Author's Note: I have changed my art Instagram name to carburetor_county for work reasons. I updated it on my profile page, so if you need to refer back to it, you don't have to go through the story to find this note. I know I'm usually more transparent with the fans of the story regarding what's going on in my life. Still, this time I need the privacy and just need to come back to these characters again as a means of having a creative escape around.
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Chapter 41 - "The Knight in Shining Steel"
The hum of a whispering motor filled the void expanse. Every so often, the engine sputtered as if it were about to stop, then started again. A clock ticked glaringly loud between the pauses of the soft noise.
"Life is short, Murphy," a male's voice mumbled.
The jet-black Buick Grand National, with smokey gray flames drizzled from hood to fenders, opened his eyes. They scampered side to side, mimicking the passing seconds on the clock.
"And life," the voice proceeded, "is a journey."
Murphy's eyelids furrowed - the voice growing ever so familiar to him. He turned his wheels to the left and cautiously reversed, taking great care to face the waiting unknown.
A 2005 Kia Sorento, enrobed in red and black paint, idled. He was about the same age as Murphy. His gray eyes, clouded with milky death, jabbed at Murphy's grille. The Grand National could barely make out the Sorento's pupils - the inevitable fog of expiration cradled his eyes too well.
A cold chill fell over Murphy's metal, "...Caleb?" he asked. The warm oil running through the young man's engine condensed.
Caleb's voice returned, "Enjoy the trip."
The whites of Murphy's reverse lights flicked on, and he eased backward, but Caleb followed him with an equally unhurried pace. Murphy's gaze trailed down Caleb's hood and fenders, where gaping star-patterned holes warped the late youth's metal.
An entry wound in his fender and an exit wound out of his hood.
Bloody oil, which had become dehydrated and crisped to flakes, tinged the outer portions of Caleb's wounds.
"Can you promise me something?" the ghoul asked.
Murphy kept rebounding. His lips parted with alarm, but he couldn't get any words out.
"When you get to senior year, promise you'll graduate. For me."
That was all Murphy needed to hear before slamming his accelerator down as far as he could and hurling himself as far back as possible. Murphy had no idea where he was going. He just needed to know where he's been.
Caleb halted. He knew better than to try to catch up to a freshly tutored race car. The Sorento's image evaporated the further Murphy became. He watched his friend disappear into the emptiness. Still, the humming of Caleb's engine remained as if he were nonetheless right next to him. Murphy's frame quaked from the valiant effort of his escape and the ethereal spirit. He heaved his breaths and tried to ignore the numbing of his axles.
"Murphy."
The sound of Caleb's motor terminated.
Murphy's pupils choked into pinholes. He was just beginning to get used to the echo of his dead friend's engine, but just like his dead friend, it perished too.
The specter paused to expel a subtle sigh, "Forgive me."
The surface underneath Murphy's wheels vanished unexpectedly and all at once. Murphy dropped so quickly that his tires continued to spin while he plummeted in the air.
He kicked his axles around, desperately panting from the waiting tension of the ground to meet his treads. Murphy breathed, and breathed, and breathed, and…
…the fatigue became too much to overcome. The young racer's axles stopped trying.
He just proceeded to plunge - letting the air slap his undercarriage.
Murphy's wheels rotated freely.
"There's still time," Caleb's voice - and only his voice - returned, "Stop focusing on the race."
"I don't know what you're talking about-," weary and still dropping, Murphy confessed, "-and I-I can't."
"Why not?"
Murphy, defeated, spoke in a monotone, "I need to save my legacy. This could be my only chance."
"No. You need to save her."
"H-Huh..? Who? Oh-Oh…G-God," the air racing against Murphy's undercarriage became an even more massive gust of free fall, "H-HELP," the Grand National reached his front tires up, which rocked his rear end down toward the bottom, "SOMEBODY HELP."
"You don't care about Jane."
"YES, I DO," Murphy protested.
"You only care about winning this race."
"NOT TRUE."
"Then you'd be just fine to forget the race while you still have time."
"HAMMER!" the air around Murphy rushed even quicker, "DAD!" and faster, "SOMEBODY, PLEASE."
"Fame won't fix you. California will not change who you are. Believe me, Murphy."
"I AM NOT WASTING THIS CHANCE."
"You're just like your father."
"I have done EVERYTHING I CAN. There's NOTHING more I can do!" Murphy shouted, "Jane is WITH me. I can't DO more than that."
"You can stay where you belong."
"I can do both. I can save Jane at the same time. I can ch-change this."
"The only legacy you're trying to protect is a legacy of getting other cars hurt or killed. Look at your two options. Win the race or save Jane. This is no different."
"I'm NOT letting you guilt trip me, CALEB. You KNOW this is the best I can do."
"And when the race is over? When you stay in California? What then, Hicks?"
Murphy grit his teeth, "I'll cross that br-bridge when it matters," and reeled forward again, struggling to stabilize himself, but it was no use. Murphy leaned too far ahead into the void. The wind now slapped at his face, burning like a raging Carburetor County dust storm.
"Then I guess it will matter when you let that girl go back to her town. You're gonna let that Mustang bitch turn her into a sour rotting grease stain glued to the asphalt of Route 66."
"CALEB, STOP."
"You know, the grease from our fight is still soaked into the road too. You sure want to make your mark on that road for someone who isn't very fond of history. A little bit of my grease, a little bit of Jane's, well…except maybe her curdled grease stains will have a dull scraped Porsche emblem mangled with-"
"CALEB, I WAS PROTECTING JANE," Murphy's eyelids twitched from the irritation of the air, "You know I was. Don't you pretend I wasn't. And if I could protect her then, I can protect her NOW."
"You gonna protect her all the way from California?"
"DROP IT. I can find a way," Murphy tried to keep his lips tight, so they could stay together and not flop around from the fall, "Sh-She is strong enough to protect herself in the meantime…."
"So the truth comes out. That's what you tell yourself. That must be how you've been able to sleep at night."
"JANE ISN'T A PRINCESS LOCKED AWAY IN A CASTLE."
"I never said she was."
"LET ME GO."
"But she's not up against some evil stepmother, or whatever, either."
"STOP THIS."
"Maleficent never had a six-shooter in her rims."
"CALEB."
"You saw me, Murphy. You saw these wounds. Tell me it won't happen to her, CHAMP. You mark my words. This is the choice. This is your choice. This is real."
"This isn't r-real," Murphy attempted to remind himself, "This isn't real…this isn't…this-"
"Oh, Murphy," an eerie sigh sounded through the air surrounding Murphy, "…but it is."
A green highway destination sign with white lettering misted in from the void and hurled toward the Grand National. Murphy braced himself, but not before reading the sign:
BEVERLY HILLS
The sign slapped him right in his grille and shattered around his metal in less than an instant. The wind roared so harshly, the latch of Murphy's trunk became loose, and a golden Piston Cup flew out of his trunk.
"NO!" Murphy called.
But while he wasn't paying attention, a swarm of old newspaper articles came up like a pack of vampire bats. They made what was once an invisible tornado surrounding the young man awfully apparent. Murphy could read the articles just enough to make out what each said.
Bold ink, large type headlines reading and repeating: "CHICK HICKS BECOMES A PISTON CUP CHAMPION"
Murphy lunged his axle out, trying to pluck one of the articles, but a loud crash and a thundering pain shot up from his ball joints and rattled towards his chassis, "O-OW."
He watched as the Piston Cup from his trunk - incredibly - gained weight. It became so dense that it weighed more than Murphy himself. It drifted past Murphy and further down the void. He caught a glimpse of the nameplate on its way down: "DOC HUDSON"
"N-No, no, no," Murphy desperately tried to paddle through the air to catch the glistening trophy, "NO. JANE GAVE THAT TO ME," but the gusts knocked the trophy right off of its base. The base disappeared way ahead of Murphy, but the Piston statue itself came hurrying toward Murphy's front end without the weight of the base.
Murphy yelped, watching the statue grow closer and with no way to avoid it. It struck him right in his windshield. Murphy let out a scream at the top of his voice, recoiling in immense pain. A sharp crack crawled across one end of the glass windshield, protecting Murphy's eyes from the other, and spidered out in unpredictable directions.
"I-I CAN'T TAKE THIS!" Murphy pleaded.
"Jane's gonna die."
"N-NO."
"Jane's gonna die."
"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"
"Unless you do something to stop it."
"THEN WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?"
"You know what to do."
"I-I-wh-WHAT?"
"Go."
"WAIT, CALEB, I DON'T KNOW WHAT-"
"Her time is fleeting."
"I-…I-…I WANT-"
"-TO GO HOME," Murphy awakened, startled with tears flooding the bottom of his windshield. He stood tall on his tires, tousled in the hotel bed's white sheets, "I-…I wanna go home," he repeated - albeit much softer.
Murphy steadied his breathing as best as he could. He looked over beside him and saw a rose Porsche resting next to him as if he didn't just make a ruckus. The Grand National moaned a deep breath of solace.
"A dream…it was just a dream," he whispered, but not loud enough for Jane to hear, "Jane is here…Jane is right there. It was just a nightmare."
Murphy lifted his right wheel, "Jane," and placed his treads onto her left door, "…Jane?"
The young Porsche's metal penetrated Murphy's treads with ice-cold. So frosty, it dulled the perception in the rubber of Murphy's tire, "Jane, you're freezing," he furrowed his eyelids and rolled his wheel down Jane's smooth curves all the way to her quarter panel, "Hey, take more of the blanket," he nudged her a couple of times, "Jane."
But Jane's body just rocked on her suspension with each prod.
Murphy moved his tire away and took her left front tire in his. He effortlessly used the athletic strength in his axles to pull Jane's front end toward him just enough to be able to see her eyes.
Murphy gasped. A cold flush ran through Murphy's oil lines, and his RPMs rose through his hood. His eyes widened, and his bottom lip shook. His breath fluttered out of his lips and created a gentle fog on her cold fender with each exhale.
Deep wounds, reddened and swollen, gawked before Murphy.
Too many to count.
Too many to be self-inflicted.
The slices peppered all over her hood, each about the size of a hunter's knife. Each wound messily oozed her bloody oil all along the edges of her hood and skied over her lips. But Murphy couldn't help but lock onto a spot on her hood where the fluids made a soul-stirring pattern of letters.
The whites of Murphy's eyes turned pink. Salty tears wiggled up from the scorched earth of his bottom eyelids. His breathing fled so rapidly, he heaved on the brink of hyperventilating, "J-Just a dream…it's just a dr-dream…."
The bloody oil peered into Murphy's soul, reading: "CHAMPION"
"Murphy," Caleb hissed, "Life could be a dream."
Murphy screamed and kicked his tires around, tossing himself off the mattress.
When his wheels touched the motel room floor, his eyes opened up wide. He looked around the room. The only light in the motel room emitted from the moon peeking through translucent curtains.
Jane awoke with an alarmed gasp, "Wh-," she shifted her eyes to the empty space next to her. She lifted an eyelid, confused, then noticed Murphy panting beside their bed.
"Murphy," Jane yawned, "What on earth?"
"S-S..Sorry. I'm sorry," Murphy puffed, "N-...Nightmare."
The Porsche frowned, "I know this race is pretty stressful…it's stressful on every one of us."
"Y-Yeah…sure is a lot."
"I know it…and it's so weird that Caleb is gone," she looked away to the headboard of their bed, "And now no one in Carburetor County trusts each other anymore."
Murphy finally caught his breath, "There's no way I can race like this."
Jane thought for a moment, "Maybe we should talk to Springwheel."
"Ain't like he's in charge of RSN or anyth-" Murphy caught himself, glossing over his country accent like it didn't slip out, "I can already hear the pissing match my dad will have with me if I bring this up to him."
"Out of all the stuff that makes your dad angry, I don't think that'll be one of them."
As Murphy began to settle down, his words no longer shook with his frame, "Jane, a man who wants to win at all costs isn't going to let me, you know, mourn."
"Sure, but Caleb was one of your best friends. Not a random acquaintance," Jane looked back to Murphy.
"It doesn't matter what I think. Especially to him."
Jane and Murphy jumped in surprise as the familiar, loud chirp of a state-wide warning came from the cell phones nestled in their wheel wells.
The teenagers scrambled to get a glimpse of their screens.
"Not again...please," Jane begged under her breath.
"I swear, if this is about another car being killed in our county, I'm going to lose it," Murphy stopped trying to dig out his phone, "Forget it. I don't even want to read it. I don't wanna lose it. I'm gonna lose it."
Jane's eyes swam across the scrolling message on her screen and her furrowed eyelids relaxed into a perplexed gaze the more she read, "Hmm."
"Don't tell me," Murphy asserted.
Jane turned her screen off and glanced at him, "Okay," and she tucked her phone back into her wheel well.
She fluffed up her pillow with her tires and nestled her chin back down into the center, "You should at least come back to bed. It's not gonna do either of us good if we're tired," her metal sank into the softness, and she closed her eyes.
"You set the alarm, right?" Murphy asked, "For tomorrow?"
"Mmhm," Jane hummed, keeping her eyes shut.
"...okay."
Reluctantly, Murphy climbed back onto the mattress and brought his pillow deep under his chin. He hugged it between his front axles and glanced at a digital clock mocking him from a desk across the motel room.
03:47am
The Grand National took a deep breath in to prepare for the mess he already knew he was going to be at the race. He battled against his eyelids to make them shut. Still, Murphy found himself lost in the darkness behind his eyes instead of a nightmare.
"Of course-," Jane started, "-I turned it off because they just canceled tomorrow's race and moved it over one day."
Murphy's eyes shot back open, "Oh," his lips parted, and in Murphy's thoughts that only he could hear, he said, "That gives me time to save you."
As the sun climbed higher in the sky and the news about the postponed big race poured over the country, some cars were still asleep. A few rooms over in their exclusive motel, a Dinoco Blue Pontiac Firebird and a roughed up forest-green Ford Tempo slumbered together. The flour, icing, and baking debris no longer littered the Tempo's paint. Instead, peony-scented soap radiated from the pores in her paint. Her entire left side was pressed against the Firebird, and her axles relaxed.
After a few minutes, the Tempo's eyes opened to slits. Her jaw stretched open into a yawn, and she pressed her axles forward for a nice stretch. She looked around with groggy eyes, noticing walls unfamiliar to her. She gradually awoke further the more she took in the room. She felt around the sheets with her treads, noticed how different they felt, and finally noticed an entire car resting beside her. She gulped and moved a tire over her mouth.
"M-Mm...," she put her tire down and reversed off the mattress. She began to search for her cell phone but pulled her lips in nervously when she couldn't feel it in her wheel wells. She drove to the other side of the mattress where the Firebird slept.
She carefully nudged his side skirt with her grille, "Adam," she whispered.
The Firebird's eyes opened slowly. He felt around with his right tire, noticing Denise wasn't there anymore, "Denise?"
"I'm over here," she said, nudging him again.
"Hey, you," he smiled, "Good morning."
"Good morning," Denise replied, but she wasn't smiling back.
"...everything okay?" Springwheel asked.
She shook her hood, "No. I never went home last night."
"I know. That's right," Springwheel tilted his body, confused, "That was our plan."
"But-," she scuffed her wheel on the tile floor, "-now I can't find my phone, and I'm scared my husband called."
"I figured he would," Springwheel shifted into reverse and backed off of the mattress, "I would have if I was him," he drove around to what was her side of the bed and opened up a small drawer inside of the end table, "I put your phone in here, in the table next to you, so it wouldn't stress you out if he called," he reached into the drawer and took out her phone, and returned it to Denise.
She took a breath and unlocked the screen.
17 Missed Calls
8 Voicemails
57 Text Messages
1 Local State Alert
The tire against her phone trembled. It made the glare coming from the phone jiggle along with her treads.
"Is it bad?" Springwheel asked.
Denise nodded, "I'm afraid to look at the messages."
"Mind if I see?"
"Not the messages themselves, but the hoard of alerts, yeah," Denise turned the phone just enough for Springwheel to be able to take a glance. When the Firebird saw the number of notifications she had, he rolled his eyes, "After everything you told me he says to you, and the way you told me he treats you and beats you, it's interesting that now is the time he wants to show you that he cares."
"I don't want to go back there, Adam," Denise looked up at Springwheel's eyes.
Springwheel blinked a few times, "I wouldn't make you do anything you didn't want to do."
"The thing is, I know you have that race today," she moved her eyes away from his and gazed at the Phoenix etched into his headlight, "-and I know how busy you are."
"So?" Adam grinned in an attempt to make Denise do the same.
"-so, I don't want to mess up any of your plans," Denise continued to have terror painted over her pupils.
Springwheel rolled closer, "Come to the race with us."
Denise's eyes hovered over Springwheel's hood a few more times. Her bottom lip quivered with shame. She had an idea of the words she wanted to pour out to him, but she couldn't bring herself to say them.
"And if you're worried about me throwing you out of here, I'm not going to do that either," Springwheel lifted a tire to the edge of her mouth and held her cheek in his treads, "You stay here as long as you need to."
Denise couldn't help but lock onto his wheel.
The Firebird caught her reaction and promptly moved his tire away, "I apologize."
The Tempo's eyes finally rose to meet the eyes of her daughter's father. Denise tried to speak, but the words ran away from her again.
"Even after the race is over," he answered, in hopes that he knew what she was thinking, "If that's what you need."
Denise's fixation softened, "I-.."
"-don't have to say anything," Springwheel answered for her, "You've already shown me you're not who you used to be. Not even close. Look at you," he chuckled, "I don't think you realize how proud I am. You have a great business, and you made it happen for yourself. You're living your dream, Denise...and yeah, I do wish it was under different circumstances. There's a piece of both of us that-," Springwheel stopped himself, trying not to think about Emily too much, "-that can never be replaced…and you were her mother. I'm man enough to tell you I'm not perfect. I never was and - hell - I never will be, but this guy? The guy you married?" he shook his hood, "He is the last thing you deserve. Out of everything that's happened, you don't need some guy who-"
The Tempo unlatched her brakes and pressed her lips against Springwheel's, "Mmh," she shut her eyes and stood taller on her axles to better match the Firebird's masculine height.
Springwheel leaned forward immediately, lifting his wheel back up to the edge of her mouth and hugging her lips between his. He shut his eyes. The Firebird could feel the Tempo's lips shaking, so he moved his treads just enough to calmly caress her metal. Denise opened her lips to bring them around his again until Springwheel matched her enthusiasm and brought his lips around hers. Their lips took turns holding each other. Denise kept her brake lines open, so gravity kept her pressed forward - deep into Springwheel's lips. Springwheel's engine purred as he moved the wheel on her cheek down below her chin. He pulled her into him more.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
A breath huffed out from between the both of them - their eyes shooting to the motel room door.
"Oh, no…you didn't happen to catch the time when you were checking your phone before, did you?" Springwheel asked.
Denise chuckled under her breath, "Some things never change, I see."
"Hush, you," Springwheel smirked, "Now what time is it?"
"Who are you talking to, Phee Phee?" a deep country twang roared from the other side of the motel door, "You losin' your mind in there or what?"
Denise raised an eyelid, "Did that car out there just call you 'Phee Phee'?"
Springwheel sighed, "That's…no car. It's a long story. Trust me, you'll be waiting a couple of years to hear just one chapter of it," Springwheel made his way to the door, "-but it's worth it in the end. You'll see."
"...I'll be waiting to hear it," Denise leaned more to her right, attempting to look past Springwheel's body even before he could even see who was at the door.
Springwheel rested his tire in a metal pull tab just at the bottom of the door. He pressed down, unlocking the door, and pulled it open just far enough for half of his front end to be visible, "I told you not to call me that."
A big ol' black Freighter grinned, "I was just coming by to make sure you were awake. Mack's on the phone with Lightnin' right now. Apparently, Jane's town, some of Murphy and Janes' friends, and some school faculty are arriving in the city today. Word on the street is Racing Sports Network was going to postpone the race because of a storm, but that died down before it reached us, so they ended up postponing it anyway because of that murdered student."
"Oh, good…when I heard about his death, after the shock wore off, of course, I was worried about how the students would feel. I was going to talk with Murphy and Jane, but I haven't seen them yet. The student who died was a close friend of Murphy's, so if you haven't done so already, I wouldn't be silly with him this morning," Springwheel blinked, "I'm serious."
"I wasn't born yesterday, Springwheel. Murphy is a pain in my mudflaps, but I ain't stupid. The last thing I wanna do is bring up anything that'll make that squeaky wheel talk."
"Who called RSN about the student?"
"Nobody said anything to me, but since it made national news, I'm guessing that's how they figured it out. Probably wouldn't have postponed anything if Murphy and Jane weren't gonna be in the race. I'm sure those who run RSN did it out of their own courtesy. Even though their focus is different racing sports, they're still a major news network, after all."
"You're probably right."
"I usually am," Hammer grinned, "Now, who were ya just talkin' to in here?
Springwheel cleared his throat, "Excuse me?"
"I just came here to see if you were awake and when I heard you talkin' in there, I figured you were."
"Well, that means you were right again. I am awake, and I haven't used the restroom yet. So, if you'll excuse me-"
"-NOW that you mention it, I think I feel a haul I need to drop off at the porcelain express too," Hammer put his wheel up on the door, clearing over Springwheel's roof quickly from his height, "And since you have the closest bathroom, and since I don't feel like causin' a maid's death today, I'm gonna use your toilet," he pushed the motel door open the rest of the way.
"HamMER-"
"I knew it," the big truck's grin turned into a dark, playful smirk, "You're busted."
Springwheel shut his eyes and exhaled heavily.
"I didn't know you'd be jealous of Murphy havin' a lady in his room for the night to the point of goin' out there and gettin' one for yourself," Hammer chuckled, "Which reminds me. I need to go check on them next and make sure neither of them has any new scratches in their paint if ya know what I mean," Hammer winked, then glanced up at the Ford Tempo, "Hello there, lady of the night! Heh. Heh."
Denise narrowed her eyes and curled her upper lip in disgust, "What did you just call me?"
"Denise, this is Hammer," Springwheel reversed away from the door, "Hammer," he gritted his teeth, opened his eyes, and spoke through his clenched jaw, "This is my ex-wife, Denise."
Hammer's grin dropped, "Oh. Shi-…hm. Yep," not knowing what else to do, Hammer just nodded, "Yeah, gotta say…that tops the most awkward thing I've ever done."
Denise rolled her eyes, "Adam, who even is this?"
"He's trailing one of my students for the race."
"Ah," Denise looked Hammer up and down, "Hi."
"Hello, Missus Springwheel. I didn't mean to call you a prosti-"
"Hammer."
The part of Denise's hood closest to the bottom of her windshield flushed into rouge, "It's been decades since a car called me that."
"Uh-," Hammer looked at Springwheel, who was giving the truck the same look he gave Murphy whenever he didn't bring in his homework, "So - with that, I'm gonna go make sure Mack took his oil pressure medication before he blows a gasket."
"Wouldn't want that to happen," Springwheel agreed.
Hammer backed out of the motel room, "Yeah, and, uh-nice room, by the way."
"Thanks."
"Okay, I'm gonna go now."
"Yep."
The whooshes and sighs of the pacific ocean swirled into Jane and Murphy's room. A warm salty breeze caressed the Grand National's grille. He adjusted himself in his sleep, but it made his front end line up perfectly with a crease in the sheer curtains welcoming a long ray of sunshine directly onto his face. He opened his eyes a bit and groaned, "Nn…."
He pushed himself up on his axles and moved off the mattress. He started toward the bathroom but noticed the sound coming from the open patio door. He turned to the glass doors and rolled toward them, only to stop at the sight in front of him:
The sloping feminine curves of a beautifully imperfect Porsche in front of the rising California sun.
She had her front end propped onto the railing by her tires. She let one of her front tires hang off weightlessly while the other braced her. The sun created a golden lining around her roof and a rich glow in her paint.
Murphy's suspension unwound as he watched her. He knew she was an energetic car, but for some reason, seeing Jane quietly admire an ocean so full of diamonds made him weak.
Maybe last night's nightmare was only just that - a nightmare - after all.
"I gotta get my head in this race," Murphy worried.
But his mind continued to tease him the more he tried to forget.
Murphy cruised to the glass door and slid it open more so he could fit through it. Jane was a bit smaller and slimmer than him.
The Porsche's mirrors perked up at the sound of the door. She propped both tires back up on the patio railing, then reversed so she could be level again, "Mornin', Murphy," she said with a grin.
"Morning," he pulled up next to her, "Admiring the shore?"
Jane nodded, "It shore is beautiful."
That.
Murphy would never hear that docile southwestern accent make those ridiculous puns anymore if he left. Jane was the only car to really make him laugh at things that were supposed to be funny instead of laughing at the expense of someone's pain.
"You're a dork," Murphy replied.
Jane giggled softly.
And that.
The way her bottom eyelids curved up along with her lips.
No.
He came this far for a race, and he can't throw it all away now.
"You seem distant," Jane noticed.
"Distant?" Murphy scoffed, "I came out here to be closer to you."
She giggled, "You're eyeing my mouth over there. You wantin' a kiss?"
"From you?" Murphy brightened up a little, "Always."
So Jane moved in, bringing her pillowy soft lips to the corner of his mouth - too shy to press her lips onto his again.
"I promise I'll get better at it," said Jane, "It's still nerve-racking, is all."
Murphy shook his hood, "No, don't you change a thing."
Jane's eyelids fluttered, and she sank on her suspension from his sweet words.
"Hey, Jane…I think I need to talk to you, and I'm also-...uh-...not sure if I need to talk to you," said Murphy, looking down at her eyes. They almost crossed from how close they were to each other.
"Okay," Jane's happy expression dropped into concern.
"But you need to hear me out."
"I won't make fun of anything."
"You say that, but for real. This is-"
Don't say it, Murphy.
Murphy, don't say it.
"Life and death?" Jane asked.
Too late.
"Actually," Murphy's eyes widened, "Yeah, yeah, it is."
Jane frowned, "I can't say I'm really good at advice for getting over losing someone. I'm still not completely over Doc's death, let alone adding someone else I had the privilege of driving on this earth with. So-," Jane bit the inside of her cheek, "-I'm just being honest, Murphy. I feel like there's a piece of me that's never comin' back. I'll still try to help you in any way I can."
"It's alright," said Murphy, "This is different. It's more preventative stuff."
"Ooo…well, I can't say I know how to live forever either. That doesn't sound healthy," she grinned.
Murphy smiled, "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Make the awful stuff so light and not an enormous deal."
"I don't know," Jane thought for a moment, "I guess it's 'cause there are things I can change and things I can't change," she shrugged her wheels, "Kind of like how I can't change that I can't live forever, but I can change how I live so that I am okay with that," Jane continued to observe Murphy, "I know there isn't anything I could say that'll make you miss him less."
Murphy sighed, "-I'm just gonna say it, and if you think I'm crazy, then you think I'm crazy."
"I won't. Promise."
"I had a nightmare last night," Murphy looked her right in the eye as he told her, "But I think it was more than a nightmare."
"What do you mean?" Jane asked.
"I think I had a vision," he put a tire up, gesturing for her to hold her reaction, "And I know you think that's something Lizzie would say, but I don't want to take the chance. I'm trying to do two things at once here. I'm hoping this is the best way to do it. I think you're in danger."
"Me?" Jane was taken aback, "But I have Mack, and I have you and-"
"I don't think we're enough anymore. I think we're way past that point."
"I spent my entire life worrying, Murphy. I finally have a reason to feel safe. We are far away from where the horrible stuff happened," Jane smiled, "And I'm with you. I don't feel like I'm in danger."
Murphy paused to think, trying to figure out a way to make her understand but not be too distressed at the same time for her happiness's sake, "Jane, there's stuff I haven't told you."
Jane said nothing. She just continued to listen.
"Something happened that I didn't tell you-," Murphy explained, "-because I didn't want to sound like some violent freak. I didn't want you to be afraid of me. That was the last thing I ever wanted to happen."
"Your attitude doesn't scare me," she swatted her wheel as if nothing was wrong, "Sticks and wires can pop my tires, but words will never hurt me."
"But I did do something violent," Murphy admitted, "But, it was for an extremely good reason. Last night, you told me that no one in Carburetor County trusts each other anymore. Everyone feels like they need to constantly watch over their fenders, and you even just said to me that you feel safe because you're surrounded from roof to lugnut."
"But when I said that, Murphy, I didn't mean to make it sound like I've been afraid to the point of not being able to drive down the road and to get french fries from Flo's. I've been on my guard my whole life, but like I said…there's some stuff I can't control. I had to learn to live with that."
"Besides us being around you, what else makes you feel safe about being here, Jane?"
"For one thing, the news makes it sound like Vermella is pretty busy in Carburetor County. She's preoccupied."
Murphy frowned. His expression softened though he kept his gaze on Jane.
"Murphy?" Jane rolled closer.
It was then, he knew, there wasn't an easy way to tell her.
Murphy leaned forward, "I don't think Vermella is as far away as we want to believe."
Jane shook her hood, "Hang on. You-…you went from telling me you did something violent right to Vermella is down there in the motel's pool sipping engine and tonics."
Murphy exhaled an ingenuous chortle, "I told you it was going to sound ridiculous."
"What did you do that was so violent?" Jane narrowed her eyes curiously, "I'm not mad or anything, I just want to know…what I don't know. I've lost enough friends, and if I'm ruining something, I want to know about it before I lose someone else."
"You didn't do anything wrong. Wait. You lost friends?"
Jane nodded.
"Who?" Murphy raised an eyelid, "Why?"
"Alyssa," said Jane.
"Isn't that Prius your best friend, though?"
"The short version of it is she found out I kissed you, she freaked out, then I tried to convince her that you weren't bad, but then she ended it like-," Jane changed her voice to mimic her ex-best friend, "I'll support you, Jaaane," she brought her voice back to normal, "But she doesn't talk to me anymore, and I'm positive she is the reason why Austin isn't talking to me anymore either."
"Austin is busy in the police academy. I don't think Alyssa has anything to do with that."
"He is, but you and Caleb used to torment him. In our pack, we told each other everything, and we promised to let each other know things so there wouldn't be any secrets between us. By now, Alyssa must have told him about the kiss. I haven't heard from Austin since. Knowing the way Alyssa likes to gossip, she probably fluffed it up enough to make Austin think the kiss meant I betrayed him."
Murphy took his eyes away from Jane and stared down at his hood.
He didn't realize how bad it actually was. He didn't know how deep the curse poisoned his life.
How bad the 'Hicks' name can sully the cars around him.
The 'Hicks' infection appeared to be too deep to fix now.
Jane continued, "I know you asked about that stuff, but I didn't mean for it to turn into interrupting what you were trying to tell me."
Murphy sighed, "Okay…speaking of that night, actually, I need you to remember the carnival."
"Okay, sure."
"After the night was over, do you remember when you went to McQueen's trailer for the night?"
Jane nodded, "Yeah, you said you were gonna have a cigarette before you came back to Hammer."
"I was, and I did, but something screwed up happened…and this is the part I need you to believe."
"I won't laugh."
"I'm not worried about you laughing. I'm worried about you believing me."
Murphy retold the entire story about Caleb showing up in the middle of his last cigarette of the night. He told Jane about the knife and how Caleb referred to himself by an odd name different from his own.
"He tried to kill you?!" Jane asked with wide eyes.
"Yeah," Murphy replied, nodding, "And I beat the hell out of him because of it," Murphy continued, "And then he tried to tell me it was all Vermella's fault, but I didn't want to listen to him. I just beat the hell out of him," Murphy's voice became constricted, "The last words I said to Caleb were warning him to stay away from y-you…and now I can't even be at his funeral."
"Murphy…"
"He tried to tell me about Vermella…and I heard him but didn't listen to him. All I could focus on was him going after you.
Jane sank down on her tires.
"I didn't want to scare you," Murphy insisted, "I thought about it a lot, and the only thing that makes sense to me is that Mustang carnapped Caleb, got him to talk about our school, he probably told her you, and I knew each other, he probably told her I liked you."
Jane lifted herself just enough to let her tires ease toward him.
"I told Caleb a lot about you. We used to talk about everything. Even the feelings I had for you while I was with Gianna…even-…probably more details than you're ready to hear right now. My point is, I think that Mustang brainwashed Caleb and was using him to kill me just so she could find you."
Jane swallowed hard. Her eyelids tightened into a furrow, and she turned her front tires inward. Though part of her wanted to know about what Murphy told Caleb, she couldn't break her focus, "…and you even said she was calling Caleb by a different name," the Porsche's eyes fell to her emblem - deep in thought, "Like when she used to call me 'Leo.' An entire identity she created all on her own and made me even refer to myself as such."
"If Caleb even hurt me just enough to disable me, Vermella was right there ready to take you next, Jane. Probably less than a quarter-mile away, and we didn't even detect her," Murphy's breath shook, "I should have listened."
"You couldn't have known what was going to happen, Murphy. You were protecting yourself."
"I was protecting you," Murphy corrected, "And I still hurt someone," Murphy turned around and stared his reflection down at the glass patio door.
"No, Murphy," Jane frowned, "That isn't true."
"That's exactly how it happened, Jane. Everyone else faced it. I just need to face it now too. It's in the Hicks oil lines at this point. RSN, Springwheel…everyone is right."
"Murphy, it's not everyone," Jane's gas tank turned as she witnessed her significant other changing right before her eyes, "And Springwheel cares a lot about you. He wants what's best for you, or he wouldn't fight so hard to get you to believe it."
Murphy couldn't stop himself from fretting over Caleb's words.
Jane's gonna die.
"I-…need to stop fighting it," said Murphy, with Caleb's words still incessantly repeating in his mind, "I'm only here because of a loophole in the Piston Cup rules."
"You're here because you earned it," Jane said, becoming more worried about Murphy, "We both did."
"I need to call my dad. He wanted me to look at the new house together."
"Y-You're not thinking straight, Murphy. Look at me. Talk to me."
"Jane, stop."
She pulled her lips in.
Murphy's voice fell into the same hopeless monotone from his nightmare, "If the world is just going to see me as a Hicks and if fighting that only hurts the cars in my life, and now the cars in your life, then I'm not going to fight it anymore.
"…fight what?"
And Murphy finally turned to face Jane, "My legacy."