As Lie the Dead
“I don’t think I lost consciousness after the final blast. I just floated for a bit, trying to breathe. It didn’t hurt, and it should have. On my back in pitch darkness, I couldn’t move.
With bruised and swollen fingers, I traced the edges of rough stone and smooth metal that started around mid-thigh. The fabric of my jeans was damp—probably blood. I couldn’t see to check. I just hoped the crushing debris hadn’t cut an artery. Severe cuts and broken bones would heal, thanks to my body’s Gift, but not if I bled out first.
Crackling fires continued to burn out of sight, feeding on every ounce of fuel the decimated factory had to offer. The air was humid and thick, like a closed-up basement, and reeked of burned alcohol. It made me want to cough or sneeze or both. But doing so would probably hurt like hell, so I fought against the sting in my nose and tickle in my lungs. My throat was raw, and my head felt like it weighed fifty pounds.
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