"The weather looks rather unstable today, with rain developing into the afternoon..."
I groaned and took another spoonful of my oatmeal as I sat on my couch watching the weather news. Not ten minutes after waking up and the day wasn't looking too good. For most people the climate of the area they lived in wasn't a huge concern, but for me it was. Living in a close-knit neighborhood but working so far away meant that I had to be spot on with my timing. Thankfully that wasn't a problem as I had been trained for many years to behave with this level of self-discipline all my life – as a member of the military.
"The world spins you around, around, arou-rou-rou-round..." I sang softly to myself, giving a friendly wave to an old lady watering her vibrant flower beds. She was pretty docile and kind, and lived across the street, alone. Like me.
I strolled down the street to an old parking lot and hopped into Whiz – the nickname for my car: a Subaru WRX STi. She'd been a figure of my dreams since childhood, and my hard work had paid off after years of saving. It took mere weeks after purchase to fall in love and start tweaking her to turn her into a unique, personalized gem.
Starting up the 2.5 liter boxer engine and driving off, I glanced at the trees lining the roadsides. Their leaves were just about fully regenerated, indicating that it was now mid-spring. This meant that the Air Force flight team would be recruiting their most experienced and talented members in the next stage of the training course before starting a three-month course that would take them to the next height of aerial combat and reconnaissance. I had been part of this trainee team for a whole year now, and it had been a pretty hectic and interesting time. The frenzy of the air force base, however, had been too much for me to handle. So I moved out back to the city and rented a small house in a quiet, peaceful senior neighbourhood.
"Highway 38 up ahead, turn right onto it," my GPS voiced out to me.
"Yes, sir!" I replied, a brief yet significant reminder of how the military still flowed through my instinctual nerves. Easing out onto the highway, I found a clear lane and hit the throttle to the floor, sending Whiz surging forward at blazing speed. Even after many months of driving the adrenaline her big turbo delivered was unmistakable. I gave a slight whoop of joy as I glided past unsuspecting "civilian" cars. Slowing down as I approached traffic, Whiz's engine data logger and my phone started beeping, and I checked both messages.
"Assembly begins in forty five minutes sharp!" read my screen.
"MAX. BOOST: 25 PSI" the data logger screen displayed.
I sighed and bit my lip in frustration. Not only would I potentially be late for my first air force team reunion, but my engine had just hit full boost during my crazy fast takeoff earlier on the highway. Having undergone such pressure meant that the engine needed more time to cool down and adjust to normal driving conditions. Thankfully the traffic would give the engine time to do that, but it also meant that time spent getting to my destination on time would be snatched away.
Painstakingly changing lanes whenever possible, I slowly my way to the emergency shoulder lane, and gunned it, speeding down a narrow gap, essentially, between the slow-moving cars and the metal barrier. By the time I finally cleared the jam, twenty minutes had passed since I received the text from my fellow teammate, Nick.
"How can there be so much traffic this early before sunrise?" I wondered to myself as I sped off the highway and down a narrow, empty lane. I had learned real fast last year that industrial side lanes and boulevards made for quick and efficient ways to get around traffic on the main roads. In the distance, I noticed the air force base marking a sharp outline against the orange flow that preceded the sunrise. My memories began to kick in, and suddenly important tips and details started popping up in my head from last year.
"We all depart and begin training at sunrise," a voice played in the back of my head. Somehow that made me push the gas harder, and Whiz's turbo started spooling up. I upshifted and sped towards the horizon, blowing a stop sign a couple blocks down. I glanced at the clock on the car's head unit screen. Fifteen minutes to assembly. The gap had tightened, and so had my grip on the steering wheel as I flew down more streets, swerving and weaving through early riser commuters.
"The cops are so going to get me for this," I muttered, pulling a drift through a left turn to avoid losing excess speed. The race-grade Pirelli tires fought for grip as I spun the wheel in an attempt to throw Whiz sideways slightly. A few slight streaks of smoke purged from the rear tires and I jerked the car back into line to avoid turning too much – and possibly crashing.
Further down the road lay a toll booth-like gate with armed guards in camo clothing beside it, and stopped to greet them.
"Good morning, sir," I began. "Permission to enter?"
"Do you have proof of your registration as part of this air force base?" the man asked, a rather interrogation-like edge to his voice.
I held up my military certificate and pilot license, and he nodded.
"You may enter," he replied, raising the gate.
As soon as the barrier was lifted I sped off to the nearest parking space amongst many other military war vehicles, gathered my papers and documents, then shut off the engine. While lifting my equipment out of the trunk I caught sight of a group of men heading inside the main building through double doors. Guess that's where I should be headed, I thought. I lifted up my gear and strolled towards the doors.
Upon entering the building, I checked my phone. It had been forty minutes since the text was sent. Time to speed things up.
I accelerated into a brisk fast walk, taking note of all the bulletin boards and framed art and photos that adorned the halls. Many of the awards and historical pieces from last year were still around. At the end of the hall was a conference room, and my eyes just caught sight of a man in a uniform just like mine entering. I only hoped he was part of my team.
Just as the clock struck six-thirty, I entered the room with my documents in one hand and my duffel bag slung over my shoulder.
"Listen up!" a voice boomed from the far end. Sitting down just in time, I recognized it immediately – Shane. He was the leader of our trainee team and had been serving within the military for a decade now, so his words were absolutely no joke.
"Today we all return to the serious business of flying. As we all know there are eleven members per team, and five pilots. However, one of our recruits, Selena, has stepped down due to a prolonged family emergency. As such we have yet to find a replacement for her."
Almost instantly Steve, one of the other team members, raised his hand slightly. Shane paused and turned, directing his eyes directly at him.
"You wish to speak, Steve?"
Steve cleared his throat in a low voice, so as not to sound superior. "Is it true that we won't be able to function properly as a complete team without all eleven members?"
Silence struck, and for a moment I thought Shane got owned by forgetting all about that very obvious aspect of teamwork. But he actually had been gathering his thoughts and delivered a very firm and well-rounded response.
"Yes, our team is not complete, Steve. But we will continue today's session while my substitute hunt continues. If I can get a substitute via location transfer by the end of the week, then all will be well. If not, then we will have to postpone our scheduled training events until a major program structural rearrangement can be constructed."
It was difficult not to hold back an exasperated sigh. As young men and women we were all eagerly looking forward to going through the pilot phases and returning to the air. Shane could sense this and immediately continued talking with a positive streak.
"We shall now depart, with a quick exercise routine to warm those bodies up. Then we'll take to the skies and begin the first routine of independent flying. Your instructors will still be with you, but this time it is the pilot who will be in the hot seat."
Faces lit up, and I could've sworn I saw Shane smile. He hardly ever wore an upside-down frown – he always looked concerned or serious. Almost always.
"Everyone out and file towards the running track, now!" his voice boomed like a stadium announcer.
"Yes sir!" we all responded and headed out of the room one by one in a smooth line.