Shay
Air screamed by, coming inches from her face before the clear plastic of her faceguard buffeted it aside. Her ears rang from the noise, despite the sound-deadening material built into her helmet that was supposed to help with just that problem. The noise came back down from its peak as she tapped the brakes while angling around the corner at a slightly less than breakneck speed.
On her left trees rushed by so quickly as to be no more than a green and brown blur; the majestic oaks and dominant maples were reduced to blobs that her brain never noticed. The grandstands on the right were packed with–
Nothing. They were empty.
That little tidbit of information managed to wiggle its way into her brain, but even then, she filed it away, jamming her foot down on the gas as she entered a straightaway. She needed all the help she could get.
The screaming grew louder once more as the needle on her speedometer raced to the right. It was accompanied by a deep thrum from the car as it shot forward. Vibrations came at a rate of several million per second as they raced up her feet, shaking her entire body as she rattled around in the chair, holding on to her wheel tightly, the course layout memorized in her brain. Turn Twelve was coming up, and it was the tricky one. A hairpin right that was more than ninety degrees, the track actually curved back onto itself a bit. It had been her nemesis so far during the time trials.
Her headset buzzed.
“Okay Shay, Twelve is just ahead,” her crew chief, Dan O’Hallern said in her earpiece. “Remember what we discussed.”
She nodded, though he couldn’t see her. “Take her down a notch, then hold that for a second, then accelerate like crazy into Thirteen, because she’s a slow easy bitch and you can really carry speed through into the straightaway.”
She could see Dan and his big beard, a smile on his face as she recited his directions word for word.
There was no more time for that, however, as Twelve was upon her. She let up on the gas, held it, tapped the brake, held it a split second more, then as she saw the first inkling of the end of the turn she hammered her foot home again. The car jumped forward, the open-cockpit racer responding to her slightest touch.
For just a second, she was elsewhere. Somewhere overseas, in a foreign country. One of the big races, the Grands. She wanted nothing more than to be there, to demonstrate to the world that she could hang with the best of the best. The grandstands would be full of cheering fans, waving flags of all colors and nationalities as their favorite drivers raced by almost faster than they could see. Nothing would be left behind but the thudding impact of the sound of the engine as it washed across the delirious bystanders, making them feel almost as if they were in the race.
Shay blinked rapidly, focusing as she guided the car through Thirteen, barely slowing at all as tires squealed slightly.
Not good. I should have let off the gas a bit more there.
That thought was reinforced by a slight bump, as her wheel hit the warning track, a red-and-white striped barrier that ran along both sides of the track. Her speedometer dropped precipitously as she grimaced, holding the wheel tight as she finished the turn and raced back up to speed once more. It wasn’t much, but it could be enough.
“It’s okay,” Dan’s voice said in her ear, as if he understood her concern. “You’re still on track, you can still do this. You built up enough of a gap earlier. Trust me.”
She did. Instead of wasting precious breath, which she had already done earlier, she just grunted an affirmative. Sitting back into her seat, she let the asphalt flow beneath her, feeling the power of the engine as it roared its defiance to the gods of physics. It hurtled her along at speeds that would leave a normal person sitting in a pool of their own bodily fluids, struggling to maintain consciousness.
Shay smiled. She fucking loved it. There was no denying it; this was her passion in life. Speed. The more of it, the better. Even now her needle inched upward, tugging the corners of her cheeks tighter as the smile became a full-fledged grin. It didn’t matter that things were going south faster than an avalanche. When she was on the track, four tires hugging the corners and zipping down the straightaways, g-forces dimming her vision and noise roaring in her ears, she was at peace.
“Shay! SHAY!” The voice roared in her ears and she suddenly came back to reality.
Shit.
She was barreling toward Turn Fifteen. She should be reducing her speed already. With a snarl she tapped the brakes, downshifted, and tugged the wheel slowly to the left, trying to glide through the corner. She could still make it, but it would be a little tighter than initially hoped for.
The concrete wall loomed large on her right, coming closer and closer as she tried to force her way through the turn. This was going to kill time, but she still had one more lap left where she could try to qualify for this weekend’s race.
Shay could do it.
It came down to a fraction of an inch. The rear right wheel needed to clear the concrete as she pulled harder, turning the race car sharper than she’d wanted. The wheels lost traction for just a second, slipping across the hard ground. They recovered and shot her forward, but that rear right wheel just grazed the concrete barrier. Unfortunately for Shay, at the speeds she was going, a graze was catastrophic.
The tire shredded instantly, her car skidded across the track, and suddenly the whole rear blew apart. Pieces of carbon fiber showered the track and sent her into a tailspin as she careened down the course, the world whipping by, pressing her back into her seat.
It was over. She knew it. There would be no recovery from this.
The scent of burning rubber filled her nostrils. Shay closed her eyes and let the darkness claim her.
The pressure lessened, and she grunted angrily as the blackness never came, never hauled her blissfully into its realm, where she could escape the reality for just a while longer.
“Fuck!” she screamed, knowing the screech would be heard over the radio.
She didn’t care. The car slid to a halt. Popping her harness free, she hit the engine kill switch and jumped from the car. Her helmet came off next, momentarily becoming a club as she slammed it repeatedly into the side of the car. Black and purple metallic paint peeled off, turning her white helmet into a swirl of color as it twisted in her hands upon each impact.
“Dammit,” she swore again, but this time it was a cry of defeat, not of anger.
A pit truck rolled to a halt in front of her vehicle. She was the only one on the track at that time, so there was no fear of other vehicles that might come whipping around the corner.
Whipping properly around the corner, she corrected internally, still very unhappy with herself. A split-second lapse of concentration. That was all it took, and all it had taken, to derail her dreams.
Her helmet buzzed. Probably Dan trying to reach her. Shay lifted it to her face.
“I’m fine,” she said into it, then killed the headset built into it. Just then, she wanted to be alone. Just her, her wrecked car, and the lifetime it contained.
Just those three things, and the pit crew hooking it up so it could be towed out of the way of the real racers, the ones who would actually finish their lap in a decent time.
When they were finished, she wandered over to them and hopped onto the truck, hitching a ride back to the pit. The crew dropped the wrecked racer off at her station. Shay saw her crew waiting, but she couldn’t deal with them. Not right then.
Head down, shoulders slumped, she made her way over to the small trailer hooked up to the back of a truck and all but threw herself inside, locking the flimsy door behind her. Although she didn’t normally do that, Shay knew Dan would come to see how she was, to tell her it was okay.
Normally she liked that. But this time, she didn’t want to hear it. It wasn’t fine. It was over. The tears began to flow as she finally admitted that to herself.
It was all over.