Eddie didn’t see the egg explode, but it rattled his bones, trying to separate them. The way everything separates. They were halfway to the launch tower when he pitched forward.
He didn’t know why. Nothing hurt. Adrenaline killed pain better than the stuff in the brown paper bag.
He was on his face, tasting blood. It felt like the old man was punching him in the back, punch, punch, punch. He twisted his arm behind him, and his fingers found something thin sticking out. Metal, because it cut them. He pulled his hand back and it was full of blood.
His lungs couldn’t draw enough air. It felt like the time he almost drowned in a river saving a choir. Only that couldn’t be right. His vision was closing in at the sides, like the water was winning.
Then he stretched his arm out in front of him and pressed his hand down, leaving a bloody handprint to show he was here. He’d tried. God, he’d tried to make it.
What goes up must come down.