Beyond the Point(33)
“Attention all cadets . . . there are . . . three minutes remaining . . . until breakfast formation . . .”
At West Point, you couldn’t escape the constant reminder that time was moving forward, counting down, drawing to a close. Urgency was the only operating mode because time was Avery’s only resource and her greatest enemy. West Point operated on a true meritocracy. A cadet’s academic and physical performance, measured by GPA, PT scores, and other evaluations, converted to class rank, which would eventually dictate her future.
A year earlier, Avery had watched from the wings as Sarah Goodrich leveraged her high class rank to receive an assignment to her desired Army branch, Military Intelligence, and to select the most coveted Army post: Oahu, Hawaii. Rain had poured over the class of 2001 at their graduation ceremony, their white hats soaring into the gray downpour. And though legend had it that any class that graduated in the rain would go to war, Avery would have done anything to trade places with Sarah. In a feat of personal achievement, she’d transformed her time at West Point into a one-way ticket to paradise.
As the days ticked by, Avery grew more uncertain that Dani could recover in time for the basketball season. Large inflamed patches appeared under Dani’s arms where crutches had worn her skin raw. The four-inch incision across her right hip remained red and irritated, like an angry half-moon. Even when she’d moved back into the barracks, daily physical therapy sessions seemed ineffective in rebuilding strength in Dani’s hip and back. Everywhere they went, she limped, crutched, and smiled. And Avery had never felt worse. A year earlier, she would have given anything to be on the varsity women’s basketball team. But now, the inevitability felt suffocating. Like her envy had willed Dani’s injury into existence.
Three days earlier, at the team’s annual “optional” season-opening practice, Coach Jankovich had written Avery’s name at the top of the varsity roster, relegating another plebe recruiting class to JV. Guilt, shame, and excitement had appeared in equal force as she read her name on that piece of paper. Her dreams for the basketball season only existed because Dani’s had been torn apart—ripped to pieces like the ligament in her hip.
It was a cruel twist of fate. Loaves and fishes, in reverse.
One dream broken, so another could survive.
WALKING INTO THAYER Hall, yellow spots appeared before Avery’s eyes as she adjusted from the brightness outside to the academic building’s dim corridor. Normally, the hallway was abuzz with cadets rushing to class, hanging their hats on the hooks outside the doors, chatting before they shuffled through into the classrooms and into their seats. But today, the hallway was empty and silent.
Her freshly shined black shoes clicked against the linoleum floors for twenty paces, until she reached the door to the lecture hall. She’d expected her Physics professor to be standing at the front, handing out the midterm packets, while cadets frantically used the last minutes they had to finish studying. But instead, every person inside the classroom was statuesque, staring at a television screen that had been rolled to the front of the room.
Life could change so quickly. All it took was an instant.
Turning to look at what held their attention, Avery’s stomach lurched, like she’d just stepped off the edge of a cliff. On the screen, two silver buildings glittered against a blue sky. The same blue sky she’d just been admiring outside. But something wasn’t right. The buildings were on fire, gashes cut into their sides, flames spilling out. Black smoke pooled above the towers, reaching higher than the tallest buildings in the world. Smoke signals.
“Two planes. Back to back. Flew right into the buildings,” the cadet standing next to her said.
“On purpose?” Avery asked, incredulous.
He nodded.
“Did they . . .” Avery stuttered. “Did they get everyone out?”
The cadet didn’t answer, but simply turned to look back at the screen.
The news flickered between images of the World Trade Center and a confused anchor, frantically trying to assess what had happened in the world around him. When the room let out a gasp, Avery closed her eyes and tried to pretend that the slam she heard through the television speakers was something else. Anything else.
Only one thought went through her mind, circling and circling, like a plane waiting to land. Like the dress of the woman who’d just jumped.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
This changes everything.
“THIS IS WAR,” Avery said, breaking the silence. “That’s what I keep thinking. It’s . . . just . . . I can’t believe it.”
The entire women’s basketball team had gathered in Wendy Bennett’s living room. Paper bowls of half-eaten chicken pot pie littered the floor, and were stacked on the coffee table. The team huddled under blankets, interlocking arms and passing around a tissue box. All twelve pairs of eyes were puffy and red. Women at West Point learned quickly to hold their emotion in check—never to shed a tear. But that unspoken rule had shattered to the ground, falling with the towers.
All day, people had speculated about what might happen next. Would they cancel school and send them all immediately to the Middle East? Avery heard more than one person say they wanted to go down to the city to help search for survivors. And though she didn’t say it out loud, she wanted to remind them that two 110-story buildings had collapsed. From what they were showing on television, it looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off in the middle of the city. There weren’t going to be any survivors.