The cloud that hit him was a weapon. Aerosolized lye and chlorine gas. He inhaled sharply and his throat closed. It felt like swallowing a mouthful of hornets. He staggered back, coughing, eyes streaming, while the black tide spread across the kitchen floor, eating the finish off the linoleum and creating small, sizzling pits where it pooled.
He retrieved the Kleen-Out. The liquid inside was unnaturally thick, like a clear, viscous serpent coiled in the dark. He unscrewed the child-proof cap (a minor annoyance he defeated with a grunt) and leaned over the sink. The drain stared back, a black, wet eye. He ignored the label’s precise instructions: Pour slowly. Use only 1/4 bottle for standard clogs. Wait 15 minutes. Flush with cold water for 2 minutes. kleen out drain opener
Before he could answer, they heard it: a low, wet CRACK from the pipes beneath the sink. Then a second, louder one. It was the sound of PVC plastic weeping. The Kleen-Out, a brutal cocktail of sodium hydroxide (lye) and sodium hypochlorite (bleach), was doing its job. It was dissolving the clog—a vile amalgam of congealed bacon grease, coffee grounds, and hair. But it was also dissolving the old, brittle pipe seals. The chemical reaction generated intense heat, and that heat, combined with the corrosive agent, was turning the plumbing into a soft, failing vessel. The cloud that hit him was a weapon
Then came the flood.