The Rescue - Nicholas Sparks [73]
The flames were gaining strength, and the ladder was bouncing dangerously.
Again the man moved his head—not much, not nearly enough. The man’s other arm, wedged between his body and the steering wheel, looked stuck. Without worrying what might happen now, Taylor shoved the body, the force making him sway. The ladder dipped precariously, as did the car. The nose began pointing toward the river.
Somehow, however, the shove was enough. This time the man opened his eyes and began to struggle out from between the steering wheel and the seat. The car was rocking heavily now. Weakly the passenger freed his other arm, then raised it slightly as he tried to crawl onto the seat. Taylor worked the safety harness around him. His hand sweaty on the cable, he attached the free end of the harness, completing the circle, then cinched it tight.
“We’re gonna pull you out now. We’re almost out of time.”
The man simply rolled his head, suddenly drifting into unconsciousness again, but Taylor could see that the path was finally clear.
“Bring him up!” he screamed. “Passenger is secure!”
Taylor worked his hands up the cable until he was in a standing position. The firefighters slowly began to unwind the cable, careful not to jerk it for fear of the stress it would put on the ladder.
The cable tightened, and the ladder began to groan and shudder. But instead of the passenger coming up, the ladder seemed to be lowering.
Lowering . . .
Oh, crap . . .
Taylor could feel it on the verge of buckling, then they both began to rise.
Up an inch. Then another.
Then, with nightmarish deliberateness, the cable stopped recoiling. Instead the ladder began to descend again. Taylor knew instantly that the ladder couldn’t support both of them.
“Stop!” he shouted. “The ladder’s gonna go!”
He had to get off the cable, and he had to get off the ladder. After making sure once more that the man wouldn’t get snagged, he reached for the ladder rungs above him. Then he carefully removed his foot from the hook, letting his legs dangle free, praying that the additional jostling wouldn’t break the ladder in two.
He decided to go hand over hand across the ladder, like a kid crossing the monkey bars. One rung . . . two . . . three . . . four. The car was no longer beneath him, yet he could still feel the ladder creeping lower.
It was while he was crossing the rungs that the flames ripped into a frenzy, straining with deadly intensity at the gas tanks. He’d seen engine fires numerous times—and this one was seconds away from blowing.
He looked toward the bridge. As if in slow motion, he saw the firemen, his friends, motioning frantically with their arms, screaming at him to hurry, to get off the ladder, to get to safety before the truck exploded. But he knew that there was no way he could make it back to the truck in time and still get the passenger out.
“Pull him out!” Taylor shouted hoarsely. “He’s got to come up now!”
Dangling high above the water, he loosened his grip, then let go completely. In an instant he was swallowed by the evening air.
The river was eighty feet below.
“That was the dumbest, most moronic thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Mitch said matter-of-factly. It was fifteen minutes later, and they were sitting on the banks of the Chowan River. “I mean, I’ve seen some stupid stunts in my life, but that one takes the cake.”
“We got him out, didn’t we?” Taylor said. He was drenched and had lost one boot while kicking for safety. In the aftermath, after the adrenaline drained away, he felt his body retreating into a kind of exhausted lull. He felt as if he hadn’t slept for days, his muscles seemed rubbery, his hands were shaking uncontrollably. Thankfully the accident on the bridge was being tended to by the others—he wouldn’t have had the strength to help. Though the engine had blown, the seals around the main tanks had held and they were able to control the fire relatively easily.
“You didn’t have to let go. You could have made it back.”
Even as he said it, Mitch wasn’t quite sure it was true. Right