There he is. Right in front of me. I recognized the style of car he would drive.
I pull up beside him. I look over through both my window, and his. Yup. That's Josef. I can just barely make out the look on his face. He's concentrating. Really hard. And he doesn't even know I'm there.
"Sir." My radio cackles.
"What is it, soldier?" They tell us constantly not to talk too much, lest the teams we're racing hear us.
"There's someone in front of me having trouble with a Drone. Should I help them?"
Part of me wants to say yes. As a soldier, I've been trained to help those in trouble. I've also been trained to follow orders. And. Of course, we'd been told not to interfere with the other racers.
"You've got your orders." I told him.
"Yes sir."
I turn my attention back to the track, and my son. Watching him drive, I realize that he's a good driver. With a pang of guilt, I also realize that I didn't have too much part with his learning to drive.
Sometimes I wish I never became a soldier. But, when those times come, I remember when Josef was a little boy, and he'd proudly announce to his friends that his daddy was a soldier. Though, that enthusiasm disappeared when his mother died.
His mother. The title 'My wife' seems to have died with her. Oh how I miss her. Josef was only ten when it happened. I was also in Washington at the time.
She had been driving down the highway, bringing Josef home from the beach. Out of no where a drunk driver hit her car. My superior also had a wife, and let me go. A senator, who was visiting Pentagon, let me use their private plane. I got there just in time.
She died in my arms. I didn't know I could cry so hard. When I had calmed down, I went to see my son. Luckily, he only broke his arm and had a mild concussion. Or was it luck?
My wife had always been a Christian. She took Josef to church every Sunday. I had never seriously thought about it. But when I saw the car after the wreck…according to witnesses, and the vehicle itself, Josef should've died too. But why didn't he? I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my son to death. But, why did she die, and not him as well?
A flash of black and green catches my eye, and brings me back to the present. I realize that I've pulled ahead of my son, and I see that a Drone's been trying to wreck him. Josef's pretty hard put. I quickly turn around just in time to see his car get pushed off the track.
My anger takes a hold of me, and I ram the Drone. I watch as it flips over the other side, and blows up. I then turn my attention to my son.
I drive off the track to his over-turned car. I almost call his name, and almost pull my helmet off. But my obedience to orders keeps me from doing so. Even so, I pull the limp form of my son out of his car.
I check for a pulse. It's there. So is a forming bruise. A beeping from my car draws my attention. There's another car coming. I need to go. I hate to though.
As I drive away, I see the other car drive off track. Good. I shake my head at the irony of a thought that pops up.
I race my oblivious son.