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.”
Despite the solemnity of the afternoon, a low murmur of chuckles rose, then faded away.
“Mitch-what can I say? He was the kind of man who added something to everything he touched and everyone he came in contact with. I was envious of his view on life. He saw it all as a big game, where the only way to win was to be good to other people, to be able to look at yourself in the mirror and like what you see. Mitch . . .”
He closed his eyes hard, pushing back the tears.
“Mitch was everything I’ve ever wanted to be. . . .”
Taylor stepped back from the microphone, his head bowed, then made his way back into the crowd. The minister finished with the service, and people filed by the coffin, where a picture of Mitch had been placed. In the photo he was smiling broadly, standing over the grill in his backyard. Like the picture of Taylor’s father, it captured the very essence of who he was.
Afterward Taylor drove alone back to Melissa’s house.
It was crowded at the house as people came by after the funeral to offer Melissa their condolences. Unlike the day before-a gathering of close friends and family-this time everyone who’d been at the service was there, including some Melissa barely knew.
Judy and Melissa’s mother tended to the busywork of feeding the masses; because it was so packed inside, Denise wandered into the backyard to watch Kyle and the other children who’d also attended the funeral. Mainly nephews and nieces, they were young and, like Kyle, unable to fully understand everything that was going on. Dressed in formal clothes, they were running around, playing with each other as if the situation were nothing more than a family reunion.
Denise had needed to get out of the house. The grief could be stifling at times, even to her. After hugging Melissa and sharing a few words of sympathy, she had left Melissa to the care of her family and Mitch’s. She knew that Melissa would have the support she needed today; Melissa’s parents intended to stay for a week. While her mother would be there to listen and hold her, Melissa’s father could begin with the numbing paperwork that always followed an event like this.
Denise stood from her chair and walked to the edge of the pool, her arms crossed, when Judy saw her through the kitchen window. She opened the sliding glass door and started toward her.
Denise heard her approaching and glanced over her shoulder, smiling warily.
Judy laid a gentle hand on her back. “How’re you holding up?” she asked.
Denise shook her head. “I should be asking you that. You knew Mitch a lot longer than I did.”
“I know. But you look like you need a friend right now.”
Denise uncrossed her arms and glanced toward the house. People could be seen in every room.
“I’m okay. Just thinking about Mitch. And Melissa.”
“And Taylor?”
Despite the fact that it was over between them, she couldn’t lie.