The sign read The Frontenac Gasworks, and when I gave my name to the security guard, was waved through. “Thank heaven for the cops,” I murmured to myself as I pulled into the visitor parking lot and got out of my car.
While I waited for the man to arrive, I walked along the storage area running my eye down the rows of cylinders. To the left were row upon row of cylinders with labels sporting the yellow oxygen diamond shape. But to the right were several rows with different labels. These had a yellow diamond joined with a green diamond. I looked closer—and felt a wash of cold pass through me. The yellow diamond said Oxidizer, the green diamond, Non-flammable gas, but the largest text on the label, to the left of these diamonds, said, Nitrous Oxide USP.
I lowered my head, closed my eyes, a
