The getaway special by Jerry Oltion

and hope they had already slowed down enough that the shroud lines wouldn't snap the moment the 'chute filled out. Assuming it opened at all.
    Not yet, though. The gee force was easing off, but they were still braking, which meant they were still way above terminal velocity. Judy looked over at Allen, who was trying to say something to her, but the capsule was bouncing too much for her to read his lips and the interior was still in vacuum so his voice didn't carry. That wasn't good either; atmospheric pressure from outside could crumple the walls if there were any weak spots.
    There should have been a valve to allow air to bleed inside, but if there was, then it had melted shut or been plugged by debris. All the same, they needed to equalize the pressure, so Judy did the only thing she could think of under the circumstances; she blew the hatch.
    She'd trained for explosive decompression before, but never for the reverse. Even at their high altitude, air rushing to fill the vacuum slammed her sideways into Allen, then shoved him against the wall of the capsule. Sound returned, the sound of wind shrieking through the open hatch frame, tugging at the canister in Allen's lap and flapping the loose ends of their harnesses against their heads and shoulders. Nuts to this , Judy thought, reaching out to the parachute switch and flipping the toggle. She heard the bang this time, and a moment later a jolt as the drogue 'chute streamed away, filled out, and pulled the main 'chute after it.
    The main parachute opened with a bone-jarring snap. The capsule had been traveling nearly parallel to the ground; there was a moment of freefall as it swung around like a pendulum to hang downward instead, and a sickening few seconds of oscillation before Judy used the attitude jets to stop their swing. The jet made a loud hiss in the air, but when it cut off, the capsule was nearly silent. Is . . . is it always like that ? Allen asked. She still had to read his lips. Even though there was air around them again, his voice didn't make it through his helmet.
    She tried not to let her laugh become hysterical. "Are you kidding?" she replied when she could breathe again. "I was sure the whole way down that Gerry was telling the truth." She loosened her harness and leaned over to look out the hatch. The ground was still a couple miles below them. Judy could see another lake to the west, with some green that might have been scrub pine on the hills around it, but when she looked straight down she saw a whole lot of badlands and not much else. Snow covered the low ground and drifted in the lee of anything tall enough to provide a windbreak, but there was plenty of reddish-brown dirt sticking through.
    "Well, we don't have to worry about hitting anybody," she said, straightening up and tightening the straps again.
    They swayed slightly as the capsule descended through the different layers of air over the high desert. The parachute was oversized, designed to bring them in slowly so they would survive a landing on solid ground. Judy kept reminding herself that the Russians had done it that way for years, but as the horizon crept upward into view outside, she thought for a moment she could see the face of her father in its outline, then when she blinked she saw her mother in the clouds.
    My god, she thought, your life really does flash before your eyes.
    Then the capsule slammed into the ground, tipped over backward, and rolled, clanging against rocks and kicking dirt and snow inside the hatch. Judy saw sky, then ground, then sky again, then a sagebrush jammed momentarily through the opening, then finally, after about three complete revolutions, the capsule came to rest with the hatch pointing up into the air.
    "You okay?" Judy asked. She dangled sideways, only her harness keeping her from falling on Allen. I think so , he replied, his helmet still muffling his voice.
    Judy realized it wasn't just her harness that was squeezing her. Atmospheric pressure was