some ancient flamethrower. It was meant to do much the same thing with the chemicals stored in the containment canister.
She wished once again to be far away, not witnessing this horrifying event. She, like most of the women in the large crowd, cried out as Prometheus turned on the diffuser. The awful, telltale sound of a turbine starting always preceded the blast of fire
plasma that followed. But
she’d
been running when she and the other dissenters had been hit. Only her head and back had been struck. The green-eyed stranger would take the full force of the plasma, right to his torso. He’d likely burn to death right before their very eyes. And though she’d been ordered to stay, just as everyone else, she could have looked away. Instead, pity for the man who was about to be burned stayed her fear. He deserved to be remembered. Up until he took his last breath.
As Prometheus wielded the long rod and the canister dispensing chemicals through it, she kept her eyes riveted on the courageous soul still tied and helpless in front of them all.
The stream of volcanic-like plasma shot out the end of the Prometheus’s barrel. It struck the tied figure directly in the upper torso and lit him on fire. And this time he
did
scream.
His agonizing cries were heard throughout the marketplace. And after the plasma hit his body and clung to it in red-hot globs, the stuff quickly went gray as it cooled. That was the worst part of what it did. The gooey substance would stay there resisting removal and searing flesh from bone. Surely he would die soon, but not before he felt every drop of the chemical seep through his skin. He had the sense to put his head down when he saw the blast coming. That meant he’d either heard of fire plasma or his act was simply one of instinct; Nova couldn’t tell which. But the small movement likely protected his eyes from any residual spattering. In the end, it wouldn’t matter if he got any into his eyes or throat. He’d die from the horrific burns, and more slowly because he
hadn’t
ingested the stuff.
She saw him writhe and pull at his ropes as he cried out in pain. Parts of the plasma went over his shoulders and were probably flung across his back. Some of the glowing and cooling gobs of chemical were even spattered down his arms and on his hands. It then caught his hair on fire. The long, once-lovely sheen of thick black locks began to smoke.
While it would have been better for him to take the plasma head-on, and stand totally still so he’d breathe it in and end his life quickly, how could anyone do so? She hadn’t been able to. The pain was too great; the instinct to shake if off was primal.
Some of the chemical landed on the rope binding him. He fell from his tied position and began rolling in the dust of the street, trying to be free of the substance burning his flesh. It now slid downward and began to burn away clothing. He clawed at the globules but it did no good. Nova remembered the pain, and felt hot tears fall down her cheeks. No one should have to die like this. No one.
Prometheus turned to the crowd.
Nova kept her gaze lowered and pulled her hood more closely to her head. This was the part where they were all warned
again
. She’d seen and heard the speech so often.
“Let no one come near him. Anyone who does so will suffer the same fate.”
The slug leader slowly ambled away. But as he got near his aide, he loudly muttered, “Let him lie here so the people can see him. When curfew comes, take his body to the hole and dump it along with Codge’s.”
The aide bowed. “Yes, my leader.”
Nova wept harder now. The figure writhed helplessly, and everyone was inflicted with his screams, but there was nothing anyone could do. His brown pants and tall boots were melting right into his skin. He was so far away, but she felt closer to him at that moment than she’d ever felt to another living soul. Not just because she’d been exposed to the plasma herself, but because this
She wished once again to be far away, not witnessing this horrifying event. She, like most of the women in the large crowd, cried out as Prometheus turned on the diffuser. The awful, telltale sound of a turbine starting always preceded the blast of fire
plasma that followed. But
she’d
been running when she and the other dissenters had been hit. Only her head and back had been struck. The green-eyed stranger would take the full force of the plasma, right to his torso. He’d likely burn to death right before their very eyes. And though she’d been ordered to stay, just as everyone else, she could have looked away. Instead, pity for the man who was about to be burned stayed her fear. He deserved to be remembered. Up until he took his last breath.
As Prometheus wielded the long rod and the canister dispensing chemicals through it, she kept her eyes riveted on the courageous soul still tied and helpless in front of them all.
The stream of volcanic-like plasma shot out the end of the Prometheus’s barrel. It struck the tied figure directly in the upper torso and lit him on fire. And this time he
did
scream.
His agonizing cries were heard throughout the marketplace. And after the plasma hit his body and clung to it in red-hot globs, the stuff quickly went gray as it cooled. That was the worst part of what it did. The gooey substance would stay there resisting removal and searing flesh from bone. Surely he would die soon, but not before he felt every drop of the chemical seep through his skin. He had the sense to put his head down when he saw the blast coming. That meant he’d either heard of fire plasma or his act was simply one of instinct; Nova couldn’t tell which. But the small movement likely protected his eyes from any residual spattering. In the end, it wouldn’t matter if he got any into his eyes or throat. He’d die from the horrific burns, and more slowly because he
hadn’t
ingested the stuff.
She saw him writhe and pull at his ropes as he cried out in pain. Parts of the plasma went over his shoulders and were probably flung across his back. Some of the glowing and cooling gobs of chemical were even spattered down his arms and on his hands. It then caught his hair on fire. The long, once-lovely sheen of thick black locks began to smoke.
While it would have been better for him to take the plasma head-on, and stand totally still so he’d breathe it in and end his life quickly, how could anyone do so? She hadn’t been able to. The pain was too great; the instinct to shake if off was primal.
Some of the chemical landed on the rope binding him. He fell from his tied position and began rolling in the dust of the street, trying to be free of the substance burning his flesh. It now slid downward and began to burn away clothing. He clawed at the globules but it did no good. Nova remembered the pain, and felt hot tears fall down her cheeks. No one should have to die like this. No one.
Prometheus turned to the crowd.
Nova kept her gaze lowered and pulled her hood more closely to her head. This was the part where they were all warned
again
. She’d seen and heard the speech so often.
“Let no one come near him. Anyone who does so will suffer the same fate.”
The slug leader slowly ambled away. But as he got near his aide, he loudly muttered, “Let him lie here so the people can see him. When curfew comes, take his body to the hole and dump it along with Codge’s.”
The aide bowed. “Yes, my leader.”
Nova wept harder now. The figure writhed helplessly, and everyone was inflicted with his screams, but there was nothing anyone could do. His brown pants and tall boots were melting right into his skin. He was so far away, but she felt closer to him at that moment than she’d ever felt to another living soul. Not just because she’d been exposed to the plasma herself, but because this
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