Chapter 2
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Lights out tonight
trouble in the heartland
~Bruce Springsteen, Badlands
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The last race was fast approaching, and with it the media were more vocal about their chosen support than ever before. For two whole seasons now, Lightning McQueen had been named the golden boy of the profession, much to Chick's endless irritation.
It all stemmed from that Piston Cup tie, the King's last race of his career. Since then McQueen had been idolised, and in turn, Chick had been mercilessly vilified.
He wouldn't have minded, perhaps he even liked the idea of becoming the stand out bad guy, but with it there had been some distinct disadvantages.
For one thing, Chick had been denied the Dinoco sponsorship. At the time he'd waved it off, played it low and cool and given abrupt interviews on how the entire scandal didn't really bother him much at all.
But sometimes he did wonder, as he looked over the newest race car model for Dinoco, if he was just kidding himself for an easy life.
And these days he found it hard to look the King in the eye.
He never thought about it for too long. It wasn't something he usually did, anyway. Now was important, not whatever had happened before. Who cared about that?
With this in mind, Chick had rolled out of his pickup, confident and eager as ever to greet the mass media. Their adoring flash photography was almost blinding, but Chick reveled in it.
Right now they were parked outside a service station, along with a few other trucks. A stop off on the lengthy journey to the final race. Chick was disappointed to find his pit crew had already sloped off to grab some drinks, but he was quick to forget about it when an anxious looking, pretty photographer shoved a mike in front of him;
"Chick, how are you feeling about the last race of the season?"
"Aw, you know. Pretty confident." he said lazily.
"‑You've had a few near misses, a shaky few starts this past season; do you think that'll prove any major problem in the final race?"
"‑what?" Chick narrowed his eyes. "You're kiddin', right? I've never felt so good!" he revved his engine, to prove the point.
An immediate flash of cameras followed.
Chick offered the interviewer a roguish grin. She smiled coyly back.
Oh yes. Chick still had the old charm.
He wheeled toward the gas station, basking in the flashing that followed behind him. His mood was only diminished by the telling Superliner parked outside the station. Marked clearly across it, in an unashamedly swaggering pose, was Lightning McQueen.
Chick gritted his teeth as he rolled into the bar.
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"Well you know what they say. Any publicity is good publicity,"
Lightning looked at the monitor with undisguised contempt. Bob Cutlass, renowned racing commentator, was sparring with his partner Darrell Cartrip over the hot favourites for this year's cup. And now they just so happened to be discussing Lightning's least favourite guy.
"Well, I'm with ya there, Bob. The Runner-up's proven that despite the bad press last season, he's still gutsy enough to come back out there and aim for that first place spot."
Lightning pulled a face.
"Of course. He's a bit of a veteran now. But he's persistent. Gotta give the guy that. Someone for the rookies to watch out for."
"Yeah, right." Lightning turned away from the monitor.
He slurped unenthusiastically on his can and wondered where Mac was. The bar was full, brimming with chatter; mainly enthusiastic racing fans come to steal a few autographs. Earlier that night Lightning had found himself being mobbed, until the rather burly station owner; a four by four, had kicked a lot of them out. Since then the bar was much quieter, though sometimes Lightning felt the odd adoring gaze cast his way.
It was at times like this that Lightning wished Sally was about, but she was committed to looking after Radiator Springs.
He sighed heavily, leaning a bumper against the bar, and thought of Sally with a small hint of doubt. He wondered how he was going to keep her happy when he was always so far away. It wasn't very fair on her.
But still, Sally had insisted she was fine with the entire situation...
"How're you holdin' up, McQueen?"
"Huh?" Lightning turned to his right to see Chick Hicks. To his credit, the green car didn't look in the mood for antagonistic banter. But Lightning's smile was forced, all the same. "Oh. Hi, Chick," he turned away, hoping Chick would just leave him alone.
"Boy, am I looking good!"
No such luck. Lightning followed Chick's gaze to the monitor, where the commentators were still discussing him.
"See that bumper? And you don't get rear suspension like that on your fancy new models, for sure."
Lightning looked at Chick, unimpressed. "Sure."
"Bit down in the ditch today, Lightning?" Chick asked, sounding falsely concerned. "What's the matter? Leaky engine oil? Got a bit of that fancy paintwork stuck in the engine?"
Lightning bit his lip. He didn't like to sink to Chick's taunting level, but sometimes it was so hard.
"Maybe you should just head back home, kid. Go back to Radiation Stinks with all your hillbilly friends, huh?"
Lightning felt himself getting heated; "Alright, that's it, Chick," he rolled forward, and revved his engine.
Chick laughed; "Whoah‑whoah! What's this? You gonna fight me, McQueen?"
Lightning could hear some apprehensive murmurs all about the station, and he suddenly felt a bit ridiculous. He wasn't going to fight. What the hell was that going to help? Not much; unless he thought a dented body would prove any advantage in the final race of the season.
Besides, he was a really lousy fighter.
Surrendered to this fact, Lightning veered backwards, keeping a fixed glare on Chick.
"You don't wanna brawl?" Chick looked mockingly disappointed. "Too bad, McQueen. Too bad."
"Lucky for you." Lightning muttered, turning back to his can and taking a small slurp.
"You know what your problem is, McQueen?" Chick carried on, as if he hadn't heard the comment.
"What?" Lightning snapped, giving up on any idea that he was going to keep his cool. He turned back to face Chick.
"You've got too big for your wheels, that's what. That and all this stupid nice car act." Chick looked almost disappointed. "Who're you tryin' to kid, anyway? You spend a few days in some lousy, little dump of a town and you come back like some high and mighty Mercedes!"
Lightning raised a windshield, completely thrown by the remark.
"Well. It's not harmed my reputation any, has it, Chick?" he said at last. He smirked, sure he'd got the other car there.
And so he was sort of surprised when Chick didn't bite back.
The green car just glared at him, then turned with a growling engine and streaked out of the station in silence.
Lightning watched him go, wondering whether he should be satisfied or not. It was strange that he even had to wonder about it, really.
If anything, he should have been totally satisfied. This was Chick Hicks he was dealing with, after all. Total jerk on and off the racetrack.
Still, Lightning lingered in the station feeling nothing if not kind of unhappy with the entire situation.
He continued slurping on his can, and put it down to his pining for Sally.
In the background, he faintly heard the commentators chattering away on the monitor screen about his chances in the final race of the season, though he didn't really listen to them.
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An ominous shuddering engine and a sharp stalling jolt pulled Chick out of a meaningless dream about broken axles. He mumbled groggy complaints, cursing his driver for being so clumsy, before blinking open his eyes.
The truck was dark, but not so dark that Chick couldn't recognise it wasn't his. It was bare, no lighting, no self congratulatory posters, no on‑demand massage unit. This was just a truck.
Then he noticed, for the first time, the other car sleeping close to him; so that their sides touched ever so slightly.
Despite the darkness, it wasn't hard for Chick to spot the telling red polish, the bright orange and bold number 95 painted across the other car's side.
Lightning McQueen?
Fully alerted by his own confusion, Chick sprang upright, and his eyes widened as unfamiliar voices sounded from outside.
"C'mon. Let's get it movin', boys."
"Yeah, we gotta get outta here before those stupid trucks catch on."
Chick strained to hear, but it was hard when the stranger's engine revved into being. They were moving.
"What the..." Chick looked about desperately, before remembering that Lightning was sat by him. He nudged against the other car with some desperation. "Hey, wake up, wake up, stupid!"
"Wha...huh? Mac? Are we here already?" Lightning said, voice heavy with sleep.
"Define here, McQueen."
Lightning sprung awake with a start. He looked at the other car through incredulous eyes.
"Chick? What the hell are you doing in my truck?"
"You tell me!" Chick reared up some more, mirroring Lightning's stance. "If this is your idea of some stupid little joke, I can tell you right now you got a weird and not funny at all sense of humour‑"
"‑what, wait," Lightning snapped an interruption; eyes darting about the darkened truck with growing apprehension. "This isn't my truck! Where's Mac?" his own panic setting in, Lightning reversed backwards and crashed noisily against the wall. "Ow."
"Shut up!" Chick hissed, "and tell me what's going on!"
"I don't know! I'm in the dark as much as you!" he looked around again. "Like, literally!"
"Yeah right, McQueen‑"
A murmur of voices spoke up, and Chick froze mid sentence. "Listen," he whispered. "I heard these guys before. Before we started moving."
"Before we started moving?" Lightning was alarmed. "Just how long have you been awake?"
"Listen!" Chick snapped.
Lightning obliged with a sullen pout, and the voices seemed to become clearer;
"...Yeah, we're pretty clear of the station now. Man, that was easy. I can't wait to see the guys faces at the Piston cup."
"It'll be a picture! Think how much we'll get for these two! These are some pretty nice sets of wheels we got here..."
"Wait till we get em sold, then we're talkin' big money."
"What..what're they talking about?! Lightning said, voice edging on the hysterical.
Chick offered him a glower, still trying to make out the voices. But they had been caught up in the engine once again. The truck was picking up speed, and Chick felt faint vibrations running through his tires.
He looked at Lightning; "This is your fault, rookie!"
"Excuse me?" Lightning was scandalised.
"Somehow you got me in this mess. And now I'm gonna be ripped apart by a couple of psychotic criminals!"
"Hey, whatever's gonna happen to us, this had nothing to do with me, Chick." Lightning said with conviction.
Chick eyed Lightning suspiciously. Through the darkness he could only make out Lightning's vague outline, and he wasn't sure if he could trace sincerity in the red car's eyes. Defeated by his own unconfident judgement, he blinked away.
"Yeah, well. I wouldn't put it past you, McQueen. You'd do anything to win the Piston Cup."
"How does that even make sense?" Lightning looked at him incredulously. "Even if I had set up this entire thing, why would I put myself in this stupid situation as well?"
"I don't know. You're the one with the crazy scheme here, McQueen."
"Are you kidding?" Lightning snorted, and then seemed struck with his own suspicion. "Besides, if anyone's crazy enough to do something like this, it's you."
Chick blinked at Lightning. "What? What does that mean?"
"You're the one who'd do anything for a stupid Piston Cup!"
Chick prickled. "What're you saying?"
"You know what I mean!"
Chick was momentarily jolted, but was quick to cover it with a superior look of nonchalance. "Whatever, McQueen."
"You're the one who‑"
"I said whatever." Chick interrupted, turning away as well as he could, which was difficult considering the cramped space they were settled in.
"Fine." Lightning mirrored the action.
And so the two stock cars sat in stubborn silence, petulant and unwavering.
8
Lightning was almost glad of the quiet. He needed time to sort his panicked mind out.
His head was swimming with floundering questions of all sorts. For one brief minute he had been convinced that this was all Chick's doing. He couldn't imagine anyone else to be so conniving, so desperate as to go to such lengths for the cup...
But that theory had been done away with when he's actually witnessed Chick's own reaction.
Lightning knew, for all the other car's sarcastic pretence, that he was just as terrified as Lightning himself by the situation. So as much as he hated to admit it, Chick appeared to be innocent.
But that in itself made their car‑napping all the more terrifying. Because they were both clueless as to who had captured them in the first place. And for what?
Lightning thought hard about his whereabouts the night before. He had been in the bar, drinking gasohol. He'd had a short lived argument with Chick, and then he'd carried on drinking. And then...
He couldn't remember.
But usually he'd go back to Mac, who'd be waiting for him.
Mac! Mac would surely know about his disappearance by now. And with any luck, a search party would be out.
But still...it had taken much more than a day for them to hunt him down in Radiator Springs last season. Disheartened, Lightning lowered a little more against the truck and sighed his frustration. He ventured a reluctant look at Chick.
Chick perfectly echoed his own expression, and Lightning wondered if that might serve as some kind of advantage. Maybe give them some familiar ground to work on.
"So, er," he spoke slowly, "do you...do you have any ideas how you ended up in here? Cos I can't remember a thing."
Chick raised a windshield at him, appearing disinterested. "I don't know. I just know I woke up in this dumb truck. And now I'm stuck with you, when I should be getting ready for the Piston Cup."
"Hey, I'm in the same situation, okay?" Lightning said as calmly as he could, "I'm just...just trying to get this clear in my head." he bit his lip, trying to think. "So...neither of us remember how we got here, right?"
"Right," Chick said sarcastically. The green car shifted a little further away from Lightning, so that he was bumped up against the truck side. "Anymore bright conclusions, genius?"
Lightning bit back an angry response, quelling his temper. He supposed he could grant Chick a bit of leeway, considering the potentially dangerous circumstances they were in. Instead he offered the other car a patient look, which was wasted anyway. Chick was glaring at the truck wall with fierce intent.
"Look," Lightning spoke cautiously, "We just need to think of a way to get out of here, okay?"
Chick glanced at Lightning, and seemed about to respond when the truck suddenly came to a juddering stop.
Lightning looked ahead of him anxiously, then whispered‑ "Are we here?"
"Wherever here is," Chick muttered. Then he seemed to perk up, "Hey!" he yelled, banging a tire against the truck's side. "Open up, you jerks!"
"Don't! Stop!" Lightning gasped. "What're you doing?"
"I'm gonna find out who the hell car‑napped us!" Chick banged once more against the truck.
"Ssh! Don't you see? If we let them know we're awake we don't stand any chance of escape."
Chick looked quizzical. "McQueen, in case you hadn't guessed, we're pretty much trapped in here anyway. There's no way out."
"Not necessarily."
"Oh really?" Chick sneered.
Lightning ignored him, and concentrated on the truck exit. "Maybe..maybe we can get out of here." he muttered, aware of Chick's cynical glance.
"What do you plan on doing? Break the door down?" the green car said.
"There should be a bolt up here," Lightning moved forwards and reared up a little.
"What? Bit optimistic there, McQueen,"
Lightning was undeterred. He felt sure there was an exit lock somewhere. At least, there was one on Mac...
And there it was; a bolt glistening dimly; a fair way above them.
"There, I've found it!"
"Found what?"
"The lever to open this damn truck," Lightning allowed himself a smug smile.
Chick moved forwards and followed Lightning's gaze through narrowed eyes. "Well, hotshot. You gonna open it?"
Hesitant, Lightning veered upright, as far as his axles would allow. But it was in vain; he just couldn't reach the bolt.
Chick laughed spitefully "Too bad, McQueen."
Lightning lowered back down, frowning. Then he looked at Chick and was suddenly inspired.
"Hey, if I get a lift up I can reach it,"
Chick looked at Lightning as if he was crazy, "What? No...no way, McQueen."
"You wanna get out of here, right?"
"Yeah, but there's no way I'm letting you get your dirty tires all over my hood!"
Lightning scoffed, "I thought you didn't care about a little scratched paintwork!"
"I‑I don't!"
"Not that it matters," Lightning continued, amused, "I mean, what paintwork? With all those stickers you can't even see it, right?"
"Hey quit it with that," Chick snapped, full of indignance. "What do you even mean you can't see it, anyway? It's pretty obvious, McQueen-"
"Okay, okay. Forget I said that, I didn't mean it," Lightning sighed testily. "Just...please? C'mon, Chick. We both wanna get out of here,"
Chick was still glaring at him like he might be contemplating murder.
"Alright, fine," he said after a moment. "Let's get it over with," he manoeuvred forwards a little more, his glare only lifting into some apprehension when Lightning rolled toward him.
Lightning hesitated; the thought of damaging his rival, and the concern which went with it, was fleeting at best, but still it was there.
"Okay," he muttered, and then rolled carefully onto the other stock car's back.
Chick lowered against the weight; teeth gritted and muttering curses.
"Hurry up, McQueen!" he urged.
Lightning; his front two wheels completely rested on Chick's back, attempted with as little fuss as possible, to heave himself the rest of the way up. He cringed as Chick strained and groaned under his tires.
"Alright down there, Thunder?" he attempted lightly.
"Oh yeah...wonderful, McQueen. Just wonderful."
Lightning's laugh was brittle, as he rolled the rest of the way onto the other car, not so much for the precarious grip he had on Chick's hood, but more for the entire situation in general. Again, he was hit by an attack of nerves, and with it a blinding confusion.
Because even if they did manage to get out of here, they had no clue as to where they were. Neither of them had any idea where they were headed, nor why they had been took, nor how they'd escape.
As much as Lightning didn't like to think it, Chick might have had a point. Maybe they had been captured by a couple of psychotic, gut ripping criminals...
Lightning swallowed down a nervous gulp, trying to fix his concentration once more on the bolt set a few maddening inches above him.
He arched up and reached a tire towards it.
"Nearly...just..." he slipped, his tire slamming down back onto Chick. The green car met the impact with a shudder.
"What're you playin' at, McQueen? Just hit the damn bolt!"
"Right, right," Lightning trained his eyes back above them. "Just gimme a sec," he exhaled slowly, then, with flailing precision, he reached out once more and caught the bolt.
The truck door clamped down with a terrible bang, and both Lightning and Chick recoiled.
"Oops," Lightning uttered. Beneath him he felt a fierce vibration, and then;
"Alright! We're free!" Chick raced forwards. Lightning tumbled off him with a creaking thump.
With less enthusiasm, more caution, he crawled out of the truck. "Chick," he half whispered a warning. He watched as the other car scooted about the dirt ridden ground in excited circles.
"What're you waitin' for, McQueen? I'm outta here!"
Lightning opened his mouth in protest, but a roaring engine was enough to halt him.
He turned to see the large bulky framed face of the truck leering down at him.
"Boys," it spoke in a deep voice, "looks like they're tryin' to do a runner on us,"
Lightning watched, wide eyed, as two chunky motorbikes loomed from behind the huge truck.
"Uh oh," Lightning said in a small voice. By his side, he heard Chick's engine rev up.
"Move it, McQueen!"
Snapped into gear, Lightning turned and followed the other race car onto the dirt strewn road.
Behind them, he could hear the distinct and savage growls of motorbikes. Clueless to what he was really doing, Lightning shifted up a gear, fast on Chick's tail.
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