Genelle Guzman-McMillan - Angel in the Rubble: The Miraculous Rescue of 9/11s Last Survivor

Praise for Angel in the Rubble

I simply devoured Angel in the Rubble . I read it from cover to cover and found it impossible to put down! Genelles hope was a choice that not only kept her alive for twenty-seven harrowing hours, but caused her to live her life in the aftermath of tragedy with deep conviction and passion. It is hard to read Angel in the Rubble without searching your own soul and asking yourself what truly matters. You will never look at your life, your family, or God the same again. This book is sure to impact the world, but more important, it will touch your heart in a profound way.

Crystal Woodman Miller, survivor of the 1999 Columbine
High School shooting and author of Marked for Life

Angel in the Rubble is a riveting, simply-told story of strength, hope, and miracles by a simple, yet extraordinary, woman. It strengthened my faith in God, humanity, and those American values that make the USA the remarkable country it is. Its a potent shot of hope, whether Jew or Gentile, Muslim or Atheist.

Wendy Fitzwilliam, Miss Trinidad & Tobago,
author, and Miss Universe 1998

Inspiring. Gripping. Riveting. Read this book. It will clasp you by the hand and compel you to get right with God and otherstoday. Youll be challenged to believe in miracles... in angels... in redemption... and most of allin God Almighty.

Robert Rogers, author of Into the Deep: One Mans Story of
How Tragedy Took His Family but Could Not Take His Faith
and founder of Mighty in the Land Ministry

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Copyright 2011 by Genelle Guzman-McMillan

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Howard Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Howard Books hardcover edition August 2011

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Designed by Kyoko Watanabe

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Guzman-McMillan, Genelle.

Angel in the rubble / Genelle Guzman-McMillan.

p. cm.

1. Guzman-McMillan, Genelle. 2. September 11 Terrorist Attacks, 2001Biography.

3. Victims of terrorismNew York (State)New YorkBiography. 4. World Trade Center (New York, N.Y.)Biography. I. Title.

HV6432.7.G89 2011

974.71044092dc23

[B]

2011016814

ISBN 978-1-4516-3520-1
ISBN 978-1-4516-3521-8 (ebook)

To my husband, Roger, our four beautiful children, and all of my family and friendsthis book would not have been possible without your eternal love and support.

To the families of the victims on September 11, 2001your loved ones will never be forgotten. May you always feel the peace and comfort of Gods warm embrace.

And to the dedicated heroes who selflessly and unconditionally gave your time, talents, and treasures to those of us who needed youwe will forever be indebted to you for your sacrifices.

ANGEL IN THE RUBBLE

I was the last survivor found beneath the World Trade Center rubble after the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. I was freed twenty-seven hours after the North Tower fell on me.

Though several other people were rescued from the devastation, we live in a world where numbers and placement are significant. Being the first, the one hundredth, the one thousandth, the one millionth, the lastthey always seem to mean something to people. Having the moniker The Last Survivor has always been bittersweet for me.

Every time I hear those words, they are a stark reminder that nobody after me was found alive. The courageous rescuersfirefighters, police officers, and everyday citizens from New York City, across the country, and around the worldworked tirelessly for days to find as many survivors as they could, always hoping for one more. Just one more.

But somebody had to be the last.

To be found after so long was truly miraculous, the result of the effort and self-sacrifice of countless strangers with a goodness in their hearts far superior to the evil acts that prompted them to respond. I will forever be grateful for the second chance at life they gave me. Because of them, and because of the grace of God, I have the opportunity to share my story with the world today, a story I pray will bring hope to those who need it most.

September 11, 2001

I gently opened my eyes, reached over to the alarm clock, and tapped the snooze button a few minutes before six. It was still pitch-dark outside my east Brooklyn apartment, but daybreak was steadily advancing, about a half hour away.

As a smile formed on my face, I stretched my arms above my head and kicked the covers off. I was feeling invigorated that day. Id had an especially deep, peaceful nights sleep.

It was a crisp, clear morning with a cool breeze filtering through the screen of my open bedroom window. The forecast was calling for a gorgeous, late-summer, eighty-degree day; my plans for a long-anticipated October vacation with a coworker to Miami, Florida, were going to be nailed down during my lunch hour; and my boyfriend, Roger, and I, were once again a happy couple. A bitter argument two weeks earlier nearly destroyed our relationship, but we had reconciled over the weekend. We were excited. Our reconciliation hadnt just salvaged our six-month romance; it had breathed a renewed passion into it. We felt more confident than ever that we were meant to be together.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I had nothing in the world to be unhappy about. Life was good. Really good.

I took a short but warm and relaxing shower, then quickly brushed my teeth and combed through my closet for a cute outfit. My blissful mood dictated my attire as I slipped on a lilac blouse, my favorite black skirt, and two-inch high-heeled shoes. Since my days as a child on the Caribbean island of Trinidad, I loved to dress up. It didnt matter if I was going to church or playing outside with friendstaking care of my appearance was always important to me.

After applying the finishing touches on my makeup and hair, I took a deep breath and paused for a few seconds in front of the mirror to validate that I looked as good as I felt: beautiful, confident, energized. I smiled. Yep, I was ready. I clasped my watch on my left wrist, flipped off the bathroom light, and hurried into the kitchen to snag my keys, purse, and sunglasses off the table. I pressed the glasses firmly against my face and bolted out the front door, swiftly making the short jaunt through the radiant sunshine down Fulton Street and arriving at the train station in the nick of time to board the 7 a.m. train into Manhattan.

Overall, it was a pretty typical Tuesday morning. The only thing out of the ordinary was that Roger, who normally rode with me, was already in the city, having left much earlier than I to get a jump on some extra work he had at the office. Other than that, it was the usual, uneventful ride with the same unassuming strangers who accompanied me each day. The train made its two usual stopsat Chambers Street and at Broadway-Nassau where I got off at about 7:50 a.m. It was roughly a block away from the World Trade Center, a seven-building complex in Lower Manhattan. I worked at the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey on the sixty-fourth floor of the 110-story North Tower, also known as One World Trade Center or Tower One. It was one of those skyscrapers so colossal that it made you dizzy if you stood outside it and looked straight up. I had to take two of its dozens of elevators just to get to my floor.