Vapor by David Meyer Read Free Book Online Page B

the reliquary. A cord had come loose, causing the sheets to shift a couple of inches. As a result, one corner of the stone box was now fully exposed to the elements. My instinct was to cover it, to protect it. Lila’s dying words gave me pause, but only for a moment.
    I clambered onto the flatbed and grabbed the plastic sheets. But I couldn’t control my fingers and they slipped from my hands. I grabbed them again and stretched them over the exposed portion of stone. Then I used the loose cord to strap them into place.
    Exhaustion hit me hard as I made my way across the flatbed. Carefully, I lowered myself to the ground. But my rubbery legs folded on me and I collapsed into the dirt.
    I blinked a few times, watching millions of particles whirl around me. They stabbed at me, nicking my skin. I tried to stand up again, but my legs felt like spaghetti.
    I clawed at the soil, trying to drag myself to the cab. But my strength was completely sapped. My mind lost focus. My eyelids snapped shut.
    And then my brain slipped into blackness.

 
    Chapter 15
    Am I … are we … dead?
    My eyes shot open. I gasped for air. Stale oxygen—not nearly enough of it—entered my lungs. I gasped again. And again. And yet again.
    My gasps shortened and then vanished. My breathing normalized and I slumped against a hard seat. My lungs hurt like hell, but at least I could breathe.
    One by one, my senses returned. I felt warm upholstery touching my damp skin. Smelled the elastic from my goggles. Saw the still-swirling dust through the heavily smudged windshield. Tasted engine exhaust in the air. Heard soft breathing.
    I wiped sweat from my face. More sweat beaded up to replace it. The truck’s cab felt hot as fire.
    Memories flooded my brain. I recalled the reliquary and the approaching militia. I relived the plane sailing overhead, the hail of gunfire, and the sound of a distant crash. I was reminded of the grayish contrails and how they felt against my skin. I remembered the nonexistent oxygen, the dizziness, and the exhaustion.
    But most of all, I remembered Lila. I remembered her insane plan to blow up the reliquary. I recalled the terror in her eyes and her vague warning about how it might hurt people.
    Too tired to move my head, I focused my energy reserves to my jaw. “Where …?” I licked my dry lips. “Where are we?”
    “Three miles from the barn.” Beverly’s voice sounded strained.
    The truck felt motionless. The engine was silent. “We’re parked?”
    “For now.”
    “Where’s Dutch?”
    “Over here.” His voice, strong and vibrant, came from the opposite end of the cab.
    “Anyone else make it?”
    “I don’t know,” Graham said. “But a lot of people definitely died. If it weren’t for this truck, we’d probably be dead too.”
    I didn’t know any of the militia members. And I knew they’d most likely have attacked us if they’d gotten the chance. But a small part of me still mourned them. “I spoke to Lila before she died,” I said after a moment. “She said the reliquary was dangerous.”
    “How?” Beverly asked.
    “She didn’t say. She just said to destroy it. Otherwise, people would die.” I exhaled. “Lots of people.”
    “What do you want to do?” Graham asked.
    Good question.
    I’d been asking myself the same thing ever since Lila had revealed her true intentions. Something about what she’d said and how she’d said it continued to nag at me. But could I really destroy the reliquary?
    I’d destroyed my fair share of artifacts in the past, all with good reason. But the reliquary was different. Hell, I couldn’t even be sure it was dangerous. I only had Lila’s statements to go on and it wasn’t like I could question her about them.
    I only knew one thing for certain. The reliquary, like all artifacts, was irreplaceable. If studied properly, it could shed new light on ancient history. Did I really want to be the one to extinguish that light?
    “We’re salvage experts,” I said at