September 11
By: C. Leuch <isuleuch@hotmail.com
Submitted: September, 2001
Rated: PG
_________________________

I won't lie and try to say that this is based on an original 
idea. This is my attempt to deal with the grief and shock 
brought on by the terrorist attacks on the United States of 
America on September 11, 2001. The characters are the property 
of DC Comics, and the situation, however terrible it is, is 
real.

*******************

Superman stood at the top of the tallest remaining building in 
Metropolis,gazing out over the now calm Metropolis skyline, and 
staring at the place where the Metropolis Trade Towers once 
stood. Days had passed since the terrorist attack on the city, 
but it felt like an eternity to him. A lifetime's worth of 
grief and pain tortured his conscience, and he knew that he 
would be haunted for the rest of the days by the sights he had 
seen.

Indeed, America herself would never be the same again, a shred 
of her remaining innocence slipping quietly away like so many 
wisps of smoke. As hard as he tried to blame himself for the 
massive loss of life, he knew that it was ultimately not his 
fault. He had worked his utmost from the very second the 
disaster had struck, nearly wearing himself out in the process.

Terrorists from foreign lands were to blame, although Clark 
couldn't image what perceived gain they thought they were 
getting by committing such an act. No political agenda was 
worth the thousands of lives, no religious idealism was worth 
the blood shed, yet history had proven over and over again that 
radicals would always be willing to invoke terror on those with 
different beliefs.

His long day had started innocently enough. He had come to work 
with his wife as he did every other morning, quietly slipping 
into the newsroom and working on the stories of the day. Less 
than an hour after getting in, though, a low flying aircraft 
had rumbled over the top of the Planet building, the shock 
waves causing the light fixtures to shake and the windows to 
rattle. He had immediately gotten up from his desk to see what 
was wrong, but he had gotten only a few steps when the ground 
trembled with the force of a massive explosion. His sensitive 
ears had picked up the screams of thousands of people, and he 
knew right away that something terrible had happened.

Taking to the skies, he immediately saw that the disaster was 
worse than he first thought. The plane that had buzzed the city 
had crashed directlyinto the upper part of one of the 
Metropolis Trade Towers, leaving a gaping hole in the building. 
Black smoke billowed out, the result of the jet fuel catching 
fire. Over a dozen floors had been directly impacted by the 
crash, and even from as far away as the Daily Planet, Clark's 
sensitive nose could pick up the smell of burning flesh.

Drawing all the inner reserves that he could, Clark rushed to 
the scene and immediately started pulling people out of the 
wreckage. He gathered as many workers as he could at a time and 
took them down to the ground in large armfuls, depositing them 
and the ambulances, which had started arriving almost 
immediately.

Even as fast as he worked, however, it wasn't fast enough to 
get to everyone. In their desperation, people started jumping 
from windows, falling to the ground from heights that no living 
person could ever hope to survive. Clark poured on yet more 
speed, blindly scooping up everyone he could find, flying 
through the thick smoke and debris over and over and over 
again.

It was during one of those flights that he heard it, the sound 
of a jet engine that was much closer than it should've been. 
His arms had been loaded with injured people as he had finally 
seen it, a passenger jet headed straight for the second tower. 
He flew as fast as he possibly could without injuring his 
passengers, but in the end, all he could do was watch as the 
aircraft impacted the side of the building in a large ball of 
fire.

He let out a sob, not caring who saw. In the few short minutes 
that he had already been on the scene, he had already seen more 
death that he ever would've thought possible. In his wildest 
dreams he had never imagined that such a thing could happen in 
this city, under his watch. He no longer cared that Superman, 
the man who supposedly showed no emotion, was openly showing 
his horror. In the grand scheme of things, maintaining his 
facade was of little importance when faced with the tragedy in 
front of him.

Clark took a deep breath and blindly flew into action again, 
trying to do as he had done before, and trying to steel his 
mind from the sights he saw. It hadn't occurred to him to do 
anything to repair the structurally weakened buildings, all he 
could think about was saving as many lives as possible.

Hour after hour went by, an infinite number of victims coming 
forth to ask his help. His initial shock and sadness morphed 
into anger and frustration.

He could hear the journalists at the foot of the tower, he 
could hear as their home office briefed them on the state of 
affairs throughout the country. All the work that he had done, 
all the criminals he had arrested and the hope it had brought 
to the city and to the nation didn't mean anything, not in the 
face of these attacks. And all his powers couldn't save the 
people in Pittsburgh and Washington, and God knew where else 
the terrorists had struck.

And, ultimately, he hadn't been able to save Metropolis from 
losing one of its symbols. One by one, the towers had 
collapsed. Despite his best efforts, Superman couldn't stop the 
landslide of debris, he couldn't stop the choking cloud of 
smoke. People who he had just rescued had watched from 
thestreets below, and they had died in a pile of steel and 
concrete. All he could feel was despair as he unburied them 
some time later, after the fires finally stopped. So many lives 
lost, so very many lives uselessly thrown away in one cowardly 
act. Uncovering the bodies, he found himself recognizing 
professional acquaintances and friends, men and women who had 
families and home, who would never live to see another sunrise.

Far after the sun had gone down and the rescue workers had 
grown tired, Superman had labored, driven by the dull ache of 
guilt he felt. I had taken days to free all the people and find 
all the bodies, to clear the debris off the streets and make 
the city livable once more. It was said that time healed all 
wounds, but Superman couldn't escape the fact that his 
emotional wounds were still very raw. And so he stood now, 
surveying a city that had changed, a world that had changed.

Maybe the United States was arrogant to think that in was 
invulnerable to attack. In a country that so valued its 
freedoms, it had never occurred to it that there were those 
that resented them for those very things. Maybe the people did 
know the risks of possible terrorism but just chose to ignore 
them, choosing instead to live their lives free of seemingly 
baseless worry.

But no longer. The greatest nation in the world had fallen 
victim to a seemingly faceless foe, and Superman hadn't been of 
any use in stopping them. For all he could, all the powers he 
had, the loss of life had been stunning.

But not all was lost, he thought as he zoomed in more closely. 
Out of all tragedies came the beauty of the human spirit, and 
here more than anywhere, this was proving to be true. 
Volunteers worked hand in hand with paid rescue workers, doing 
their best to try and save those around them. Private citizens 
lined up to donate blood to their fallen comrades, and the 
wealthy gave supplies and money. Public officials worked in 
their offices for hours above and beyond what they were paid 
for, trying to make the city safe and livable once again. Life 
went on, no matter what happened. Around the devastated city, 
around the mourning country, life went on, and there would be 
happiness once again some day.

With a sad intake of breath, the man of steel took to the skies 
once again, this time bound for a small brownstone far away 
from the devastation. A light in the window of the master 
bedroom beckoned to him, signaling that his wife, his support, 
his life was there, waiting for him. As he landed,he saw her 
look at him with such understanding and sympathy, it made his 
heart break. Of anyone on this planet, she knew how hard it had 
been for him to see everything that he had seen. She had known 
his helplessness and his anger, and he had no doubt that she 
felt them, too.

He took a couple long strides across the room and into her 
waiting arms, embracing her with his mind and body. He knew 
that he was filthy from days of work, but he also knew that she 
didn't care. They needed that contact, that reassurance that 
everything would be all right. And, for the first time, he was 
positive that everything would be fine, after all. A part of 
the country's spirit had been stolen away, but for now, his was 
recharged, and he could forget the scenes that, ultimately, 
nobody would ever forget, nor should they.

________________

The preceding story is dedicated to the memory of all those who 
lost their lives in the attack in New York City, Washington DC, 
and Pennsylvania. In a time when a Superman was needed, the 
brave men and women of the United States stepped up and took 
the role on themselves, many of them losing their lives in the 
process. For that dedication, we are all truly grateful. As 
said on the show, "A world full of heroes has nothing to fear."