Chapter 8 — The Race

Greaseball leapt down from the Workshop roof and CB followed, coupling onto him as soon as his wheels hit the ground. All at once they were off, speeding across the yard towards the main racetrack, which they could hear was already packed with spectators. Over the sound of the cheering fans, Greaseball could hear the voice of Control, for the first time sounding somewhat panicked.

"...Control—Control—Last call for engines entering the heat final! Rusty and Dustin are already on the line, but we have yet to hear from Greaseball or Electra! There'll be a lot of disappointed fans if they don't turn up soon..." It sounded distinctly as though Control would be among the disappointed fans.

"Hold tight," called Greaseball, and he deftly launched off the ground to leap over the safety barrier at the edge of the track, skidding to a halt at the steam train's side.

"You!" Rusty cried, staring at the brake vehicle. "What are you doing here?"

CB grinned, and was about to reply, when Greaseball suddenly cried, "Duck!" CB did so without thinking, and realised what it was that Greaseball had spotted—the Marshals patrolling the arena. If they spotted CB now, they'd both be disqualified from the race. If they could stay out of sight until the race began, they'd be okay—the Marshals couldn't stop them once the safety barriers were raised. But Control wouldn't start the race without Electra—and there was no sign of him anywhere.

"Where is that darned electric train?" Greaseball groaned. He was uncomfortably aware that it was only a matter of time before his race partner was identified—there weren't many who wouldn't recognise the Red Caboose from a long distance.

Then, finally—

"And here comes Electra!" Control's voice cried happily, and the spectators roared in approval. CB leaned around Greaseball to watch the electric engine approaching, and to his surprise he saw that Electra was being closely followed by two Marshals. His eyes widened—not only was Electra being chased, but on their other side, the Marshal had spotted them, too.

"Hey—wait!" the Marshal shouted, struggling through the crowd towards them. "Stop!" he shouted, "Don't start the race!"

But Electra had already cleared the fence and hit the track on Rusty's other side, Pearl holding tight behind him, and Control immediately began to raise the safety barriers, blocking the Marshal's route. Sirens blazed from all around—it would be suicide for anyone to try to enter the track now.

"Pearl—" Rusty began, highly confused. But he didn't have time to argue—the countdown had already begun.

"Ten!...Nine!...Eight!..."

CB leaned in to Greaseball. "We're done for as soon as the race ends."

"Six!...Five!...Four!..."

"As long as we're done for in first place," Greaseball hissed back, "I couldn't care less."

"Three...Two...One...TRAINS GONE!"

The six trains skidded off, showering the crowd behind them with dust and dirt. Through the rising dust clouds Greaseball could see that Electra had taken the lead, Pearl clinging desperately to him as though terrified she'd be shaken off. Greaseball fired his engine to as fast as he could go, and felt CB do the same; together they shot around the corner and overtook the electric engine.

CB dared to turn back to watch Electra fall behind, but as soon as he'd vanished behind the corner Rusty took his place, somehow increasing speed even with the great bulk of the Big Hopper at his back.

"Step on it, Greaseball!" CB cried over the noise of engines, and a moment later Rusty and Dustin had streaked in front of them. Greaseball was tempted to ram into them but he didn't have the chance, because at that moment Electra slammed into CB from behind. CB stumbled into Greaseball, who nearly lost his footing on the track; he quickly regained his balance, ensuring that CB was still tightly at his back, and took off again after Rusty.

The engines were already nearing the end of their first lap, Rusty in the lead, followed closely by Greaseball and Electra. The sound of the crowd and the engines was deafening in Pearl's ears as they shot over the line; she'd almost lost her hold on Electra when he'd hit CB, and was terrified that she'd let go completely. She'd shouted to the electric train to stop doing what he was blatantly intending to do again, but her cries went unheard; Electra put on another burst of speed and came up beside Greaseball, clashing his wheels against CB's. The brake vehicle tightened his grip on Greaseball and swung back at him, knocking the electric train off balance; taking his chance Greaseball streaked on after Rusty, skidding in front of the steam engine and almost completely cutting him up. Rusty swerved violently to prevent a collision, almost shaking Dustin off, and fell dramatically behind, allowing Electra to tear past him.

Electra was fast catching up with Greaseball and CB, and Pearl could see that he wasn't intending to pass them, but was heading straight for CB again.

"Electra, don't!" she yelled. Electra ignored her, picking up speed; CB had noticed him by this time, and was shouting to warn Greaseball. "Electra—" shrieked Pearl, but the electric engine had already smashed into CB again. Greaseball braced himself and was still almost jolted off his wheels. CB glanced back, tempted to brake suddenly to derail Electra completely, but was distracted by the screaming of the spectators as he and Greaseball shot over the line to complete their second lap.

Pearl was almost beside herself with hysteria. "Stop it, Electra!" she screamed. Electra's frustration was rising and now he snapped; approaching the sharp turn he suddenly accelerated, swinging around the corner at full speed; the observation car gave a yell of terror as she was thrown off the electric train—straight into Rusty's arms. The steam train seized Pearl and pushed her back into the right direction, both he and Dustin tearing along the track behind Electra and slowly catching up. Electra had hoped that somehow loosing Pearl might increase his speed, but it had made no difference, and he gave a shout of fury as Rusty, Pearl and Dustin streaked in front of him.

Greaseball had lost track of his speed; all he was aware of now was the fact that he was ahead and that the finish line wasn't far away. He'd forgotten Electra, he'd forgotten Rusty—he'd have forgotten CB if he hadn't been clinging tightly to his back. Together the engines approached the final corner; Greaseball glanced back to see Rusty not far behind, but not close enough to reach him.

All of a sudden, CB gave a yell of alarm, and Greaseball realised with a jolt of shock that he was going far too fast. Right up ahead the track twisted tightly around to the finish line, creating a sharp corner that was getting closer and closer. Greaseball's mind raced in the split second he had to make a decision—alone he'd be able to take the corner, but if he didn't slow down CB would be thrown off, derailed, and would crash, and at this speed a collision would be fatal. The brake vehicle shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself in anticipation for the crash—

—But it never came. At the last moment Greaseball slammed on the brakes.

CB was so alarmed that he ran straight into Greaseball. The momentum sent the diesel engine straight around the corner, both he and CB remaining safely on the track, but the sudden decrease in speed was enough to allow Rusty, Pearl and Dustin to streak in front of them. Before Greaseball had had time to fully register this, both he and CB were thrown forward as Electra, still moving at top speed, slammed into them from behind; all three engines derailed instantly and were thrown across the finish line.

The stands had already exploded with cheering. Control's voice was echoing above it all, but no one could make out the words over the screams of the crowd. The race was over—the final was finished, and the overall winner was the Steam Engine.

Rusty came to a steady halt, eyes wide, barely able to comprehend what had just happened to him. For a few seconds he stood staring blankly at the cheering crowd, his mind still racing.

"Pearl," he whispered suddenly. He spun around to find her, and found himself face to face with the Race Marshal.

"Good race, Rusty!" he cried enthusiastically. "Congratulations—you earned that victory."

"Thanks," Rusty said breathlessly, unsure of what to expect. The Marshal wouldn't approach him simply to congratulate him—what was this about?

"I wanted to ensure everything was straightened out after that misunderstanding a few days ago," the Marshal said.

Rusty frowned. "Misunderstanding?"

"You know, with CB and Greaseball," the Marshal continued. "Nearly landed all three of you in serious trouble! It's a good thing young Electra came out and confessed."

Rusty stared at him, even more confused. "Electra?"

"I must say," the Marshal ignored Rusty's puzzled expression, "it was brave of him to come and admit that the whole thing had been his fault. I do feel quite sorry for poor CB, being evicted just because he was too scared to disobey Electra. It was a bit bold of him to enter the race with Greaseball, but it's a good thing Electra cleared his name before he could get into any more trouble!"

Rusty didn't know what to say. Electra confessed? CB following orders? What was this all about? But the Marshal had already patted his shoulder cheerfully and turned his back. Confused, the truth slowly dawning on him, Rusty turned on his wheels again to where Greaseball, Electra and CB were still lying in a tangled heap of steaming, smoking metal and wheels just beyond the finish line. Rusty had to clamp a hand over his mouth to prevent himself laughing out loud.

"Owww..." Greaseball sat up, pushing his headband out of his eyes, and shoved CB off of him; CB overbalanced and toppled into Electra. Electra furiously shoved CB back again, springing to his feet.

"Clear my track!" the electric train yelled, his voice high and ringing with rage. At the edge of the track his maintenance team were already struggling to reach him through the crowd; Electra pushed Greaseball out of his way and began to fire up his battered engine. "Clear my track!" he shouted again, and, without pausing to let his maintenance team catch up, he prepared to set off towards the arena exit.

Shoving his helmet back out of his eyes, CB pushed himself up onto his hands and stretched one foot out directly in front of Electra's wheels.

Electra had barely moved before his wheels caught, tripping him and almost sending him crashing down again; he made a swift attempt to stay on his wheels and staggered forward, eventually stumbling and colliding with Rusty, bringing electric and steam train both back to the ground again. Electra furiously tried to gain his feet again, but couldn't manage it without catching the Steam Engine's eye.

"Electra?" Rusty sat up again quickly. "What's going on?"

Electra seemed to guess what was going on. He maintained the furious look he'd adopted after loosing the race as he leaned over to Rusty to whisper to him:

"No point leaving CB to suffer here when I'm off anyway."

And, casting a smile at Rusty that was so brief that he could have imagined it, Electra leapt up again and, with another shout of "Clear my track!" started off again at full speed, his maintenance team on his heels. "Stand by to fade me! No comeback!" Rusty could hear his voice long after he and his electric team had vanished from sight.

CB grinned as he watched Electra make his retreat, then realised that Greaseball was standing over him, holding out his hand. The brake vehicle took his hand and let Greaseball haul him back onto his wheels. The diesel engine looked as though he'd just come away from a significant crash, but beneath his tousled hair and cracked helmet he was grinning broadly.

"That saw the back of that flashy battery pack," he sniggered. "I doubt we'll be seeing much of him again."

CB wasn't smiling. "You braked," he said.

Greaseball hesitated. "Say again?"

"You braked," CB repeated. "When you could have carried on and won the race."

Greaseball rolled his eyes, feeling uncomfortably balanced between frustration and embarrassment. Eventually he took CB's arm and led him away from the crowd.

"Of course I did," he whispered. "If I wanted to flatten you against the arena wall I wouldn't have asked you to partner me in the race. I would have done it myself a long time ago."

CB assumed that this was about as close to sentiment as Greaseball was likely to get. He decided not to push his luck.

"Thanks," he said, smiling.