This is the third part (of five) of the first story in my WHIRLWIND series. The WHIRLWIND series are unrelated stories (6 so far) with a common theme; each one is based on a short, slightly unusual courtship, with a primary female character who believes that she cannot find love for some reason — and a primary male character determined to prove her wrong.
I visited Ireland once, for 13 marvelous days, and was enchanted by the lilting Irish speech. I have attempted to reproduce that in the dialogue of the Irish characters. WORD’s Spelling and Grammar Checker hated it. I hope the reader doesn’t find it too tedious. If so, please note that in the comments and I will use less of it in the remainder of the story. So far there haven’t been too many complaints.
In previous writings, I don’t think I handled ‘flashbacks’ well, so I wrote this one which has a number of flashbacks as its core. Be warned. There is also no sex.
I can tolerate few ‘Reality’ Shows. The AMAZING RACE is a notable exception. There are a dozen different spinoffs of the AMAZING RACE, each featuring contestants from a different country (i.e., Fantastic Race Canada, Fantastic Race Australia, etc., though the original AMAZING RACE is out of America with American citizens as contestants). This story hypothesizes the FANTASTIC RACE with international teams and slightly different rules.
FINISH LINE Part 3
Major Characters:
Lead Singers of the Celtic/Irish singing group ‘The Madri-Gals’:
Ariana Collins
Marie Kavanaugh
Linnae Jameson
Lavender Renaud
Cassie O’Hara
President and Web Administrator of the Ariana Collins Fan Forum:
Nathan Moore
The Teams for FANTASTIC RACE
(1) German national soccer champion and her husband
(2) Canadian hockey player and his wife
(3) French singer and her son
(4) Japanese pop star and her sister
(5) Captain of New Zealand rugby team and a young man (fan)
(6) American basketball star and young man (fan w/ Down’s Syndrome)
(7) Gold medal Chinese gymnast and her brother
(8) Italian Gran Prix driver and his mistress
(9) Russian ballerina and her daughter
(10) American rock star and young man (fan)
(11) Ariana (Irish) and Nathan (fan)(American)
Nathan and Ariana continue their string of first place finishes. The race continues in Ariana’s memory in flashbacks, though present-day Nathan appears near the end. One more leg to go:
CHAPTER 10 [Eighth Leg (Singapore to Kazkhstan) — six teams remaining]
She had managed to avoid being in the center front for the playback of the episode, and perched in the back, nursing some ginger beer and trying to think of anything BUT the Fantastic Race — and failing miserably…
The flight to Kazakhstan had been nerve-wracking. Images of being shot down by terrorists, dropped off in a muddy field dotted with yurts, and having her hair fall out due to exposure from the decades of Soviet nuclear weapons testing the poor nation had to endure in ignorance, plagued her, though Nathan seemed frustratingly unconcerned.
The airport at Astana, the new capital, had been quite modern, and had a brash, new feeling about it, like a room with paint just dry enough to touch.
The city had a vibrant, rowdy, uncontrolled feel to it, and their task was to go collect puzzle pieces with only a word or short phrase for directions – “Banana” turned out to be a bright yellow office tower; “Seven Barrels” turned out to be a cluster of apartment towers; “Cigarette Lighter” turned out to be the Ministry of Transport and Communications. The assembled puzzle had sent them to the Baiterek, A more than 300-foot high tower on the central promenade which resembled a huge golden egg nestled in the topmost branches of a poplar tree.
Here was where her luck had fueled Garrett’s resentment almost to the point of combustion.
In the center of the observation deck, towering above the city, was a solid granite table. In the center of the table was a huge wedge of pure gold, with the imprint of the first president’s hand in its center. Placing one’s hand in the imprint would randomly trigger the playing of the Kazakh national anthem. The guide assured them it was totally random – sometimes it would play three tries in a row, and sometimes not for a half hour or more. A member of each team would try their luck on the imprint, and if the anthem played, they would get their next clue; if not, they would have to go to the end of the line of hopeful citizens and tourists and anxiously await their next turn.
Garrett and Jeremy had gotten there first by dint of insane driving, but the anthem had refused to play for them. Two other teams had been backed up waiting their turn to evoke the stately but ponderous notes.
Ariana had gotten in line, Garrett had glared at her, and Nathan had stood patiently beside her, keeping himself between them as much as possible. Garrett’s next attempt was a failure, and he kicked the granite table and stomped to the end of the line, not bothering to hide his frustration, either verbally or non-verbally.
Ariana placed her hand carefully in the massive handprint, feeling the warm, slick metal enfold her fingers, and… the anthem had played. All the Kazakhs had faced the flag on the wall and bowed, and a beaming guide had handed her the next clue.
“$#@^ &*$%# *&!@#@! How much did you have to pay to do that?! Or did you just screw one of the guides!” Nathan’s smile had gone stone-faced, and he took an involuntary step toward Garrett. Ariana, as a completely unconscious reflex, had put her hand across Nathan’s chest, and he stopped instantly, though she could feel the anger practically boiling out of his pores. Avoiding looking at anyone, especially Garrett, as Nathan escorted her to the elevator, she was wondering how many understood English, and hoping that the network censors were strict.
Her luck catapulted them from fourth to first place, and they had completed the next four tasks — Earth, Air, Fire and Water — with almost inhuman quickness, arriving at the Pit Stop, the Presidential Palace, and been greeted by Tom and the president of Kazakhstan himself, and proclaimed…
The lack of sound grasped her attention more than anything. Her reverie had been interrupted by Tom’s familiar voice exhorting viewers to stay tuned for scenes from the next show, and she glanced up to see she was the absolute center of awestruck attention.
“Now tha would be eight o eight times, would it no?” Marie had asked, sardonically.
She felt somehow wounded by the remark, nodded quickly and left the room to astounded silence.
The quiet on the bus was irksome, as three of her co-stars had kept flashing her astonished looks, like she was going to vanish into a phone booth and re-appear wearing a cape, and then fly off through the bus roof. Marie just kept looking at her thoughtfully, which, somehow, was worse. After watching some meaningless local news program on the telly, she had said goodnight and retreated to her bunk. As she lay in the dimness, staring at the glowing stars and planets she had adorned the ceiling of her bunk with two years ago on a whim, she remembered how that day in Kazakhstan had ended…