CHAPTER 1 Mustang drove away from the hometown I always knew wouldn't be able to keep me forever And now that gassed up Mustang is parked just outside this small airport in Colorado so I can feel like me again in these unreal hours before that long ago dream finally becomes a reality I start at the United States Air Force Academy today I am finally going to fly I'm going to spend the next four years making sure I become the very best airman I can be Airman Danvers Airman First Class Danvers How about Master Sergeant Carol Danvers Or even Second Lieutenant Danvers No what about Captain Carol Danvers the first female fighter pilot in the Air Force A puff of excited breath bursts out into the cold morning air I can't stall any longer I screw on the top of my canteen as tightly as I can I ball up the napkin I had wrapped my toast and jam in and slide down the hood of my car as gently as possible I creak open the trunk of my Mustang and place the now folded plaid blanket inside along with the canteen and balled up napkin I shift my duffle bag and find that I'm fidgeting fidgeting and nervous as I arrange and rearrange the trunk's
HIGHER FURTHER FASTER contents I want to get there and not get there all at the same time It's almost like I don't want to wake from my lifelong dream only to realize that I can't No. I was born to fly Of all the things I've ever doubted that was never one of them Filled with a reinforced sense of determination I Islam the trunk closed As I walk around to the driver's side door I can feel another overhead plane's low growl in the pit of my stomach I curl my fingers around the Mustang's door handle The engine's singsongy hum thrills me as the plane makes its approach This one growls and purrs at the same time It's both magnetic and menacing And it's more beautiful than anything I've ever heard I screw my eyes shut and pay attention unable to resist one last turn It's not a Cessna Of course not It's not a newer plane either so that'd rule out all the Beechcrafts Is it a Marchetti No. That's It could be an old Ryan PT 22 but that's No. That's not right I dip my head lower feeling my brow furrow as my brain rakes and sifts through every plane every
CHAPTER 1 engine every roar I've ever chronicled Shaking my head at last I let out a frustrated snarl For the first time in ages I cannot figure out what kind of plane this is I shield my eyes from the newly risen sun and look up to behold a yellow biplane with blue and red accents As the plane soars overhead I commit every stunning curve and throaty rumble to memory I will find out what kind of plane it is I fold myself into the driver's seat through the open window the driver's side front door has been busted for months now buckle up and turn the key in the ignition The engine hums to life as I skim the directions directions I'd written out and compare them against my dog eared map tongue poking between my teeth in concentration as I trace out the remainder of my route It'll take me another thirty minutes to get there and I will still be about two hours early I tuck my creased directions under the guide turn on the radio and begin the delicate dial dance of finding a good station to listen to for the rest of the drive Whether I'll be able to get good reception on these mountain roads is anybody's guess Just as I think I've found a promising station that plays top forty hits a black blur followed by a huge
HIGHER FURTHER FASTER wake of dust nearly sideswipes me I grip the radio dial and watch as the black blur speeds off down the vacant stretch of highway followed closely by a little blue Honda A ping of curiosity radiates through me then the unmistakable feeling that something is wrong Leave it alone Danvers my inner voice warns You're so close Don't mess this up like you mess up everything else Can't hurt it check it out though right The radio station crackles through just as I'm putting putting the car into drive the opening chords of a hit song clear as a bell I check to make sure there are no more little blurs closing in on me and take off after the two cars my chase now inconveniently sound tracked by some soapy ballad about the pitfalls of love So not the vibe I need right now radio As I close in on the little blue Honda and pull up alongside it I can see big scrapes of black paint along the now crumpled driver's side of the car it looks like they extend all the way to the front end The girl behind the wheel flicks her gaze over at me I try my best to gesticulate Are you okay and What happened She thrusts her arm forward revealing a wrinkled and stained fast food uniform and mouths He hit me She then runs her little fingers in the air between us a gesture I'm pretty sure means the black blur hit her car
