He takes the matches, bends and walks backward, tipping the can as they go and spilling out a thin line of gas. It has to work. Right now, everything has to work, because he will not fucking allow any error, because there is no margin for it. None.
"They're fine," he grunts, and it sounds hollow and facile, just like it used to when he'd talk like this. "We'll all be home in time for fuckin' dinner."
He stops when they're a safe distance away, sets down the can, strikes a match and with absolutely no hesitation, lets it fall.
The line of gas burns quick, back across their footprints in the dust, and when it reaches the building there's nothing at first and he's horribly afraid that it hasn't worked. Then there's a heavy wumph, a wave of hot, concussed air, and flames bellow out of the door, rising higher every second.
"Jesus Christ," he murmurs, staring at it. "It could burn the whole fucking block down."
So they'll have to move a little faster now.
* * *
They're scared when she finds them. She had sensed their fear from outside the building. A room full of children, young men and women, filthy and huddled together, staring at her with huge sunken eyes. There's an empty patch outside where the guard had been before she broke his neck. No one saw her enter. No one will see her leave, except the children.
She lowers her gun and inclines her head sharply toward the door. Run. None of them are tied. The men had been overconfident.
They won't make that mistake again.
Some of the braver ones are starting to move forward, a ghostly kind of hope dawning in their eyes, when she hears the sound like a large, flat rock hitting a mattress and feels the shockwave hit the building. Faint, but there.
She inclines her head again and waves sharply. MOVE.
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"They're fine," he grunts, and it sounds hollow and facile, just like it used to when he'd talk like this. "We'll all be home in time for fuckin' dinner."
He stops when they're a safe distance away, sets down the can, strikes a match and with absolutely no hesitation, lets it fall.
The line of gas burns quick, back across their footprints in the dust, and when it reaches the building there's nothing at first and he's horribly afraid that it hasn't worked. Then there's a heavy wumph, a wave of hot, concussed air, and flames bellow out of the door, rising higher every second.
"Jesus Christ," he murmurs, staring at it. "It could burn the whole fucking block down."
So they'll have to move a little faster now.
* * *
They're scared when she finds them. She had sensed their fear from outside the building. A room full of children, young men and women, filthy and huddled together, staring at her with huge sunken eyes. There's an empty patch outside where the guard had been before she broke his neck. No one saw her enter. No one will see her leave, except the children.
She lowers her gun and inclines her head sharply toward the door. Run. None of them are tied. The men had been overconfident.
They won't make that mistake again.
Some of the braver ones are starting to move forward, a ghostly kind of hope dawning in their eyes, when she hears the sound like a large, flat rock hitting a mattress and feels the shockwave hit the building. Faint, but there.
She inclines her head again and waves sharply. MOVE.