Journey for Revenge

Meredith sat there sipping his steaming coffee when he heard that bastards name on the TV hanging from the ceiling. He looked up and stared at the monitor. Bin Laden had surfaced again and it was being shown on the evening news. As Meredith watched, his anger and frustration grew, to the point that he involuntarily squeezed his paper coffee cup so tightly, the liquid shot straight up in the air and all over his hand and the table.

At that moment Michael Pappas walked up. “Bill, hey, relax buddy, don’t let that son-of-a-bitch get to you.” Michael looked over his shoulder at the TV above him and gave a one-finger salute to the bearded man filling the screen.

Bill looked up at the words being directed at him by name and saw Michael Pappas standing there, still in his police uniform. He looked back down at the table and realized that he had coffee all over his hand, and his hand was burning from the hot liquid.

“He is a son-of-a-bitch,” he growled. “And my blood pressure is already shot. Hell, I’m on three medications now.” And with that he calmed down, grabbed a wad of paper napkins and began mopping up the milky coffee running all over the table.

Eventually Meredith looked up at the policeman and said, “I’m glad you can join us for a change Michael, you haven’t been around for a couple weeks. Have a seat. ”

With that welcome, he went back to mopping up the mess. When he had pushed the liquid around awhile, he looked out the window and seemed lost in thought, so Michael just sat there quietly.

“You know,” Meredith said to no one in particular as he stared out the window. “If I could, I would personally kill that bastard with my own two hands. I can’t believe they can’t find him and take him out.”

Everyone knows what they were doing on Tuesday, September 11, 2001.

I was driving to work in downtown Chicago, listening to the 24-hour news station, when the first reports of an airplane hitting the New York World Trade Center came across the airwaves. That initial report suggested an awful accident had occurred in Lower Manhattan, and because of the catastrophic collision of plane and building, there would definitely be substantial loss of life.

When I got to work, I parked in the garage and walked past the restaurant and bar in the lower level walkway. A crowd had gathered in the bar, which wasn’t even open yet. Everyone was staring at the television mounted on the wall. I was drawn in, and then spent the rest of the morning watching a horrific terrorist act unfold.

This is a story about that day, the aftermath, and how some of the victim’s surviving family members band together to cope with their grief and sorrow. Their journey starts that September morning and ends in an act of ultimate revenge and retribution for the many innocent lives lost that fateful day.