Realizing that he would be crushed if the structure were to collapse, Tim struggled to his feet, dragging his wounded leg behind him. Sirens blared everywhere as he stepped out onto the street, feeling like he was entering a war-zone; he had no idea how accurate his perception was. The sound of the buildings behind him creaking reminded him that he needed to seek safer ground, but he had no idea of where to go.

Everything was happening in slow motion as he watched a yellow cab—number 1802—crash into the burning wreckage of the jet, spilling its passengers and the driver out into the pool of fire. The ground shook once more and he looked up to see the floor above the 7-11 give way; the entire building imploded, collapsing inward on itself as it belched out a steady stream of stone and dust.

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