Apocalypse Machine Read Online Free PDF Page A

standard ‘safe zone for habitation.’ Tell that to the residents of Pompeii, and the more than 25,000 people killed by volcanoes since 1980.
    Kiljan juices the gas, prodding me along with the engine’s roar. I hobble to the tall jeep and open the back door, where Phillip and Diego are already waiting, looking half asleep. Holly has a hard time climbing in, so I shove her from behind and close the door behind her. I have my own struggle climbing in to the tall, front passenger’s seat, but Kiljan reaches across, grabs my arm and hauls me inside.
    Blessed heat rolls over my exposed skin. I lean forward, melting the frozen moisture from my face.
    “Buckle,” Kiljan says.
    “I will, I will.” The vehicle’s heat, despite just starting to warm up, feels like a hot flame against my skin. But I can’t pull myself away.
    “Buckle, now!” Kiljan shoves the transmission into Drive and hits the gas. I’m flung back into my seat, lost in the chaos of the moment. And then I see it, out the windshield and then the side window, as the superjeep peels around in a circle; a cloud of ash and smoke launches skyward on the horizon.
    Bardarbunga has erupted.
    And we all know what’s coming next.
    Ignoring the pain wracking my whole body, I yank my seatbelt down, and after three frantic tries, I clip it into place. As the superjeep peels back onto the path that brought us to the glacier’s edge, I look back again. I see a wave of distortion—kicked up snow and stony grit—rolling toward us. Gripping the armrest to my left and the ‘oh shit’ handle above me on the right, I shout, “Hold—” but my voice is cut short by the shockwave’s impact and a cacophonous boom .

 
     
    4
     
    I’m looking down at the gritty, rock strewn ground through the superjeep’s windshield. The back end has lifted up, propelled by the shockwave. Holly tumbles from the back seat, falling between Kiljan and me. My left hand snaps up from the armrest and catches the thankfully lithe woman’s shoulder, keeping her face from crashing into the dash, but stretching my muscles to the limit, and then beyond. I shout in pain as sinews snap, but no one notices because all of us were already screaming.
    Just when it seems the superjeep will hit a 90 degree angle and topple onto its roof—a death sentence for all of us even if we survive the crash—Kiljan slams his foot on the gas. The big front tires of the four-wheel drive vehicle are still in contact with the ground, and when they churn against the rough surface, we’re launched forward. The forward motion pushes the back end down, and keeps us from flipping, but we remain upright for several horror-filled seconds, until the rush of air dies down and the back of the superjeep slams back to the earth.
    The vehicle’s oversized tires and forgiving shocks absorb much of the impact, but Kiljan quickly pushes the superjeep to its limits. He’s plowing over rocks and crevices large enough to stop most trucks in their tracks. I watch the speedometer needle move steadily clockwise. I attempt to convert kph to mph, but give up when the needle nears the numbers in red. Our trajectory takes us downhill, and will continue to, until we leave the mountainous region. On one hand, that’s a good thing. Our retreat will be a speedy one. On the other hand...
    I squish my face against the passenger seat’s burning cold window and look back, up the steady grade. Gray stone catapults into a clear blue sky. My sigh of relief catches in my throat when the gray horizon rises up higher. What I thought was more barren stone is actually a pyroclastic cloud.
    “Kiljan...” I say.
    He glances in the rearview. “I see it.”
    The cloud is churning up into the air, but also rolling down the incline. It’s still miles behind us, but it’s massive and shoved steadily outward by the world’s most powerful combustion engine.
    Pebbles flung by the initial explosion rattle off the roof and the hood of the vehicle, falling