Ghosts of Time

March 1902
The second explosion rocked the building to its foundation, sending a deadly pyroclastic cloud tearing across the room only inches above him. The superheated brick fragments obliterated everything in their path. The heat scorched Robert Harrison’s exposed skin. The intensity of the pain snapped him back to his senses. He staggered to his feet.
Steadying himself against the charred debris of a door jamb, Robert stared at the cavernous gash in the wall of primary steam room. It looked like the maw of a great dragon, bellowing fire and smoke; its breath rancid and acidic. The weaving area was almost fully engulfed in fire. The flames consuming the cloth on the looms danced orange and yellow against the boiling black gaseous mass overhead. And they were spreading with appalling speed. His beautiful hardwood floors, once so shiny from polish and lacquer, now resembled the Lake of Fire.
“My God…” he muttered, forcing himself to concentrate. Every instinct screamed for him to flee for his life. But he couldn’t. Others may be trapped. He pressed his handkerchief to his face and bolted across the production floor in search of survivors. But the inferno had a life of its own. At every turn, the flames licked at him, blocking his way. A burning rafter crashed only a few feet away. It was a final warning—get out or die. Flames were devouring the cotton mill in every direction. The roar was like some great animal stalking the room. Trapped on three sides, his search was over. If anyone else was left, God would have to save them.
Blistered and choking, Robert fought his way out of the firestorm and ran to the emergency gathering area on the south lawn. Several of his employees lay scattered around the expanse, a scene reminiscent of a battle lost. Several struggled for breath; others helped as they could. But unless help arrived soon, many would not survive.
Dense black smoke poured from the roof line. Flames licked the outside brick façade through every opening on the north and west sides of the structure. Shards of smut-covered glass littered the scorched turf.
Robert spotted Dan Woods, the plant’s safety supervisor, dodging falling debris while counting evacuees. His clothes were singed, his face covered with soot. Robert grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “Dan! Is everyone out of the building?”
“I’m still checking. Give me a minute!”
“Look at that building, damn it. We don’t have a minute!”
A few feet away, a small ventilation window crashed out. Startled, they both spun around expecting more flame and smoke. Instead, they saw something more horrifying—a woman’s arm groping for salvation.
“Please help me!” she screamed.
“Oh God…there’s someone still in there,” Robert shouted, as he darted to the window.
He used his fist to break away the remaining pieces of glass then took the woman’s hand and looked inside. He motioned Dan closer. “It’s Mamie Richards! Take her hand. I’m going in after her.” He tried to step away, but she held on.
Dan intervened. He grabbed her hand and forced open her grip. Freeing Robert, he slipped his own hands into her clawing fingers.
“No, please don’t leave me!” she screamed, as Robert broke away. “I don’t want to burn!”
“Stay where you are. I’m coming for you.”
Before he could move, without warning, another explosion rocked the building, slamming her against the inner wall. Rubble rained down around the two men.
Robert peered back into the window. “Mamie, are you okay?” he shouted.
Her voice was weaker now, momentarily dazed by the blow. “I think so, but my head…”
“One more explosion like that and this whole side of the plant will collapse on us!” Dan yelled against the din.
“I know, but hold onto her; I’m going in!”
Robert ran to the east entrance. He paused at the door, crossed himself and then rushed inside. His first searing breath told him that he likely wouldn’t survive the blaze. Nonetheless, he hunkered low, covering his mouth with his sleeve.
“Mamie! Can you hear me?” Running toward the window at the rear of the plant, he screamed her name again and again. Each breath punished his lungs; each step took him deeper into the hellhole. Down the main aisle, the noxious black smoke was too thick. Making his way from memory, he fought on as the moisture cooked away from his eyes. For a moment, he thought he saw another man—but no. He was alone.
Robert tripped over a fallen timber and stumbled headlong onto a burning roll of cloth. In an instant, his shirt and hair erupted in flames. Howling in pain, he gulped more of the incendiary fumes deep into his lungs. In a desperate effort, he finally beat the flames into submission, but the damage was done. His head and shoulders were charred nearly beyond human endurance. He cried tears that never made it to his face. Then he thought of Mamie; he couldn’t let her suffer the same fate. He steeled himself and screamed her name.
Every movement brought a level of pain he never knew existed, dragging him to very brink of exhaustion. The nothingness of unconsciousness approached with death in its wake, when he finally heard Dan shout to him through the small window.
“Robert, I see you! Follow my voice straight ahead! Mamie, go to him—right now—run!”
Robert trusted the voice from the window and groped ahead. A moment too late, he recognized the smoky silhouette rushing toward him. In her panic, Mamie crashed into him—hard, knocking them both to the floor. Instinctively, he drug her to her feet and backtracked out of the building.
As they neared the east entrance, he saw the blurry image of the opening. A group of stick figures appeared and rushed toward him. Two of the men grabbed Mamie while Dan and another man carried Robert to safety.
“I can’t see,” Robert garbled. “I’m on fire—please do somethi…” What he intended as a scream, fizzled into a raspy plea; his throat nearly too scorched to make the sounds.
“No, you’re not. Hold on and we’ll get some water to cool you down,” Dan barked instructions to the men standing nearby. “Here, put him on the picnic table.”
As gently as possible, the men lifted the plant manager onto the makeshift gurney. Robert screamed and struggled against their painful grasps.
“Easy damn it!” Dan shouted. “Robert, you have to lay still.” He pressed down hard on his friend’s shoulders.
Robert recognized Dan’s voice somewhere in the blurred distance and relaxed his struggle. He was in safe hands now.
“That’s better…deep breaths…nice and easy. You’re doing good, boss.” Dan removed his hands and Robert shrieked again at the movement. Strips of seared soft tissue stuck to Dan’s palms. “Oh lord…everybody stand back and don’t touch him.”
The pain of the missing flesh blended into the misery of his other injuries. “What…what happened, Dan?” Robert asked, between labored gasps.
He was barely able to contain his revulsion. “Nothing, Robert—everything’s going to be fine,” Dan lied. “Just be still. Help will be here any minute now.”
“I can’t feel my arms!”
“Nurse! Somebody find the nurse,” Dan screamed.
Robert suspected death was near. What the pain didn’t tell him, the smell of burned flesh did. If there was any doubt about his condition, the expression on the face of the company nurse, revealed the truth.
For a few moments, the pain receded to a place just beyond sensation. But Robert was still aware of its presence—prowling about, just out of reach. The moments past too quickly and then it pounced.
“Robert! Stay with me. Don’t do that again,” Dan pleaded, shaking him roughly.
“Stop! Oh, God…please stop. I can’t bear it anymore.”
“No—you hang on!”
When Dan’s tears hit Robert’s face, he drifted away again; the pain once more in the distance. But this time it was different. Robert sensed another presence. There was someone, some thing, now restraining the pain. And it was waiting, lurking just out of sight.
Robert wrestled his head up from the table. “Dan…”
“Yes Robert.” He leaned in closer, his voice a whisper.
“Tell my wife and kids…tell them I love them.”
Dan bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I will boss, I promise.”
Robert’s blind eyes opened wide. “Oh…they’re coming,” he choked, barely able to make the sounds.
“Who’s coming?”
The pain didn’t come back with the same vengeance as before. This time, it was soft and merciful. It started at Robert’s feet and washed over him. When it touched his face, pain’s Great Handler reached out its hand. At that moment, Death revealed its great and wondrous secret to Robert Harrison.