Chapter 2: Blast

An hour later, Erika was already working at her desk. She gradually became aware that something was wrong with her ankle. The strap of her high heel was digging into her flesh. She touched the swelling, winced, then bent down to loosen the strap. In the following hours her ankle ballooned and the pain intensified. From time to time, Erika was standing up, walking to the shelves to put the books back in their places. The task was becoming more and more arduous, and her limping was getting worse. Around noon, she was barely able to put weight on her left foot. Her injured ankle puffed up so much that her black stocking stretched, looking paler at the ankle area. Erika loosened the strap some more and continued limping boldly, trying not to pay attention to the pain.

"Let me see!"

A young man was standing next to her, looking at her feet.

"My name is Ardis. I think I can help you," the man added.

"You!" Erika exclaimed.

"I am a paramedic."

She sat on a plastic chair, feeling embarrassed by the proposal.

"I have to remove the stocking," Ardis said, unbuckled the strap and took off the shoe.

Erika unclasped the suspender, rolled her stocking down to her knee. Ardis took over from there, gently removing the stocking. The swelling looked ugly. A crescent—shaped black blue mark had appeared around her delicate ankle. She winced as his cold fingers touched her naked skin.

"It looks like a sprain," Ardis said.

"Am I going to live?" Erika asked cheerily.

"Yes," he said and smiled. "But I need to bandage it."

A minute later, Erika's colleague brought a roller bandage. Ardis deftly wrapped her injured ankle. His gentle touches felt like caress. The tightness of the bandage reduced the pain. Feeling relaxed, Erika slumped into the chair.

"I have to go, nice toes," Ardis said, stood up, and left hurriedly.

"Thank you very much," Erika cried out after him, then looked down at her toes thoughtfully.

Erika parked her battered Honda at the curb and got clumsily out. Her ankle was still protesting at every step. The street door was unlocked. She wondered if she had forgotten to lock it. She couldn't remember.

After leaving her purse in the house and changing her clothes, Erica decided to introduce herself to the neighbours. They turned out to be quite amiable. Mrs. Haas was a widow. She was in her seventies and was living alone. As Erika was walking with a limp the old woman showed curiosity.

"I turned my ankle," Erika explained.

"You ought to be more cautious, dear! Such a pretty girl like you always has to be cautious."

John and Nancy Simmons were sweet-tempered young couple. They invited her for a cup of coffee. After a hearty conversation that lasted nearly an hour, Erika excused herself and got back home.

The first thing Erika did after locking the front door was to fill the tub with hot water. Then she took off her clothes, and got into the tub, hanging her injured foot out, careful not to wet the bandage. Her tense muscles gradually relaxed. The troubles and pains Erika had been enduring all day became trivial. Feeling drowsy, she closed her eyes and a minute later, dropped asleep. After twenty minutes, the water ran into her mouth and nose, waking her up. She spat it out and sat up. The water in the tub had cooled down considerably.

Erika rubbed herself dry, and got dressed. Then poured herself a glass of wine, slumped in an armchair, rested her bandaged foot on the coffee table, and took the remote control. The flat surface of the table felt cold under her bare heel.

She turned on the TV, and a deafening explosion shook the house. The TV set disintegrated. Pieces of plastic and metal flew around like shrapnel. Black suffocating smoke filled the room. The blast knocked Erika down on the floor. Through her ringing ears, she could hear a high pitched noise. Suddenly she realized that that was her own terrified shriek.

Coughing, she scrambled on her feet, and hobbled out.

Except for a scratch on her chin, Erika was unscathed. She quickly pulled herself together, entered the living room, and opened the window to air it out. Then she started examining the damage. She hadn't the slightest idea what had caused the explosion of the TV set. Her logic tried to convince her that it was some kind of technical problem. Occupied with cleaning, she chased the anxious thoughts away.