2-9-2013
William Lewis
All locations, street names, and vehicles featured in Dream Chaser are either real or hyper realistic. The story and its characters are fiction.
Dream Chaser
Volume One
Chapter One: Ignition
Speed. Competition. Thrills. The preceding three terms describe perfectly what a true street racer lives for. They are a misunderstood group, the racers. Many claim to be among them, but few actually have the skill, the dedication, or the passion for going fast. Those without these traits, who seek to impress others or attain cheap thrills, have often tarnished the name of the racers. It is in this environment that a young racer would attempt to become one of the elite. And not only one of the elite, but the best of them all. He had a dream, and would not stop until it was reality…
Northside Shopping Center, Miami, Florida, United States
June 2, 2014
The distant "bwaaaaannn" of a high-revving Honda engine wafted over the night time mall parking lot. The moon was far overhead, casting an eerie shine on the blue dumpster next to the back end of the mall. The dumpster was set just behind a long ramp that rose from near the corner of the building along the side of the mall and connected to a narrow road that ran along the mall's roof, used as a service entrance for the upper level. The smooth growl grew in octaves and decibels, seeming to echo off the buildings at the top of the mall which the rooftop service drive ran between. Then, suddenly, when the growl was becoming a scream at its crescendo, it disappeared, then blasted out as if enraged at being silenced for a moment. The screech of tires accompanied the engine in its protest, giving added depth as the engine's scream quickly became a growl again. The sound of the screeching tires died down, and a pair of headlight beams appeared, headed for the ramp from the road on top of the mall. A tiny red hatchback blasted over the ramp and swerved to avoid the parking-space length curb extending from the corner of the small mall, just less than forty feet from the ramp exit.
The tiny hatchback's brake lights glowed to life as the screeching of tires returned, and the vehicle moved into the light of a light pole, the shine illuminating the young driver of the car for a split second. To him, the world was almost moving in slow motion. He had just planted his right foot firmly on the brake pedal, and used his left hand to violently yank the steering wheel to the left, canceling the car's earlier right swerve and using the weight shift from the car's left to right tires to knock the car off balance. The rear tires began to slide as the nose of the somewhat boxy yet streamlined hatchback rotated to the left. However, the car was still going to slide into the chain link fence that bordered the small road alongside the mall at this rate.
But lil' Jose Chavez wasn't going to let that happen. He reached down with his right hand and yanked on the parking brake handle between the seats, instantly locking the rear wheels. With an unholy screech they ground across the pavement, and accelerated the leftward movement of the nose of the car. Jose released the handle and planted his right foot on the gas, now causing the front tires to screech as they pulled the car forward and away from the chain link, rocketing the tiny car down the side street next to the mall. Jose stole a quick glance at his phone, which was propped up in a special holder affixed to the vents on the top of the center console, then focused on the parking lot rapidly approaching through the windshield.
"I can still shave another second if I stay in first for the parking lot," he thought momentarily before resetting his focus.
He hit the brakes with his right foot and cranked the steering wheel to the left with both hands, the view through the windshield becoming a blur for a moment as the outside world seemingly spun to the right as Jose cornered left. Now running alongside the mall, he gave a blast of throttle before getting back on the brakes, bringing the car back down to a manageable speed and cranking the wheel to the right to swing the car in that direction, dodging the main mall building and swinging around a light pole in the empty parking lot, headed away from the mall. A similar routine followed, a blast of gas, moderate braking, hard steering. He slung the car around to the left in a hairpin motion around a light pole near edge of the parking lot, swinging back toward the mall building. This time he depressed the gas pedal slightly longer than the two previous hairpins, and did not brake. Jose just swung the wheel to the right and held on as the motel-like façade of the Northside Shopping Center came within inches of his left side mirror, then planted the gas as soon as the car straightened out.
The engine's hollow growl turned into a scream once again as the car shot down the side of the mall, and then suddenly Jose slammed the brakes and swung the wheel to the right before yanking it back to the left. The car swerved one way and then cut back in the other direction in a question-mark like motion, headed straight for a ramp cut between two of the mall's buildings. The faded red Honda hatchback sped up the ramp as Jose gave the engine a blast of throttle, the sound of the power plant echoing off the concrete on either side of the tiny car. As the end of the ramp became increasingly large in the windshield of the car, Jose's brow furrowed and he quickly moved his right foot from the accelerator to the brake, slowing the vehicle just enough so that it wouldn't catch air over the end of the ramp, and swung the wheel to the left.
The little Honda rotated onto the rooftop road between the upper levels of the mall, and a seven hundred foot stretch of open yet narrow asphalt greeted its yellowed headlights. Jose floored it, watching the tachometer rise in the corner of his eye while enjoying the feeling of being shot down the barrel of a gun that the long narrow road provided. He hit the clutch with his left foot, and used his right hand to slam the car into second gear, launching forth down the passageway. The colorful fencing and stores on either side of the road became a blur, and then the roadway's end came into view. Jose slammed on the brakes and down shifted, the tires squealing but not breaking loose. He felt the seatbelt tighten as if he'd been in an accident, holding him in place as the car decelerated. The end of the rooftop roadway was a small parking lot that had the exit ramp on one end of it, requiring a sharp left ninety degree turn to be made to get onto the ramp. Jose once again pulled a feint, swinging to the right to partially upset the car's balance, and then carving left by using the lost balance to rotate the car faster.
The tiny faded red hatchback's headlight beams once again shown over the exit ramp just before the car appeared from around the turn, blasting down the ramp.
"Again!" Jose thought, pulling a feint and yanking on the e-brake handle, drifting the tiny Honda around the sharp and narrow corner, missing both the extended curb and chain link fence by inches. He floored it one last time, passing the start/finish line.
He exhaled and began braking, continuing along the narrow road at the edge of the parking lot while looking over at his phone. He tapped it's touch screen a few times as the car rolled to a stop, looking over its display with an intense expression. On the display was a GPS-based lap timer he had downloaded for free, and used to time his laps over the past year. His face twisted into a grin, and he pumped his left fist in celebration- right into the ceiling of his beloved 1991 Honda CR-X.
"YES- Owww…" he shouted and then whimpered, holding his left hand, which began throbbing in pain. But he was still smiling. The overall time for his last lap was 0:51.133 seconds, the best he had ever managed over the half mile course. Hundreds of previous times were posted higher up in the app's menu of dates. The earliest entries were over two minutes, and were set on dates in mid 2012.
Now Jose could finally post consistent times under fifty-two seconds, and was satisfied with his skills. Now he could finally challenge those in the elite and secretive Underground… Well, after school in the morning. Seventeen year old highschool junior Jose Chavez put the CR-X Si in first, and trundled out of the parking lot.
Miami Senior High School, Miami
June 3, 2014
The next morning, a tiny red Honda hatchback pulled into the parking structure adjacent to Miami Senior High, and swung into a space on the roof. Jose Chavez stepped out of the faded red CR-X with black trim, and tugged at his collar. He didn't like the school uniforms much, and the fact that his homeroom teacher was a stickler for tidy presentation didn't help. He turned and made sure the car was locked. He wasn't truly worried about it being stolen, but was so attached to the machine he named "Rockit" that he couldn't help it. He turned and gave "her" one more look, before quickly departing. He wanted very badly to see a certain other girl before heading to class.
He quickly jogged across the campus, checking his watch as he sailed past students and teachers heading to classrooms and lockers. The school itself was a rather imposing yet somehow beautiful piece of Mediterranean Revival architecture, originally built in the late 20's. It had just finished undergoing an extensive renovation and expansion, now covering more than three city blocks in the suburbs of northern Miami.
Now Jose had finished jogging across one of those blocks, and checked his watch. He exhaled in relief. "Just in time…"
At precisely 7:14 AM, a blue 2013 Tesla Model S glided around the corner silently, and gracefully came to a stop next to the school. Jose stepped into the shadow of the school to hide himself, eyes full of anticipation with a hint of anxiety. The passenger door opened, and a shapely leg descended out of the stately electric sedan, a sandal-wrapped foot gently gracing the ground with the privilege of holding it up. Another leg somehow as beautiful as the other touched the ground, and out of the curvy sedan came an eighteen year old girl with striking grey eyes, long curly black hair cascading down her back, and skin with the color and smoothness of liquid milk chocolate. Jose's knees weakened. But he wasn't going down this easy.
The girl opened the rear door of the Model S and pulled her backpack out, swinging it on her back. She was thin, but certainly wasn't devoid of curves.
Jose took a deep breath as she bid good bye to the driver of the Tesla before closing the door and walking towards the school. He waited a few seconds… then stepped out the shadow and began walking in the same direction she was, then looked back over his shoulder as if by chance. She glanced up at him from a few feet away.
"Perfect timing!" Jose thought triumphantly as he opened his mouth to speak.
"Ready for the last week of school, Elizabeth?" he asked in the most nonchalant way he could. Elizabeth Noble gave a slight smile.
"Oh yes. I'll finally have some breathing room around rehearsal. And you?" she replied and asked smoothly. Jose smiled.
"Ohyeah. I live for summer." He said with a tinge of nostalgia in his voice. Elizabeth's slight smile grew mischievous.
"Don't like school very much, do you?" she replied, giving him a look as they walked through the door. Jose was about to give the most cultured reply he could muster when the distinctive sound of his best friend being pushed into a locker came to his ears. He managed to avert his gaze from Elizabeth to look down the hall, and found Anthony Carter, age eighteen, trying to hold someone with pale arms in a locker. Jose could tell it was his best friend being bullied because he'd grown all too used to hearing that specific tone of muffled protesting, and seeing the two white arms flailing around, reaching out of the locker trying to find the face of the bully the school's faculty all but ignored.
Jose exhaled. "Some parts I don't. Sorry, I gotta take care of this." He said, jerking a thumb at the varsity linebacker and his prey. Elizabeth gave a nod, and in a slick tone said "Go get em, Tiger."
Jose walked forward and stopped in front of the altercation, and sighed.
"Come on, man, give the kid some slack. It's the last week of the school year. You really want his last days in school to be like this?" he asked, looking up at the senior who was nearly a foot taller than him and significantly stronger. Anthony looked down at Jose like he was a bug that he had tried and failed to squash.
"I don't want this kid to have MY lunch money for the last week." Anthony rumbled, slamming the kid in his clutches even further into the locker. Jose made a face and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He slipped a crisp ten dollar bill out of it before sliding the wallet back in his pocket.
"Will this cover it?" he said flatly, holding the bill out to Anthony like a jockey holding out feed to a horse. Anthony glanced at the kid in the locker, then at the bill, and then at Jose's face. He grinned.
"Aight." He agreed roughly, releasing the kid in the locker and reaching for the ten dollar bill. Jose smirked, and yanked the bill just out of the much larger Latino's reach.
"Yo do realize that you're a walking cliché, right Tony?" Jose prodded, holding the bill up near his head. 'Tony' made a face that combined the worst aspects of a scowl with a confused look.
"Huh?" Was Anthony's reply. Jose shook his head.
"Look, man, you're a dumb jock who beats up underclassmen for their lunch money. Does it get anymore cliché than that? Oh, yeah, it does, cuz' you date a cheerleader. Your being born inspired all those crappy highschool movies. You're a disgrace to humanity, man." Jose concluded in a tone of pity. Anthony made a completely confused face before deciding to ignore Jose.
"Gimme my money," he snapped, reaching for the cash again. Jose ducked and stepped under Anthony's reaching hand, sidestepping to the left and running down the hall, quickly joined by the kid who had just managed to wriggle free of the locker.
"Later Toe-ney!" Jose yelled, stuffing the ten back into his pocket with one hand and waving goodbye to Anthony with the other.
"Thanks, dude," the kid panted as they fled the scene. Jose grinned.
"You'd do the same for me!" he replied as both of them slowed down to a walk going around the corner. They stopped just before entering their homeroom, and Jose held out his fist. Skip Edwards bumped it with his, and they entered Ms. McCrav's homeroom with a mutual smirk.
/-\
\-/
Several hours later, school had all but ended. Skip and Jose were in the school's library, sitting next to each other at the computer terminals in the middle of the large well-lit room with high ceilings and big windows. They had been working on a paper due at the end of the year with a third partner, but had finished for the day.
"The way I see it, either I should get the Mustang or a mid-nineties Camaro," Skip opined, looking intently at the Craigslist page on the screen as he scrolled down. Jose scoffed.
"What you need is a Civic," he stated, motioning with his head to the mint white 1996 Honda on his screen. Skip looked over and rolled his eyes.
"That makes less power than my dad's Malibu? No way dude." He replied curtly.
"You don't need all that power when you're driving a car and not sailing a boat." Jose retorted. Skip made a face.
"That Civic is not that light, man." He told Jose off, taking some offense to his family's prized 2010 Chevrolet Malibu being compared to a galleon. Jose nodded emphatically.
"Yeah it is! Like a thousand pounds lighter!" he implored. Skip shook his head, and opened his mouth to reply, before their third partner sitting next to him cut him off.
"It is," the blond girl said, initiating an awkward silence between the three of them. Jose and Skip looked over at the girl, each of them wondering if the two short words had actually come from her. Her very blond hair was held up in a bun at the back of her head and hung down beside her face in bangs, which framed the frameless glasses with rectangular lenses over her bright blue eyes. She was somewhat cute, but looked like a nerd.
The blank stares from the two boys her age made her uncomfortable, but she decided she had hung her neck out too far to pull back now. She looked down at the keyboard in front of her and then back up at the boys.
"Depends on the year, but the EK Civic is over twelve hundred pounds lighter than the late model Malibu by curb weight." She said, mustering her courage. All her courage was met with was a blank stare. She nearly panicked, but decided to delve even deeper into her encyclopedic knowledge in an attempt to spur a response from the car guys.
"The EK is about twenty three hundred pounds, depending on fuel and driver. The Malibu, assuming it's between an 08 and a 2012, is…" the girl shut her eyes and put her index finger to her lips, in what was apparently her thinking pose.
"…over thirty four hundred pounds, without the driver, or any options." She finished, eyes open again.
Skip broke the silence with a quiet question.
"How do you know that?!" he asked, eyes narrowed and head shaking slightly. The blond with the glasses looked down and blushed.
"My dad runs a garage, and I hang around him a lot. Nothing big." She said quietly. The boy's blank stares disappeared, replaced by admiring smiles.
"Oh, that's cool!" Skip said, face practically glowing with interest. He hadn't yet met a girl who knew anything about cars, let alone more than he did.
"I'm trying to choose my first car, but this kid is giving me no help at all." Skip jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Jose, who frowned. The girl giggled.
"I don't think I've met someone so into muscle cars whose friend liked tuners." She said with a smile that was surprisingly bright. The two boys looked at each other.
"We grew up together. Can't choose your neighbors when you're six." Jose said in a sad tone with a shrug. Skip rolled his eyes.
"That's my line bro." he retorted, arms crossed. The girl smiled again at the boy's banter. And then seemed to remember something and looked at her watch.
"Sorry guys, but I gotta go… seeya tomorrow." Amy Stacy said, grabbing her backpack and awkwardly waving goodbye to the boys. Jose gave her a two-fingered salute as both he and Skip said "Later," watched her leave.
"She's a catch." Skip said confidently just after she left the room. Jose made a slightly puzzled face.
"You think?..." he asked distantly. Skip nodded quickly.
"Any girl who knows that much about cars is a catch." He confirmed. Jose smiled warmly.
"I don't know man, she just seemed… a little quiet, ya know?" he replied. Skip gave him a look.
"So you prefer em loud? Cuz you might as well ask Ms McCrav out then." He smiled slightly at the end of the sentence. In reply Jose put both his hands to his neck and hung his tongue out, pretending to gag.
Skip just barely managed to hold in his laughter, grinning widely. Jose finished his act and looked at the clock at the bottom of the computer's screen.
"Aw man, I gotta go…" he stood up and held a fist out, which Skip bumped with his. "Seeya later man." He said as he swung towards the door, receiving a wave from a still smiling Skip.
A few minutes later Jose had just started up his faded red CR-X and turned in his seat to look behind him. He gently released the clutch and watched through the large sloping rear window of the small hatchback, carefully backing out of the parking space on the roof of the parking structure. Then he heard an echoing screech, and just barely had enough time to hit the brakes to avoid hitting the streamlined 1995 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 whipping through the parking structure. Startled, Jose sighed and shook his head as he continued to back out of the space. He pulled out of the space and drove to the bottom just in time to see the arrow-shaped and smooth silver muscle car stop to wait for the barrier to swing up at the exit of the parking garage. The driver of the Camaro looked in his rearview mirror, then leaned out of the window, yelling back at Jose in his signature demeaning tone.
"Be careful puny, don't wanna hit that crap wagon!" Anthony Carter shouted back at the kid in the faded red CR-X, before flooring it and peeling out of the parking structure. Jose smiled slightly, rolling his eyes. He had gotten used to his prized Honda being ridiculed. "Rockit" was only a tiny red Japanese hatchback from the early 90's. But he considered that to be part of "her" charm… you had to push her to the limit to fully realize just how awesome the little lightweight two door hatchback could be.
Jose left the parking structure and drove south through the quiet suburbs, noticing that rain drops were falling on his windshield. He flipped on his wipers, then pulled a left followed by a right, turning onto the nearest main road to the school. Two hundred feet later he pulled up behind a jet black 2012 Dodge Challenger SRT8 at a stoplight, and found Anthony's Camaro next to it. The rain was coming down steadily now, and it surprised Jose when a measured rumble emanated from the silver muscle car with two black racing stripes. A similar but deeper rumble came from under the hood of the Challenger, a large and stocky modern muscle car.
"Seriously?" Jose thought incredulously. The two American muscle cars in front of him each had at least twice the horsepower of the tiny hatchback, and appeared to be about to lay rubber to the next stoplight while the rain came down.
"This can't end well." The driver of the little Honda thought as the light flashed green.
Both muscle car's rear tires spun on the wet pavement before hooking up and launching the vehicles forward, engines growling loudly. Anthony's Camaro got the jump on the Challenger and pulled an early lead, but two seconds later the Dodge blew past, finally making use of its over one hundred fifty horsepower advantage over the older Camaro. The two muscle cars seemed to cover the five hundred or so feet to the next intersection almost instantly, and the large single block taillight of the Dodge lit up as it crossed the crosswalk under the stoplights. The brake lights of the Camaro came on a moment later, and the two cars began to slow. Jose had barely made it halfway to the "finish line" at regular speed, when the glow from the Camaro's sideways-egg shaped taillights all but disappeared in a spray of water as it hit a low spot in the road and hydroplaned. A moment later the pointy nose of the streamlined 90's muscle car swung to the left out of the spray, and Jose realized the Chevy was out of control. It slid forwards directly into the right rear quarter panel of the chunky Dodge with a distant crunch, bouncing away and sliding to a stop facing the office building on the left side of the road. Jose shook his head, watching the big Challenger come to a halt a few feet away from the Camaro. "Knew it. That's what you get, man." Jose mused.
He slowed as he approached the accident, and saw two men get out of the Challenger. They were slightly larger than Anthony, who stepped out of his Chevy seemingly in a panic. In the seconds before the red CR-X Si pulled even with the accident, an altercation formed between the high school senior and the two men. One of them threw a punch which landed squarely on Anthony's face, knocking him to the ground. Jose raised an eyebrow. "Well, I guess if you're stupid enough to stoplight drag in the rain, you're not the brightest bulb…" He thought, before things got bad.
The men started to kick the highschooler on the ground, who feebly tried to squirm away on the wet concrete. "Ok, that's not right…" Jose started to get a bit concerned as he pulled nearly even with the accident. The driver of the Challenger seemed to be having fun, and swung and especially swift kick into the guy who had tormented Jose and his friends for their entire highschool career. He sighed in annoyance, then slammed on the brakes, changing the amount of pressure on the pedal so the wheels just barely retained grip as the car decelerated, acting as a human ABS system.
"This is SUCH a bad idea…" the boyish and short seventeen year old thought, leaning over and opening the passenger door as the CR-X slid to a hard stop on the slick wet pavement. The door opened to reveal the face of Anthony, who had just managed to squirm free of his attackers.
"GET IN!" Jose shouted. Anthony used the last of his strength to yank himself into the car and shut the door. Jose wasted no time, and floored it. The front wheels of the car spun wildly, showering Anthony's attackers with muddy water as the CR-X took off down the street, and throwing Anthony himself against his seat. Jose checked their surroundings as they swung a slight right onto 8th street and blew through an intersection, the little Honda's engine howling. He saw a large black muscle car swing in behind them in the rearview, and made a face. He hit the brakes and swung the wheel to the right, and the hatchback's rear end slid out as it rotated into a narrow parking lot that cut between two businesses. Anthony yelped, and Jose slammed on the gas and the front wheels once again spun, pulling the rear end back into proper alignment as the tiny red two door blew through the lot. A large pink 2010 Cadillac Escalade was pulling out of a space, and the CR-X squeaked by before bouncing back into the road on the other side of the lot. The young female driver of the Escalade screamed and slammed the brakes, sliding the big SUV out to almost block the entire passageway through the lot. The Hemi-powered Challenger overshot the turn into the lot and bounced over the curb, then skidded to a stop just before hitting the Escalade.
Jose checked his rearview mirror as they pulled into a neighborhood moments later. Anthony had just managed to snap his seatbelt on, and still look petrified from Jose's display of driving.
"Th-thanks man. I-I… I owe you one." He allowed with a face full of shell-shock. Jose gave him a no-nonsense look as he slowed.
"Hmph. You owe me a lot more than one, man." Jose told him without jest. All Anthony could do was nod emphatically. Jose shook his head and exhaled in disgust.
"Where do you live?" he asked in an extremely annoyed tone, not even trying to hide his feelings. Anthony pointed to a house just ahead. "There," he managed to blurt.
"That's convenient." Jose thought, swinging to the side of the road.
Jose watched as the bully limped into the small house with several cars parked out front, and then saw the phone vibrate in its holder on the dash. He slipped it out and saw that someone had left a voicemail just seconds before. "First time someone's called me when I'm in a car chase..." He thought, forgetting that it was only his first such adventure. He hit the speaker function and played the message.
"Yo man, it's Kwan," the phone rumbled in the voice of a black guy in his early twenties. Jose perked up on hearing this, and listened intently as the message continued. "If you want to join the Underground, tonight's you're chance. Heard they're giving auditions at North Shore Park at ten. Good luck man, and see ya there if ya show." The click of the connection dropping reached Jose's ears, but he did not hear it. All he heard was the time and place to prove his worth to the best racers of Miami. And it was tonight! This was going to be good.