A/N: So just to clarify, if I ever write a plane or air traffic control personal saying "Flight of two plus one" or (in this case) "Air racer number 7 plus one," the "plus one" refers to passengers on said plane, i.e. Sky. Hope that clears things up!
Chapter Four: New Friends, New Adventure
Sky pulled her Jolly Wrench Navy commander jacket closer around her, the cold night air giving her goosebumps. But she and Dusty found themselves staring in wonder as New York City came into view.
"Dang!" Sky breathed. "Even Sterling isn't this huge!"
"Air racer number 7 plus one, air racer number 7 plus one." A voice said over Dusty's and Sky's radios. "Do you read? Kennedy approach, over."
"Uh…I'm Dusty Crophopper and Sky Riley." Dusty said. "I'm looking for JFK airport."
"Crophopper 7, you are supposed to be on the Carnice visual." The voice said. "Turn further left, heading 1-9-5. Maintain one thousand feet. Intercept the twenty-two right localizer. You are cleared for the ILS 22, right approach."
"Roger." Dusty nodded, him and Sky catching sight of the airport.
"Heavy is sectored in behind you."
"Run that by me one more time?" Dusty asked. He quickly dismissed it as he found the runway traffic control directed him to. He made a smooth landing, amazed by the sleek black asphalt that made up the tarmac.
"Huh. Nice place." Sky said, pushing her goggles up to rest over the top of her bandana.
"Check out this pavement!" Dusty said, impressed. "Nice! It's so smooth!"
"Crophopper 7, you passed Foxtrot." Air traffic control said. "Turn left onto Charlie. Hold short at 22."
As Dusty stammered a bit, Sky suddenly noticed the runway growing brighter. She looked up just as air traffic control shouted "Get off the runway!" and she screamed at the sight of a giant passenger plane coming right on top of them. Dusty scurried away, just managing to avoid the wheels of the Boeing plane and taxiing over to the gates.
"Wow." Sky sighed. "We haven't even started the race and you almost got us killed."
Dusty rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, just don't tell Skipper." He gasped and jumped as trucks honked their horns, and Sky held on tightly as Dusty skittered around the tarmac, avoiding cars and forklifts and giant planes.
"City folk aren't very nice, are they?" Sky noted as she dismounted Dusty to stand on his wing.
Dusty shrugged a bit, finally spying a slew of racing planes and a Wings Around the Globe Rally banner that read "Welcome Racers!"
Sky stared in awe. "Man, look at this!"
"Wow!" Dusty gasped, stopping in front of a de Havilland DH.88 Comet. A British flag paint scheme adorned his nose. "Bulldog? From the European Cup?"
"Pleased to meet you." Sky said respectfully, noting the rather bored look on Bulldog's face at the sight of the two of them.
"Hey, I saw you do this unbelievable high-G vertical turn." Dusty said excitedly, wondering what Chug would think if he were here. "How did you do that?"
"Well, let me tell you." Bulldog said. "In fact, why don't I tell you all my racing secrets?"
"Really?" Dusty asked.
"NO." Bulldog droned. "Look, I don't know how things work in the backwater from which you hail, matey and milady, but this is a competition. Every plane for himself. Goodbye."
Dusty and Sky shared a look as Dusty turned and drove off.
"Oh, I'm British and that gives me an excuse to be a complete hob knocker." Sky mocked in a noticeably terrible British accent.
"What's a hob knocker?" Dusty asked.
"No idea." Sky shrugged. "Watch out!"
Dusty jumped as he suddenly came nose-to-nose with a pretty, gold-colored AeroCanard FG Kit with and elegant paint job. He jumped back, accidentally knocking over several cans of oil and trying his best to not stare at the beautiful plane before him.
Sky rolled her eyes. "Smooth."
Dusty ignored her, looking to the plane before them. "Well, I am sorry you had to see that."
"Are you all right?" the golden-colored plane asked with a warm giggle.
"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" Dusty assured. "And you Pan-Asian Champion and Mumbai Cup record holder, Ishani."
"Most people call me just 'Ishani.'" The plane greeted.
"My name's Skylar Amelia Riley." Sky greeted. "Most people just call me 'Sky.'"
"I'm Dusty." Dusty greeted. "I mean, my name is Dusty. I'm not actually dusty. I'm quite clean."
Ishani and the two forklifts who joined her giggled. "It's very nice to meet you, Skylar Amelia Riley and 'quite clean' Dusty." She continued to laugh, though not in a derogative way, as she rolled off.
"Nice to meet you too!" Dusty called. He stared after the plane. "Look at that propeller."
"Easy there, Casanova. Staring is rude." Sky teased.
"You wouldn't understand. It's a plane thing." Dusty said, staring almost dreamily after Ishani.
Sky laughed. "All right, Quite Clean Dusty, let's get to our tent before you cause any more trouble." But she couldn't stop Dusty as he suddenly began moving towards Ripslinger's area. She chuckled a bit. With how much talk he and Chug did about racing, being here was like being a kid in a candy store for the crop duster. Sky had to admit; she was pretty excited herself.
"Hey, look who made it!" Ripslinger said as he caught sight of Dusty and Sky. "It's the crop duster and the kid."
"Hey." Dusty greeted.
"Hi." Sky gave a small wave. She hadn't quite forgiven Ripslinger for his remarks from the qualifiers, but she had a hope they earned his respect after seeing them make it to here.
"You know, it's great to have you guys here." Ripslinger said. "Small-town farmers make it to the big time."
"Yes, sir." Dusty nodded confidently.
"But tragically crash on takeoff." Ripslinger added.
"Come again?" Sky asked, raising an eyebrow. Any hope of gaining Ripslinger's respect fell to pieces.
"Wings Around the Globe Winner Ripslinger eulogizes the unknown hayseeds and scatters their remains over a cornfield!" Ripslinger continued. "Ratings will be through the roof!"
Sky glared, suddenly finding this Ripslinger character quite annoying. Dusty narrowed his eyes a bit, but only muttered an "Okay" before turning and heading towards his tent.
"Good luck….farm punks." Ripslinger sneered.
"All right, that does it!" Sky jumped to her feet, ready to leap off Dusty's wing and go over to pound Ripslinger into dust.
"Atención señors y señoritas!" A voice called out in Spanish, drawing most everyone's attention to the Gee Bee Model R plane recently arrived. "The hero of the people has arrived!" His announcement was met with stunned albeit confused silence. "You have never heard of the great El Chupacabra?"
"Hey, isn't that that monster that siphons fuel from small vehicles?" One of the racers asked.
"Actually, he's the indoor racing champion of all Mexico." Dusty piped up.
"Indoor racing?" Bulldog repeated.
El Chu gave an eloquent spin, striking a strong pose. "And numero uno recording artist, telenovela star, and romance novelist."
"Wow." Sky blinked. "A señor of many hats."
"Did you say El Chupacabra or El Cuckoo-cabra?" Bulldog laughed.
El Chupacabra developed a fire in his eyes as he approached Bulldog. "You make joke? You make joke?! Very well. You leave me no choice!" Everyone tensed up a bit, waiting for a fight to break out. Instead, El Chu gave his cape a flourish in Bulldog's direction. "I e-swish my cape at you! You have been shamed." He stuck his propeller up as he rolled away.
Dusty hurriedly followed El Chu. "Indoor racing, huh?" Sky said. "A bit unorthodox, but I bet you rock at it."
"Gracias, señorita." El Chu said with a smile. "You have done many of these long-distance rallies, yes?"
"Nope. This is the first one for me and for Sky here." Dusty said.
"It is my first time as well!" El Chu said happily. "We will have many adventures, you and I. We will laugh, we will cry, we will dance!" Dusty cast him a strange look, and El Chu caught on. "Probably not with each other, amigo. But you, mi amiga, I would not mind sharing a dance with you."
Sky laughed. "It would be my pleasure, El Chu."
"Excellente!" El Chu cheered. "I will see you in the skies, amigos." He gave a whoop and another flourish of his cape, making Dusty and Sky laugh. Any nervousness they felt for the race disappeared in an instant.
"This is gonna be fun." Sky said with a wide smile.
Dusty and Sky flinched a bit, but soon got used to the flashing cameras as a WAG official guided them through the tunnel to the runway. Sky made sure her jacket was buttoned up nicely and her bandana secure, her goggles hanging around her neck. She stood on Dusty's wing, the two of them staring out at the light at the end of the tunnel. They squinted a bit when the sunlight hit their eyes, but when their sight adjusted their jaws dropped. A huge crowd of vehicles and humans greeted them, all of them cheering as the racers lined up on the runway and prepared for takeoff.
"Holy smokes!" Dusty gasped.
"Whoa." Sky breathed, suddenly feeling rather small. But she stood up straight and waved to the crowd with the widest of smiles on her face. Confetti came down like snow.
"Look at this crowd." Dusty sighed.
"Stay focused, amigos." El Chu encouraged. "Don't let anything distract you." Not a second later, he started staring, star struck, at a pale pink hybrid jet just in front of them. "Who is that vision?"
Dusty took a look. "That's Rochelle. The Canadian rally champ."
"She's pretty." Sky said.
"She is like an angel, sent from heaven." El Chu said lovingly. "Like a sunrise after a lifetime of darkness."
"Like…..fresh fertilizer on a field of dying grass." Dusty offered. Sky face palmed and El Chu gave him a look.
"This is not your thing, my friend." El Chu said.
"No kidding." Sky laughed.
"All right, racers!" the announcer said over the loudspeaker. "Start your engines!"
The racers took their places, engines roaring to life and propellers spinning. Sky and the rest of the humans in the race mounted their planes. Sky pulled her goggles up over her eyes, harnessing herself in and keeping her feet firmly in the stirrups. She gripped the handlebar, activating the connection between her and Dusty. Dusty's engine revved, the small plane ready for takeoff. Sky braced herself, watching the green flag held by the official.
The flag came down.
Instantly, the racers took off down the runway in a flurry of colors and propellers. They lifted off into the air, those who could put away their landing gear doing so, and shot into the clouds. Just as Skipper predicted, Dusty and Sky became caught in the swirling winds behind the racers. Dusty made a hard dive, going down low towards the ocean, and took off again.
"It's a dead sprint to Iceland, Dusty." Sky said into the radio. "We got this."
"Right!" Dusty nodded.