There was a swathe of mangled and ragged stumps, smashed and torn branches along the trail his flyer had plowed through the forest top. Below and to his right, a scattered patch of mangled metal and just a wisp of smoke showed him where the remains of his machine lay. Gathering his courage, he looked down at his own body, afraid of what he would find.His left leg was bent and twisted unnaturally, jagged bits of bone, startlingly white against the torn flesh of his calf. His foot, or what remained of it, was a dangling, almost formless mass of mangled flesh. Nausea overwhelmed him and bile rose in his throat. The pain in his chest almost caused him to pass out again as he bent, retching. When the heaving had passed, he forced himself to look at his right leg and was relieved to see it was mostly intact. His lower leg was obviously broken, swollen to at least twice the normal circumference and, where the coverall was not torn, it was sausage-skin tight against the bloated flesh.His. Sheila didn't say anything but stomped away to go meet Dad at the door. What the hell I decided. I followed close behind and when she reached an old alcove I grabbed her again and pulled her struggling figure behind the curtain. My parents' house is kind of old and has things like alcoves. "Damn you! Not again!" I muffled her protests with my hand and our Dad walked right past without noticing us."Hi, honey," Dad said. "How's my baby doin'?" Mom was back out of the kitchen. He kissed his wife and caressed her belly. I smirked a bit. My dad thought he was the father."He's doing just fine," Mom said and kissed him back."Where's Eric and Sheila?" I don't know," Mom replied. "They won't come until called. I'm sure of it." Can't you wait until tonight?" What the heck was Mom doing?"I want it now." My mother stepped away from Dad, pulled up her skirt, yanked down her panties and braced herself over the back of the sofa. Sheila and I gasped. I'd forgotten I was holding my sister against her.
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