Chapter 12: Reluctant Assistance
"Chick, we need to talk about this. You can't just give in without … without even looking into this recovery clinic. Lance and The King are breathing down my back bumper. You just can't claim neutrality all of a sudden," said Marv almost desperately from across the room, his voice so low it almost seemed like a whisper. "This is about you after all."
"I told you, Marv … I need to think about it," said Chick in a tired tone, his front end bowing to the ramp he was still suspended on.
"Think about it?! It's been nearly a week. You've had two more episodes and The King's great patience is becoming strained, and Lance... I don't even want to talk about Lance. He wanted Lightning's career tarnished ten minutes ago. Also, there is some county cop trying to get your medical records. For what, I can guess," almost barked Marv, his nerves short as the situation wore down on him like heavy cement blocks in his truck bed. He knew he was born to be burden with heavy issue being them physical or not … but even he could only take so much pressure. He did not need an overhaul this young in life.
Chick's lip twitched, his bumper rearing up into a sneer, his tone still a soft whisper though he was obviously angry, "Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I want any of this? I just want things to go back to the way they were. I would be happy with the title of runner up over this! Do you think I like my memories haunting me or this deep heaviness of sorrow in my chassis? You think I like hanging here probably crippled! Forgive me if I'm not proactive to expedite my social demise. As far as I'm concerned … they are all terrible choices."
His next words were bitter, dragged down with memories of his brother, "I wish I had been crippled after that last race. An ex-racer wouldn't have to make any of these choices. I could go mad in peace."
Marv, sitting in the corner of the room, suddenly reared back as if he had been slapped, his form dragging forward as he whispered, "You don't mean that. You don't mean that Hicks. You love racing and you are not going mad. It's … just a hard time for you right now."
An awkward silence then settled over the room, Marv not wanting to meet his old friend's eyes and Chick… he didn't even try to meet his companion's troubled gaze. His eyes were plastered to the window and the sunlight bleeding into the room. A pretty nurse had apparently opened the blinds and cracked the window this morning because Chick looked 'down'. Not that he noticed her at all … Larry was the one who told him another being had actually been in his room. Another troubling circumstance: was he losing time or had he merely been lost in his thoughts. Personally, he thought it was one more reason to be worried about the clinic … maybe they would prove that he was actually going mad.
Hating the silence and the glazed look in the decaying vehicle's eyes, Marv stumbled to continue the conversation.
"So … M-maybe the King is right about the clinic and it making you feel better. It's not like your brother is going away," whispered Marv nervously, "but … you still have to make that choice. I won't make it for you. We can go over the information Strip gave me again today if you like or we can … start looking for a new sponsor or sucking up to our current one."
Chick closed his eyes at Marv's request. It had been touch and go with his crew chief the last few days since his confession. He was trying to keep their friendship intact and do something about the circumstances … but Chick just didn't care anymore. His whole form felt like he had been packed with cement and he had been sent into a crash derby. He was too tired to care. He just wanted to rest the rest of his life away, to rust away into oblivion. And as much as he knew those thoughts were wrong, he felt like they were there to stay.
"Chick, please, I can press Lance off as we wait for results from the doctors, but the King cannot be pressed away. He knows he has power over us and I'm sure if he feels like you are not cooperating, the racing board will be the least of our problems," begged Marv, his voice almost sounding hoarse.
How long had Marv been begging him like this? How did he not know even now?
Swallowing, wishing he could just blimp out of existence, Chick whispered, "Maybe I should just quit and end this charade."
Marv's eyed got wide and then his lip twitched in a rage Chick had not seen in years, "Oh no, you are not giving up on me. Even after being beaten into the ground over and over again by the King, even after becoming officially 'the runner up' you did not give up on me, but you can now? That is not fair to me or the forklifts. It's not fair."
"And when has the world ever been fair!" sudden barked back Chick, his depression pushed beneath a wave of rage and hate. "It wasn't fair when my brother died, when my mother abandoned me or when my father kicked me out all in the same year! It's never been fair to me. It just keeps beating me into the ground like the world will only be happy when I'm broken and bleeding on the side of the road! It won't stop! Some people like the King and Lightning McQueen are given all the luck in the world and then there are cars like me that can never get ahead, and the one moment we do we are punished! I have never been anything but punished again and again for some crime I do not recall committing! It's as if my very birth was a crime … I-I'm just tired. I'm so tired. Why shouldn't I just give up?"
The room seemed to become cold suddenly, a stony silence between the two of them. Marv's expression was pained and he kept opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something. He seemed to want to disagree with that point of view and state that the world didn't hate Chick, but recent events seemed to be saying otherwise. Maybe there was some unspoken crime Chick had committed? Maybe he didn't deserve any good things in life and yet Marv couldn't believe that. His mother had always told him they lived in a good world. It wasn't perfect, but everyone was allowed moments of happiness and sorrow. He just didn't know how to tell Chick how to be happy though. Chick just seemed so right … that their future was very bleak.
Maybe it was time to get out of the racing business…
"Good morning gentle-cars. It's sure is a lovely day," suddenly interrupted a voice followed by a quick knock, BB entering the room rear first as he carried in a tray. And yet, as he turned around and took in the situation his smile slowly bled off his face when he saw the two grim faces before him. "Is something wrong?"
Marv, frowning deeply, threw Chick a dark look before he mumbled, "Nothing, nothing's wrong. I'm just getting stir-crazy here and I need to get out. I'll leave you to your work."
BB, before he could even open his mouth, quickly found himself staring at swinging doors, Marv already gone. The young Bug scowled at this and slowly turned his attention to his patient. He had not been blind to the racer's slowly failing attitude. Chick was becoming quieter and quieter as the days passed and even the nurses and candy stripers had noticed. The racer's windows were thrown open whenever the sun dared shine, the nurses hoping that the sunlight would help the confined racer.
Personally, BB worried it was a fault in his practice. He wasn't the youngest doctor here but he was by no means as aged or as well versed as the older doctor that had been Chick's original doctor and thus lacked experience. Had he not properly convinced Chick that he would recover? Yes, there was a chance of long term damage, but BB had high hopes in his green racer.
Then again, that was just his nature. He was sometimes too optimistic. Some of the older healers said that that would pass; reality always did crush the hopeful when one had enough patients die on him.
He chose not to believe in that.
"So, how are you feeling today Mr. Hicks? Any abnormal pains or swelling? In fact, let me take a look," BB said with a smile, trying to get some kind of reaction out of Chick.
The car in question merely sighed and murmured, "If you must."
The lift soon whined to life and the racer was raised for inspection. The doctor looked at the healing underbelly of the car with a critical eye, inspecting more than the axel and ball joint that had to be replaced. It was imperative that the new part took well or Hick's would never be able to race again. Sure, he would most likely live a normal life, but high speeds would be beyond him.
The parts looked good, a little swelling of the metal was normal and yet his eyes quickly traveled to the rest of the car's underside. He had been ripped up badly. Apparently, it looked like he had gone off-roading and sustained his injury there more so that way than at the race. Marv was adamant though, stating that Chick had decided to drive himself home and gone in the ditch.
Personally, after picking all matter of debris from underneath the racer, BB doubted that story. There were too many types of dirt and rock and plant matter. Plus, apparently, he had had a hasty car wash given that he could still find mud sometimes. There were holes in the Chick Hick's story, but BB didn't need to know all the facts to help the other heal. Remove the stones, weld the small scrapes and hope the scarring doesn't hurt his maneuverability. After all, with a racer, the flexibility to dodge and weave in a race was just as important as speed.
Picking out a rock, for it was way too large to be a pebble, BB noticed that his patient was hissing as the doctor dwelled on the secrets of the racer. Deciding that it was still too fresh to decide if Chick would be crippled or not by the scarring, the Bug drove from under his patient with a frown.
"Do you need more pain medication, Chick? I couldn't help but notice you twitching when I was checking at the weld marks," murmured the doctor as he started dragging the ramp down.
"Only if you promise to overdose me," grumbled Chick bitterly to himself, probably thinking that his doctor wouldn't overhear him.
BB stalled the lift immediately, his expression surprised as he asked, "What?"
"Nothing, nothing … just some sarcasm," grumbled Chick. He didn't need the young doctor thinking he was suicidal as well. Things were bad but they weren't that bad, at least not yet.
"Mr. Hicks … did you just ask me to overdose you? Is there something you need to tell me as your physician?" said BB as he stalled in front of the racer, his expression grim and serious.
Chick, not needing more bad press, sighed and bit out, "No, I am not addicted to narcotics, so stop thinking that … It was just a bout of bad humor."
The young Volkswagen did not seem convinced as he asked, "A normal minded car doesn't make jokes like that, Chick. I need to know right now before I give you any more pain medication. In your state, an addiction needs to be addressed."
Groaning, hating himself so much that he just wanted to fire the brat, Chick relented. He had been losing all season … why stop his losing streak now?
"It's not like that," said the car softly. "I'm just having a hard time right now. I just wish everyone would leave me be but the present keeps dogging my rear end and the past has decided to remind me in a most unpleasant manner that it is still there… I'm tired. I'm so tired of being emotionally battered all the time."
BB become ridged somewhat, realization dawning on him. It was not uncommon for cars with injuries to become distressed, especially athletes of any kind. Depression wasn't completely uncommon, but that didn't make it any less serious. Not that he could just blurt that to anyone.
"Oh … I uh … I see. Well, I'm sorry to hear that," said BB, his mind struggling to decide the best course of action. "I can have the hospital counselor come see you if you are feeling that badly, Chick. Injuries can be stressful in many ways."
"Yes, stressful," bit out Chick as he crouched onto his tires. "And I'm dealing with it. I don't need any more help."
Driving back slightly, not really wanting to deal with an enraged patient, BB nodded, "Oh, I see. Well, if you ever need any help in that department feel free to ask."
"I won't," growled Chick, feeling old and bitter.
Trying to not look disappointed, the VW started towards the door, "Alright then. Well, I'll check on you later before my shift is over to make sure everything's okay. And let me give you some advice my grandfather gave me Chick."
BB ignored the glare thrown his way as he imagined his grandfather's voice playing in his head.
"If the past won't let you go, it's not really your past. It's the key to your future," said the young doctor carefully. "So perhaps you need to face whatever's been haunting you Chick and it might just help solve all your current problems. So … Have a good afternoon, Mr. Hicks."
Chick said nothing to the young car's advice as his doctor left and yet … he found himself dwelling on it. Personally, it just added to a pile of already towering choices that really didn't feel like choices, to begin with. And yet, the young doctor's words were the most comfort he had had in a long time … maybe he should confront the memory of his brother … and his father.
…
The summer sun was sweltering, beating down on any car that dared to sit out in the sun instead of under a nice shady place. And yet it was too hot to be inside, especially when the wind would pick up and offer a soft cooling breeze. It was a normal summer day in Radiator Springs, calm and slow. And surprisingly, although it was almost halfway through the racing season, the town had very few visitors in the last few days. It would get that way sometimes, usually in the winter and fall months. It was now considered a blessed day when the town's residents could enjoy the silence as they usually did a few months ago before Lightning had taken up residence and started setting up the museum.
Currently, Lightning was enjoying the company of Sally, the two lovebirds whispering softly to each other in a corner of the drive inn while the other residents chatted to one another in their usual banter as some of the town's newest residents tried to get used to the slow pace. There weren't as many new citizens as when the town was in a boom, but a lot of the main street businesses had been reopened. And, overall, for a town in the middle of the desert, things were going well.
Not as well as Sheriff would like, but he knew when to enjoy the calm weather, especially since he couldn't take another moment of being stuck in his office trying to scavenge up contacts and leads. Though, apparently, Chief had scared up some files and news' clippings and was bringing them over to be reviewed.
Personally, Mark was glad Chief was coming to visit. Even though Doc was keeping his usual professional tone and behavior, Sheriff just knew the other was watching him with this snide expression. He hadn't caught Doc with a grin since the day of his exam about a week ago, but he was not losing this bet. This was the bet he was going to win.
As soon as chief showed up.
Not that Sheriff was in a particular hurry. He was just sitting in the partial shade enjoying the calm.
Unfortunately, his calm didn't last long. Just when the officer slowly started to droop his hood, a nap coming on (though taking a nap in town always came with pranks thanks to Mater), there was suddenly the alarming sound of sirens and a heavy engine. Everyone immediately looked towards town hall. Red, who was watering his flowers, gave everyone an equally questioning look as he pulled his flowers towards himself. Everyone then turned their attention to Sheriff who gave everyone an equally confused look.
"Don't look at me. I don't know who it is," said Sheriff.
Everyone then learned towards the main street, peeking down Route 66 and silently waited. Who would be coming here with sirens? It wasn't an ambulance. Everyone knew to call Doc. So who was it? Yet as the form drew closer and closer and closer Sheriff slowly slunk down on his back tires. No, no, no! Ugh, not him. He was going to give Doc ideas!
Then in a blur of black and silver, a cop car rushed past them, cherries casting shadows as a form flew past everyone only to suddenly brake almost at the edge of town and sit there for a moment. The car's sirens slowly turned off, the cherries remaining on as the vehicle sat there for a minute as if confused before it slowly started to back up.
The vehicle kept backing up until Sheriff dripped low on his tires and grumbled, "Why him? I'll boot Chief next time I see him."
Finally, the silver and black enforcer stalled next to Sheriff and offered a bemused smile, "Oh hey, Sheriff. Almost didn't see you there. Chief said that you need some files or something … you should really learn how to fax, though. It would be faster and easier … and a good laugh. I remember when Victor tried to teach Chief how to use the fax machine. That was hilarious. It was spitting papers out like pit-fire and Chief was sure it was possessed. He was calling the local preacher and everything."
Ramone tried to disguise a laugh at that but failed horribly which caused Sheriff to throw the artist a nasty glare before he turned his attention back to the rookie. For a moment, Sheriff sat there with a sullen expression waiting for Jones to cringe away or something.
He didn't, of course, as he continued to talk.
"Chief said I should come and check Radiator Springs out," said Jones like an excited child as he looked up and down main street, turning to the patrons at Flo's as he murmured, "It sure isn't much to look at though ... except for that! Is that … is that Lightning McQueen … and … and the Fabulous Hudson Hornet! Mark, you got to introduce me! I heard that Lightning McQueen moved to some podunk town but your town! Dang, you are lucky."
Sheriff honestly wanted to dig himself a hole and bury himself in the desert where no one would ever find him at this point … especially when Lightning and Doc both moved in for the kill.
"Did you hear that Doc," said Lightning as he drove forward, Doc and Lightning successfully trapping the older officer between the two of them as they both grinned. "Sheriff is extra lucky we are here, isn't he?"
"Why yes, to have old friends like us," said Doc with a soft grin and a coy tone; he was never one to let up on a good prank on Sheriff as long as it wasn't too malicious, "But perhaps you should introduce us to your young friend Sheriff. It seems he knows you, but I have yet to hear about a young officer such as himself."
Sheriff threw a glare at the two racers and then grumbled, "Chief's newest rookie, Jimmy Jones. I've been working with him and his deputies to find the identity of the Mad Car. Now, if you excuse us, I need to get-"
"Rookie huh?" interrupted Doc as he cut off Mark and addressed Jones directly, bumping against the youth slightly. "Tell me, are you up for a transfer? We might have an extra opening real soon."
Jones didn't even get to get in an excited reply and Sheriff didn't even get his growly exclamation against Doc's words when suddenly Lightning cut in.
"Wait, wait, wait. That's what you've been working so hard on, Sheriff? The Mad Racer? Oh, not him again! His stunt took away my news time. I hate that guy. I don't know why but he just got under my plating like I've met him before and he's a real jerk," said Lightning with a tone of distaste (Meanwhile, a state over Chick sneezed, one of his forklifts quickly offering him a Kleenex) before he nearly burst out laughing. "In fact, wouldn't it be funny if it was someone like Chick Hicks. Oh, that would be the day and what a good day that would be."
Lightning then gained this dreamy look on his face that meant he was imagining such a thing … as well as flying cars. Sheriff had asked once, against Doc's reassurance that he shouldn't, what Lightning's day dreams were about and quickly regretted it. That kid watched too many spy movies or something.
Sheriff, mouth half open to forwardly disregard Lightning's idea, quickly found his mouth snapping shut, his eyes going wide as Lightning's words truly hit him. Then, while Doc was probably trying to ask for Jones' credentials, he grabbed the younger car by the back of his front tire and barked, "Back off Doc, I'm going to win this bet. Come with me kid. We got some calls to make."
Half dragged, half limping along, Jim kept throwing a look between the two confused racing legends and Chief's friend, "B-but I want to talk with the Fabulous Hudson Hornet and the Lightning McQueen. Come on."
"If Chief sent you over here, you're mine for the day kid, now tell me again … are you really a big racing fan?" said Sheriff, a gleam in his eyes.
"Yeah, I spent a lot of my childhood watching races. I can tell you about all the current racers bios," said Jim as he was dragged further and further away from the staring locals.
"Good to hear rookie. Now tell me … what do you know of Chick Hicks?"
…
Meanwhile, down the street, Doc was still holding a surprised expression on his face as Sarge and the other's gathered around the old racer, Romone chuckling, "Dang Doc, you sure this town can handle two rookies around here? Maybe you should let him win the bet. I don't know if we can handle someone like that deputy. He's too perky. He might get rid of the grouch in Sarge."
"As if that rookie has the skill," grumbled Sarge.
"Yeah, and I am not a rookie anymore," defended Lightning as Sally came over and nudged him, giggling at his insulted tone.
"Quiet rookie," said Doc, disregarding Lightning's offended expression, "Our town survived Lightning. I think we can survive another rookie with cherries. Now, let's get back into the shade. No reason anyone should overheat today … especially you Fillmore."
At that, everyone chuckled as Fillmore started his defense for the environment, a keen eye noticing that whenever Doc looked over at the sheriff's station, he had a warm grin on his face as of the old racer was plotting someone's downfall.
XXX
Paw07: I love Jimmy in this. He's adorable, like an excitable puppy dog. In fact, I like all my OCs. But regardless, I wrote this in two days. Take that life. Anyway, reviews are appreciated and now I must return to my current Ebay addiction. Must. Find. Diecast. Figures. XD
