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One teacher told the students to continue their work, but some began to wail. Others became furious. Matthew Rivera immediately started packing his book bag. Turning to his best friend, Larry Pitta, he yelled, "I want to get out!"

A few blocks away at Primitive Christian, Marcos Rivera ran out of the church building and encountered chaos. "There was a roar of weeping when I got outside," Rivera says. "I started yelling, 'O God, have mercy! Protect us!'"

Pacing on the sidewalk, Rivera thought about his son and the other children from his church at nearby schools. Finally, he decided to stay and help his people. "I got ahold of myself. I had always told my son to come home in such an event. I was pretty sure he would do that."

Santiago and his wife, Angela, tried to make their way to the high school but were blocked by smashed and disabled emergency vehicles. Still, they told each other, "We need to trust God!" Moments later, the World Trade Center's south tower collapsed in front of them.

"Lord, save my baby! Save my son!" Angela Santiago prayed as they fled to the church.

At the school, students and staff left in an orderly fashion but were then swept up in a flood of panicking people. Matthew and Phillip joined a small group of students and teachers running toward the southern tip of Manhattan. Matthew was a little ahead of Phillip. Hearing a long rumble, Phillip yelled, "Is that thunder?" as they all ducked. Then they started to hear metal cracking as the second tower collapsed. "A huge gray cloud started rolling toward us," Phillip recalls. "It became darker and darker as it got closer."

Stymied and disoriented, the teachers told their students to head north, but they couldn't get their bearings. Matthew took charge of a small group, shouting, "To the church!" Primitive Church was far enough away to be a safe shelter. The collapsing towers had destroyed the nearby Faith Exchange Fellowship and St. Nicholas Orthodox Church.

Moments later, Matthew says, "A huge, boiling cloud of smoke and debris came like a fast-moving flood toward us," forcing his group further south, then to the Lower East Side, the farthest they could get from the towers.

Phillip prayed, "God, show me the way." He sensed a renewed calmness and a clear leading that God was drawing them to safety. He spotted an abandoned sanitation car, yanked open the door, shoved a classmate into the front seat, and fell in behind her. "It was a miracle it was open. God was watching!" he says. "We caught our breath for a few minutes." In the darkness, the debris from the towers engulfed them.

Back at Primitive Christian, Pastor Rivera scrambled. "Get food! Get tables!" he barked. He took chairs and water outside for the injured as he scanned the crowds for any sign of his son and the other children from the church. Every 30 minutes or so, he would lock himself in his office and pace, crying out to God.

Suddenly Matthew, along with teachers and fellow students, their hair filled with ash, pebbles, and concrete, entered the church. He stood before his father amid a sea of people streaming by in silence. The father grabbed Matthew in a bear hug, and they wept together. Matthew prayed and gave thanks.

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September (Web-only) 2001, Vol. 45