasn't Mikey he was worried about. He knew for a fact that Mikey was due to hang out in Newark today with some friends, so he was safe. It was early; he probably hadn't even left the house yet.

However Mikey's older brother commuted into New York on the train for his job. Granted, Frank hadn't spoken to him that many times and he didn't even have the guy's call number. Gerard was a bit of a hermit; locked himself away in his room a lot. But they'd hung out a little bit when Mikey had friends over and Gerard felt a bit more sociable. However he didn't care how well he did or didn't know Mikey's brother. He simply couldn't bear it if someone he knew had gotten into trouble near the site of the accident.

It wasn't just people within the building that were at risk, after all. He supposed that if you'd happened to be walking past as it occurred you might have been struck by falling debris, or if the police hadn't pushed the crowd back enough some people may have been hurt during the collapse of the tower his mother had mentioned. The whole thing was just too dangerous to assume that everyone outside the towers were okay.

The ordeal was so terrifying that Frankie knew he wouldn't wish it upon his worst enemies. Should the pricks that tormented and bullied him at school have been in the towers at the time he would have cried and mourned them as if they were his best friends. His heart thudded against his chest menacingly in fear of losing anyone that he knew, no matter how well.

He gulped audibly, forcing that knife out of the way so that he could answer his father's question.
"Mikey's brother Gerard. I d- I don't know him that well, but I want to know if he's okay. Ineed to know he's okay. But I don't have his cell number or anything."

Linda stood beside Frankie and massaged the very tops of his arms in an attempt to comfort her son. Frank Sr. looked his son in the eyes and attempted to instil courage in him.
"Then you call Mikey, yes? I'm sure he'll know. Or else we can go and dig their home number out and contact their mother. We'll find out, Frankie. It's going to be okay."

It was only coming from his father's mouth at a time like this that Frankie would believe that was true. Those words from anyone else would have fallen flat. Frankie nodded, and hit the green call button and put his cell phone to his ear, once again chewing nervously on his lip ring.

The phone rang for a long time, the tone sharp and grating in Frank's ears, but Mikey picked up just as it was about to switch to voicemail. When Frank spoke his voice shook; he couldn't help it. He didn't say hello.
"Gerard."
"He's okay."

The air that escaped Frank's lips this time was not silent, as his throat let out a noise simultaneously. His relief was evident to both his parents in front of him and Mikey on the phone. He nodded absently at his father to clarify that Gerard was okay.
"He is?"
"He basically just got into New York when it happened. He saw it. He called Mum on his cell phone. It's fucking lucky really; he only got that phone like 3 days ago. If he hadn't we still wouldn't know that he's alright."

Mikey's voice wavered a little on the last sentence and it brought tears to Frank's eyes.
"Is he home?"
Mikey sighed.
"Not yet. I guess there's a lot of traffic and procedures and stuff. Don't even know if the trains would still be running or whatever; he could still be there." He paused, and Frank could hear his lips smacking as they pulled apart as if he was about to speak but then changed his mind. "No offence Frank, but why are you calling in the first place? You don't really know Gerard."
"No, I... I know that. But y'know, he's cool. What if I want to know him? I don't want something to happen to him before I get the chance."
"Frank, I didn't mean-"
"Don't worry, Mikes, I understand." He shrugged even though he knew Mikey couldn't see it. "I don't really know Gerard. I just... I didn't want there to be anyone I knew in there. Or near there. Anyone, no matter how well I know them. Plus I wanted to make sure you were okay. I dread to think how you'd have handled it if something happened to him."
"Your dad wasn't there when it happened?"
"Someone called him while he was on the way. He's home. He's okay too."

As he spoke that last part he raised his arm up and gripped one of his dad's shoulders. Frank Sr. cupped Frankie's elbow in response, smiling sadly.
"Good. That's good." Mikey laughed softly, and Frank was grateful to hear a happier sound than that which had filled his ears since he'd got home. "What are you doing up anyway? You don't usually surface until at least noon. Parents wake you? Mum woke me."
"Ah" he smiled. "I'd just got home from working the night shift."
"You must be pretty tired."

He wasn't, until someone had pointed it out to him. The exhaustion, both physical and emotional, impacted like a brick wall against him. His eyes felt heavier than anvils and his heart even more so.

"I guess I am."
"Go get some sleep, yeah?"
"Yeah. ...Mikey?"

The voice on the end of the line simply hummed questioningly.

"Let me know when he gets back? Maybe I can come over or something."
"You're welcome over here anytime, buddy. I'll call you."

Frank hit the red button and shoved the phone into his pocket, collapsing into his dad's arms once again. Standing at 19 years old, he'd have been embarrassed on any normal day to be exchanging such physical displays of affection with his parents, but in light of the circumstances everyone understood that all bets were off. Linda came up behind Frankie and closed the wall of parent that encircled him. He sighed, content to be surrounded by his immediate family. He was desperate to see his grandfather as well, and would propose a visit the next day. However for now, as Mikey suggested, it was certainly time to sleep.

"You guys gonna be okay? I really need some sleep. Night shift 'n' all. Mikey's gonna call me when Gerard gets home. I don't know when that'll be."
His mother pressed her lips to his hair. He wore it in dreadlocks that she hated, but that day she didn't care as she inhaled against the odd smelling matted chunks.
"That's fine, honey."

She turned Frankie away from his father's chest so that he was facing her. Using her index finger, she lifted his chin so that he was looking up at her, eyes like saucers. Her words were soft when she spoke.
"Let me tuck you in?"

Those eyes filled with the sheen of tears that he desperately tried to blink away as he nodded slowly. Wordlessly the three of them ascended the stairs. Frankie stripped himself of his greasy work uniform and climbed into bed clad just in his boxers, not giving a shit about modesty. Frank Sr. propped himself up in the doorway, letting his eyes appreciate the wonder that was his family. Linda fluffed up Frankie's pillows, his eyes on her all the while, and drew the duvet up to his chin. Her lips pressed against his forehead for slightly longer than seemed appropriate, and then spoke against his skin before she drew back and wiped away a tear, smiling.

"You will always be my baby."

His parents departed from the room hand in hand, closing the door softly behind them. Frankie let the tears run again, but didn't reach up to wipe them away. Nor did he turn onto his side the way he usually slept. He simply closed his eyes and went to sleep on his back the way his mother had left him, mentally berating himself for feeling so safe when the rest of America felt so lost.