Taylor closed one of his eyes when it began to spasm in pain. As he pushed forward, the wall of the office collapsed, topping in on itself like a stack of cards. The roof above him sagged as flames sought out new weakness and began to surge upward, toward the gap in the ceiling.
One more man inside.
Taylor felt as if he were dying inside. His lungs screamed for him to take a breath of the burning, poisonous air around him. But he ignored the need, growing dizzier.
Smoke snaked around him and Taylor dropped to his knees, his other eye beginning to spasm now. Flames surrounded him in three directions, but Taylor pressed onward, heading for the only area where someone might still be alive.
Crawling now, the heat like a sizzling anvil. . . .
It was then that Taylor knew he was going to die.
Hardly conscious, he continued to crawl.
He started to black out, could feel the world beginning to slip away.
Take a breath! his body screamed.
Crawling, inching forward, praying automatically. Ahead of him, still more flames, an unending wall of rippling heat.
It was then that he came across the body.
With smoke completely surrounding him, he couldn't tell who it was. But the man's legs were trapped beneath a collapsed wall.
Feeling his insides weakening, his vision going black, Taylor groped the body like a blind man, seeing it in his mind's eye.
The man lay on his stomach and chest, the arms out to either side. His helmet was still fastened firmly on his head. Two feet of rubble covered his legs from the thighs down.
Taylor went to the head of the body, gripped both arms, and pulled. The body didn't budge.
With the last vestiges of his strength, Taylor stood and painstakingly began to move the rubble off the man. Two-by-fours, drywall, pieces of plywood, one item of charred debris after another.
His lungs were about to explode.
Flames closing in now, licking at the body.
Piece by piece, he lifted off the wreckage; luckily none of the pieces were too heavy to move. But the exertion had taken nearly everything out of him. He moved to the head of the body and tugged.
This time the body moved. Taylor put his weight into it and pulled again, but out of air completely, his body reacted instinctively.
Taylor expelled his breath and inhaled sharply, strangled for air.
His body was wrong.
Taylor suddenly went dizzy, coughing violently. He let go of the man and rose, staggering in pure panic now, still without air in the oxygen-depleted room; all his training, every conscious thought, had seemingly evaporated in a rush of unadulterated survival instinct.
He stumbled back the way he had come, his legs moving of their own volition. After a few yards, however, he stopped, as if waking forcibly from a daze. Turning back, he took a step in the direction of the body. At that second the world suddenly exploded into fire. Taylor nearly fell.
Flames engulfed him, setting his suit on fire, as he lunged for the window. He threw himself blindly through the opening. The last thing he felt was his body hitting the earth with a thud, a scream of despair dying on his lips.
Chapter 24
Only one person died that early Monday morning.
Six men were injured, Taylor among them, and all were taken to the hospital, where they were treated. Three of the men were able to leave that night. Two of the men who stayed were the ones Taylor had helped drag to safety--they were to be transferred to the burn unit at Duke University in Durham as soon as the helicopter arrived.
Taylor lay alone in the darkness of his hospital room, his thoughts filled with the man he had left behind who had died. One eye was heavily bandaged, and he was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with the other, when his mother arrived.
She sat with him in his hospital room for an hour, then left him alone with his thoughts.
Taylor McAden never said a word.
Denise showed up Tuesday morning, when visiting hours began. As soon as she arrived, Judy looked up from her chair, her eyes red and exhausted. When Judy called, Denise had come immediately, Kyle in tow. Judy took Kyle's hand and silently led him downstairs.
Denise entered Taylor's room, seating herself where Judy had been. Taylor turned his head the other way.
"I'm sorry about Mitch," she said gently.
Chapter 25
The funeral was to be held three days later, on Friday.
Taylor had been released from the hospital on Thursday and went straight to Melissa's.
Melissa's family had come in from Rocky Mount, and the house was filled with people Taylor had met only a few times in the past: at the wedding, at baptisms, and at various holidays. Mitch's parents and siblings, who lived in Edenton, also spent time at the house, though they all left in the evening.
The door
was open as Taylor stepped inside, looking for Melissa.
As soon as he saw her across the living room, his eyes began to burn and he started toward her. She was talking to her sister and brother-in-law, standing by the framed family photo on the wall, when she saw him. She immediately broke off her conversation and made her way toward him. When they were close he wrapped his arms around her, putting his head on her shoulder as he cried into her hair.
"I'm so sorry," he said, "I'm so, so, sorry."
All he could do was to repeat himself. Melissa began to cry as well. The other family members left them alone in their grief.
"I tried, Melissa . . . I tried. I didn't know it was him. . . ."
Melissa couldn't speak, having already learned what had happened from Joe.
"I couldn't . . . ," he finally choked out, before breaking down completely.
They stood holding each other for a long, long time.
He left an hour later, without talking to anyone else.
The funeral service, held at Cypress Park Cemetery, was overflowing with people. Every fireman from the surrounding three counties, as well as every law enforcement official, made an appearance, as did friends and family. The crowd was among the largest ever for a service in Edenton; since Mitch had grown up here and ran the hardware store, nearly everyone in town came to pay their respects.
Melissa and her four children sat weeping in the front row.
The minister spoke a little while before reciting the Twenty-third Psalm. When it came time for eulogies, the minister stepped aside, allowing close friends and family to come forward.
Joe, the fire chief, went first and spoke of Mitch's dedication, his bravery, and the respect he would always hold in his heart. Mitch's older sister also said a few words, sharing a few remembrances from their childhood. When she finished, Taylor stepped forward.
"Mitch was like a brother to me," he began, his voice cracking, his eyes cast downward. "We grew up together, and every good memory I have growing up included him. I remember once, when we were twelve, Mitch and I were fishing when I stood up too quickly in the dinghy. I slipped and hit my head, then fell into the water. Mitch dove in and pulled me to the surface. He saved my life that day, but when I finally came to, he only laughed. 'You made me lose the fish, you clumsy oaf,' was the only thing he said."