He was leading heading onto the back stretch. Heather couldn’t stand it. She would stare at the TV screen, turning away seconds later.
Kiwi laughed. “You’re gonna go crazy if you keep it up.”
“I know, I know.” She shook her head. “This is insane. A month ago, I wouldn’t have cared less about any of this.”
“You’ve got a horse in the race. Changes things, doesn’t it?” He elbowed her and winked.
“Shut up,” she said with a laugh. Heather was thankful for the conversation, though. It was keeping her mind off of the drama on track. Chance and Jack were swapping places twice a lap. She couldn't stand how close the cars were, how fast they dove into the turns.
More than once, the wheels of the two machines were dangerously close. Neither man gave the other any room.
Pops waved an arm over his head, catching Heather's attention. He pointed to his headset, making a motion to put them on.
Looking around, Heather searched for hers. Hearing the radio traffic had only made things worse. She found them sitting on the last stack of tires. Heather slid them into place over her ears, Unsure what she would hear
"I can get in by the end of this straight, but probably not by the finish line. Unless he comes out of four worse than usual, I'll be halfway past him at the line." Chance’s voice was higher and faster than Heather had ever heard it. She could almost hear his heart in the radio transmission.
If she was nervous, Heather couldn’t imagine how he was handling the pressure.
“Come on, come on. You can get him." Heather mumbled the words to herself through clenched teeth.
Derek tried to calm Chance down. “Run your race, not his. He's pushing on fuel, but that doesn't mean it will last. Four laps to go, four more chances."
As if on cue, Chance and Jack passed by, almost side-by-side. Heather jumped up onto the concrete wall to watch them make turn one. She was sweating. Between the heat of the day and her nerves, she was sweating like a man, and Heather didn't care.
Once the cars were out of sight, she turned back to the large screen hanging from the upper grandstands. The cameras followed the two leaders as they diced back and forth. Chance had the lead heading down the back stretch, but Jack Savage passed him on the high side going into three.
“Dammit."
It wasn't just about winning the race. She wanted to see Chance beat Jack. She wanted that smug smile wiped off the Aussie’s face. He and Isla both could use a hearty slice of humble pie, and Chance was the man to serve it to them.
Again, they swapped positions down the front straight, but like Chance said, he passed after the finish line. Three laps to go. Neither car showed any signs of slowing down, and their nearest competition was fifteen seconds back. It would be a two-man fight to the finish.
“Fuel is good to the end, Chance."
Heather wanted to hit the transmit button so badly. She wanted to give Chance some words of encouragement, but what would she say? He knew what he had to do, and he knew she believed in him.
Her finger danced over the button.
This time, Chance lead over the line. Jack was a full car length behind with two laps to go.
Heather grabbed her tire temperature gage, stabbing it into a rear tire from the previous stop. She noted the temperature and moved the gauge to the center of the rubber.
Frank tapped her on the shoulder. “You know our job is done, right? You don’t need to mark down the temps.”
“I need to do something. I’m going to explode, Frank. I. Am. Going. To. Explode.” Heather probably gave him crazy eyes, because Frank threw his hands up and took a step back.
Jack was in the lead once again, and the flagman threw the white. One lap to go. Heather threw the tire gauge blindly to the ground. Forty seconds and it would all be through. Three and a half hours, and it would come down to one single lap.
Heather fought to look up at the screen. She knew that if she missed the finish, there would be no forgiving herself. The two cars shot down the backstretch, side by side. Jack led going into turn three for the last time.
“Come on, come on.” Her heart pounded harder than ever as she watched Chance hunt down Jack Savage.
They came off the last turn, and Chance had a run. Heather could see right away that he was going to get past. He was going to get past in a hurry, maybe before the line.
The TV switched to the camera mounted on Chance’s car, just above his helmet. Jack Savage moved left, and Chance followed. The two cars moved closer and closer to the inside wall as they neared the checkered flags and the finish line.
Chance was still gaining, and when Jack Savage’s back wheel continued left and touched Chance’s right front, Heather’s heart came to a violent stop.
Smoke filled the screen as Jack’s car hit the inside wall then upended. The last thing Heather saw on the screen was Jack Savage’s car flying up a few feet and landing upside down on top of Chance’s. Then the camera cut out.
She snapped her head to the front straight, seeing sparks and debris flying up. The two cars tumbled down the front straight. An audible cry of panic and fear came from the crowd, even over the sound of the two cars colliding.
Heather’s breath held in her throat as fear gripped her. Flashes of Chance’s qualifying crash came to her. This was worse, though. Much worse.
As the remains of the two cars crossed over the finish line, the flagman waved one checkered and one yellow flag.
“You ok?” Derek’s voice had given up on being calm. He was scared. “Chance, let us know you’re alright. Rescue is coming from turn four, there in fifteen seconds. Give us a sign.”
Nothing. Nothing came over the radio, leaving Heather aching from head to toe. She saw smoke rising up from the wrecked cars just beyond the finish line. Two rescue trucks sped past, lights flashing, engines gunned.
Once again, her finger hovered over the transmit button. She wanted to radio to Chance. Some small part of Heather thought that her voice would be enough to get a response from Chance.
Everyone from the crews to the staff to the fans in the grandstands were on their feet, eyes on the two cars.
A cheer erupted from the crowd, and Heather strained to find out what they could see. From her vantage point, too much was in the way. She forced herself to look back to the TV screen, where an instant replay was showing the crash from Jack’s on board camera. Heather was horrified as the car flipped upside down in slow motion on top of Chance.
“Jesus. What the hell happened?” She pulled her headset off and hopped up onto the war wagon.
Derek held a single finger up, silencing her as he radioed Chance, again. “Buddy, we’re still waiting to hear from you. At least slide your visor up.”
Heather waited, but there was no response.
DJ was standing on the pit wall, watching the rescue team working on the two cars. “Fuck this.” He dropped down hard on the concrete, hustling down the pit lane.
Heather looked up the track, checking for cars coming down. If they diverted the cars down pit lane instead of the track, he was in severe danger. A few cars were coming down, but since the race was over, they were going far slower than the pit lane speed limit. DJ made it across the pit lane safely.
Heather was frozen. She wanted to run after her boss and check on Chance, but her feet wouldn’t listen. All she could do was watch. Another replay showed the cars crossing the finish line in slow motion. She couldn’t tell if Chance’s car was in front or not, but the win wasn’t the main concern. She wanted to hear his voice more than anything else.
“Fuckin’ wank.”
Heather had never heard Kiwi anything but jovial.
He shook his head. “That kind of driving was bound to cause an accident. I hope they throw the book at him.”
Heather had to agree. She knew what Jack Savage was like outside of a race car, and there was nothing to make her believe he was any different on track. He was a bully, and Chance intimidated him. Had it cost Chance everything?
Another cheer came from the crowd along the front straight. The TV cut to Chance being pulled from the wreckage. He was moving. Heather let out a breath like she’d been underwater for hours.
Chance had a rescue worker on either side of him, and he was limping. Before getting into the vehicle that would take him to the medical center, he turned to the crowd, giving them a wave.
The roar was deafening. Heather stared in wonder. He had become their hero, their David against the unstoppable, unshakable Goliath.
“Let’s go.” Derek yanked his headphones off, tossing them to a surprised engineer.
Heather was still staring at the carnage shown on the screen. “Where?” Her voice was far away, still taking in everything that had happened in such a short time.
“Medical center.” She felt his arm at her shoulder, pulling her toward the golf cart.
Heather allowed herself to be pulled along. She couldn’t focus, her mind was awash with too many thoughts to keep track of. Knowing Chance was alive cleared the biggest concern, but they weren’t out of the storm just yet.
She heard his voice when they pushed through the double doors of the medical center.
“Who won? Tell me they’ve made a decision.”
“Nothing yet, kid.” DJ was standing outside of a curtain, turning to Heather as she ran up to him. “Woah, woah. The doc is in there with him, you gotta—“
Throwing her arms around DJ, Heather cried. Relief at just hearing Chance’s voice overtook her, and the emotion was too much.
For a moment, nothing happened, but then Heather felt DJ’s large arms around her. “He’s alright, hon. He’s alright.”
“Heather?”
From behind the curtain, she heard Chance calling to her. Heather thought it might give her strength, but instead, it broke her further. DJ’s arms held her up as she wept. The curtain slid back on metal rings, and Chance stood there in a hospital gown.
A small cut on his cheek marred that perfect face, but Heather didn’t see anything else wrong.
Dropping DJ for her man, Heather pulled Chance to her, squeezing him hard. He wheezed out the remaining air from his lungs, but Heather didn’t care. She had seen him on the edge of certain death, and it broke something inside of her. She couldn’t watch him turn another lap in a race car.
Chance held her back, whispering into her ear, “I’m here. It’s over. It’s over for good.”
Her strength returned. He had taken it from her with the crash, but just like that, he gave it right back to her. Heather knew then that there was no stopping her feelings. She was about to whisper something powerful to him, but a voice behind her cut that thought off before she could speak it.
“Excuse me, Mr. Pierce. I’m with IndyCar. Timing and scoring has sorted out the finish.”