*** Hey everyone. Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I'm still really unsure about whether or not to continue this…I'm still arguing with myself. It's hard because I don't really know what everyone is thinking when they read this (except for those who have reviewed, and to those who have – thank you so much, it helps a lot) and so not knowing, I'm kind of afraid I'm making some big mistake with this whole thing. So let me know, please. I crave your thoughts and opinions. o.O FEED ME! ~ Skyfire4***
Ch. 4 – The Distance
my car became the church and I
the worshipper of silence there
in a moment peace came over me
and the one who was beating my heart appeared…
Two days later found him again at the California Speedway. It was still about a week before the actual race was to take place, but there was still much to do beforehand. Today the Time Trials were being held; where each racer was given the opportunity to drive the track alone, get a feel for it, show his stuff. Statistics were kept and analyzations were made on each racer and where they all fit in connection with one another as far as their abilities went. Most importantly the Time Trials provided a chance for all of the racecar owners and sponsors to premier their cars and show off what they'd accomplished. All morning racers and cars, big business execs, and mechanic crews had came and gone, waiting for their turn on the track. There was never more than a handful of competitors there at one time, as a few got there early or hung around after their turn to check out the competition. The main attraction was the actual race, this preliminary stuff never drew too big of a crowd. A few diehards and self-proclaimed racing experts, but that was about it.
Being Corwin's driver, he was expected to attend and drive the car when Red Star's number came up. This little side venture had nothing to do with the job, other than keep up appearances that he actually did work for Corwin. It was just as well, though. He loved racing more than anything. It didn't matter what kind; car, motorcycle – he loved speed above all else. That almost feeling of weightlessness, the way his surroundings became nothing more than a streaky blur, the shrieking of the wind in his ears, the thrill of the blood racing, screaming of life with every heartbeat.
oh, are we locked into these bodies?
are we anything at all?
let's hold out for something sweeter
spread your wings and fly
He'd already decided that even if the job was done before the races were held, he was going to go ahead and race anyway. There was no way he was going to give this up.
The day was hot for mid-October and so while he waited, he stood in one of the viewing rooms, where it was cooler. He stood back in the shadows, ignoring the few half-hidden glances thrown his way by the room's other occupants. He could see Corwin standing out there, the center of attention as he boasted to a crowd of people who gazed approvingly at his racecar. He said something and everyone chuckled, but his next words caused them all to back away slightly.
Bored, he swept his gaze over the other crews out in the pits. Currently there was one car still on its last leg around the track. It was bright orange and its crew waited listlessly in the wings. The only other group was surrounding a car decked out in red, white and blue.
How… patriotic.
The Red Star group was located between him and this other crew, so he couldn't see much. He looked at his "boss" and noticed that he too was staring in the direction of this other team. Wondering what Corwin, who was known for his fierce sense of competition, would do, he wandered over to the doorway and watched him approach a member of the team. It was a woman and she was smiling flirtatiously. That was, no doubt, what had beckoned to Corwin. She was using it all, the slow deliberate movements, the lingering gaze, the knowing smile and Corwin was eating it up, a fish on a hook. He watched the two exchange coy words from his vantage point. His eyes skimmed over the woman briefly. She was far away, but had a smile that spanned a great distance. He stared hard, something tugging at his memory. She had long brown hair, which made her seem unfamiliar, and yet something about her… He shook his head and stepped back into the shadows.
A few minutes later a mechanic from his crew walked over and stuck his head in the door. "Dude, you're up now."
He grabbed his helmet from the counter and stepped outside, making his way over to the waiting car.
Corwin sauntered over, beaming. "Ride 'em cowboy. Make me proud," he said, grabbing his shoulder in a show of camaraderie.
He nodded wordlessly and stepped back, waiting. Once Corwin was out of view he reached into his pocket, fishing around until he found the lock of hair he'd kept from the other night. He turned so that his back was to the main crush of people still watching and held up the lock so that it glowed in the sunlight. He wondered what the other mechanics, which were finishing up with his car, thought, and then decided that he didn't care. Let them wonder… form their own conclusions.
His thoughts suddenly spun off in an odd direction and he found himself thinking about the Renaissance period, a time of Kings and Queens, and warriors riding off into battle. He thought of how the men would ride off to war on their steeds, riding through crowds of well-wishers, and at the last minute some woman, some beautiful princess-type, would burst through to join in seeing them off. She'd find her lover, or else simply the man she pined for, and she'd reach out and tie a ribbon or a scarf onto his staff or his arm as he passed. It wasn't unheard of to press a lock of shorn hair into a warrior's hands. It was a symbol of love given, a show of loyalty and support. Something he could take with him into the coming battle; it would keep his spirits up, maybe even protect him. He'd seen a painting depicting this in a print shop once. It was entitled "Godspeed" and the image once again burned in his mind. He thought of what this lock of hair in his own hand actually depicted and almost laughed at the irony of it all.
He had to smell it again, maybe even caress it against his face once more. He'd kept it because of the power it represented to him. It was even more important because those girls had bested him in that alley – it was a piece of them. He had a piece of one of them in his control. She could never get it back – it was his now. A piece of her belonged to him and that was power. 'Well, Fair Lady,' he thought wryly, tossing the hair into the car before jumping in himself, 'I guess you'll be riding off into battle with me.'
He knew something was wrong as soon as he'd peeled away, leaving black marks on the pavement and a cloud of smoke in his wake. There was another roar of an engine, matching his, and yet no one else should have been on the track. Had he been given the wrong directions? He looked in his rear-view mirror. It was the 'flag' car following him and the driver was the woman Corwin had been flirting with earlier. Looking at her, it hit him, suddenly, where he knew her from. Only her face could be seen through her helmet and without the brown hair to throw him off, he knew it was the blonde PI from the other night. So that's what was going on!
He sped up but she paced him easily, a determined look on her face. He tried swerving back and forth to panic her, but she simply held back, out of the way, unfazed. Realizing that this was going nowhere quickly, he allowed her to catch up until they were side by side. He turned his head in her direction and then, without warning, slammed on his brakes and spun his wheel hard. With a loud shrieking sound, and the smell of burning rubber and grease, his car spun around backwards and then he floored it. It didn't take this speed-demon pursuing him longer than a second to copy his move and then she was on his tail again.
This circle thing was not going to work and so, as the buildings came back into view he swerved to the right, jumping off the main track and heading down the on-ramp in the wrong direction. He passed the pits, as well as Corwin, who was waving his arms frantically. If Blondie was here, then that meant that the other two… and there they were. All he could see as he zoomed by was a flash of blue/black and blue/blonde, but he knew it was them. He ignored the thrill that seized him and concentrated instead on getting through the main gates without hitting anything. He spun out onto the main road, which was packed full of cars, semis, and minivans. One look in his mirrors told him that she was still there, behind him. He did a good job of swerving in between the cars on account of the fact that his car was slim and low to the ground. But that could only help him for so long and at one point he was forced either to slow down or else to drive against traffic. Slowing was not an option. A red car, coming his way, laid on the horn, but there was nowhere else for him to go. The red car veered sharply to the right and a second later he heard a crash. It went on and on but he had no time to look or even to think. He knew that she was still behind him and he could only go on, faster and faster, hoping to lose her somewhere or else to get her to drive off the road somehow.
oh the distance is not do-able
in these bodies of clay…
It was no good, he couldn't shake her. Finally he saw a bridge up ahead, and not only that, but it was an empty bridge. Perfect.
He quickly zoomed over, and, arriving at the other side, he again slammed on his brakes and spun the wheel. He remained where he'd turned this time, facing her. As she entered the other side of the bridge, she saw what he was doing and skidded to a halt as well. He revved his engine and she answered with a rev of her own. They both sat there, each willing the other to make the first move. Halfway down the bridge, a seagull sat perched between them, watching this display. Spooked by the noise it took to flight and this sudden movement was the flag thrown into the air. They both put the pedal to the metal and skidded off towards each other, in the midst of twin clouds of smoke, he half-crazed and she stubbornly determined. First it seemed like they'd never reach each other and then it seemed like she was a goner, but at the last second he saw that her racer looked substantially lower to the ground than his.
That couldn't be good.
Without really meaning to, he pulled to the right, just as she nosed under him. They collided and he shot almost straight up into the air. The collision, combined with the angle he'd been at successfully catapulted him up and over the railing of the bridge and then everything shifted downward violently as he fell.
spread your wings and fly…
The sunlight glinted off the water, which came rushing up to meet him, blinding him, and then with a body-wracking jolt, everything went black.
*** Disclaimer time: I do not own any of the song lyrics used in any chapter, and I neither own nor made up the painting "Godspeed". The credit for this painting goes to Edmund Blair Leighton. The song lyrics used in this chapter were taken from 'The Distance' by Live. ***