Gale whipped the trainer into a wild snaproll, hurling the aircraft forward through a gyrating, twisting maneuver that made mush out of the horizon. The right pedal came back and shoved his leg back and his right knee up, and in the same movement the stick slammed back against his body. They pulled out into level flight, Gale advanced the throttle, the engine thunder comforted him, and without warning he felt the left rudder pedal slamming down.

He gritted his teeth, determined to be the best student the lithe redhead had ever flown with. He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to focus on the controls. His stomach sent him a warning complaint, the engine roar abruptly ceased, the stick moved forward, then hard back again, and the wind's shriek increased rapidly as they hurtled downward in a wide soaring plunge. He was falling out of the airplane! No, he wasn't! His seat belt and shoulder harness supported his weight or he would have tumbled out of the cockpit. The pressure was gone now he was hanging upside down. Through the upward climb, the centrifugal force, what these lunatic pilots called g-forces, mashed him down in his seat, hung his lower lip low, and sagged sudden bags under his eyes. His feet were leaden as Gale hauled back into a tight inside loop, the airplane rushing upward, continuing over. He felt as if an elephant had suddenly sat on his chest and head and arms. Abruptly the trees before him fell away and blue sky and white clouds were everywhere. The stick in his right hand pulled back sharply toward him with a force so great he felt a brief pain in his wrist. They seemed to be diving straight for the trees. All right, luv! Here we go! Like you say, no holds barred! Immediately the engine roared fully to life and the nose came back to level. He felt the throttle knob move forward under his left hand. Go with me, but don't fight me on the controls! He gripped the stick and planted both feet on the rudder pedals. Remember, Indy! Keep your hands on the controls and follow through with me. Whatever pleases you, ducks! she called merrily. She smiled, teeth white in the afternoon sun. Stop talking like a woman and start flying like a pilot! Indy, I'd rather we went into this easily. It's running, it's running, she scolded him. I don't want to waste time like this! For God's sake, start up the engine!' Are you sure you want the aerobatics? she asked, the wind thinning her voice.

Indy gripped the sides of the cockpit with white knuckles as Gale righted their little craft with a smooth motion. This is only your first lesson! she called back. His eyes widened as the high trees began to expand in size as the airplane kept drifting downward. He wanted to hear that engine, feel its vibrations, smell the exhaust. He watched the nose drop below the horizon as they slid off into a downward glide. Before she could speak, he pounded his fist against the cockpit padding. Indiana Jones, startled by the unexpected quiet instead of the engine roar that had become so comforting at this height, glared at the redhead as she turned to look back at him. The soft ticking of the engine at idle and wind sighing through wings and wires enabled conversation between the front and aft cockpits. Three thousand feet above the rugged gullies and thick woodlands of the New Forest of southern England, wind blowing her bright red hair in a swirling billow, Gale Parker yanked back the throttle of the little training plane.

Phantom pain silent sniper rifle