|05-05-2005, 05:13 PM||#1|
Join Date: Jan 2004
Local Time: 11:12 PM
This Aint a Love Song pt 5
Disclaimer: fiction, which is why it's posted in the fan fiction section__________________
Hours later I’m sitting in a chair next to Edge’s bed. He’s still unconscious, though according to the doctors he’s out of the danger zone now but I won’t be happy until he wakes up. From my perspective he still looks too pale and the fact that they’re still giving him pure oxygen through a tube that runs up his nose is doing nothing to allay my fears. The constant beeping given off by the machines he’s hooked up to would be annoying if it wasn’t reassuring me that he’s still alive.
There’s a small TV in the room and I put the news on to see if there’s anything about the fire, but so far there’s been nothing. Just as I’m about to turn it off in frustration the announcer starts talking;
“A suspicious fire today at The Grand claimed the lives of two firefighters as well as a few guests and workers. Harry Neilson has the story.” They then cut to a shot of a young reporter standing outside what remains of the hotel where fire crews are still hosing down the last of the embers. “I fire broke out here today about six o’clock starting on the fourth story in the left wing and quickly spreading elsewhere. Some staff and guest were killed in the blaze which appears to have been set using gasoline and when fire crews went in to rescue them two firefighters were killed and three more injured when an explosion brought down part of the building on top of them.
Officials are guessing that the fire was set in an attempt to kill the members of the rock group Troubled Offspring who are currently staying here, though none of them were present at the time the fire started. However U2 guitarist The Edge who is engaged to Troubled Offspring’s manager Beth Vickers was inside the building at the time the fire started and was daringly rescued by Troubled Offspring’s front man Daryl Hinesman who, with little thought to his personal safety, went into the burning building after the fire crews had received the order to withdraw.
At this time it is unknown who is behind the blaze but the city has already assigned a special investigations team to the case.”
There’s a snort from the doorway behind me. “Hurrah, I get made out to be some kind of hero.”
Turning off the TV I turn around to face Daryl who’s leaning against the doorframe looking as tired as I feel.
“Well there aren’t too many people who would run into a building like that, especially when fire crews are saying not to. And even if they do people very rarely survive, let alone succeed in rescuing the person they went in after.”
Pushing off the doorframe Daryl takes a seat on the other chair. He’s dressed in funny looking hospital pyjamas, and bandages cover multiple burns. I highly suspect that he’s not supposed to be out of bed walking around.
“So how is he?” Daryl asks nodding towards Edge.
“The Doctors say he’s out of danger, but he has yet to wake up.”
“He doesn’t look good.”
“I know.” I bite my lip and look away wondering if I’m giving away just how nervous I am.
Then Daryl has an arm wrapped around my shoulders in a loose hug. “He’ll be okay. Especially if they said he would, after all they know best.”
“Good to see you’re trusting them and staying in bed then.”
“They never said I had to,” he replies with a lopsided grin.
I look back at him and shake my head with a bit of a smile. Up close I realise that a bunch of his hair’s been burned off so that it’s shorter on the left side, his eyes also have a slightly red tinge to them as a residue from the smoke that got in them.
“What happened in there?”
Grin vanishing, Daryl sighs. “That whole side of the building was practically burned away by the time I got in there. Our floor was the worst. I almost fell through what was left of the floor a few times. Edge had kind of barricaded himself as far away from the fire as he could get, and I’m assuming that he’d dumped water on a bunch of the room ‘cause it wasn’t burning as bad as everything else. I almost didn’t see him at first because he was right at the back on the floor, embers and stuff falling all around him. I was lucky, really lucky that there were no serious flames near him or else I don’t think I could have got him out.” Daryl is studying the floor tiles now. “That’s why I don’t think I’m much of a hero because it was all luck. Luck that there was enough floor left for me to walk on, luck that the worst of the fire hadn’t gotten to him yet, luck that there was enough of a pathway through the flames that I could get him to the fire exit, luck that the fire proof doors had pretty much kept the fire out of that stair well at the end of the hallway. That’s all there was to it, I was lucky, he was lucky.”
“I think it was a bit more then luck if the fire crews couldn’t get to him.”
“They panicked when part of the building came down on their crew. They hadn’t even tried to get to our floor yet. I know because one of the injured firefighters was being treated in the same room I was.”
“That’s why they didn’t come up for me,” Edge says hoarsely. “I’d wondered about that.”
Daryl and I both jump in surprise.
“I hadn’t realised you were awake,” I told him as I moved closer to his bed side.
“I just woke up in time to hear Daryl explaining that he was lucky.” Edge lifts his head to look over at Daryl. “I’m surprised you went in to get me.”
Daryl shrugs. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have wanted to live with Beth if you’d died. Especially when it came out that the fire had been set.”
I look at him sharply. “How’d you know it had been set?”
“It smelt kind of like a gas fire from outside, so I had my suspicions. And it really smelt like a gas fire inside.”
“Do you make a hobby of setting fires to see what they smell like?” Edge asks in an attempt at humour but Daryl doesn’t smile.
“I had a friend who was a pyro, he made fireworks and stuff. Does special effects for movies now, but I spent enough time around him to know what different things smell like when they burn.”
“Can I have some water?” Edge asks obviously uncomfortable and wanting to change the topic.
Quickly I get a glass of water and hand it to him keeping some of my attention on Daryl the entire time. He’s been acting strange ever since the fire happened, and it was bothering me.
“Daryl, what’s wrong?”
With a sigh he stands up and starts pacing the room. For the first time I notice that he’s limping, another souvenir from the fire. “This morning, when Seb gave us the tabloid paper, he said ‘now it’s only a matter of hours before you’re mother knows he’s here’. Then Edge was back at the hotel all by himself and someone set it on fire, someone who wants him dead. Not you, not me, not the rest of the band, but Edge. And it’s not a political thing, because Bono’s the one with all the pet causes, so what could it be, who would want him gone. And the more I think about it, the more there’s only one answer, and that answer’s your mother. She doesn’t want the band dead because we weren’t the thing that made you tell her to get the fuck out of you’re life, it was Edge. So she’s willing to go to any lengths to get her little girl back. That’s what everything’s been about so far, and that’s what the fire was about today.”
I’m silent for a long time before saying. “Daryl, I’ll be the first to admit that my mom can do some pretty horrible things, and has done some pretty horrible things. But I think murder is a little extreme.”
“And impractical.” Edge adds. “She would have had to have seen the article, got on a plane, flown here, located the hotel we were in, then when I came back on my own got the gasoline, got it into the hotel and lit it without anyone knowing. It’s impossible.”
I nod. “Plus, how would she have known that Edge would have been back by himself? It’s not like just the food he ate could have been tainted with whatever, we ordered platters and all ate from them. It was a fluke.”
“I’ll agree with that. Who ever set the fire was lucky that Edge was there by himself, since we can all agree Edge was the target. But you’re mom’s the only one with the motive, who else would have done it?”
“And if it was someone else,” I reply. “The more important question is why?”
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