DISCLAIMER: I do not own the film "Cars." "Cars" is owned by Disney and Pixar Studios. I also do not own any of the vehicle brands mentioned in the fic. However, the new characters in this fic are own by me. Remember that now.
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Chapter 8: The Race, Part II
Decades ago, the (then-current) residents of Radiator Springs first got word of a new interstate when a construction crew had built an access road, leading up to the top of one of the many plateaus in the valley. The site was located only a few miles from the Sheriff's speed trap, and it was used to survey the area for the best place to put the interstate.
Since then, no one had paid much attention to it. It had fallen into a state of disrepair, and only used by Sarge whenever he would survey the area. Aside from the town's veteran, no one else had used it since.
Until tonight.
The tuner cars had first discovered this road after they decided to check out private roads to race on. (So they wouldn't have to deal with the Sheriff) They knew Sarge would occasionally use it, but that was rare. It was deemed fit enough for the tuners, and they decided to put it to use that night.
"This access road leads up to the top of that plateau," DJ explained, motioning to the road. "First one on top wins." He glanced at the red Jeep Cherokee across from him. "Hope you're not a sore loser, road-hog."
The tuners snickered at DJ's remark.
"Don't get cocky, Boombox," Crimson warned the tuner, a cold stare in his eyes. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."
DJ just laughed at the SUV before turning to his friends to discuss strategy.
Crimson turned to face the charcoal-colored VW Jetta with him, who was obviously agitated by this whole experience. "Crimson-" she started in a pleading tone, only to be cut off by the 4x4.
"If any of those guys make a move toward you, floor it. Keep going until you get to the speed trap; Sheriff or one of the deputies should be there-"
"Crimson, this is stupid," she cried out. "I mean, this guy is a tuner; you're not going to be able to win against him! Just tell them the race is off, please? I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"...one, thank you for the vote of confidence," he said sarcastically, stung by her bluntness. "Two, don't worry about me. Right now, I'm more concerned about leaving you alone with Boombox's friends. Just remember what I said, okay?"
Crimson drove up to the starting line, painted on the ground by Wingo minutes earlier. DJ drove up next to him, holding his bumper high in confidence.
DJ glanced at the red gas-guzzler next to him and grinned. "Easiest $5000 I'm ever gonna make," he muttered smugly.
"Okay boys, fire 'em up!" Boost said.
The tuner and the SUV started their engines, and braced themselves for the race.
Wingo held out a wheel, its normally green neon lighting now red. The light changed to yellow... then finally to green.
"GO!" Wingo shouted.
The two cars peeled out, engines roaring as they took off down the stretch of road. Snot Rod, Boost, and Wingo cheered on their friend. Boost called out, "Whip his ass, DJ!"
Becky sat on the other side of the road, watching the pairs of taillights disappear in the distance. A dreadful feeling swept over her, like she knew something bad was going to happen.
----
DJ, being naturally faster, was ahead of Crimson. But the rough terrain was slowing the tuner down as he bounced up-and-down the dirt road, and Crimson was catching up.
The bumps were taking their toll on the import as he felt the CD system in his back end starting to fall apart. Don't worry, his conscience reassured him. You can use that $5000 you're gonna win to fix it. DJ grinned to himself and accelerated.
Crimson was pushing himself to get ahead of the other vehicle. His engine was screaming as he reached 140 MPH, faster than he ever could (or should) go on a dirt road, thanks to his turbo-charger. Speeding over the uneven road, a giddy sensation came over the SUV as he rose and fell with each small hill he flew over, adding to his increasing adrenalin rush. Just like the old days, he thought.
That sensation was soon replaced by panic when Crimson hit a rabbit hole in the road. He was almost tailgating DJ when the Jeep started fishtailing wildly, in the process tapping DJ's back left fender and making the tuner lose control.
Both cars went off the road, twisting left-and-right to avoid boulders, cacti, and each other. They jumped back on the road, now racing side-by-side.
"Sorry about that, man," Crimson said sincerely.
DJ didn't buy his apology. "You rammed me!!"
"I didn't ram you," The Jeep shot back defensively. "It was an accident, I swear!"
"Yeah, well so is this!"
DJ shoved Crimson off the road. The Jeep was now bouncing against the uneven terrain of the desert, sometimes sailing through the air. Crimson let out a grunt of pain when he felt his under-carriage scrap against the ground.
DJ looked in his side mirror at the set of headlights behind him.
"That'll teach him," he growled.
Crimson got back onto the road, determined to get back at the tuner for his malicious act. He threw out his hook, caught DJ's back bumper, and jerked the tuner off the road.
"There! We're even!"
DJ bounced violently against the desert floor like a super-ball, steering back in the direction of the road. He managed to hop back on ahead of the red SUV.
Crimson accelerate and attempted to pass DJ on the left. The two cars glared at each other, looked ahead, and gasped in terror.
A sharp S-curve was dead ahead. DJ hit his emergency brake and started to drift into the curve as best he could. Crimson, however, sailed off the road, bounced along the desert floor, and jumped back on. He looked ahead and didn't see a pair of taillights in front of him - he was now ahead of DJ!
He laughed and said to himself, "Here comes the fun part!"
DJ accelerated, trying to pass the SUV on the left. Crimson instinctively swerved to the left, blocking the tuner. DJ went to the right, and Crimson swerved to the right. The SUV looked in his side mirrors at the tuner, smiling at the ticked-off expressions on DJ's face. He kinda looks like Chick Hicks when he's pissed, he thought, amused.
----
Back at the starting line, the other four cars sat awaiting the outcome of the race.
"$5000," Wingo pondered. "I wonder what DJ'll do with all that coin."
"I hope he pays me that ten bucks he owes me," Snot Rod said. The green import just chuckled at him.
Wingo turned to the black-and-purple import next to him. "What do you think, Boost?"
The tuner didn't answer. He seemed to be thinking about something.
"...Boost?" Wingo asked, concerned. "What's on your mind, dawg?"
"Huh?" Boost muttered, realizing someone was talking to him. "Oh, I'm just thinking about DJ."
"What about DJ?"
Boost paused, scanning the horizon for the two sets of taillights. "...I don't think we should've let him race Alpines."
Snot Rod and Wingo both looked questionably at the import. "What??" Snot Rod said in disbelief. "Since when do you feel guilty about letting one of us do a race?"
"This is different," Boost explained. "If it was one of you guys, I wouldn't be feeling like this. But DJ... you know how he feels about SUVs."
"What?? How does he feel about SUVs??"
Boost turned to look at the Jetta across the road. Since the race had started, Becky had done nothing but stare at the road, watching for Crimson's taillights and biting her lip nervously. Now she was looking at the three tuners with a scared look in her eyes.
"...well, DJ hates SUVs," Boost calmly told the VW. "When we were little, we got picked on by a group of 4x4s at school, and DJ got the worst of it. Since then, he's kinda had a grudge against SUVs."
The Jetta zoomed up to Boost, now reasonably concerned. "Wait, he's not gonna hurt Crimson, is he??"
"No, he's not going to hurt him," Wingo reassured her. He paused, thinking to himself, and accidentally muttered, "Kill, maybe, but..."
"CRIMSON!" Becky yelled as she sped off down the road at full speed.
"Wait, Carerra," Boost called out. "Ah, damn it, Wingo! Ya freaked her out!"
----
The incline to the top of the plateau was two-and-a-half miles away, but with DJ's desperate attempts to pass him, it might as well had been 50 miles for Crimson. The precision-designed tuner car, able to turn and accelerate faster the SUV, was swerving all over the road. At 140 miles per hour, Crimson was having trouble staying on four wheels as he swerved in unison to block the tuner.
The red 4x4 was pushing himself as hard as he could, fueled only by determination - and probably bullheadedness too. I ain't lost a race yet, he told himself. I am not losing this one. I'm not going to give this arrogant rice-rocket the satisfaction of winning.
DJ was of a similar mindset. I'm a street-racer, dammit! I should be in front of this road-hog, not looking at his backside! He should be eating my dust!
After a while, DJ had enough. The incline was three-quarters of a mile away. If he was going to pass Alpines, now was the time.
DJ swerved to the right, and Crimson followed, watching the tuner in his side-mirrors. DJ suddenly jerked to the left and accelerated.
"Have a nice trip!" the tuner yelled as he shoved Crimson's back end, a move only Chick Hicks would approve of.
The Cherokee spun around the import, the SUV now up on two wheels. DJ jammed on the gas and sped up.
The tuner glanced in his side mirrors, seeing a dust cloud with a pair of headlights spinning around inside it. Thinking Crimson had wrecked, DJ laughed at his work.
What happened next made the teenage import squeal in terror.
The headlights stopped spinning, heading straight for the incline and the import. Out of the dust cloud came Crimson, literally flying through the air. His engine roaring louder than before, the Jeep Cherokee let out a banshee scream as he landed next to DJ with a loud KER-THUMP!
DJ skidded off the road, thinking that Crimson was going to play bumper-cars with the tuner. He wasn't watching where he was going, and skidded into a huge cactus patch.
The tuner moaned in pain, trying to move without coming into contact with anymore cacti. He looked up at the incline, watching a set of taillights drive up.
Feelings of pain were replaced by rage as DJ howled and swore angrily.
----
Crimson had reached the top of the plateau. Panting heavily, he stopped and sunk down into his suspension. Finally, it's over, he thought to himself, exhausted. Showed that little punk who's boss.
The sound of an speeding engine caught the Jeep's attention, thinking that DJ was coming to seek revenge. He spun around, brights on and engine growling, awaiting the arrival of the panel truck...
...only for his lights to fall on a dark-grey Jetta.
"C-Crimson??"
The gas-guzzler killed his lights. "Becky?"
"Oh thank god, you're all right," Becky gushed, racing over and leaning against the SUV.
"What are doing here? I told you, if those guys try to hurt you, go to the speed trap."
"Those other guys," she said, holding back a sob, "said the Boombox guy hated SUVs and might hurt you. I just had to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine, Becky," Crimson said reassuringly, lightly rubbing her fender with his. Her behavior was puzzling to the Jeep. I just met her a few days ago. Why is she acting like this?
Then it hit him. Wait a minute... she really cares about me. She actually gives a crap about my well-being.
Suddenly, he remembered: DJ.
"Becky, you need to get out of here," he said hurriedly. "Boombox is going to be here any second, and when he sees me, I don't know what he's going to do."
His ears, still ringing a little from all the noise during the race, picked up the sound of four approaching engines.
"Too late for that," Becky said.
"Stay behind me," Crimson told her. The Jetta backed up behind the Cherokee.
Soon, the four young cars popped up over the incline, holding up DJ.
Crimson then realized they weren't holding DJ up - they were holding him back.
"DJ, no," Boost warned the blue tuner.
"It's not worth it, man," Snot Rod pleaded.
"Shut up!" he hissed. The blue street racer had a crazy look in his eyes similar to Bulldozer Bill in "Silence of the Cams."
DJ roared, "Let me go!" The three other cars backed away from him.
DJ sat across from Crimson, glaring at the Cherokee. "You cheated."
"I did not cheat," Crimson said plainly. "Need I remind you, you're the one who tried to make me crash. Twice. I won fair and square."
"Bull! What about when you tapped me and almost made me crash?!"
"It was an accident! I hit a rabbit hole and lost control; I couldn't do anything about it!"
"What about when you yanked me off the road??"
"...okay, I will admit, in the heat of the moment, I did yank you off the road, but that was because you almost made me crash! Besides, you still ended up ahead of me."
DJ's back tires twitched a little. Logic was not going to work on the tuner.
"...you're going down, Alpines."
DJ's engine roared as he charged Crimson and Becky. The Jeep shoved Becky away and leapt out of the way of the speeding car.
Over all the noise of the panel truck's engine, Crimson heard Boost scream, "DJ, THE CLIFF!!"
Oh crap.
Immediately, the Jeep swung around and threw out his hook at the import, catching him by the back axle just as he sailed over the cliff.
Crimson jerked forward as the cable snapped tight. With no momentum, DJ swung down, smashing into the side of the plateau.
"DJ, you all right?!" Crimson yelled out.
"...oh man..." The import had the wind knocked out him. He groaned as he opened his eyes...
...and realized he was easily a thousand feet off the ground. DJ let out a blood-curdling scream, followed by, "For Chrysler's sake, get me off this cliff!!"
"Hang on, man," Crimson yelled back as he slowly retracted his winch and backed up. Good god, this guy's heavy, he groaned to himself. He grunted in pain as he felt his gears grind a bit while switching from two wheel to four-wheel-drive, hoping for more traction.
As he backed up, the SUV hit a patch of loose gravel. He accelerated too much, sending out gravel in front of him. Crimson soon lost traction and skidded forward toward the edge.
Immediately, Becky and the tuners swarmed the Cherokee before he got too close to the cliff, pushing him away. The four underpowered cars kept pushing the SUV, pulling up the suspended tuner car.
The Jeep soon saw DJ's dual exhaust pipes peek over the edge.
Crimson gunned his engine, yanking the tuner car up over the edge and back on top.
"Oh thank you lord," DJ whimpered, his body shaking from his near-death experience, before he sunk into his suspension.
Crimson panted from exhaustion, as did the four cars who helped him. He turned to Boost, Wingo, & Snot Rod and said, "Good jobs guys."
He turned to Becky and rubbed his fender against hers. "Good job. You okay?"
"My drive-train hurts a little, but I'm fine," Becky said. She looked at the blue panel truck a few feet away from her. "Better check on him."
The Cherokee drove over to DJ and parked next to him. "...aside from the obvious trauma, you all right?"
"I'm fine," DJ huffed. "My CD system's a mess now, but I can get that fixed."
He glanced at the Cherokee next to him. "Why'd you do that? All the crap I put you through tonight, why'd you save me?"
Crimson replied, "Just because I don't like tuners, doesn't mean I'd let one die in front of me."
There was a pause between the two cars before they started chuckling at each other.
Boost, Wingo, and Snot Rod soon joined them. "Damn man, you scared the grease out of us," Snot Rod said.
"Come on," Wingo said, swatting the panel truck playfully with his tire. "Let's get you out of here before you jump off this cliff again." The tuners laughed at the green import's comment as they drove off, leaving Becky and Crimson to themselves.
The Cherokee rubbed his fender against Becky's again. "Thanks for the help."
The Jetta smiled at him before saying, "Wanna head to Flo's? After all this, I could use a drink."
"Sounds good," Crimson replied. He glanced at her and cautiously said, "I know it's late, but do you want to... make it a date?"
The Jetta paused, looking at the Cherokee before speeding around to his front and passionately kissing him on the lips.
Stunned by the sudden act, the Cherokee said in a quavering voice, "I-Is that a yes?"
"What took you so long?" Becky asked, her smile bigger than before.
The Cherokee smiled too, and leaned in to return the kiss. Holy crap, I think I'm in love, his conscience said in surprise. Soon, the new couple left, side-by-side as they drove home.