Test Pilot's Daughter: Revenge (2 page)

* * *

Years passed, but the nightmares remained. After they moved to Seattle, Lt. Col. Patrick Matthews flew as a test pilot for Boeing. His life was exciting and full, but Christina was left to fight her own battles. He worked all the time, but as guilt offerings he delivered spectacular birthdays. On her sixteenth, he sent her off to adventure camp.

“
Bobby, are you scared?” she yelled over drone of the Cessna 210.

“
Hell yeah!” he answered. “Never jumped out of a plane before.”

“
Not sure I can do it,” she pulled at her straps.

“
Sure you can. Girl, I seen you in action. You got it.”

It was a dazzling June day just outside Portland, Oregon. The sky was blue and crystal clear, unusual for the great Northwest. Visibility unlimited, several majestic mountain peaks were brightly illuminated by the morning sun. Glistening snowcaps of Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Jefferson and Mt. Adams could all be seen from the summit of Mt. Hood which stood in her view. Christina held her breath and peeked out the opening.
Damn,
she shivered.
Dad tests me more than those freakin’ airplanes.

She pushed herself back against the improvised seat and thought about her father. When she was younger, before her mother died, he treated her like the son he never had. He took her hunting and fishing and taught her at age ten how to drive his old pickup. Sure she was tall, lanky and a little strange, but she found it a source of pride. Most girls her age were squeamish bores. She never complained about being raised like a boy; she loved the attention. Now she missed it. On her twelfth birthday, she remembered shrieking with joy when he gave her a double-barreled 410 shotgun with a pearl sight. With a man-to-man look he growled, “Chris, you gotta learn how to run with the big dogs.”

She tried to concentrate. Looking out the door of the airplane once again, she made up her mind.
Shit, I’m gonna jump!

It was an action packed thrill ride at the famous Northwest Mountain Adventures Camp. In just a few weeks, she had received a crash course in mountain climbing, rappelling, white water rafting and finally, skydiving.

Climbing through 8,000 feet, the jumpmaster got their attention, “Double check your gear. Ready in five.” He pointed directly at her then to the opening as if saying,
You first.

Her heart pounded; adrenaline pumped as all of her senses tingled with anticipation.

“
Christina. . .clear!”
the instructor yelled waving her on.

She stuck her head out the opening and looked down. Some of her bad dreams involved falling, and the thought of tumbling 10,000 feet put a lump in her throat. Maneuvering into the jump position, she hesitated with a wave of second thoughts.
What the hell am I doing? Why can’t I just hang out like the rest of my friends? What if the ‘chute doesn’t open?

Finally, she took one last breath, closed her eyes and pushed away, giving the familiar camp yell of a Samurai warrior, “Banzaiii!”

It was like diving into the teeth of a tornado vortex. She twisted and turned, tearing through the atmosphere at a terminal velocity of 145 miles per hour. It was an incredible rush, and time stopped as she stabilized, hanging suspended two miles high.

Suddenly she was overcome by euphoria.
My God,
she thought,
it’s so beautiful.
Squinting through her goggles for details on the ground, she felt a particular connection with the hawk and the eagle. In an eerie way, floating in a river of air, she felt at home. Earth seemed a much better place looking down from afar than it did wandering amongst the rabble of mankind. Gut-wrenching pain suffered since the death of her mother temporarily vanished. From her lofty view, there were no tumors, no hospitals, no pain, no funerals, none of the things that had burned into depths of her soul. As a matter of fact, there was nothing at all, just clear sky above and good Earth below. Soaring effortlessly, she was entranced, and her mind drifted into a hypnotic state.

After a swift descent of 8,000 feet,
Oh shit!
she thought.
Gotta do somethin’ quick, or I’ll smack the ground like a bug on a windshield.
She reached across her chest to grab the large ring, then pulled her hand back. For the first time in her life, she thought the unthinkable,
What if. . .never feel a thing
. Something snapped, and her mother’s dying words flashed across her mind.

Find your destiny. . .don’t let me down . . .don’t let me down.

Less than 1,000 feet off the deck, Christina pulled the ripcord and tossed it to the side. After a small delay that seemed much longer, her body jerked under a large red canopy. Dark thoughts erased, she was charged with a rush of exhilaration. As the field came up, she tugged at the control lines and arrested her fall. Pulling in the tangled parachute, she looked up at her friends floating through space and realized the enormity of what she had accomplished.

“
Yeah baby!” she shrieked, pumping a tight fist into the sky.

Chapter Three

Heather Daniels, Jessica Ward and Christina Matthews were like three peas in a pod. Their camaraderie was paramount to Christina’s ability to cope with her secret curse. The girls were closer than most siblings, bonds sealed by trauma. Christina had lost her mother and Jessica her father. Only Heather had two parents, both workaholics.

Christina and Jessica were basketball freaks. They lived for the brutal competition. They both started on the team and played for Lewis and Clark High all four years. In their senior year, they went undefeated taking the school to the state championship for the first time in its history. Christina was often mentioned in the papers, but Jessica was featured by the press as a rising star and college prospect.

Jessica maintained a solid character even in a chaotic home life. She suffered dearly, but sharing with her friends was the best therapy. After her father died, her mom started drinking. Spending too much time in bars, she took up with a violent alcoholic, Roy Pitts. He had a criminal record and several convictions for drunk driving. There was never peace when he was around. He was constantly teasing Jessica with dirty innuendos. She often confided in Christina, “I hope the bastard catches a bullet in a bar fight.”

Like many female athletes, the girls shared a genuine dislike for cheerleaders. The painful truth was, cheerleaders seemed to have all the fun, while the players sweated through countless hours of grueling practice. They believed the little cuties with soft, pink skin and long, blonde hair represented the worst kind of girls. In moments of angst, Christina would whisper to Jessica, “Cheerleaders suck.”

The lone exception to Christina’s cheerleader rule was Heather Daniels. How could she ever forget their first meeting? Heather had told the story so many times, she could repeat it verbatim.

* * *

Right after “Amazon Girl” came to school, she seemed to be having a hard time fitting in. Towering over the other kids, they teased her unmercifully. I couldn’t help but notice a certain sadness in her eyes. It was the day before Thanksgiving break. I was talking to my friends in the hall, and I saw some boys stick something on her back. It was a big paper sign:

AMAZONS SUCK

GREEN WEENIES

The boys snickered and recruited others to fall in as they trailed behind. I ran up and grabbed the new girl by the arm. I peeled the sign off and handed it to her. Amazon turned beet-red.

Cupping my hand over her ear, I whispered, “Let’s scare the shit out of these wimps.” As I turned to face the boys, I yelled, “Which one of you big strong men want to be first to get your ass kicked. . .by a girl?”

I grabbed the nearest boy with two hands full of hair and yanked his head down, bending him over like a jackknife. Amazon backed off and leveraged all her strength to punt him like a football. The lad went flying across the hall with a look of horror, squealing at the top of his lungs. The rest of the boys panicked and scattered like a covey of quail. Everyone broke into cheers, and we laughed our asses off.

I told her, “You know they call you ‘Amazon?’ What the hell is your name anyway?”

“
Christina Matthews.”

“
Listen, those guys are little shits. C’mon, I’ll walk you to the bus.”

* * *

Heather came from a very wealthy family but showed no signs of being a typical rich snob. Her dad owned three banks in town and a lot of Seattle real estate. Her mother was a prominent attorney for Boeing. Even at age thirteen, Heather was the living clone of a “Barbie doll.” She was gorgeous, perfectly proportioned with long, blonde hair. Mature for her age, she already had the body of an adult. With deep blue eyes, she was by far the best looking girl in school.

By the time they were seniors, Heather, Jessica and Christina epitomized a trio of camaraderie, and they did everything together. On her seventeenth birthday, Heather’s dad gave her a brand new Jeep Wrangler. Since it had a standard transmission, Christina had to teach her how to shift gears. Heather named the jeep “Hot Tamale” and referred to herself, Jessica and Christina as the “Three Amigos.” The Three Amigos cruising in the Hot Tamale soon became an icon at Lewis and Clark High.

From the view of the boys who drooled over her, Heather was the ultimate “sweet thing.” She was known for a great singing voice and hung with local rock bands. While Christina and Jessica hardly dated at all, Heather went out with lots of guys and shared her most intimate feelings. She was a walking encyclopedia of carnal knowledge and gladly tutored her friends in the top-secret curriculum of sex-ed.

On the night of their senior prom, Christina and Jessica refused to stay at home. They simply dressed up in fancy gowns and went together. This was a special night for Heather too. She had a date with the lead singer of a local band, Billy Walton. They had been dating for months, and she decided it was about time to find out what real sex was all about. The next day she described every detail to her friends who giggled, all ears.

“
Weird,” she chuckled. “It hurt some at first, but not all that bad. I was pretty nervous. If we do it again, I might enjoy it.”

“
What do you mean?” Jessica asked with a frown. “I thought it was supposed to be the greatest thing of all time?”

“
Well, you can’t expect it to be that great. . .not the first time,” Heather replied.

“
Did you use protection?” Christina had a motherly tone.

“
What? You think I’m stupid?
Of course!”

“
So? Did you see stars?” Jessica wondered.

“
Well, it all happened pretty fast, all I could see was a lot of blue hair.”

They cackled nervously.

Christina looked her in the eye and said, “So then, as a woman of great experience, do you recommend casual sex?”

“
Well, I wouldn’t save it forever, girl, but I wouldn’t screw the first guy you meet either. You’d probably be smart to put it off awhile,” Heather advised, “at least until the right guy comes along.”

“
Oh yeah?” Jessica asked. “And how do you know who the right guy is?”

“
Don’t worry, you’ll know,” Heather said with an air of great wisdom.

Christina couldn’t resist. “So your advice is we wait until we meet a smelly guitar player with blue hair, a big tattoo and a nose ring?”

Jessica doubled over laughing.

“
Real funny, biii-aaatch, really hilarious,” Heather snarled.

Chapter Four

When her dad said he was going out of town for a few days and asked her to “hold down the fort,” Christina was excited to have the house to herself. It was a Friday night, so she asked Heather and Jessica to sleep over. Heather agreed but Jessica’s mom wouldn’t let her go.