Thanks to my beta LightningandDoc.

Chapter 2: Racetrack Rumbles

XXX

Sheriff yawned, sinking a little lower on his tires, enjoying the warm air and sweet shade offered by his favorite hideaway behind his favorite sign outside of town. It had been a bit slow for the past few weeks. Doc and McQueen figured that the business would pick up once again when it grew near the end of the season. For now … he was just going to enjoy the silence. Ah yes, nothing like the …

“Hey Sheriff!”

The old car jumped out of his frame nearly as he turned just in time to see a glint of red. Lightning merely grinned at the older car, pulling up from the desert sand next to him. It was times like this that Sheriff hated himself for punishing the racer for speeding by making him go to Sarge’s boot camp. The old Willie’s jeep gave McQueen too many new escape routes with his off-road training … or in this instance, ambush techniques.

“Gag nabbit, kid! Don’t go sneaking up on old cars like that. I nearly had engine failure,” said the law enforcer as his lights flashed for a moment.

“Sorry,” snickered the dust-covered youth. “Just checking up on you.”

“Oh, is that all. Well, I’m fine. Now leave,” said the Sheriff, knowing all too well why the rookie was here … Doc was checking up on him. He had been on the lift about four times in the last month, and Doc pretty much had everyone in town looking after him as if he were an old car with one tire in the pit and three flats. He was fine! Why couldn’t anyone get that! Yet, as the minutes dragged off into an hour, the Sheriff’s patience disappeared and he sighed. It was times like these that he wondered if it would have been best if the kid had left and never came back.

“Tell that old harpy that I’m not coming in for a check-up until my shifts over. My repairs are fine and even if they weren’t I think I can wait the three days till he comes back from the race,” growled the enforcer.”

McQueen nodded his head … but continued to sit there.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” said the old guard dog as he lifted a tire and pointed at the youth.

“Sure did … but Doc said I couldn’t leave without you in personal body or a promise of your coming and since you have, in fact, not said nor appealed any want or immediate need to remove yourself from your present residence that you have, for the time being, been guarding with hopeless insistence … I cannot hope to evict myself from your personal being or leave until you have readied to do otherwise,” said the smart ass, a grin coming to his lips.

“Smart aft,” grumbled the officer. “So I take it Doc said you couldn’t come back until you either dragged me or made me promise to leave my post early?”

“That would be it, Watson,” said the younger car, the grin still on his face. He’d never admit it, but there was nothing better than tractor tipping with Mater and taunting the Sheriff.

A grumbled escaped the older car, “Why can’t he just let me be! I keep telling him I’m fine.”

“Tuh,” McQueen made a disbelieving noise. “Please, this is Doc we are talking about. He never gives up on anybody, no one in town does. Heck, you guys never gave up on me. So, let’s say you’ll come in for a quick check-up around six? And you’ll even go to the race with us tomorrow so Doc can keep an eye on you, yes? Or do I have to sit out here and sing Johnny Car songs?”

Sheriff was silent, a deep frown on his face as he glared at the youth. It was times like this he wondered why everyone tried so hard to keep the kid around. Perhaps, it was time he asked, “You know McQueen, I always wanted to know … why did you stay, kid? Just to torture me?”

McQueen’s eyes quickly met his and after a moment of silence, he rubbed his bumper against the other car in an affectionate manner. The younger car said, “I found a family, I suppose, and not having one for so long … how could I say goodbye?”

Despite the gruff attitude he always tried to put forward, he liked the kid and hearing such a thing made his heart ooze … and a part of him wanted to cry.

“Are you crying,” said McQueen as he drew closer, trying to see the older car’s wind shield.

The peace-keeper merely pulled away, hiding his face as he grumbled, “Well, don’t hang around here badgering me, boy. Get back to town and get some sleep. You have a race tomorrow.”

Lightning merely laughed, nudging the old car, “I’ll go … just as soon as you tell me if you were going to be coming to this one. I have a feeling something interesting will be happening tomorrow, and,” said the youth as he started to talk in a child-like voice, “wouldn’t the other kids think it strange if mommy always came to the races but you never did, dad?”

Lightning then jumped away, laughing in a mocking manner, keeping just out of reaching range from the grumpy old car.

“Besides,” continued the youth. “Doc may lay off on the check-up if you promise to go.”

The Sheriff stared for a moment with wide eyes and then grumbled, knowing that the youth had him in a tight corner, “Alright you road runner, I’m go to the dang race tomorrow, just don’t let Doc hear you call him mum or you might never move again. You know he hates that joke.”

“Alright, just be there. I just have a feeling tomorrow is going to be an exciting race,” said the youth as he turned back onto the highway instead of sneaking back through the desert. Mark just shook his head. He had that feeling too … but he wasn’t sure if it was of the good kind.

XXX

He could only remember the dirt when he thought of home … not that he thought of home very often. It was a taboo thing of sorts. The dirt, where Chick came from, seemed to get into cars hearts and not just their tires, and they never found themselves leaving. That was how Chick’s father was. He was a car of the earth, lost in its sweet decadence. His mother was that way too; she'd just drive on the nearby gravel roads, listing to the almost rhythmic crunch of small rock beneath her tires. For a while, his older brother seemed that way too, only he liked to throw the dirt up into the air as if it were a brown cloud meant to chase after him.

Later, Chick found out it wasn’t the dirt his older brother had loved … it was the speed.

“Come on Chase, you need to slide when you make that turn. Remember, most cars don’t even know what gravel feels like and don’t know the tricks that come with being raised on it!” cheered Manton Hicks as he yelled on the sidelines, the gravel of the dirt track cheering underneath a pair of screaming tires. Chick, still young and small, peered at his brother from a distance. He was supposed to be with his mom right now helping her milk their pet tractor, John, but he wanted to watch his brother race.

Yes, racing. It all started a few weeks earlier when they had a guest out at the farm. Chick had been so excited that he had practically danced around the older car’s form as he made his way up the long dirt driveway. Strangely, the older car wasn’t upset with him like the mail-truck always was when he did that. He, in fact, stopped halfway up the driveway and patted the small racer on the hood lightly.

“You Chase’s little brother. He speaks of you from time to time,” said the cherry red ’55 Cadillac with a soft grin, his old voice grinding and harsh, but not unpleasant.

“Yes!” beamed the young car as he hopped on his tires, “My name's Chick, Chick Hicks! How do yah know my brother?”

“Well, he now races for me. I’m his sponsor. Yah know, Carson-Cola Oils. I’m Henry Carson,” said the stranger.

Chick blinked. He knew his brother raced, but what was a sponsor? Most of the races in the area were local with small prizes. He wasn’t sure what a sponsor was. “Is that a bad thing?”

The older car laughed out loud, his engine coughing with the same humor, making the young car blush. Henry didn’t let Chick drive away in embarrassment though and put a tire out to stop any retreat, “Sorry lad, it’s just that everyone always seems to know my face or product. It’s kind of refreshing to run into someone who doesn’t. So tell me … are you going to be just as fast as your brother when you get older?”

Chick blinked, his young mind still not getting it, “What do you mean?”

He laughed before stating, “A racer, son. Are you going to be a racer?”

Chick wasn’t sure why he had said it, but a silly grin rose to his face, his first dream installing itself on him, “Yah, I’m going to be just as fast as my brother.”

“Good. Now keep that promise, and you’ll make your daddy and brother proud. Now … you want some cola? Your brother keeps saying its making him fat, but he’ll be getting it free for life. It’s best not to waste it.”

The child laughed but nodded as he headed down the rest of the way towards the house. The dirt seemed to try to cling to his tires but for some reason it kept falling to the ground. No longer could it snatch him or keep him.

“Wake up!”

Chick’s eyes snapped open and couldn’t help but cry out as he slammed into the back of his trailer, his eyes wide and engine panting. It took him a minute to finally get some focus and he frowned as Marv, a pick-up with a matching paint job which happened to be his crew-chief, grinned at him from his ramp near the back of the trailer.

“Wh-what are you … who are … uh, Marv? Why are you in my trailer?” said Chick in a half dazed, his face full of confusion.

Marv grinned devilishly and nudged the car with his tire in a mocking gesture, before stating, “Well, at first I thought you were merely hiding in here because you didn’t want any confrontation like at the last race, but Ken said you were still asleep and wouldn’t wake up. So I repeatedly poked you with my antenna like you were a dead animal until you woke you up… Must have been having a rather happy dream there, Chick. So tell me … what model was she?”

Chick blinked once or twice before stating, “W-what?”

Marv shook his head and looked back down at the rest of the crew who were all waiting patiently on the pavement outside, “Poor Chick. He’s all upset because we interrupted his happy dream.

Well don’t worry too much, soap-box ... you get to look at afts all day today. After all, you will not be in first. You know … you being shy this season and all.”

Chick’s eyes got wide and if he were a few years younger he might have blushed, but he was use to Marv’s … suicidal … sense of humor that he shouldn’t have been surprised. Didn’t mean he was going to let the other vehicle get away with it, but it was a nice distraction … he’d admit it. It was nice not to remember, so there was nothing like a little death threat to chase away old wounds.

“Why you … get over here!” snarled Chick, feeling a grin rise on his face despite the obvious insult. He would never admit it, but his crew was like his family; heck, they were even torturous like one.

Marv laughed evilly in his throat and jumped out of the back of the trailer, his truck bed bouncing at the impact. Didn’t slow him down though as he rushed over to the pits. The race was about to start in twenty minutes and most of the other crews already had their racers primed and ready to go. Marv only offered a slightly impish grin to the orange crew-chief next to his pit, before he plowed up to the ramp that was to be his viewer’s point for the rest of the race as he called out recommendation for Chick. The roar of a heavy, and not to mention irritated, engine followed after.

Looking around the pits, Chick shook his hood knowing that the whole comment had been thrown at him with the idea of getting him the pit a little earlier than usual. He’d usually have his tires and engine checked in his sponsor’s tent, sparing him the look of the other racers, but it seemed he wouldn’t be getting his way today. After all, Marv – despite how immature he could be – was his crew chief, and it was in his best interest to listen to him. He didn’t even spare the orange racer, next to him, a glance as he got into his space and popped his hood, the rest of his crew swarming around him like an ant hive. The younger orange racer looked down, blushing.

‘Rookie,’ was all Chick could think as his team prepared him. One could always tell a rookie was on the track when they’d blush over such a simple thing. After all, it was a common occurrence; the rookie better get use to it or get off the track. Chick would prefer off the track, but no one could ever tell with rookies since so many came and went so easily.

“All’s good under the hood,” said one of the older fork-lifts as he slammed the hood shut.

“So are the tires. A little dirty though … you been racing in the dirt, Chick?” said another member of his team, Arty.

“No,” said Chick softly as they all pulled back into their appropriate spots, “but I’ve been dreaming of it.”

Marv gave him and funny look, putting on his head-set, but before he could ask what the racer meant the intercom cried out, “Good morning racers and racing fans. It’s a lovely eight-five degrees today. A little nippy, but I’m sure our engines will all be a-fire soon enough! Today we have –”

The rest of the introduction was lost to Chick as he stared at the pit exit. He hadn’t thought about his childhood or his brother in a long time … he didn’t want to remember it, and he didn’t have to. Not when he had the track.

…

Marv tried not to yawn. It had been a slow race. No, it wasn’t because Chick was in his usual tenth-ish place, but because it was still. Everyone had been playing safe-driver today and little to no action was taking place. There hadn’t even been one tire blowout, which was strange. What the hell was going on … was Chick’s depression contagious?

Yes, he had noticed. Marv might have had a playful attitude, but he was no fool on any account. He saw things. It was his job after all to observe. He saw that Chick was more than acting now. He seemed distant, paranoid, tired, and unhappy. Well, Chick was not the type to go around with a grin on his face, but he sure did love to laugh … usually at the expense of younger racers, but he did have a sense of humor. He hadn’t really laughed much in the past few weeks.

Well, Marv had decided to use his powers of evil for good … just once. It was bad for a racer to get depressed. If a racer got depressed he would get sloppy on the track … and if he got too messy, he might get himself and someone else killed out there. He had seen it happen before. There was a racer by the name of Slick Hemming. He was cocky, arrogant, and - he might be a guy, but he’d admit it - elegant. The guy was a Hemi, and he made his chassis shine like his yellow paint made the sun shine itself. Slick lost his daughter, a sweet little thing, and drew away from his family thinking he could just drive off his grief … yah; he drove off his grief alright, right into a wall. It had been a mess. He had hit so hard part of his engine went flying into the track like some kind of gruesome war zone, oil splattered everywhere. A few people crashed … and some of the rookies never came back after that race, traumatized by the sight of someone’s inners scattered across the track.

Chick wasn’t going to be some headline followed by a close-hearted ceremony, fake tears all around. No. He would not be another thrill for fans as they watched his innards being scrapped off the track. Speaking of which … Chick was getting a little close to the wall especially when he was starting to get box in by the other racers.

“Chick?” said Marv over his headset, his gaze still lazy. “You’re getting a little close to that wall, draw back and let Better Buy pass you.”

There was silence on the other line … and Chick didn’t seem to listen, not drawing away from the wall.

“Come on Chick, it’s a slow race. You can get your place back, no prob. Now get away from that wall!” all but yelled Marv into his headset, the orange crew chief next to him giving him a strange look. Marv merely nodded at the other and grumbled into his headset, “Oh come on, Chick. You still pissed about that joke I made before you went on the track?”

There was silence on the other line.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Now get … away … from … that … wall,” growled the crew-chief, now trying to ignore worried looks from his crew which was now looking up at him, and the crew chiefs on either side. Chick was just trying to embarrass him, wasn’t he?

Yet, the closer Chick drew to the wall, the more unlikely that seemed. Marv was starting to worry, memories of Slick Hemming’s death reflecting in the back of his mind.

“Chick. If this is a game, stop. Chick … Chick are you listening!?”

“Listen,” said Chase as he looked down at his little brother, the light of a setting day reflecting off the lake before them.

“Listen to what, brother?” said Chick as the slightly younger car looked up at his elder, Chase.

Chase had a lazy look in his blue eyes and the black car with his red accents seemed … at peace.

Chick looked back out at the waters, watching his floater bob back and forth on the lake’s surface. His brother had come home, tired but happy. He was never home anymore than a few days at a time. Chick missed him, even though he had all the Carson Cola he could ever hope to consume. He missed his brother. At first he was a little glad his older brother was going to be gone since it would give him more time to be with his father. Dad didn’t give him more attention though; Chick was as invisible as he had been when he was born. Father believed the oldest son was the most important son, he was the backup son. True, his father never said that … but Chick knew it was true. Chase carried the family name … he was just carried.

“Listen … they’re your fans … they are cheering for you,” said Chase, a grin on his face, his eyes half mast and relaxed.

Chick blinked, a frown forming, “What do you mean?”

Chase nudged his little brother, his silly grin still on his face, “I know you are upset, Chick. I wanted to sleep in before the next race, but mom wanted me to come down and talk to you.”

The youth frowned, shaking his head, “I’m not mad! Okay! Why should I be!”

The elder brother sighed, putting out a tire before his sibling could run away in a huff. Chick struggled against the older sibling’s tire for a while before he finally gave in, a whine escaping him as he turned around and stared at the water. He pretended that the older and larger car weren't there, his attention fixed on his fishing pole and the bobber in the water. He couldn’t ignore the kind tire petting down his back window and towards his trunk though.

“Come on, Chick. I know when something’s wrong. I’m your older brother, you can tell me anything,” said Chase as he continued to run a soothing tire down his brother’s back, trying to get some attention out of his brother. Finally a small sniffle escaped the younger car, and Chase pulled forward so he could see the other’s face.

“You sure nothing’s wrong?” said the eldest, his bumper nudging the other as if he were more a parent than a brother.

After a minute of silence, Chick finally choked, “Things aren’t better.”

“Better? Things aren’t better how,” said Chase, a frown forming on his face. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“I thought dad would love me more, but he doesn’t!” all but screamed the young would-be-racer as he suddenly lunged to the side, his tire wrapping around his brother’s tire as he suddenly started sniffling in the black car’s side panel. “It’s like I don’t exist now that you’re gone. He doesn’t even want me here! ”

Chase sighed. So that was what this was about. Dad had been at his side an awful lot, but he didn’t think he stole dad from his little brother completely. Chase didn’t understand it, not one bit. Dad dragged him everywhere when he was a child, but he didn’t for Chick. He had a small feeling it had to do with dad’s own resentment to his younger brother, but why would he take that out on Chick … no, there had to be another reason. Dad was probably just excited about his new career as a racer. Yes, that had to be it.

“Now, Chick. Dad doesn’t hate you. He loves you … he’s just distracted. He’ll stop checking up on my training, and he’ll be home more often. Then you’ll have more of him than you’ll need,” said Chase warmly, hugging his brother back.

Chick sniffled, “You sure? Dad always loved you more. I just want to race too Chase, but dad won’t even take me out. H-h-he said I would never be a racer! T-that it was a silly dream!”

A smile fell away from Chase’s face, knowing all too well about his little brother’s new dream but not what his father had said about it. Dad had been rather supportive of him, but not Chick? Well, he’d cheer his little bro on. If it was the last thing he did, “Now don’t give up, Chick. You’ll disappoint all your fans.”

“Fans?” said Chick, tears streaming down his hood as he looked up at his brother.

“Yah,” said the Cutlass Oldsmobile with a soft snicker. “Can’t you hear them? They’re cheering just for you.”

Chick perked up and listened to the stillness, “I only hear crickets, Chase?”

“Exactly, they’re all cheering for you and even if dad isn’t at the track to cheer you on, they sure will … and so will I. And Chick,” said Chase as he watched the bobble fall beneath the water.

“Yah?”

“I think you’re …”

“… going to hit the wall! Chick! Chick! What the hell are you doing!? You’re gonna hit the wall! Chick!” cried Marv over the headphone, his voice full of panic.

Chick came out of the memory in a stupor, disorientated and unsure of where he was. It had seemed so real. He could hear the crickets nearby, felt that dry breeze, and even smelled his brother. He had forgotten that smell for the longest time. It was a musky smell of slightly melted rubber and wet dirt, but that smell wasn’t here. He smelled asphalt, spilled oil, hot engines, and melting tires. His eyes widened when he realized there was no lake or field, only hot asphalt, zooming bodies, and a closing-in wall.

Chick choked, his vents catching, and the next thing he knew he was turning down. Too bad he hadn’t looked before he leapt. He was surrounded in a pack of other race cars; some so close they barely had a foot on either side of them. Not that Chick had noticed this; he just knew he was going to hit that wall if he didn’t move. The Better Buy car noticed. Of course, he barely had time to yelp before he dodged a crash with Chick. Unfortunately, the Shiny Sheen car didn’t notice Better Buy’s move, and the next thing everyone knew the scream of tires echoed over the track. The sound of crunching metal followed a dry scream, and the next thing Chick knew the two cars were thrown into a wild spin.

There wasn’t even time for the green racer to think of what he had initially caused when it came back into his face, the Shiny Sheen car forcing Better Buy back up into Chick’s front fender. A pained grunt escaped him as he ground his teeth, pain lacing up his form, but he struggled to keep some control though because he knew he would go into the wall if he gave into the agony in his body. Not that it mattered, it seemed some poor fool tried to turn and miss hitting into Shiny Sheen by speeding up and … slamming into him from behind.

The crowd gasped, the crew-chiefs all cried out, the ambulance lights shimmered into being, and the announcers went crazy.

“Oh my Chrysler! Bob, did you see that? Someone, I can’t tell who, just pulled a rookie mistake, and the rest of the track is paying for it. Number 45, 23, 98, 91, 86, 39, and 55 have been caught in the pile up and that pile just keeps going. No, no, McQueen! Don’t … ooooooh! That had to hurt.”

This, of course, went unheard by Chick’s audios. He had been taken by darkness when he had been slammed into by a third car, but now he was slowly coming around, everything aching. With a groan, he slowly opened his eyes. For a minute everything was blurry, and all he could do was blink. W-what happened? Was he dead? A whimpering sound met his audios, and Chick struggled to look at it. It was just an orange blur at first, but then his vision started to come around, and Chick was a bit surprised to see another pair of eyes staring at him.

“H-h-h-h C-chick … right?” said the orange car with Demmy’s Dukes, a paint company, on his hood. Well, at least that’s what Chick thought it was supposed to say … the car was upside down.

The green car blinked and the murmured, “Yah … what happened … are you are the car that was down in the pits next to my station?”

Demmy’s Dukes grinned and stated, “Y-yah. That was me. We were in an accident … in fact, half the track was. They still haven’t gotten to us.”

Chick blinked, his mind still fuzzy. He hurt all over, yet here he was dented and broken but still having a slightly awkward conversation with a rookie. If he wasn’t all fuzzy and in agony the racer might have laughed. It kind of reminded him of his younger days when he would get injured and talk with the other mangled cars down by the tents after they had been dragged off the track.

The orange car laughed nervously, his tires wiggling up into the air. He seemed fine except for a cracked windshield, a dented fender, and the fact that he was on his hood. Then, looking back at Chick he stated nervously, “This is my first crash. I-I kind of felt embarrassed at first, but as I came to a sl-sliding halt in front of you, I didn’t feel as bad. I mean, if a more experienced racer like you can get caught in, than I really shouldn’t feel too bad.”

Yah … experienced racer, being caught in a rookie mistake. That was something to certainly be proud of. Despite that, Chick felt a grin raise to his face, a grin his mom use to say belonged to his brother and said, “Yah, rookie. Don’t feel too bad. The really bad part comes when your crew chief starts to yell at you for being an idiot … and then the repairs.”

The orange racer laughed slightly, “I’ll remember that. By the way … my names Danny Dunes. Nice to meet you Chick. I always heard you were a bit of a jerk and to stay away from you on the track, b-b-but you seem okay. I mean, not to say that you weren’t or that I uh … well, I mean no offense, but I’ve heard …”

Chick laughed dryly. He didn’t know why he did, maybe because it was that the kid had guts to come out and say such a thing, or because it was nice to know his reputation wasn’t completely dead. It was kind of crude to admit, but sometimes he knocked an extra car or two out of the race merely for his reputation. During the beginning of his career he learned the hard way … if people aren’t afraid of you, they won’t respect you. His father was at least able to teach him that much.

“Well, it’s true, don’t go ruining my reputation,” said Chick as he tried to see if he could at least limp back to the pits, choking on a wave of pain was he tried to move his tires. Nope, he was bent out of shape, and it was going to hurt like hell even when they started dragging him. Ugh, he didn’t know if he should start gritting his teeth now or later. “Damn.”

“Yah, I don’t think you’re going to be able to limp away,” said the rookie, not even fazed by the dry comment. “I mean, from this viewpoint, it doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

Despite himself, Chick snorted at the joke and quickly regretted it when he looked at the rookie’s grin. Little rat, he had played right into that.

“Now really isn’t the time to be joking, is it?” said Chick, struggling to hide his grin.

“Why not … we’re just hanging around,” said the youth, grinning.

Chick rolled his eyes, hating the youth for making him grin, yet before he could even open his mouth, there was a squeal of tires. He barely got to share a frightened look with the orange car before his hood was rained in glass … a blur of blue slamming into the rookie.

“Almighty Ford! Bob … did you see that. The Hubcap Sheen car thought he could pull a McQueen and get through and … and … oh, the poor rookie. It doesn’t look good.”

Chick could only continue to stare forward at the glass on his hood … and a tire that bounced downward into the grass. He couldn’t bring himself to look over towards the direction where Danny Dunes laid broken and bleeding. He couldn’t look because he knew the rookie was probably dead or dying with how fast that hit came … he couldn’t look because he knew it was his fault. It was his entire fault … like the last time.

XXX

Paw07: First off, yah, I know there isn’t much happening here, but I wanted to make sure to set up some angst and lots of foreshadowing to taunt everyone. Also, thanks for all the great reviews, and thanks to Fyrehawk for helping me pick out my Henry Carson, Manton Hicks, and Chase Hicks car models. And, don’t worry, there will be OC’s but only to help develop Chick and his past. Also … oh I wonder, I wonder … just what happened to McQueen in this chapter?