Elias Simpkins, no stranger to police, woke from his induced coma weeks after the explosion. He resembled the NICU preemies—fire-engine red, hairless. A neighbor found him writhing across the street, hair on fire, face scorched, one arm bent backwards like the limb of a pipe cleaner man.
Memory returned like drips of wet sand squeezed from a fist. One image: a basement crisscrossed with copper missed by the others.
From his unbandaged eye, he watched the morphine drip as he listened to hospital noise and sipped water.
He remembered: his crescent wrench uncoupling pipes…a loud CLICK.
Fumes.
Oh shit!
I enjoyed this story. It created a nightmare situation in a very few words. I never use rude words in fiction but the last word in this one seemed justified.
I loved the image “backwards like the limb of a pipe cleaner man.” Unique and visual. You’ve captured the torture he must feel!
A strong cautionary tale. Could have been us! When we moved into our current house, needing loads of work, my husband used an angle grinder to cut through a disconnected gas pipe buried deep under the wall plaster only to hear a hiss. But we lived, unscarred, to tell the tale.
My sincere thanks to the comment writers above. Much appreciated. – RW