Free Vapor by David Meyer

cracked. The air bag deployed, smashing into me, driving me back against the seat.
    Fighting off a wave of dizziness, I inhaled a few shallow breaths. My right hand reached up, groping the shelf behind me. Grabbing my machete, I thrust the blade into the bag. Air leaked out. My breathing normalized.
    I punctured the other airbag. Beverly and Graham slumped into their seats. While they refilled their lungs, I rubbed my neck. It felt sore. But otherwise, I was uninjured.
    Tiny jets of hot air ripped at me. I felt grit in my throat. I glanced at the windshield and side windows. Constructed from laminated safety glass, they’d largely withstood the crash. But tiny cracks perforated their surfaces. Dirt, egged on by the fierce wind, pushed through the cracks.
    “Everyone …?” More dirt shot into my lungs and I coughed. “Everyone okay?”
    Beverly stretched her limbs. “Define okay.”
    “What the hell happened?” Graham asked.
    “I guess I lost control.” Peering through the windshield, I saw a mound of dirt. “The plane kicked up a bunch of soil. Looks like we ran into it.”
    “Lucky us.”
    The wind howled. The windows shuddered.
    “We can’t stay here.” Beverly coughed a few times. “The storm … it’s too strong.”
    “What about the plane?” Graham said. “It might work as shelter.”
    I glanced at the plane, barely seeing it in the raging storm. I knew we’d find corpses inside the fuselage. The real question was whether we’d find any survivors. “Check it out.” I replied. “I’m going to dig out the truck, move it a little closer to the plane.”
    Graham forced his door open. Swirling dirt flew into the cab. Quickly, he and Beverly climbed outside.
    Flying dirt stung my skin as I exited the vehicle. I trudged to the flatbed and checked the reliquary. It was nestled safely in its cradle, protected by the plastic covering and mountains of cables and cords.
    Fighting against the wind, I made my way to the front of the vehicle. The truck was embedded two feet into a mound of dirt. The collision had caused more dirt to pour down from above, covering the rest of the front end with a thick layer of soil.
    “We’ve got a problem.” Beverly appeared, striding through the vicious storm.
    I twisted to face her. “What is it?”
    “That isn’t an ordinary plane.”
    “Oh?”
    “There’s no way inside it.”
    The truck’s passenger door creaked open. Light clattering noises rang out as Graham gathered his toolbox.
    “Hang on a second.” Bending over, I studied the vehicle’s underside. My lip curled in disgust as I realized how I’d lost control of the vehicle. “Damn it.”
    Beverly knelt down. Her face clouded over as she stared at the flat tire.
    “Well, that settles it.” Exhaling loudly, I stood up. “Like it or not, we’re stuck here.”

 
    Chapter 19
    “What kind of plane is that anyway?” Graham peered into the swirling storm. “It looks like a damn sea monster.”
    Indeed, the wreckage was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. The aluminum fuselage, painted a dull white, bulged out at the front end like the head of a serpent. A giant turbofan engine was mounted on top of the aircraft, facing the bulbous head. The single remaining wing was long and narrow. It looked utterly incapable of transporting such a heavy aircraft.
    My gaze turned to a deep groove trailing the plane. Apparently, the pilot had failed to deploy the landing gear in time. However, he or she had still managed to crash land in relatively smooth fashion. The plane had slid on its belly, losing a wing in the process, before finally tunneling into the soil.
    “Do you recognize the model?” I asked Beverly.
    “No, but …” Her voice sounded hollow in the wind.
    “But what?”
    She shook her head. “Let’s just get inside it.”
    My eyes traced the fuselage. The side facing us was only half-buried in soil. Still, I didn’t see any sign of a cabin door. Twisting toward the tail, I started to walk