Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place' by Robert Vaughan Page A

nose pointed heavenward, Chris took a deep
breath and waited for the moment when gravity reclaimed its prize.
The slight backward lurch of the stall was the sign, and as the
gleaming sailplane slid in reverse, Chris pulled the stick over and
back, flipping the craft into an inverted, lazy roll that caused
him to fall against the straps of his harness, eliciting another
yelp of delight as he fell earthward.
    “ Whoooooo-HOO!” he yelled, aiming
the nose down in a low-angled dive that arrowed toward the end of
the island and the rugged cliffs beyond. Rapidly gaining speed as
he descended, Chris flashed over a lonely road, the red-dirt track
winding sinuously through the green. And as he did, a flash of
yellow, a cloud of dust boiling up from behind it, snaked along its
course.
     
    As Alani sang blissfully along with the tune, a
fleeting shadow flashed unexpectedly overhead. Alani glanced up
quickly but saw nothing. An sudden gust of breeze threatened to
blow her hat from her head, and she reached up a hand to keep it in
place as her attention was jerked back to the road, her other hand
abruptly pulling the wheel to the right in order to dodge another
gaping pot-hole that had suddenly materialized before her.
     
    Leveling out mere inches above the tree-tops, now
flying almost blindingly fast, Chris reached the cliffs at the end
of the island and plunged over the edge, instantly plummeting a
thousand feet toward the line of waves and sand below. Pulling up
just above the heads of surfers and sun-worshippers as he skimmed
the wave-tops, Chris leveled out along the steep cliffs and pulled
out his phone, snapping several shots from his camera in rapid
succession- instant postcards all. Flying swiftly along the edge of
the coastline, Chris continued to point and shoot, capturing all
manners of wonders and delights as he sped along the cliffs, not
noticing the oddly-menacing dark gray cloud that had inexplicably
materialized before him.
    As a wisp of the anomalous cloud splashed over the
canopy of the glider, the tranquility of the flight was suddenly
shattered by a simultaneous ‘FLASH!’ and ‘BANG!’ that rocked the
plane violently in response and provoked a strangled yelp of alarm
from Chris.
    “ Ho-LY SHIT!” he
cried, hunching down involuntarily in surprise. But worse than the
shock of the abrupt light and deafening noise was the sudden and
sickening lurch of the craft to port. With a quick, panicky glance
out the left side of the canopy, Chris was rewarded with a sight
that made his stomach clench in fear- the port-side wing-tip was
completely gone, the aileron flapping uselessly, smoking trails of debris
fluttering casually off into the ocean below.
    Chris moaned, “Oh, just
fucking terrific !” and yanked the stick firmly to the right as he reached for
the radio affixed to the dash. As he clicked the switch of the
handset with his thumb, the entire face of the radio popped free
from the dash, smoking wires dangling from the back of the now
useless device. “Seriously?!” wailed Chris, and dropped the
smoldering ruin onto the floor as he went back to fighting to right
the plane.
    Just as the glider wobbled and
finally leveled out, another blinding flash exploded in his vision, again
simultaneously accompanied by a thunderous crash of sound as the
plane tilted alarmingly to starboard. Chris swore and gritted his
teeth, quickly looking over his shoulder to his right, where to his
gut-wrenching dismay he now saw that the other wing-tip was destroyed. “Oh,
even better…” was all Chris could manage to utter as the damaged
sailplane suddenly pitched alarmingly downward, heading straight
for the jagged black rocks a hundred feet below.
    Pulling back with all his might on the stick, Chris
struggled to level out, only to have a sudden gust of ocean breeze
shove the nose of the derelict craft back toward the island, where
the dark-green cliff-side now loomed before him like a wall.
    Chris cried forlornly, “Ohhhh-