Ah! I am so, so, so sorry for the delay on this chapter. I wanted to work on it, but then I got sick, and there was school and other such things. But here! I know it's short, but I hope you'll enjoy it along with my apology. ^.^' Thank you to all of my wonderful readers and reviewers, especially the lovely reviewers who have stuck with me for this long, or have joined in on the fun recently. I love you all and appreciate all of your comments.
The next day brought dusky purple clouds along the horizon, and sent the residents of Radiator Springs into a frenzy of preparations. Cars were boarding up windows, filling up their tanks, sharing forecasts with one another, but for Georgia it was nothing really new. It reminded her quite a lot of her childhood, when the buttery sunshine would disappear, catching her and Charlotte off guard. Rumbles of thunder didn't scare them, though the lightning sent them scrambling for home, where warm drinks and happy hours followed.
As she reminisced all of this, Georgia ducked into the calm knick knack shop of Lizzie, which was filled with only the dismal drone of the television and the lolling sound of the model T's snores. She wondered briefly if the old car even realized that there was a fuss outside, and after deciding that she probably didn't, the Plymouth simply shook her hood and parked herself inside.
"I'll keep an eye on things for her," she said to herself, glancing over the post cards on the walls.
There was one in particular that caught her eye, and she angled towards it. A large stretch of highway ran across the card, leading into the painted horizon, and on the road were two cars, all of themselves alone, bathed in the sinking sunlight. Little swathes of bushes dotted the side of the highway, and at first, Georgia thought that it looked a little sad, just those two cars and all those bushes, all alone.
But she gazed a little longer, caught up in the swirl of colors of the sky melding with the clay and the dark green bordering black. It was very easy to imagine those two cars just cruising the old stretch of road together, and slowly the picture changed in her mind into something much more pleasant and desirable. A nice drive, just the two of them. Where were they going? Anywhere, she imagined. Or maybe to see someone they knew, or going home after a road trip, or... The possibilities became endless, a whole future playing out before her.
They could be going nowhere and yet that could be every where, simply because they were together. Her subconscious put faces to them, changed the colors around, switched body styles, all as the rain outside began to pour and cars began to stream into the front part of the shop for cover. Georgia saw clashes of blue and green with the orange of the sun, and was only losing herself to the daydream when a stark realization shook her from the reverie.
The two wanderers in the picture now looked uncannily like herself and someone she knew, who happened to have the very green color that her paint-splatter thoughts had colorfully mixed with her own blue. But more than that, she remembered something her mother had told her a few days before, about wanderers, and all at once she knew where Chick was.
She accidentally bumped into the car behind her, and when the car asked the Plymouth if she was all right, he received a rushed, absent answer.
"It's fine, I'm sorry-" Georgia was frozen there, her tank stirring incredibly. The sudden rush of her engine startled Lizzie awake, just in time to see a tailfin disappearing. And then she was gone, like that, out into the rain to find Sam.
And it wasn't hard to do that - he was under the awning of Flo's cafe, leaning against the side of the building.
"Sam!" The big rig looked up to see her pushing past a few cars.
Immediately he made room for her beneath the awning, but even for a younger, slimmer car, she still took up every bit of space he gave up.
"Georgia," he began, almost startled by her abrupt appearance.
She huddled herself under cover and looked up at him. "Have you seen Chick at all this morning?"
"No... He's still not showing his face anywhere. Why?" Suddenly he felt her urgency; it was hard not to when it was rolling off of her in waves. "Do you know where he is?"
"What's the one place we never bothered to look?"
"I don't know, I thought we-" He stopped. "The Wheel Well?"
"Exactly." And he saw her tires start to spin, but he stopped her with a tire.
"What makes you think he'll be up there...?"
"I was lookin' at this post card, and - well, the rest isn't important. What's important is that at lunch the other day, my parents were tellin' me that usually cars who plan to stay a while stay end up at the Cone, but wanderers end up at the Wheel Well because of the scenery. You don't think he's left town, right? So where else could he be...?"
Sam's brow rose. "If you think he's there, it's worth a look." He started to move, but this time, Georgia stopped him.
"I'll go." She tried not to sound too hasty.
Chick had spent the past two days holed up in the Wheel Well. After reliving his last encounter with his parents, he couldn't bring himself to go down into town and show his face, not even to the two cars he really would have liked to see - Sam and Georgia - but it was hard, especially with her, who had grown up with the approval and push of both parents. How lucky she was, he thought, to have Strip as a father, to have the sport in her oil.
He glanced up at the window to see the downpour of rain spattering against it, and while it reminded him of his childhood, he felt very lonely because of it. He and his siblings absolutely loved the rain, and made a point of staying outside during any storm, for as long as they could get away with. Not even the lightning frightened them off.
But now that he was older, and felt the truth creeping up on him, it made him upset and left him like an exposed nerve.
Chick huffed quietly, his hood abuzz with old conversations and memories and the pitter-patter of raindrops. They all dulled into one grey color, matching the rain, and just outside he could see lights flickering on and knew that cars were taking shelter together, huddling here and there and probably exchanging quiet words. Rain was a romantic thing, he thought listlessly, unless of course you weren't a romantic.
Then it was just water splashing all up in your eyes.
He paused on the thought of the cars on the other side of his door, their lives taking shape and given color in his mind. Who were they? Why were they here? Where were they going? It didn't matter to him, but he doted on it idly, shifting slightly. He almost would have liked to be like them - free to go where he wished with who he wanted, to wait out the storm with someone (and his mind had painted a vivid picture of someone), and then to go. No matter how long the stretch of highway was, or how long the drive, or how many stops, or even the destination.
Quite suddenly, his thoughts were broken off by a knock on the room's door, and he felt his engine leap slightly - whether from fear or relief, he wasn't sure - as a picture of who could be on the other side popped into his mind. Maybe Georgia had come after him? He hoped not; and yet he hoped so.
He hesitated at the door because of this, waiting for another knock or a voice. "Chick. It's Stamose."
The stock car felt his childish hopes dash away, and he had half a mind to ignore the aide. Better not... He gritted his teeth and covered his shame to open the door.
"Yeah man?" His voice was unusually cool, and he didn't bother to check it. If he's going to bother me like this - no, better yet, if Malone thinks he needs to send a babysitter after me, he can forget it.
Brick smiled disdainfully. Oh boy, Chick thought. The guy was just about as happy to be in Radiator Springs as Chick was.
This would be interesting.
"It's good to finally catch up to you, Chick. You haven't been down to town in two days, I hear."
Heard from who? "Give or take a few." His voice was vague, his eyes narrowed.
"Well, I'm glad I finally found you... How about we get a drink and talk about McQueen's moves? Mr. Malone wants to know the details so he can prep the crew."
What a load. "I'm all right, man. In fact, I was just coming in from scouting out McQueen, and I'd like to get some rest. You should probably get outta here before the storm comes through. It's supposed to be pretty bad." Chick had little patience left, and now that he felt confident that he could hide his shame and his anger - and most of all, his hurt - he only wanted to see Sam or Georgia. Which startled him, that he now so automatically expected her company as well as his driver's, but the car before him kept him from idling on that thought.
Brick shook his hood. "That's unfortunate. I-"
The stock car was done. "What do you want? Really?" A few cars glanced over at them.
The aide narrowed his eyes. "I think I should be asking you that... You haven't scouted McQueen at all. Your first race shows it."
"The first race didn't mean anything."
"Then come and tell me what you've seen McQueen do. Unless all you've been doing," Brick said, layers of accusatory tones hiding beneath his voice, "is spending time with the Weathers girl."
"I don't even know what you're talking about. You know I don't go around the old man - let alone his kid." Chick felt very wrong, for a couple of reasons. First of all, he didn't like the way that the aide referred to Georgia, like she was an empty noun, and that was it. And the other thing - he assumed that if Brick knew about her, then so did Malone, and knowing how his sponsor tended to be, it might not go over so well for Georgia.
"Please. I saw her on the front step of your cone. And she talked to your driver this morning."
"It's not my business if she talks to Sam." Keep it cool. Don't screw this up for yourself.
Brick snorted. "It's your business if she's asking where you are."
Chick would have celebrated this as a win for himself (Chryslershereallywascomingafterhim). But this aide was really starting to get under his sheeting.
"Still not my business. Listen, Stamose. I'm exhausted after all the runs McQueen did around the practice track. You wanna know why I've been low-key for the past two days? I've been trying to do my damn job and scout out some moves. So you can drive back to Malone and tell him that I don't need a babysitter. I know what I have to do." With that, Chick slammed the door - not in front of him, but behind him, because all he needed to hear had been heard, and now he just had to wait for her to find him.
Brick glared after him. He knew Chick was lying - whether to save his own sheeting or to save someone else's, he didn't know - but whatever the case, it was time that he made sure Malone was going to take care of this Weathers business.