The propane tank spins and wobbles chaotically as it rockets through the air. Neither graceful nor elegant, it's as though a giant picked it up and casually tossed it like a rock.
Luckily, whether intentionally or not, the silver-white propane tank was thrown many tens of feet into the air above HMS, moving in a tall arc. It's undeniable that it will crash into Alex and Jack's location with devastating force, but that will take a few seconds to happen—just enough time for them to run away.
Instantly realizing this, Alex grabs Jack's wrist and starts running. This surprises the still slightly torpid boy. Although Jack's concussion is minor, it's still a concussion. It will take some time before he can fully come back to his senses. So, Alex decides to jumpstart this process by dragging him along as he runs away.
As he takes his first few steps, the propane tank reaches its apex dozens of feet above HMS. Its speed slows down, and for a second, it stays still in the air, then it descends rapidly.
Holding Jack's wrist tightly, Alex runs at a relatively slow pace. He can't sprint at full speed because Jack won't be able to keep up, but that doesn't matter. The propane tank accelerates as it falls, but both of them are already outside its impact zone. As long as the tank doesn't bounce towards them by a stroke of bad luck, they'll be fine.
As for whether the tank will explode? Alex isn't worried. He might have spent half his life on the streets, but he's not an idiot. Propane tanks will only explode if the pressure is high enough and there's enough heat. This isn't an action movie!
Although the propane tank surely has enough pressure, the heat is absent.
Only the destroyed gas pumps and the interior of HMS hold enough flames to ignite the propane. And even then, the tank would probably have to land directly in the fires and wait to heat up.
There's no need to be worried.
Alex continues to run with Jack, trying to get as far away as possible. Although the chances of the tank bouncing towards them are slim, it's better to be safe than sorry. By now, it's only a dozen feet from the ground.
Looking at it through the corner of his eye, Alex breathes a sigh of relief. That breath is stifled halfway.
Suddenly, a large, orange-red, faintly glowing blob shoots across the roof of HMS in a much shorter arc. If the propane tank was tossed into the air, then the blob was chucked across the roof.
Its shape changes while flying at a tremendous speed, turning into an oblong, almost spear-like shape, with droplets of itself falling behind.
It's some kind of highly viscous, radiant liquid. At its current trajectory, the glob of viscous, glowing liquid will impact the propane tank just as it passes the roof of HMS.
For just a moment, the sight stuns Alex. He can't understand what the blob is, or why it's there. Unfortunately, a moment's pause is as long as it takes for the glob to reach the tank.
As the propane tank's tip falls below the edge of HMS's roof, the liquid splatters onto its barrelled side. It sprays out into innumerable minuscule glowing droplets that harden into stone in the cool night air. At the same time, the bulk of the liquid remains intact, just viscous enough to hold itself together.
It's only when Alex notices the droplets hardening in the wind that he realizes what the strange glob of glowing liquid is.
Lava!
He doesn't have time to react. The lava is so hot that it barely loses momentum as it melts its way through the metal shell of the propane tank. Within an instant, the fiery liquid makes contact with the flammable gas inside and ignites it.
The propane tank bursts open in an explosion of flame in midair. The noise, like a thunderclap, echoes throughout Northern Rifield and nearly deafens Alex, who's still holding Jack's wrist.
A conflagration of flames surges out of a large jagged crack where the lava had hit the propane tank. The crack funnels the flames, making their speed and potency even more lethal. But that doesn't last long.
Within fractions of a second, more and more cracks appear in the steel tank, transforming it into the core of a massive fireball.
The only saving grace is that the pressure was not high enough to create a true explosion. The glob of lava created an opening that relieved the pressure mid-ignition. That, combined with the propane tank denting itself as it hit the ground, allowed the ensuing explosion to barely be out of range of killing Jack and Alex instantly.
That doesn't mean it doesn't reach them, however.
The flames lick Alex's bare skin, charring his flesh black. The plastic of his gray-green raincoat rapidly melts, searing into his skin, the soles of his shoes soften and stick to the pavement, his salt and pepper hair smolders, and his eyes desperately try to water. His tan backpack, being the closest to the explosion, instantly catches fire, burning Alex's shoulders and back.
Jack fares even worse. The back of his red t-shirt blazes with flames, his wool-like hair smolders, creating a disgusting smell, and holes burn into his light-blue jeans, revealing burnt skin underneath.
Burns are some of the most painful injuries there are, and neither Alex nor Jack is impervious to them. Their minds are thrown into chaos and agony as they instantly drop to the ground, unable to remain standing.
Alex does not scream in pain, and instead releases choked, agonized gags and coughs. He spasmically writhes on his side, too pained and panicked to even take off his blazing backpack.
Jack, however, howls in pain. His screams of agony ring out across the flaming ruins of HMS. He rolls across the ground, dragging his body and scraping himself against the concrete, desperate to relieve the pain, or at least distract himself.
This works to an extent. The scarlet flames on his clothes burn them into ragged, charred scraps of cloth, and the scraping and rolling tears his t-shirt off and smother the flames on his pants.
His mind still searing in pain, Jack faintly feels the agony abate, if only a little. As it does, he barely manages to regain a semblance of thought. Alex!
Perhaps due to how he was raised or the many teachings of his siblings, Jack does not think of himself in this moment.
He crawls towards where Alex is writhing, scraping his charred skin against the rough concrete. The emerald-eyed boy is unable to relieve himself of the pain because his backpack constantly burns his back and obstructs him from rolling and smothering the flames.
The pain throws his mind into chaos and reduces his thoughts to nothing as he follows his baser instincts of fruitlessly writhing in agony.
Jack grabs the backpack in the places where there are few flames, and wrenches it back. Like with his shirt, the flames have burnt away at the straps, so they easily snap against Alex's arms. Then, before his hands get too burnt, he hurriedly tosses the flaming backpack aside.
With the backpack removed, Alex is no longer obstructed from smothering the flames. He writhes and rolls across the ground, as though in a frenzy, smothering the searing flames.
After an indeterminate amount of time, the small fires finally dwindle and disappear, and Alex is left on his back, breathing heavily.
"Haah… haah… haah." His raincoat has melted and resolidified in places, sticking to his now gruesome skin. Raw burns coat his body, ravaging his flesh and turning his back into a sickening mosaic of burns. It's a miracle that his clothes haven't entirely burnt off, and are still stubbornly clinging to his body.
Despite this, Alex clenches his jaw to the point that his teeth feel like they'll crack, then he relaxes it and belts out a loud, mocking laugh, tinged with slight madness.
"You think that's enough!? C'mon! Throw another! Try harder if you want to kill me!"
His laughter fills the space, as though it has a presence of its own. The now shirtless Jack does not have the energy, nor the resilience, to laugh along with Alex, and only lies in pain next to him.
He was able to put out the fire on his body fairly quickly, so his burns are painful but not severe. Despite this, it's more suffering than he's ever felt. It's as though his entire body is a construct of agony, and it takes considerable effort just to think straight.
And Alex's wounds are even worse. He was on fire for much longer than Jack, so his burns go deep and are surely more painful.
Despite this, Alex still laughs and mocks the monster, as though the pain is merely an inconvenience.
Does he not feel pain? Jack wonders, but before he can contemplate it, Alex stops laughing, groans, and stands up, offering a hand to Jack.
Staring at the palm in front of him in amazement, Jack can't help but blurt out, "How are you standing?"
Alex chuckles and rips the molten plastic of his raincoat off his skin with a grunt. "Well, how else am I gonna walk to Tetanus Town? It'd be a bit unsightly if I had to crawl there." He glances at a small pyre of flames on the ground. The vague form of a bag is in the center. "Shame about my backpack, though, I really liked it."