Here's the chapter I know some of you have been waiting for. I hope you enjoy! The lines between Doc and Sheriff regarding tires was inspired by NurfHurdur's Life's Highway Chapter 19.
"We're here."
It had been a long, long, long drive for the two trucks, and they were more than relieved when their passengers had gotten out of the trailers and driven ahead of them. The two hours sleep had been a life saver, but it was now almost midday and they were exhausted.
"Good," Mack yawned, pulling over to the side of the road. "You go ahead. We're gonna catch...a... nap."
The truck was out cold in only a few seconds. Gray pulled over in front of him and passed out as well.
"Where exactly is here?" Sheriff asked Doc. This part of the country was completely unknown to him. Ever since they left the highway they had been following an old but worn road through the forest. It was impossible to see anything due to the high trees, and the Sheriff felt like he was in one of those fairy tale story books. Doc hadn't been exactly forthcoming with information, which was starting to grate on the old car's nerves.
Doc only went a little further up the hill and Sheriff's jaw nearly dropped. A huge sign was set up on the hill reading 'Thomasville Speedway'. That didn't really surprise him. But what did surprise him was his good friend of 20 years smiling back at him from the worn sign.
"Ain't that you on there?" Tex asked, shaking Sheriff out of his referee.
"Yes," Doc replied, and that's when Sheriff got it. Of course! This was Doc's old town! This must have been his home base, just like Radiator Spring was McQueen's. When Doc first came to town, the Sheriff had done some research as to where the stranger had been from. But that had been years ago, and he had respected Doc's privacy and not told anyone else. Over the years the memory just faded into oblivion.
"So this is where-" Sheriff asked, but was rendered speechless again.
The Thomasville speedway. It was right below them. Doc was already rolling down the hill and Tex followed, only to eager to see the old track.
It was in a poor state. The lights were broken, the stands rickety. Old posters peeled from the wall and the latch on the gate had fallen off years ago.
"This place is dangerous," Sheriff muttered.
"It has character," Tex murmured, breathing it all in.
Doc didn't hear them. He went right onto a track and took a deep breath. Vivid memories, filled with colours thundered to life around him. The Fabulous Hudson Hornet. For a few seconds, Doc forgot all about his crash, his rejection, and the hurt. All he could see and feel was the dirt beneath his tires, the adrenaline rush of the race, the roar of the fans around him. The satisfaction of accomplishing a perfect drift that left his opponents choking on dirt, the thrill of being nose to nose with another car, and finally, the sweet taste of victory. This was racing. Not the money, not the sponsors, not the politics. It was... this.
Doc smiled- Really smiled, for the first time in a long time. And it stayed as he let the memories of the glory days flood over him. His glory days. This track's glory days.
The Fabulous Hudson Hornet Wins Again
His whole crew will be celebrating
Start your engines
Is that a lady on the tracks?
What a race! What a race...
Slowly, the memories faded away, and the track in front of Doc's vision turned back into it's old, beaten state. The crowds stopped roaring and silence replaced them. The dirt under his tires still felt the same, but he realized that he wasn't wearing a racing pair. Then he finally registered where he was, even if why he was here was a little foggy.
Someone behind him cleared their throat and it took him a minute, like as if he was coming out of a dream, to remember that it was Sheriff.
"Why don't you... Take a lap?" His friend suggested.
"Not the right tires," Doc replied absentmindedly.
"That never stopped you before."
The three cars turned sharply back towards the gate, Sheriff driving ahead a few paces, ready to intervene in case of trouble. An old pick-up truck stood there, with a faded orange paint-job. His keen gray eyes flitted over Tex and Sheriff before settling on Doc.
"You know this guy, Doc?" Sheriff mumbled. Doc acted as if he didn't hear him and slowly drove forward, looking as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
"Well," the pick up truck said, narrowing it's eyes the at Hudson Hornet. "You're finally here."
"You know why?" Doc ground out, but there was a nervous edge to it.
"Of course," the truck said. Then with a sudden smile he burst out. "You must be thirsty. All of you, come on!"
Sheriff could only blink in surprise, but Tex immediately swooped forward in all his Texan glory.
"Well, thank you kindly, sir!" He boomed. "And tell me, Doc, who might this fine gentlecar be?"
"This here is Smokey," Doc nodded towards the pick up truck. "My old crew. Smokey, this is my good friend Sheriff and Tex Dinoco."
"And what a delight it is to meet you," Tex said cheerfully. Sheriff, bristling at the billionaire's control of the situation, cut right in, going right next to the pickup truck as he drove out.
"So, you were Doc's crew chief," the old car asked.
"I was," Smokey replied. "And no one called him 'Doc' back then."
"What exactly was he called back then?" Sheriff asked, brimming with curiosity.
"Just Hud," Smokey replied.
Tex fell back, letting the Sheriff chat with Smokey.
"You alright?" He asked Doc quietly.
"Hm... yeah, yeah," Doc replied, although his tone lacked the usual bite he would usually give in response to a question like that. "Just a little overwhelming."
Doc watched Smokey and Sheriff chat in silence until they reached the Cotter Pin Bar and Grill.
"This place still standing?" He asked Smokey humourously.
"Barely, Doc," Smokey replied with the same tone of voice. With no malice he added, "No thanks to you."
The pick up truck burst in.
"Junior, hide the moonshine!" he called out. "We got ourselves a lawman here."
"Lawman?" Sheriff sputtered. Moonshine. He thought to himself. He pushed in behind the pick up truck and glanced around the bar. The band had stopped playing and everyone was looking at him expectantly. Sheriff looked for young cars, or anyone who might seem overly intoxicated. Seeing nothing of the kind, and feeling a bit uncomfortable, he used his discernment.
"Umm... well, this isn't really my jurisdiction..."
Smokey grinned and drove inside. As he made his way towards a back corner booth, some of the other cars stared unbelieving at Doc behind him.
"Well, Smokey?" An old tan car with pink strips asked. "Any reason for almost giving us an engine failure?"
Smokey grinned.
"I wanted to test yer reserve."
The pick up truck moved out of the way leaving Hudson exposed to his three old friends. Doc shot them a shaky, unsure smiled that reminded Sheriff of McQueen a few years ago with Sally. He backed up in between Tex and Smokey to give the cars some privacy.
Lou was the first to react.
"HUD!" She exclaimed, going towards him. "You're here."
"Hey Lou," the car said, a tad nervously.
"Hud, old boy, come here!" River was next. "Come here and let me look at you."
"Not much different," Doc shrugged.
"Don't flatter yourself," Junior Moon said. "You aged, just like the rest of us."
"I aged better than all of you," Doc shot back.
"What are you talking about?" River asked.
"Hey now, River, why're you giving the old car a hard time?" Lou teased.
"Yeah, respect your seniors," Moon shot back.
"Oh, in that case should I be calling you sirs and lady?" Doc was smiling now.
The cars kept chatting and badgering Doc with questions. It reminded Sheriff of Lightning, Bobby and Cal. Those three went on like it was nobody's business. And it wasn't, not really.
"I take it you're here about Doc's boy that went missing?" Smokey leaned over and whispered to Sheriff.
"Correct," Sheriff nodded. "Doc seems to think you can help us find him."
"I don't know what he thinks I can do," Smokey admitted. "But I'll ask him later."
"Yes," Sheriff agreed. "This is important."
Sheriff turned back to see Doc surrounded by his friends, asking questions and badgering each other with insults all at once. The band went on playing quietly in the corner and the other cars went back to their drinks. An odd look was still thrown towards the booth in the corner every now and then but there was enough discernment in the town to know that 'Hud' needed to catch up with his old friends first.
By the by River glanced behind Doc to see Sheriff and Tex still standing there.
"Well, Hud," He nudged the slightly younger car with his tire. "Aren't ye gonna introduce us?"
Doc glanced behind him.
"Oh... right," he had almost forgotten about the cars travelling with him. "This here is Sheriff, the local law enforcement in Radiator Springs."
"Pleasure to meet any friends of Doc," Sheriff nodded. He appreciated that Doc had other, older friends, but these other cars had better just realize that he was Doc's friend in Radiator Springs.
"And that there is Tex Dinoco," Doc nodded behind him and Tex rolled forward. "He's a billionaire."
It was at that moment that Tex realized that there were no secrets in Thomasville.
"Billionaire, huh?" Lou asked.
"Means the next round's on you," River stated.
Tex also realized at that moment that he wouldn't be treated any differently because of his wealth in Thomasville. And that suited him just fine.
"What about the next two rounds?" Tex asked. "In exchange for some stories about the Fabulous Hudson Hornet here?"
The three cars glanced at each other.
"You better go open up a tab," Moon stated. Tex grinned and turned towards the bar.
"So, tell me, Sheriff," Lou asked the car. "What's old Hud up to these days other than teaching that kid of his how to race on asphalt?"
"Well, he's our town Doctor," Sheriff started, and the other cars nodded. "And also our judge."
"Ohh, a judge," Moon swooned. "You sure you're qualified, Huddy, what with everything you've done before?"
Doc shot his friend a playful glare.
"I'd love to more hear about that," Sheriff said casually, driving forward.
"I'm sure you would," Doc responded dryly. "I didn't come all this way just for you all to ruin my good name."
"You did that all by yourself, Hud," Lou teased.
"Alright, that's enough now," Smokey stepped in. "Hud and I have some things that we need to discuss. Why don't you all just stay here and try to behave yourself?"
"Sure, Smoke," Moon replied cheekily.
"Don't call me that," Smokey warned, and turned towards the door. Doc followed, unsure what to feel about his good friend from the present meeting his old friends from the past. He could tell Sheriff was a little bit gruff at the thought that he would have to share Doc with other friends, but he knew the old car would come to accept it soon enough.
Right now, he needed to talk with Smokey. Reunions out of the way, the old pick up truck was the reason he was really here. Smokey knew Doc... Just about as well as anyone else, except maybe Sheriff. But Doc liked to think he knew Smokey pretty well in return. Smokey disliked confrontations (which is probably why he never visited Radiator Springs), but he knew that they were a necessary part of life. That's why he had taken Doc to the bar first. It was in order for him calm down and to put his own thoughts together. Doc stayed quiet, knowing that Smokey knew why he was here... and would speak when he was ready.
Instead of going back towards the track where Doc thought they might be headed, Smokey took him towards his garage. Doc wasn't surprised to see the business still standing, but he was surprised when Smokey opened an old door and nodded inside.
"Guess I should be thanking that kid of yours," he said. "20 years and not a word from you. He rolls into town and you start writing letters. And now that he's missing you show up."
Doc looked through the door and smiled with a 'huh' as he glanced up towards the wall. Every letter, picture, and newspaper article he had sent Smokey was hung up in a sort of collage.
"You've done well, Hud," Smokey said quietly.
"By the kid, I reckon," Doc replied. "But there won't ever be a better crew chief than you were."
It was true. Most cars focused only on the racer's talent. But it took a special kind of talent for a car, especially one who had never raced before, to be a good crew chief. Smokey possessed that talent and Doc could attest to it, as well as being living proof.
"That's kind of you to say," Smokey said, With a small grin he added, "But you ain't so bad yourself."
Doc grinned and looked at the pictures again. His smile fell as he looked at McQueen. Smokey read his mind as if the past 20 years didn't exist at all.
"Why are you here?" He asked.
"I need your help, Smokey," Doc admitted. "McQueen's missing, and it ain't looking like a carnapping."
"What are you saying?" Smokey's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Doc took a deep breath and responded.
"Marshall, the head of Dinoco's security team, asked if I had any enemies," Doc started. Looking Smokey in the eye he elaborated. "And I don't know if I have.'
It was true. Doc had been in hospital for months, barely conscious for most of that period. After being given a clean bill or health and being rejected by the racing board of that time, he had left everything. His friends, his crew team... and possibly anyone who held a grudge against him. He had no idea why they would strike now, but it was the only lead he had to finding Lightning
"So tell me," he continued. "After I left, or when I was in the hospital, can you think of anyone that would use the kid to get to me?"
Smokey was slightly taken aback at this line of questioning. He had, of course, heard about McQueen and Weather's abduction over the old television he had in his home. His thoughts had immediately flown to Hud, wondering if he should go and visit him. But he had decided against it, figuring if Hud needed him, he would come back to Thomasville. But he hadn't expected him to, so when he had seen Hud by the track that morning it had been a huge shock. He thought Hud might be here for some sort of support or advice, but this? This wasn't at all what Smokey had expected. Still...
"I can't think of too many cars out there with that kind of grudge," Smokey started slowly. "You beat quite a few cars on the track, and they didn't always take it well. But you never cheated and I can't say that anyone would fault you for your talent. Although you attitude could have used a little work."
Doc rolled his eyes teasingly, not even realizing how much the gesture looked like McQueen.
"The only instance I can think of..." Smokey thought hard and frowned. "It's vague, but it's the only thing I got, Hud."
"What is it?" Doc asked, apprehension tight in his engine.
"It was your second month in hospital," Smokey explained. "It was still touch and go, and we weren't sure if you were going to make it. Some old Buick Ford came to the hospital one day. Rattling on about how you should die and that it'll tear the racing world apart. She was almost hysterical, saying it would serve you right. Moon almost assaulted her and Lou broke down afterwards, but don't tell her I told you that."
"Who was she?" Doc asked, heart hammering at the memory of the suspect Sally and Marshall's suspect.
"Something Hemming," Smokey said. "Heard from the police afterwards. She was the mother of that Leroy kid, the one who tried to slam you."
"And I flipped right over him," Doc murmured. "And you said she wanted me dead?"
"Turns out her kid died in a race soon afterwards," Smokey explained. "I reckon she may have blamed you for some of it."
Smokey didn't tell Hud that he wasn't responsible. The car was wise enough to know that by now.
"It makes perfect sense," Doc said quietly. "Have you seen her recently?"
"Haven't in years," Smokey admitted.
"Well, either way," Doc stated. "We need to go tell Dinoco. He'll call Marshall. This is motive enough."
"Marshall?" Smokey asked.
"Dinoco's security head," Doc turned hurriedly back towards the bar. "He's leading point on the operation."
"Best hurry and make that call," Smokey hurried afterwards, but glanced towards the East. Heavy rain clouds had formed further away and all that was needed to blow the storm their way was a good gust of wind. It was 12:30 right now and he predicted the storm would reach them at about 5.
"The signal doesn't work so well in the rain!"
Lightning was in the middle of a very pleasant dream. He was arriving home with Mack after just winning his 5th Piston cup. All his friend were around him, all talking at once and planning an exciting celebration. They would light up the neon lights again and spend the whole night (or most of it) just driving and talking and laughing together. Mater was chatting away about cow-tipping and a new hook he was thinking of getting when he suddenly said,
"We've got to get out of here!"
"What?" Lightning asked. "Mater..."
"We need to leave, now," Mater said, his voice sounding like Lizzy's. "Wake up, McQueen, wake up!"
"But... I am awake," Lightning mumbled.
Slowly the dream faded away and as Lightning opened his eyes, Mater's face was replaced be Deborah's.
"What do you want?" McQueen asked, grouchily.
"We need to get out of here," the old car looked fervently behind her. Glancing behind the Buick, Lightning realized that the three cars were alone in the room. The television was still on, but it was muted. The Raptors were nowhere in sight. Neither were any forklifts, Rick with his incredibly fast reflexes, or the rude Acer car. Realization dawned quickly and McQueen realized that they were escaping.
"Where are they?" He asked, as Deborah frantically tried to unclasp the boot holding the King's wheel in place.
"Some sort of meeting," Deborah said hurriedly. "Monroe called it this morning. I've been a fool!" With great effort she managed to free the King's tire.
"And how so?" Strip asked, quickly un booting McQueen.
"Monroe is calling someone else," the old car was clearly upset. "Something about picking up the kid later today with a helicopter. Weather won't allow for it right now."
"They were after me!" McQueen stated, panicked. He looked around desperately as if expecting some magic window or door to suddenly appear.
"They were after both of us," Strip corrected. He looked at the old car expectantly. "Is there a way out?"
Deborah nodded anxiously.
"This way," she hurried towards the door. The race cars followed, Lightning first with Strip taking up the rear, constantly glancing behind him. Deborah took a sharp right, and pushed a door open on the left. The two cars were immediately blinded by the sheer amount of natural light that hit them. Being confined in a dark room for over a day, with only some dim light bulbs and a television set to see by, they were relieved to be outside - even if it was raining.
"Where are we?" Weathers asked the old car.
"Georgia," she replied. "There's a road over there..." She nodded to their left. Strip quickly closed the door, remembering what Marshall had told him years ago when he was a popular race car and the chance that he would be car napped was higher.
"Let's go," McQueen said, ready to race straight for it.
"We gotta be careful!" Deborah hushed. "The guards might still be out there... Oh, this is such a mess," the car was beside herself. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Weathers, for taking you away from your family."
"We forgive you, now can we go?" McQueen asked, annoyed.
"I wasn't talking to you," the old car snapped. "You still got an attitude problem, young man!"
"Let's go into the trees," Strip suggested, knowing that they were exposed in the open. To the Ford he replied, "It don't matter too much now. You're helping us to escape and that's all that counts."
Once in the trees he asked, "Now, are there any towns around here? Somewhere with a Sheriff's office?"
Deborah shook her head.
"Just a small town South-West of here. But there ain't no Sheriff there."
"There'll be a phone or something," Lightning cut in. "We need to get word to someone to give them a hint of where we are.
"Right," Strip nodded. "That's where we're headed. Now we better move bef-"
A loud blare sounded from the compound behind them.
"That's the alarm," Deborah said, tone hushed. Lightning looked anxiously at Strip, worried for their safety. He trusted the older car to make the right call. Weathers had already made up his mind.
"Alright, Deborah, listen," he looked at her firmly. "We're gonna lead them away from you. As soon as it's safe, you get out of here. Go straight to that town and tell them to call law enforcement."
Deborah was about to protest but nodded, lips pursed.
"We'll be alright," Strip assured her and turned towards the forest.
"Kid," he looked at McQueen. "Ever raced cross country before?"
In response, McQueen revved his engine. Loudly. Strip did as well, and they knew the Raptors would undoubtedly hear them.
"Lead the way," Strip nodded to the younger car and McQueen disengaged his clutch and sprang forward. Strip followed, determination etched on his face. He had asked McQueen to go in front of him on purpose. The kid was in better shape than he was and although he didn't have a whole lot of experience, Strip trusted the kid enough to pick a safe track through the shrubs.
McQueen wasn't fazed by the mossy dirt underneath him. Although he was used to practicing on the sandy desert, he was always ready for a challenge. Doc had taught him well, and he knew how to race on just about any terrain. He was still wearing his racing tires which helped him maneuver the sharp turns.
Pretty soon him and Strip were racing through the forest, heading blindly into to foliage. Lightning ducked and swerved around the trees, tearing up the ground beneath him. Strip ended up cutting through the straighter paths, not as fun or as challenging as the course McQueen took, but definitely faster, which caused him to catch up to the younger racer. A large root came in his way, and while Strip knew he should probably avoid it, he didn't have time so sped up. He went sailing through the air and landed right next to McQueen with a small grin. McQueen's paint was scratched and he was enjoying every second of it.
For a brief moment, both cars forgot that they were most likely being pursued by angry Ford Raptors and that their lives could be in danger. It was just them, the 'track', and the race. McQueen's fear evaporated and Strip's pain from his rear axle dulled from adrenaline. As was in their nature, the two cars quickly turned the escape into a race. McQueen made the first move, cutting Strip off as the blue racer was about to make a turn. Strip retaliated, taking a gap McQueen didn't see. They were tire to tire for a few glorious moments until the treeline suddenly came to an end. Both cars slammed on their brakes and screeched to a halt.
Their fantasy was shattered as they glanced down the small incline. It wasn't very steep and they would easily be able to make it down, despite the ancient roots sticking and jutting out of the sides. What was really the issue though, was the brown pool at the bottom of the incline. This seemed to be the lowest part of the forest and deep mud had formed there.
"We can still make it," McQueen stated, not seeing a quick way around the pool.
"Right," Strip nodded, catching his breath. "And Kid," he looked straight at McQueen. "If something happens, you need to go on."
"What, no," Lightning protested.
"You have a better chance than making it than I do," the older car insisted. "Now, let's go. And remember, no stopping."
McQueen nodded.
"And no spinning."
There would be no Mater to tow him out if he got stuck here.
The mud was sticky and about an inch deep, but previously undisturbed and with a whole lot of slipping and sliding, both cars managed to make it through. Their tires were clogged and they were absolutely filthy and cold, but the light spray of rain encouraged them to keep going.
"You know," McQueen, always chatty, couldn't help but say as they weaved through the trees. "I think we might actually make it."
Strip didn't reply but the determination on his face showed he thought the same. The two cars kept zapping through the trees for a few more minutes and slowed down a little, both starting to realize that they may be lost. Just as McQueen was about to suggest that they stop, he noticed a flash of gray on his left. A road! He turned sharply and Strip followed. They slowed to a stop on the asphalt and looked around, not quite believing their luck. They were still surrounded by trees and the road was whindy, but it was better than being lost in the woods.
"Which way?" Lightning asked, his sense of direction dodgy at best (Mater was always teasing him about that).
"Right," Strip turned right on the road and Lightning followed. The blue racer had a good sense of direction and sensed the road would wind back towards the compound if they went left.
Lighting followed at the two cars sped around a sharp corner... and promptly screeched to a halt. Three guns were being cocked and pointed straight at them... By the Ford Raptors.
"Told you we'd find them at this turn," one of them said smugly. Lightning, who was at the back shifted in reverse and was about to screech away when he felt an extra weight on his back tire.
"Hey!" He exclaimed as Rick drove by in a blur and promptly put a boot on Strip. The car sat back with a smug expression on his face, clearly satisfied by his speed.
"New record?" One of the Fords asked.
"Yiiiiiiip," Rick replied, still smugly.
"You ever think of joining a pit crew with that speed?" Strip asked mildly. Lightning was looking back dismayed at the boot.
"It wouldn't pay well enough," Rick shrugged.
"You'd be surprised," the old racer replied.
"How did you find us?" McQueen demanded. "We're faster than all of you."
"We assumed you'd go in a straight line," the Raptor in the middle said. "Which would lead you straight here."
McQueen stomped his front tire angrily.
"Now, just stay nice and still until the tow trucks arrive," Rick smirked.
"Or you'll shoot us?" Lightning demanded.
"Nah," Rick said, and a concealed taser came out of his tire. "But this will hurt just as badly."
The two cars glanced at each other, the adrenaline, excitement and hope of escape gone. Soon enough two black tow trucks came around the corner and the two cars found themselves being dragged back unceremoniously.
"This is humiliating," Lightning muttered.
"Like being dragged around in Radiator Springs?" Strip asked, and Lightning looked to see the car looking at him with a wry smile.
"You can be really sarcastic, you know that?" He asked.
"Only a little," Strip admitted.
The two cars fell into a miserable silence for a while, watching their front tires roll on the asphalt, further and further away from freedom. They suddenly turned sharply to the left onto a newer road.
"It's been recently laid," McQueen said aloud.
"Probably recently build as well," Strip agreed, referring to the compound.
"Do you think she got away?" McQueen asked quietly. The question had been buzzing in his mind since they had been hooked up.
"I don't know," Strip replied softly, feeling apprehension same as McQueen. "Guess we'll find out when we get back."
