Setting: Radiator Springs, after the movie.
Author's Notes: This was written in response to a challenge by Reiji Neko Mitsukai of the Hillbilly Hell Cars board. She has several stories posted here as well. Her challenge: "I dare someone to write a story where the folks of Radiator Springs are quickly and strangely dying off, and the dwindling survivors must investigate, only to have all the clues lead back to an unlikely source – Red."
Content: Violence, character death, alcohol use
Disclaimers: All characters copyright Pixar/Disney. In fact, if anyone wants to take any element of this story and run with it creatively (art, writing, etc.) you have my permission. The concept of a firetruck using its ladder as a weapon was stolen from a "Family Guy" skit.
"Radiator Springs, a happy place." Mia sniffed as she read the slogan written across the mural before her. The red Miata surveyed the faded painting, which featured the overly cute caricatures of two automobiles – old cars, she noticed with disdain – smiling beatifically. Supposedly the artist had wanted to convey the message that the mere privilege of living in this town was enough to leave anyone giddy with excitement for the rest of his days. While Mia doubted that would have even been true back in the town's heyday, it certainly wasn't now. Lately she had been regretting the decision she'd made with her twin to stop following the racing circuit as groupies and settle where their hero, Lightning McQueen, had built his racing headquarters.
The townsfolk here thought that housing a few dusty trophies in a crumbling old motel and rechristening it as a racing museum somehow qualified Radiator Springs to stake its claim as an entertainment hotspot, but neither girl had been terribly impressed. They'd once made the mistake of touring the museum, their voyage through the musty rooms led by that insufferable redneck tow truck, and they'd gazed with little interest at the yellowed newspaper clippings someone had thought worthy of framing and tacking onto the wall. It had been interminably boring and worse yet, educational. Mater had droned on with enthusiasm about the so-called Fabulous Hudson Hornet, failing to notice that both cars had plugged in their earbuds and had stopped listening to him. If they had wanted to learn something, they'd have gone back to school.
"Sometimes I think we made the wrong choice in moving out here," Tia complained to her twin in an attempt to change the subject. "I mean, the dating prospects were far better at the racetracks. The best this place has to offer are those Road Hazard guys, but they're too busy running from the law to spend much time with us. Everyone else is too old or a hick or both."
"What about that firetruck?" Mia asked suddenly. She watched with amusement as her sister nearly wrinkled her hood with distaste. "You may not have noticed it, but I have. He's totally smitten with you and he turns an even deeper shade of red every time he sees you."
"Red? For real?" asked Tia, not believing what she was hearing. Indeed, she hadn't noticed a thing, as she'd been so busy watching to pick up any sign that Lightning and Sally's relationship might be unraveling. Unfortunately, they seemed to be in it for the long haul and she probably wasn't going to get him to herself ever again. "But…he's not my type at all. You know by now that I prefer dating luxury cars and racers. The lowest I'd possibly consider would be a Corvette. I don't go with trucks, period."
"Suit yourself," laughed Mia, "but I've heard rumors he's been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out." Her twin groaned and began plotting the best way to turn the firetruck down. Not the nicest way, but the best.
As night fell, Lizzie sorted through her record albums, trying to choose the best song for the traditional cruise. She finally selected a golden oldie she and Stanley had enjoyed many times and blew some dust off the record jacket before sliding the shiny black disk onto the player. As the tunes began to play on the speakers positioned along the street, Lightning and Sally were the first couple to take to the pavement, cruising along blissfully. Soon Ramone and Flo had joined them, followed by the others.
Mia and Tia cruised alongside each other. No one thought much of it, for Luigi and Guido often paired up, as well as Sarge and Fillmore, though the latter two would have claimed it was mere coincidence. Others, like Sheriff and Mater, cruised by themselves. Tia looked over her fender but couldn't spot Red anywhere.
Just as well, she thought, but no sooner had she passed the alley where the mural was painted than a stream of cold water, not much more than would be released from a young car's toy squirt gun, splashed against her side window. She turned to find Red grinning bashfully at her from the alley, and he was holding a bouquet of flowers that looked just like the ones he tended to in pots all around town. Excusing herself, she pulled aside to talk to him.
"I suppose you want my attention?" she sputtered indignantly. To her surprise, he answered.
"Tia, you look so beautiful tonight. I've been growing these for you all season," he said, offering her the flowers. The convertible had never heard his voice before and it was deep and mellow, almost like Fillmore's, but it reflected intelligence as well. Steeling his nerves, he asked the question that he'd rehearsed so many times in front of the large mirror at the fire station.
"Would you like to join me for tonight's cruise?" he asked, awaiting her answer. Tia gawked for a moment, then let the blooms drop from her grasp.
"With you? Um, let me think about that for a moment. NO!" she smirked. "I have my standards and I have to draw the line somewhere. I do not date old clunkers. Why don't you find yourself a nice female firetruck to give your posies to?" She pushed the spilled bouquet toward Red, bruising the delicate petals.
Red felt his eyes welling up with tears as she departed, but he fought back the urge to burst into pathetic sobs as he often did when faced with a situation that got the better of his emotions. He pulled out of the alley after the red sportscar.
"She said she isn't interested," warned Mia, "so get lost before we have to call Sheriff, you creep." The two airhead Miatas cruised off, their cruel giggles fading away as they departed. Red stood in heartbroken shock for a few seconds before backing into the alley, white-hot anger churning in his engine.
Later that night, Mia and Tia met up with Wingo and DJ at Flo's V8 café, sipping their drinks and talking about Tia's no-longer-secret admirer. She recounted every pitiful word the firetruck had used when he'd timidly asked her to dance, pausing long enough for her friends to laugh.
Off in the shadows behind Ramone's, which had closed for the night, a large truck glowered at the insolent young cars. Someone, and maybe her twin as well, was going to learn a harsh lesson. They were among the last few still awake in town. As long as the hoodlum boys headed back to their hometown first, Mia and Tia would return to their rented apartment, and they would pass by the very spot in which he had parked. Red could wait. He had all the time in the world.
After what seemed like an interminable round of drinks and laughter, he heard the twins bidding their friends goodnight, and then as he'd hoped, the sound of their motors as they approached the empty lot. He readied his ladder, which he normally kept tucked closely above his body…
"Tia," he called softly, and she braked when he emerged from the shadows. Sneering at him, she edged closer to Mia. Perfect…
"I thought I said to scram," she said haughtily. Those were her last words before Red's ladder came crashing down upon both cars, leaving them no time to even scream. Looking about cautiously, Red was relieved to find that no one had witnessed his actions. He unreeled a fire hose and looped it around the battered wrecks, creating a crude tow cable.
Mater awoke to hear the familiar sound of his crusher being operated. Drowsily, he emerged from his shed and stood blinking in the darkness, wondering why anyone would be dropping off scrap metal at this hour, let alone crushing it.
"Oh, it's you, Red," he said, greeting his fellow truck at the side of the machine. "Ya doin' some late-night cleanin' at yer place and brought some junk over, huh?" The tow truck chuckled as he looked down into the baling press, which was compacting a pile of ancient, rusted firefighting equipment. Something painted bright red, probably a large piece of scrap from the fire station, lay underneath, and another unrecognizable red cube of crushed metal had already emerged from the chute at the far end of the machine.
"Yeah, I finally cleared out the stuff I'm not going to use anymore," Red answered as the baler finished its work and produced another cube. "Don't worry about paying me, you can have whatever you can get for the scrap metal." Mater started to thank him, then looked suspiciously at the two cubes. Whatever they had been, the metal had certainly been a shiny crimson not unlike the firetruck's own color.
"Were them cousins of yers?" the tow truck laughed, shutting off the machine.
Instead of answering, Red caught him in an ominous, threatening stare that froze Mater where he stood. Frightened, the truck didn't begin loading up the scrap metal until the firetruck had departed. He had a bad feeling he'd said something he shouldn't have.