Street Freaks

by Terry Brooks

  “What about the race?”

  “The race is unavoidable. There’s nothing we can do about that. T.J. will have to drive Starfire. The Shoe is committed to it. After it’s over, we can see.”

  He nods, feeling hot and cold at the same time, feeling sick. “I’m glad you told me about my father,” he manages.

  “I doubt it. Why would you be? But you have a right to know. Especially now that you’re one of us.”

  “Something the Shoe still doesn’t know about, does he?”

  She shakes her head no. “I’ll tell him when it becomes necessary. Probably when he returns and finds you still here. I’ll have to tell him then.”

  “I shouldn’t be here at all,” he says.

  “Don’t start!” she snaps, a sudden edge to her voice. “Don’t act like you don’t have value, like you’re something that deserves to be discarded. Are you your father’s son or not? Because until just now, I thought so. Your father was a good person. He saved lives. He took risks. I look at you, and I see him. I hear him in your voice and recognize him in your expressions. You better accept who you are because maybe that’s what’s going to get you through this.”

  She sighs. “I took a chance on you, Ash. Don’t let me down. Don’t let any of us down. We’re your family now, and you should respect that.”

  In fact, he does. The events of the past few days make him feel close to them. For a moment he considers telling her about his immune deficiency problem. But once again he doesn’t. He isn’t even sure what to say, now that it appears it might all have been a lie.

  “One more thing,” she says, getting to her feet. “Your uncle is involved in all this. I don’t know how, but he is. He has to be. Your father specifically told me that he didn’t want you near him. He kept you away deliberately. He sent you here so you wouldn’t try to go to ORACLE. That’s why I was so upset with T.J. for taking you into the Metro. But there’s something else too. That writ of exemption we all relied on so heavily? It was issued by ORACLE and signed by its commander. That would be Cyrus Collins.”

  She paused. “So it would take his signature to contravene or withdraw the writ. There’s no way around it. He is the one who sold us out.” She gestures him toward the door. “You think on what that means. Now go to bed.”

  - 19 -

  The following morning Jenny Cruz has Holly drive her back down to Winners Circle in the Flick. Once there, she orders Holly to apologize to the management of the club and to arrange for payment to repair or replace broken furniture and fixtures. When they return, neither one is saying much. Jenny collars the other members of the group and, with checklist in hand, has them go back over the pre-race preparations they have already covered twice before. Whether she does this because she intends it as a form of punishment for what happened the previous night or is just being careful, no one can say. Certainly no one is bold enough to ask, not even T.J., who appears wearing racing gloves.

  By midday, when they sit down together for lunch, they have finished with the checklist and Jenny has pronounced Starfire fully prepped and in perfect shape for the Sprint. T.J. says nothing to Ash about his hand but does make a point of announcing to the assemblage that he expects to win the Red Zone Championship and has never felt more ready for anything in his life.

  He follows this up with a covert wink that only Ash is meant to see.

  When the meal is finished, Jenny hauls T.J. off to her office so he can walk her through the race, a preparation he undergoes each time he drives, Holly explains to Ash as they sit alone in the dining room after the others have left.

  “He’ll go through everything he intends to do, all the tactics he expects to employ, all the options he will have at his disposal should he need them. He has already written this down, so Jenny will see how thorough he has been and how ready he seems. If she thinks he needs encouragement, she will offer it. If he needs reining in, she will see to that too.”

  Ash lets her finish and then says, “How did it go at Winners Circle?”

  A grimace and a shrug. “About the way you’d expect. Banned for six months, ordered to pay for all the damage—about three thousand credits—and warned not to do it again or I’m out on my ass for good. It’s fair. I started it. I brought it on myself.”

  “What about Ponce?”

  “Six months for him too.”

  “You think that’s fair?”

  “What’s ‘fair’ got to do with anything?”

  “He shouldn’t have hit Penny-Bird. He’s four times her size.”

  She gives him a sharp look. “You’ve been talking to T.J., haven’t you? He told you about Penny and me.”

  Ash hesitates. “He told me a little.”

  “T.J. should keep his opinions to himself. He thinks he knows all about me, has me all figured out. He thinks he understands how it is with Penny and me, but he doesn’t. He should worry about what’s going to happen when he faces her in the Sprint, driver to driver.” She points a finger at him. “And you should keep your nose out of it too. This isn’t your business.”

  He holds up his hands defensively. “You’re right. It isn’t my business. But I was curious. I’m sorry about what’s happened with you and Penny-Bird.”

  “Well, don’t be. It’s ancient history. Penny made her choice. She put herself in a position to allow Ponce to do what he did. She asked the Razor Boys to make her one of them. She asked to be taken in. Now she drives for Lonnergon’s. So she doesn’t matter to me anymore. She isn’t my problem. She’s yesterday’s news.”

  By now she is practically in tears. Angry and red-faced, she gets up abruptly and stalks from the room. In the wake of her departure, he is quick to conclude that she doesn’t for a minute believe even one of the claims she has just made.

  Later that afternoon, the Shoe reappears. Dressed in silver-and-black sheathing with red piping, looking resplendent as always, he goes immediately to Starfire with Jenny in tow to examine the vehicle. He then questions her at length about its condition, the thoroughness of her checklist efforts, T.J.’s readiness, and a series of related subjects like weather reports and track conditions. Ash, standing nearby, hears most of it. The Shoe does not mention Winners Circle or last night’s incident. He does not seem unhappy or disturbed. Rather, he seems almost unnaturally calm.

  Then he walks over to Ash.

  Here it comes, Ash thinks.

  But while he is right to worry, he is wrong about what’s coming.

  “Are you excited about the race?” the Shoe asks, his smile open and disarming.

  Ash nods warily. “I’ve only seen races on the vidviews. Never in person.”

  “You can’t imagine what it feels like. You have to experience the Sprint to appreciate it. Millions of screaming people. Engines roaring like great beasts. The smell of exhaust smoke and engine oil and high-test fuels so volatile that if they ignite unexpectedly, they can blow a street machine to pieces—indescribable.”

  He pauses. “Of course, no one experiences it like T.J. does. A driver sees it like no one else can.”

  “I can imagine. I wish it were me.”

  The Shoe smiles. “Do you?”

  Ash shrugs and nods. “Driving Starfire? Sure. Who wouldn’t want to drive a car like that?”

  “But could you do it?”

  “What do you mean?” Ash is confused.

  “Could you drive Starfire if you had to? Do you even know how?”

  “Maybe. Why are you asking me this?”

  “Because you’re driving her in the race tomorrow.”

  Ash laughs, wondering what the joke is. “T.J. might have something to say about that.”

  “Not anymore he doesn’t. He dislocated three fingers and broke a fourth at Winners Circle last night. You should know; you reset them for him.” He pauses, cocking his head questioningly. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  Then he slaps Ash hard across the face, hard enough that it knocks the boy backward. Ash manages to keep his feet, but t
he force of the blow brings tears to his eyes.

  The Shoe grabs a handful of shirt and pulls him close. “I don’t like it when people lie to me, Ash. Especially people I am trying to help even when I don’t have to. You’ve been a bad boy. In addition to last night’s brawl, you went into the Metro to speak to your uncle without telling me. Didn’t you?”

  Ash is still in shock. The Shoe gives him a hard shake. “I can’t hear you!”

  “Yes!” he gasps, practically shouting it.

  The Shoe releases him. “T.J. should know better. About taking you into the Metro. About his behavior last night. You should know better by now too. Sit.”

  He practically throws Ash onto a bench and then stands over him, looking down. Ash stares back, trying hard not to show fear. But this is a side of the Shoe he has never seen. He can be a scary, angry, threatening man. “You didn’t have to do that,” Ash says.

  “Yes, I did.” The Shoe’s smile is not friendly. “T.J. can’t drive in the Red Zone Championship with one good hand. He thinks he can, but he can’t. So he’s out. I need someone else. He suggested you. Guess he was impressed with what he saw when he let you drive the Flick. Says he’s been teaching you and likes what he sees. Don’t look so surprised. He told me all about it. He says you’re good. Not as good as he is, but that’s beside the point. I need a driver, and you’re it!”

  Ash shakes his head quickly. “No. I’m not. I’m not ready for something like that.”

  “Doesn’t matter if you’re ready or not. You’re who’s available. You have some experience from driving in Africa when you were a boy. T.J. says you can do it. So you’re driving. You won’t win, but at least you can make a decent attempt at it.”

  He leans close. “See, Ash, it’s like this. Starfire’s owner paid a lot to have her ready for this race and is depending on T.J. to drive. Excuses won’t make him feel better if the car doesn’t appear in the race. If he loses, he won’t be all that upset. Races are lost every day. It happens. He doesn’t even have to know it’s not T.J. racing. So you’re going to be my new T.J. You’re going out there in his place to help me honor my agreement with the owner and never talk about this to anyone. Do you understand?”

  Ash nods. He can see there is nothing to be gained by arguing. “But I don’t know what to do. I have no experience with street racing. I’ve never driven a race like this. I’m not prepared.”

  The Shoe nods. “Doesn’t matter. Jenny will help you with the preparations and T.J. will give you pointers on how to make Starfire go faster than her competition. Sharpen up that memory of yours and put it to use. Now get out of my sight.”

  Ash stumbles away, trying to get his head around what he’s just been told. On the face of things, this arrangement is ludicrous. He’s never driven Starfire. He has driven the Flick, sure. But that’s not a bona fide racer. He has driven Cherokee strip-downs, but that was in Africa, and it was more joyriding than racing. How is he supposed to compete against these other drivers with as little training as he’s had?

  He hears raised voices and turns to see the Shoe and Jenny Cruz standing toe to toe and shouting angrily at each other. They are gesturing, and some of it is directed toward him. The Shoe has told Jenny, and she’s probably telling him what Ash wanted to tell him—that he’s insane.

  But it is an argument she cannot win, and in the end she stomps away, coming over to where Ash stands with his hands in his pockets. “Come with me!” she snaps.

  Inside her office, with the door closed, she faces him, flushed and clearly furious. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” he says quickly, trying to forestall what’s coming. “I’m as unhappy about it as you are.”

  “I doubt it. This is the most ill-considered, foolishly dangerous decision I have ever heard.” She throws herself down in her chair behind her desk and crosses her arms as if to demonstrate how much she hates what is happening.

  “Why did T.J. tell him about me driving? Why did he even bring it up?”

  She gives him a look. “Because he was pressured to suggest something? Because he believes maybe you can drive Starfire with no training? Because he’s a pinhead? Take your choice.”

  “Where is he, anyway?”

  “Hiding out where I can’t yell at him for being so stupid, I imagine. Cowardly jerk!” She is steaming. “This whole idea is a recipe for disaster.”

  “What are we going to do?” Ash shuffles his feet. “The Shoe said you would help me.”

  “There is no help for you.” She gives him a look. “But I will try to scrounge some up anyway.”

  She spends the next several hours walking him through the particulars of the race, starting with a description of how the race itself is run.

  “It works like this,” she tells him. “You race in heats, two cars in each pairing. The Sprint is a mile; it’s a distance meant to test speed, power, and driving skill. There are tactics. You go fast, but you have to measure your acceleration, judge your tire grab on the road surface, your aerodynamic lift, lots of other things as well. In each race, you go head-to-head, the winner moving on to race again, the loser dropping out. You do this until only one car and driver remain. You try not to get killed in the process. If you win the championship, your future is assured. Not that this last part needs to concern you, because you won’t win. You’ll just be putting in your time and making a good show of it.”

  She goes over the functions of the car with him, pointing to each of the instruments and readouts and explaining what they will do. It helps that Starfire is so sophisticated that she practically drives herself. The decisions he will make have mostly to do with when to accelerate or slow down. That and keeping in his lane. He will have trouble enough just doing that, she assures him.

  “Much of what wins these races depends on how smart you are about knowing when your competitor intends to make a move. The races are all very, very fast. Over in less a minute. Your instincts have to be set at a very high level. You have to anticipate what the guy you are racing against is going to do and then make your move before he does. When will he try to get past you? When will he accelerate? Is he holding back or going flat out? Do you have enough time left to outwit him? Do you have too much?”

  She pauses. “You also have to pay close attention to the other drivers. All of them are in Red Zone clubs, and they have no interest in watching T.J. celebrate another victory. They will be coming after you. You can’t underestimate them.”

  Jenny puts him in a black box and lets him train on Starfire using sims. She gives him five different scenarios involving past Sprints. The visuals are more useful than the talks, and after completing the five multiple times, he finds himself growing comfortable with the idea of driving the racer. In the end, she tells him he will probably lose in the first race and not have to race again. But it won’t matter; it will be chalked off to an upset and dismissed. So all he has to do is race clean. Stay in his lane. Don’t get cute. Brake quickly after the finish line. Then get out of the car and move away. Don’t talk to anyone. Remember he’s playing a part. Don’t let anyone know who he is.

  “You can do that much, I expect. Pretend to be T.J. You’re about the same height and build. In a racing suit, you’ll look enough like him to pass.” She throws up her hands. “Cat spit, but this is dumb!”

  The remainder of the day passes quickly. Ash studies the instruments on Starfire’s dash and listens patiently to Jenny repeat over and over how everything works. He ingests the information quickly, his retention ability so accomplished that after the second time through he can recite it all back to her verbatim. Eventually, she seems to realize this and leaves him alone.

  T.J. does not appear.

  More than once Ash thinks about the Shoe hitting him across the face—no warning, no holding back. It feels so out of character for the man he believed the Shoe to be that he can’t come to terms with it. He can understand the Shoe being angry with him for disobeying. But did it really warrant a blow to the face? He wonders if his initial
impressions of the Shoe might be wrong. Perhaps the Shoe is less kind and more ruthless than he had seemed. Perhaps his urbane and civilized behavior is a veneer, and a man of a different sort is hidden beneath.

  Sunset approaches. Even after it grows dark, Ash still hears the sounds of construction taking place beyond the walls of their building. Workers are assembling viewing stands and rail barriers to contain the millions that will arrive on the morrow.

  When he goes to the upstairs windows for a look, there are lights everywhere. They are fastened to portable generators and hung from poles and lines. The entire Straightaway is ablaze. Hordes of workers cluster along both sides of the racing strip, assembling viewing platforms. The structures are crude but serviceable. The more wealthy and influential of those who come to watch the race will be provided with a superior view of the action.

  “Fat cats,” T.J. says, coming up behind him so quietly Ash does not hear his approach. “Metro rich who can afford the exorbitant prices the Red Zone businesses will charge for the privilege of watching from an elevated position while comfortably seated. Everyone else will be confined behind the rail barriers and will have to stand to see anything. All day.”

  “Aren’t the walkways public?” Ash says.

  “What? Are you crazy? This is the Red Zone. Nothing’s public where there’s money to be made.”

  Ash shifts his gaze to the empty space in front of Street Freaks. The crowd-control barriers are in place, but no viewing stands are being assembled. “Why aren’t you racing?”

  T.J. slaps him on the back. “Because the Shoe said I wasn’t. It’s his reputation on the line, his responsibility.”

  “You should have insisted.”

  “Whoa! Now why didn’t I think of that! I should have been firmer with him, huh?”

  “This is stupid, me driving. It doesn’t matter how much anyone explains things if I’ve never done it before.”

  “Too true. But the Shoe wants someone besides me, and you’re the best choice he has.” He cocks an eyebrow at Ash. “You are, whether you believe it or not. You have that great memory to call on. You have good instincts behind the wheel. I’ve seen you drive. You’ll know what to do. You’ll be fine.”