Hello, everybody! This is the third and one of the last stories in the series featuring my Cars OC, Buster. There is one more after this one, in which Buster is visted by the ghost of a dear, departed old friend. The drawing of ghost Lightning was drawn by my one of ny wonderful Cars friends, MissStef94. I hope everybody enjoys the story!
Buster Miles was driving down the road, late at night, struggling to blink the heavy rain that was pouring down his windshield out of his eyes, and was starting to think this whole trip he had planned was a bad idea.
He was on his way to Radiator Springs, hoping to open up his own engine repair business store, and to be closer to Lightning and Sally, even though the couple had been dead for many years now, Lightning mostly due from old age and the time he had spent in the old cars graveyard he had found him in, and Sally from a broken heart, having died not long after they had buried him, or so the tabloids and media had claimed, but for once Buster had believed them, remembering how pitiful she had looked the last time he had seen her, which had been at Lightning's funeral.
He couldn't believe it. After all of the years he had spent training and studying, he had finally achieved his lifelong dream of becoming a mechanic and opening his own shop in Radiator Springs, but nothing was anything like he had imagined it would be once he thought he would have accomplished his goals.
Lightning and Sally were dead and gone, and according to the newspapers, the economy in Radiator Springs had gotten so bad after their deaths, with nothing else there to draw in any tourists, no one could open up a business of their own and make a name for themselves anymore. It was all so very sad, especially if you had seen Radiator Springs back when businesses were still booming, the way Buster had had the fortunate privilege to all those so many years ago now, it seemed, when the Radiator Springs gang had all still been alive.
Tears were starting to mix in with the rain still blurring his vision, and he was finding it harder and harder to see the road in front of him, even with his headlights on, and he was starting to get more than a little worried. He was beginning to panic, and took several slow, deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down.
This had been a very bad idea.
He hit his breaks, hard, skidding to a stop, and was about to turn around and go back when his tires spun out of control on the sleek road.
Then, the next thing he knew, he was falling and falling until he descended into blackness.
"Hey, kid, long time no see."
Buster moaned, waking up to find himself in a sea of pain, confusion, and whiteness. All around him there seemed to be nothing but white, a vast, pallid landscape of whiteness appearing to stretch endlessly for miles all around him, except for the faint outline of the red, blurry, shape of what he thought, and hoped, to be an old friend. "Lightning?" he asked, once he had cleared his blurry vision and was able to make out the familiar, red, stock car floating above him, a shimmering, blue glow emanating from him.
"Don't be afraid, Buster," Lightning McQueen said, smiling at him. "Death isn't so bad."
After Buster had gotten a better look at Lightning, he soon realized this, indeed, was the truth. Death, in fact, seemed to have done Lightning McQueen a favor.
He looked young, happy, no longer in any pain, and he beamed down at Buster with an all-knowing wisdom in his ancient eyes. Wherever Lightning was, Buster wished he was with him.
"What are you talking about?" Buster asked, trying to ignore the paralyzing pain shooting up both of his sides. "This is unbearable."
"There's no pain here, no aching joints or anything like that," Lightning said, his voice soft and kind, and gave him a reassuring smile. "You don't hurt anymore here."
"It sounds nice," Buster said, struggling to keep his fluttering eyes from falling shut completely. "I wish I could be where you are now."
"No," Lightning said, shaking his hood violently. "No, you don't, kid." He softened his hardened expression. "It's not your time to go, yet."
"It feel likes it," Buster said, gasping for breath, feeling another burning sensation traveling all along his busted, dented up frame."I feel like I'm dying."
"Go back to the world of the living kid," Lightning said, a concerned look on his grill. "They need you there."
Buster moaned. "I know, I'm trying," he said, panting and wheezing, feeling like an old car. "How did you deal with it?"
Lightning blinked at him in bewilderment. "Deal with what?" he asked, obviously having no idea what Buster was talking about.
"You're wreck," Buster said, once he had managed to get some of his breath back. "How did you deal…with the pain…of it…"
Recognition dawned in Lightning's eyes, which had a distant, fairway look them, as if he was in another time and place, and he probably was, Buster thought. "Oh, that," he said, chuckling nervously. "Well, to tell you the truth, Buster, I didn't do it alone." He turned around, and another car, this one a light, cerulean blue, appeared beside him.
"Sally!" Buster exclaimed, his pain forgotten for the moment, replaced by the joy he felt at the familiar, yet welcoming sight of Sally Carrera. "Boy, am I ever glad to see you."
Sally smiled back at him. "Hello, Buster, honey," she said, but unlike Lightning, there was a deep sadness lurking behind her eyes and smile. "I'm glad to see you, too, but Lightning's right. You need to get back to your time and place. You don't belong here, not yet, at least."
"How do I get back?" Buster felt helpless, beginning to grow frustrated. "I don't even know how I got here! I didn't come here on my own free will, you know."
"I know, kid," Lightning said, looking over at Sally. "We didn't, either. None of us do, do we, Sally?"
"No, honey," Sally said, shaking her hood. "I'm afraid it's not up to us when we get to come here."
"Then how do I get back?" Buster was trying to stay calm, but his patience was growing thin.
"This is just a theory that I have, and I don't know if it'll work, but just close your eyes," Lightning said, shutting his own eyelids. "It's kind of hard to explain, too, but I'll do the best I can." He opened his eyes again, giving Buster a reassuring smile. "Just picture yourself back where you were when you came to us, if you can, because sometimes people can't remember."
And you expect me too, Buster thought, ruefully, but kept the thought to himself, feeling guilty for having even thought it, and inhaled. "Okay," he said, and did as Lightning said, closing his own eyes, picturing himself back on the road, making his way to Radiator Springs.
Almost immediately, Lightning and Sally began to fade away.
"Bye, kid," Lightning said, waving one of his tires at him. "It was nice seeing you again."
"Bye, honey," Sally said, continuing to smile sadly at him. "Hopefully we'll see each other again."
"Yeah," Buster said, and Lightning's theory must've worked, because the next thing he knew, Lightning, Sally, and the sea of whiteness were all gone and he found himself lying on the slick ground of a wet, forest floor where, miles below the cliff from which he had fallen from, he lay helpless, unable to move, his broken, beaten, crumpled-up body completely paralyzed from pain, fear, and shock.
Buster begin to sob, having never felt so scared and alone, and wondered how he was ever going to get himself out of this mess he had somehow gotten himself into.
An ambulance must've come and gotten him sometime later, because when he woke up, he found himself in a hospital room, hooked up to a bunch of tubes and wires, his parents hovering beside of his bed.
"Oh, Buster, honey, you're awake!" Buster's mother cried, and drove in front of him, peering anxiously at him. "Are you okay?" She was wearing a worried expression.
"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine," Buster said, once he had somehow managed to work some of the dryness out of his mouth. "I'm just very thirsty right now."
His father drove around him, pulling up beside his mother, looking relieved. "We'll get you something to drink, son," he said, and Buster was surprised to see tears running down his windshield. "We'll get you all of the water you want." He sniffed. "Right now I'm just glad you're alive."
Buster was horrified when his mother began to sob, and his eyes widened in horror. "Oh, Mom, please don't cry," he said, and struggled for air, finding it hard to breathe for the tube wrapped around his grill and trailing above his mouth. "I'll be okay."
"I know, honey," his mother said, her entire frame trembling. "You're father and I…we were just so worried…we were afraid you…" She trailed off, not able to finish the thought, and began to wail.
"Now, now, Judy, don't cause a scene," Buster's father said, still blinking back tears out of his own eyes.
"Oh, you're a fine one to talk, Clay," Buster's mother said, playfully nudging his side with one of her tires. "Look at you, you're a blubbering mess yourself."
Buster' father actually laughed. "That's true," he said, looking embarrassed.
Buster smiled back at him. "I'm just glad to be back with you guys," he said, meaning it, and was surprised by the overwhelming love he felt for his parents.
He was going to miss Lightning and Sally for the rest of his, life, true, but they had been right. He wasn't ready to die just yet. He was still young. He had his whole life and career ahead of him, and he was looking forward to it.
Epilogue
Four months later…
Business, as usual, was slow at Buster's Engine Repair Service.
Buster sighed, looking up from the engine he had been in the middle of repairing right at that very moment. He was getting anxious. He hadn't had a visitor come in all day, and it was already almost noon. The last customer he had served hadn't even come in, having just made a purchase over the phone, and that had been yesterday. He had finally made his way to Radiator Springs and opened up the shop there a couple of months ago, about two weeks after he had gotten out of the hospital, and he was afraid he was going to go bankrupt before he even got his business up off the ground and going.
The bell rang, and the door opened, but Buster knew who it was coming in before he even looked.
Buster wasn't surprised to see his old man there. "Hey, Dad," he said, driving out from behind the desk, pulling up to the older car. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, sure, son," his father said, giving him a sad, tired smile, but Buster wasn't buying it. "I just came in to see how you were doing."
His father had just driven into the store, like he always did every day, no matter how sick and tired he felt. The old man had suffered a pretty severe engine attack about a month ago, and the doctors hadn't been for sure if he would even live, but by some kind of miracle, he had. He had stayed in ill health, though, and it had been rapidly declining ever since. Buster constantly worried about him, knowing he wouldn't have much longer to live.
"I'm doing okay, I guess," Buster said, sighing, not even trying to hide his disappointment with the way his business was going. He knew it wouldn't do him any good, anyways. His father would see right through him. "What about Mom?"
His father lowered his gaze and stared down at his hood, turning away from Buster, unable to meet his own son in the eye. "That's what I came in to ask you about, you see," he said, his voice so low and soft, Buster had to lean in closer to him.
"Is she going to be okay?" Buster asked, hearing his voice rise in his panic, and hated how high-pitched it sounded.
His mother had also been very sick and in the hospital for a couple of weeks now. The doctors had diagnosed her with a deadly case of pneumonia, and they didn't suspect her to survive the month. She would be lucky, they had said the last time Buster had inquired about her health, which had been that morning, if she would survive the week.
His father slowly turned back around, forcing himself to look at Buster. "I'm afraid, not, son," he said, his voice cracking, and Buster felt terrible for him when he began to sob. "She's too old and too far gone now, and they said there's nothing more than they can do now then make her as comfortable as they can."
Buster stammered for words. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said, not knowing what else to say. "I wish there was something more I could do to help."
"There's nothing else you can do for her now, son," his father said, shaking his hood. "I was just wondering if you wanted to come and see her after work before she…"
"I can close the shop early," Buster said, and started out the door, already eager to get out of the depressing place.
Buster's father snorted. "Look at this place," he said, looking around the shop in dismay, his sad eyes scrolling over the shelves on the wall, which were still full with merchandise. "You can't afford to close the shop early, son."
"I know," Buster said, staring down at the floor in shame. Even his own father thought he was failure. "It's bad, isn't it?"
Much to Buster's chagrin, his father nodded his hood, but it had been the very reaction he had been expecting from the old man. "It is, but don't worry, son," he said, giving him a sympathetic look. "Business will pick up soon. You just got to give it time."
"I hope so," Buster said, wishing with all of his heart for it to be true, but not having much hope for it at all.
His mother was already dying by the time Buster and his father arrived at the hospital, and Buster berated himself in his mind for not coming sooner. She couldn't even see them, only hear them, and was coughing violently, reminding Buster of Lightning when he had been very sick from being trapped in the old car graveyard for so long.
Driving into her room, with his father at his side, Buster pulled up to her bedside. "Hello, Mom, it's me, Buster," he said, peering down at her very much the same way he had done him not too long ago, when he had been in the hospital after his wreck. "How are you doing?"
His mother tried to laugh, but could only wheeze. "How does it look like I'm doing?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from her wry voice, but seeing the hurt look on Buster's grill, she smiled at him. "I'm sorry, Buster, honey, but I'm just not feeling good."
"It's okay, Mom," Buster said, and started to lean foward and kiss her lightly on the fender. "I know you're not feeling good."
"It's probably best if you don't kiss me, honey," his mother said, cringing away from him, which broke Buster's heart. "You might catch whatever I got."
Buster quickly pulled away. "Yeah, you're probably right," he said, but still deeply saddened, and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too, honey," his mother said, her heavy-lidded eyes flickering over to her husband. "I love you, too, Clay, honey." She looked back over at Buster, then back to his father again, gazing at them with fondness and longing. "I love the both of you, perhaps more than either of you will ever know."
Buster glanced over at his father out of the corner of his windshield. "I know, honey," the old man said, and gulped, trying to swallow his grief. "I love you, too."
These would be the last words Judy Miles would ever hear, for not long after that, she was no longer with her father and son in the world of the living.
Buster and his father had his mother buried on the same hill where Lightning, Sally, and Doc's graves were, digging hers right next to Sally's. Her funeral had been small, unlike Lightning's had been, and not as many vehicles had showed up, except for a few of their family and friends, but that hadn't bothered Buster. He knew his mother's funeral wouldn't have drawn that big of a crowd, anyway. Even though it was sad, yet true, she just hadn't been as famous, or as well-loved, as Lightning had been. When his father died a month later from another engine attack, this one being more severe than the last, he had buried him next to his wife, where Buster knew he would've wanted to be. His funeral had been small, too, and not a lot of vehicles had showed up it at his service, either. Again, this hadn't surprised Buster. He had been expecting it.
Still, Buster missed his parents, but life went on, and time passed.
Even though it had been a year since his father had passed, and it hurt his aching, creaking joints, which had been sore ever since his wreck and still bothered him to this day, to make the drive, Buster always made it a point to drive up the hill to see his parents after he closed up the shop every day. He didn't know if it was healthy for him or not, but he enjoyed spending the majority of his time at the cemetery, feeling closer to his parents there as well as Lightning, Sally, and Doc, than he did anywhere else in town. He felt as if they were always watching over him, no matter where he went, as long he was in Radiator Springs.
Then, one day, something unexpected but wonderful happened, and he didn't go up to the cemetery for the first time in a very long time.
Buster Miles fell in love.
He had been finishing up repair work on the last engine for the day, when she drove in, a sleek, curvy, crimson convertible, looking as if she was on a mission. "Hello?" She searched the desolate store with her curious, yet still somewhat skeptical gaze, until her eyes landed on Buster. "Is this Buster's Engine Repair Service?"
Buster stared at her, a little rudely, perhaps, but he was so captivated by her beauty he was unaware of what he was doing. "Y-Yes," he said, stammering, feeling his fenders heating up from embarrassment. "What can I do for you?"
"I was looking for the perfect engine for a convertible like me and I heard this was the place to find one," she said, smiling at him. "You got one?"
Buster turned, starting to roll toward the back of the room. "I have just the one you're looking for," he said, and stopped, turning back to look at her. "What's your name, anyway, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Rose," she said, still smiling at him, only wider this time. "Rose Freewheel."
"Beautiful name for a beautiful car," Buster said, knowing it sounded lame coming out of his mouth but not caring. Besides, he thought it was true.
"Why, thank you," Rose said, following Buster to the back of the room. "What's your name?"
"Buster," Buster said, and found himself beginning to relax, relieved Rose hadn't clobbered him a good one for his pathetic compliment. "Buster Miles."
"Buster," Rose said, saying it slowly, as if she was trying the name out on her lips. "I like it."
She laughed, and Buster thought the sound was beautiful, as beautiful as her name.
"Thank you," Buster said, embarrassed to hear his voice, which was nothing but a squeak, and felt ashamed of it, feeling like a young, school car again.
"Want to go out for dinner tonight?" Rose said, surprising Buster with the question, which he hadn't been expecting. "I heard about this great place I want to try out called the Wheel Well."
She winked at him. "I heard it has a nice view."
"Sure," Buster said, surprised how quick he was to agree, and smiled.
The End