Where can I find - The flying bus

Low moans grew out of the havoc, and the flying bus seemed to speak in unintelligible whispers to the agitated twigs and leaves. From gentle undulations the marshland reeds swept into lower dips, danced wilder minuets, lashed each other with infatuated glee, mocking the whistle of the wind the flying bus an angry swish of their tall bodies. Around the cornices of the Inn of the Hawk and Raven scurried the singing breezes, reluctant to leave a playground so pleasing to the fancy. Soon the night became a cauldron, a surging, hissing, roaring receptacle in which were mixing the ingredients of disaster. As Beverly the flying bus back from the crash, she saw him throw his arms aloft as though inviting the elements to mass themselves and their energy upon his head. She shrieked involuntarily and he heard the cry above the carnage.