The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Swept Under the Rug

and called out again.
    The clanging increased to a frantic level and I staggered towards the sound. The basement was huge and my sense of direction severely compromised by barely stifled fear. My feet tangled in something and I went down hard, face first. Something light fluttered down wrapping me up like a gag gift.
    “Crap,” I moaned, sure my nose was broken. Blood, hot and tangy gushed down my chin. I rolled and bucked until the sheet which had ensnared me gave up. Good news was it had been covering a small window, and darkness turned to dimness. I wiped my face on the sheet and used my stomach muscles to pull me upright.
    The elevator was nowhere in sight, but I made out the cylindrical shape which vibrated alarmingly on its concrete platform. More than five times the size of my own hot water heater, the prospect of that thing exploding was beyond terrifying. My ears popped as I swallowed blood, but I managed to lurch forward.
    What I understood about hot water heaters couldn’t fill a Dixie cup, but I did recall an episode of Mythbusters when the guys had intentionally detonated one by steadily increasing the pounds per square inch. The tank hadn’t technically exploded, more of launched itself through the building which housed it, but considering the total destruction, I doubt anyone would argue semantics with the rubble.
    It seemed to me the big thing was just an overgrown pressure cooker, and I did know how to work one of those. There had to be some sort of release valve, to ease the pressure and keeping the thing from taking off like a rocket. If I were the guy to design this, where would I put it?
    “Within easy reach,” was the logical answer. Easy, that is when one wasn’t disabled by bound hands. I was so focused on the tank; I almost missed the small shape tethered to one of the pipes. The clinks had originated from the metal cuffs imprisoning her.
    I squinted and rushed forward. “Sierra?” Holy God, this was just like that dream, except, my mind had superimposed Candy Valentino as my fellow prisoner. Pushing the thought away, I turned around and groped with my numbing fingers, feeling my way to the flimsy gag. “Just hang in there, I’ve almost got this.”
    I yanked, and the final knot slipped free and Sierra bubbled over. “Oh, Maggie, I’m so sorry! It’s Alan; he’s lost his mind and I—”
    I interrupted her with a sharp noise and spun around, assessing the situation. Not enough time to work her free first. “Sierra, do you know where the pressure release valve is for the hot water tank? We need to vent the steam before it goes critical.”
    “I don’t, I’m sorry.” She started to cry. “My kids, oh God, I don’t want to die!”
    “Listen to me; we are going to get out of this, you have to trust me.”
    “Sierra, listen to me.” I squatted down with my back to her, my bound hands in line with hers. “Can you untie me?”
    Her fingers fumbled, nails scraping my abused wrists. “I don’t know, it’s so tight and I can’t see.”
    “You’re doing fine.” I coaxed, praying my latest harebrained scheme wouldn’t be the last. Sierra worked the knot, each tug had me wincing. After an eternity she loosened the knot and I managed to work one wrist free of the rope.
    “Maggie, please go. Save yourself.”
    Ignoring her plea, I turned my attention to the tank. Carefully, I stepped onto the concrete platform. Balanced on the balls of my feet, my forehead only reached halfway up the tank. Numerous warning stickers decorated the thing. Up above my head was a sticker and an upwards facing arrow labeled Pressure Relief Valve. Heat emanated from the cylinder and I could only imagine what sort of temperature was going on inside the tank. Standing on my tiptoes, I could see the Release valve hand been melted down to an unrecognizable lump of metal.
    Shit, it had been a shot in the dark anyway. Of course Garner would have anticipated that I’d get free. In all likelihood, he got off on the image of my futile efforts. I stepped down, carefully avoiding Sierra. If I couldn’t release the pressure by traditional means....
    My gaze landed on a fire ax, enshrined in glass next to a doorway. My mind couldn’t even imagine the possible outcomes, but I was operating under the idea that doing something was indeed better than nothing. The little metal hammer hung from a string next to the case and I raised it, looking away as the glass shattered. The ax was much heavier than, I’d