White Butterflies by Stephen Volk
They rode past six dead cows lying bloated and stiff-legged. Liver, blood, genetic diseases, sicknesses like Papa’s. All because of contaminated land soaked with liquid propellant for forty years. The old folk who worried about rockets dropping on their heads had no idea of the toxic heptyl infecting the ground under their feet. They looked at the sky instead of the ground they stood on. Death had seeped into the cycle of life while white shards of progress shot towards the stars.