Owed The World

Joe Mozingo (thanks, Mark): Port-au-Prince, Haiti — He was running through what felt like a dream. He had to get home. His father, Sony, would know what was happening. He'd keep everyone calm and tell them what needed to be done.

White dust choked the air. Ghost-gray figures stalked about, digging at mountains of shattered concrete.

Robenson Jacques, 33, sprinted up the hill to his house on Rue Estime. The bottom-floor office where his father sold lottery tickets had crumpled like a can.

Sony's dead," his mom told him.

"Mama, please don't say that! Sony cannot be dead."

"He is," she said, quietly sobbing.

Robenson climbed over the ruins of his neighbors' dwellings to the back of the house. He rushed from person to person, begging: "Have you seen my father? Is he inside? Has anyone seen Sony?"

He could barely breathe. His mind kept flashing to a single thought: But I haven't done anything for him yet.