| OCR Text |
Show an Twisters . . . 46 smell anything. I sniffed again. With gas escaping we could have explosion! We could be gassed just by breathing. Whirling around, I snagged my other leg, but I didn't stop, I just went crashing back to where Arthur and Ryan were waiting, "We can't get through," I said with fresh panic, "Can you smell gas?" "I can't tell, but there'll be gas leaking out if water is, right?" Ryan was stiffening and throwing his head back, going "unnnnhhh." The crying would start any second, "He's blue," Arthur said, jouncing him up and down. "Can't we find something dry to wrap him in?" That, on top of everything else . . . My mind was threshing so bad I couldn't think straight. "Waaaahhh!" Ryan cried. All of a sudden, I remembered the stack of towels Mom kept under the could sink. I wrap him in one of those. I pushed past Arthur, knelt, wrenched 0 and the cupboard open enough to reach one hand in, pulled out a towel. "It's dry!" I yelled, thrilled to have something go right. We couldn't lay Ryan down on the countertop, which was covered with broken mirror, so Arthur sat on the toilet seat and held him. I left his undershirt on, but worked his wet diaper off over his hips. Then- with Arthur's help-I got the towel wrapped around him twice. I held him close, rocking and shushing him the way I'd seen Mom do it. He snuggled into my chest. He didn't know it, but he was warming me as much as I was warming him. In the meantime, Arthur was doing the thinking for all of us. |
