Whirlwind 01 – Finish Line – Pt. 03 by QuantumMechanic1957,QuantumMechanic1957

Elizabeth O’Leary, the librarian, who had turned down, politely but firmly, any number of Mr. Hennessey’s dinner date requests before the article, had invited herself over to dinner the evening after the article. They had been married a few months later. After that he had seemed – happy with a streak of sadness – that was the only way she had been able to describe it when she had asked her father about it. She never asked her mother questions of that kind, for dread of the long rambling, disjointed lectures which inevitably followed — liberally seasoned with many dire warnings that had nothing to do with the original question. Her father had looked at her and thought about it and finally said, “There is a part o him which woulda preferred Elizabeth to marry Lonnie, rather than the hero.” Now she really understood what he had been saying. Before the Race, she had just been Ariana, along with Marie, one of the two remaining founders of the Madri-Gals, and one of the ‘Talent’, and always one of the more popular singers, but she had never been aloof or pretentious, she would have a drink with everyone after a performance, and stand a round when it was her turn, and no one thought twice of talking to her or letting her help out. Now it was – different. Now she was globetrotting Ariana who had been Team Number One ten of ten times on an internationally televised show. Where Marie and Cassie and Linnea and Lavender would get standing ovations after their performances, she would get a standing ovation with half the audience shouting, “Team Number One,” from just walking on stage. People she had worked with for years were nodding politely to her, calling her ‘Ms. Collins’ instead of Ariana, ushering her to the head of lines, dropping everything else at her slightest request, and pointing her out, usually somewhat discretely, to people. It was almost depressing. She didn’t know whether to long for or dread the final episodes.

As the troupe bustled to find seats for the episode viewing, Ariana half expected to find a throne instead of her preferred bar stool…

The four remaining teams had landed in Austria, rushed around the small country, which seemed to be nothing but mountain slopes, and battled their way through the Fire (glass-blowing), Water (sailing across a mountain lake) and Earth (tin mine) challenges. It was while hurtling across the Austrian landscape that Garrett and Jeremy had taken the lead…

They had been hurtling along the winding road edging the Aeolian Escarpment. She had been driving, Nathan had been navigating, and Ben and Ari had been silently videotaping them. They were behind Garrett and Jeremy, but she was certain they were gaining. “Read those directions ta me agin, Nathan.”

“Proceed on highway 486 along the Aeolian Escarpment overlooking Donnenbruck to the cable car station. Teams must decide whether to take the 45 minute cable car ride and then proceed to the pit stop in Donnenbruck Soccer Stadium, or take the hour and a half drive on the road past the cable car station down the twisting, hairpin curves to the city of Donnenbruck, and proceed to the pit stop. The last team to arrive will be eliminated,” Nathan read calmly as the occupants of the car were alternately thrust against opposite sides of the vehicle as Ariana took curves on two wheels, and passed cars and trucks which weren’t exceeding the speed limit anywhere near as much as she was.

“I noo it,” she replied. “There is onla one more leg and four teams left.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about being last. Nickolaya and Astrid looked hopelessly bogged down in that last challenge.”

“I don care, I don want tha insufferable Garrett ta beat us. No!”

She had just skidded to a stop in the cable car station’s parking lot as the sign on the outside of the building was changing to proclaim that the next cable car would be leaving in 50 minutes, and the cable car itself was edging out of the building and starting the long descent to the distant city. Garrett had been standing in the window of the car, laughing and making crude hand gestures at them.

Not even bothering to respond, she had peeled out of the parking lot and headed back the way they came.

“If we are going to drive down, we should be continuing on,” Nathan had observed from the back with characteristic mildness.

“I saw somthin two minutes back. Hang on.”

Both Ben and Ari had heaved a sigh of relief that they hadn’t been destined to scramble down several miles of wild turns with Ariana at the wheel and their lives on the line. Now they were bracing themselves against the doors and trying not to swear out loud.

Barely two minutes later, they left skid marks as they stopped nearly at the door of the Eagle’s Nest Alpine Lodge which a large sign in three languages proclaimed it to be the Aerie of the World’s Bravest Hang Glider Enthusiasts.

In one minute she had found two instructors willing to take them to the soccer stadium, for the — quite illegal – thrill of it. And the second minute she and Nathan were each being strapped into the student position of a two-person hang glider.

“We aren’t supposed to leave our video crew behind,” Nathan had reminded her, mildly, as he had eyed the cliff edge.

Ben looked up from his emergency cell phone and piped up and said, possibly in relief, “There is a helicopter up to take aerial shots of the cable car and any cars on the road. They can follow you. Just got the okay — and the reminder that this is an unauthorized route and you will face a 30 minute penalty.”

She had given Nathan a triumphant look. He huffed. “I carried you across a snake pit; I guess I can jump off a cliff.”

As he strapped his helmet on, Nathan had made one last observation, mildly, “You realize we may come in second with the 30 minute penalty.”

“If we don make it, we will hae tried… an it will make good television.”

Nathan had laughed, and with that, their instructor pilots had trotted them off the ledge by the lodge, lofted them airborne, and wheeled toward the cliff.

She had whooped and hollered as the updraft on the cliff edge caught them and hurled them high enough in the sky that the air had dried her throat and her head had buzzed with the cold thinness of it. Then the instructor had edged them out of the updraft and pointed them down at the valley floor far below and the village beyond. They had plummeted, wind whistling through the stays and thin plastic membrane buzzing on the wings.

They dove past the cable car like two eagles on the way to a grudge match, with the helicopter in hot pursuit. The scenic pastures and woods were nothing but blurs as they pulled out of the dive and headed toward the town. They streaked over the edge of the city, buffeted by the fragmented winds gusting along the streets and ricocheting randomly off the myriad buildings, slaloming wildly through alternating updrafts and downdrafts, with the recognizable soccer stadium looming out of the skyline and zooming closer by the heartbeat.

Their pilots circled the stadium once, twice, three times, to shed altitude, and to gage the temperament of the air currents swirling above the field. The Fantastic Race support staff stared up at them, every camera nearly vertical. She had almost waved, but the pilot shouted a warning and then dove for the ground at mid-field.

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