The Chase

by Bradley Caffee

  But Willis was different. She longed to know what made him tick. How could a nineteen-year-old boy possibly carry the hopes of the entire Alliance? She found herself asking a few obligatory questions about how they became an elite team and what training methods they used. She guessed that beneath that leader exterior had to be something worth probing. She didn’t expect it to be his name, but he couldn’t hide how he flinched at her question.

  Which is why she let him see her notes before she flipped the page.

  “Why the pencil and paper?” He waved at her notepad. “Wouldn’t a computer be more practical? Be more—this century?”

  She smiled at the comment. “Because ‘this century’ is what we all want to be?” She bit her tongue, knowing sarcasm wasn’t needed. She softened. “I guess it’s something I picked up from my father. He always made sketches of his new helmets on paper or whatever he could get his hands on prior to designing them digitally. He always had a pencil behind his ear ready to jot down an idea or shape that caught his eye. As a young girl, I would swipe one of his pads of paper and attempt to draw what I saw. The habit didn’t leave when I got into journalism.”

  “Nice.” He shifted in his seat to lean forward.

  Good. She smiled. A little personal touch from my side helped. Maybe he’ll start to see that I can be trusted. “So, you’re the child of Max and Brenda Thomson?How does it feel to have famous parents?”

  “Doesn’t make a difference here.” He gave her a strange look.

  He didn’t understand the question. I suppose it makes no sense asking him about the fame of parents he’s never met.

  “Do you ever hear from them?”

  He paused, wringing his hands for a moment. “I get a message from them every few months.”

  “And are they proud of what you’ve accomplished?” The question wasn’t fair considering his hesitancy to talk about his parents, but she wanted to poke and see if she’d found a tender spot. She had a knack with most people about how hard to push them in a line of questioning, but that was when she realized which topic would be sensitive. Family was not a matter she’d been prepared to scrutinize.

  “They will be when I win the Chase.” His tone was flat. She’d poked too hard. She leaned back to ease the pressure.

  “I guess what I mean is, do you feel any extra pressure to win the Chase this year?”

  “Probably.”

  One-word answer. He’s shutting down. Careful, Kemp. She chewed her lip for a moment before moving on.

  “And how does that make you feel?” Sheila recognized that it was an obviously leading question, but she had to know what was going on beneath the surface. She was called here to report on the potential Chase runners and under orders to keep her opinions to herself, but they couldn’t stop her from quoting their prized runner. If he’d give her something to work with.

  He watched her, stone-faced, clearly not intending to answer.

  She couldn’t believe the pressure to uphold the reputation of the Alliance had even found its way here. Either he was not willing to talk about his parents, or he feared repercussions from saying anything negative about the training station. That is, unless the ‘glory of the Alliance’ is all he’d ever known.

  “You said that your parents’ names don’t make a difference here.” Pausing, she jabbed at her chin a couple times with her pencil. “What does make a difference?”

  “The track,” he responded quickly.

  “The track? You mean the one you practice on?” She knew what he meant, but she’d invite whatever he’d say next.

  “No one cares who you are off the track. They care about who you are on it.”

  Grab this thread and pull it, Kemp. She quickly traced a line of questions in her mind and fired them off. She leaned forward and pointed with her pencil.

  “And who are you on the track?”

  “I’m the one who wins.”

  No hesitation. She scribbled on her pad. She glanced up without tilting her head up. “Every time?”

  “Every time.”

  Again, no doubt. No scribbling this time. She opted to go for it, lowering her voice to almost a whisper.

  “Do you ever worry you’ll lose a race?”

  Willis stared at the monitor pointing toward the track. They couldn’t see it on the screen, but she imagined his eyes penetrating the walls and seeing the sphere. Several moments passed as he must have pondered his answer. She was almost ready to ask the question again when he inhaled.

  “Every time,” he repeated.

  There it is. Sheila suppressed a smile. There’s the chink in the armor.

  Before Sheila sat the best racer in the world, the one who would probably destroy the competition at the next Chase—the same one who was terrified of losing. Compassion flooded her heart as he presently appeared very much like a teenager to her. His body deflated as the weight of expectation must have hit him right in the gut. His face appeared even younger as doubt overtook it. She hated the Chase for what it had done to her father, her mother and sister, and her career. Now she had a new reason to hate the Chase. The evidence of it was sitting in front of her.

  He’s not allowed to lose. How could she help him with her hands tied by the Alliance and Chairman DeGraaf?

  “Willis, if you could say anything to your parents, what would it be?” She asked the question of every racer knowing communications were allowed one-way, but it was usually a simple closing question. She leaned in again knowing that his answer would be different.

  What did you say to people you’ve never met? Willis popped his knuckles one at a time. What would he say to them when he did meet them?

  Willis studied the woman’s face before he answered. He was tempted to believe that she would never pass on the message, but her eyes said otherwise. Experience told him that he was on his own and that others weren’t interested in him unless they wanted something he could offer, yet she had the appearance of someone who was interested in knowing the truth. He almost dismissed her as a reporter searching for a sensational story. He was tempted to give an easy answer that would praise the Alliance and avoid the question, but her eyes held nothing but kindness.

  Could she be interested in what he had to say? Willis found himself short of breath as the words bubbled to the surface of his soul. He realized that if he didn’t speak them, they would eat him from the inside out.

  “I would ask them a question,” he said.

  “What question would you ask?” She arched a brow.

  Willis swallowed hard. “I would ask them if they’d still be proud of me if I lost the Chase.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  He could not believe it. A month of training on this track, and Willis still had no idea how to properly instruct his team. The administrators had thrown a curveball this month with a track unlike any he’d seen in previous months. Willis stood at the entryway to the track, staring at it. He’d dismissed the team early from their last training run with the monthly recoding race tomorrow. Their frustration was reaching a breaking point, and he needed cool heads at the starting tone.

  There has to be a combination that will work. He pounded his fists together in frustration while he paced.

  The track this month appeared like a large spiral that filled the sphere completely, each floor a gently angled descending surface that curved along the circular walls. The race would begin near the top of the sphere with a finish near the bottom. From the bottom portion of the track, a racer could peer up into the middle of the spiral and see nearly all the action. There were almost no obstacle course elements to this one. It would be a sprint to the end. Starting gates were located at four different sections of the track. Willis had figured that part out almost immediately.

  “It’s a relay,” he’d said to the team.

  “You sure? We’ve never done one of those.” Toad had crossed his arms and scowled.

  “What’s the challenge to a relay?” Disgust dripped from Jez’s words.

 
; “It’s about figuring out who should run each section,” Willis said.

  It was one thing to figure out what they should do, but something very different to do it. Blacc was silent on the nature of the different sections of the track. He’d laughed at Willis’s questions. “The surprise at last month’s race was so much fun that we thought we’d create a surprise of our own.” At least none of the other teams had any idea either. Willis had heard the discussions in the mess hall, common room, and corridors. Everyone was stumped.

  The bottom section of the track had nothing interesting about it, a flat surface. The other three sections, though, were unique. Sections one, two, and three had curious metallic lines running the length of the floor, each an inch apart. The team had debated these, but their discussion had ended with Toad making a sarcastic remark. Jez had cursed and taken a swing at Toad. Willis had calmed her down before she’d injured him seriously, and thankfully Toad understood to stay quiet afterward.

  He silently took assessment again of each section. Section one was flat, nothing special except the lines in the floor. Two has a series of stairs that went up and down at different heights. How was that supposed to be a challenge? Section three corkscrews as if some giant hand twisted that part of the track over and over. How in the world—?

  Willis pounded the floor with his hand. He had no idea how anyone was supposed to race on that, and his mind was exhausted considering the possibilities. They couldn’t even practice section three properly. He intended to take this time on the track to think. The secret had to be in the lines on the floor.

  What could they be?

  Willis stared, hoping the floor would open up and speak to him. He walked the length of the first section to check for variations in the lines. He ran his fingers along them. He even counted them. In frustration, he laid down on his stomach with his hands under his chin to gaze at the lines from floor level.

  “What is your secret?” he whispered.

  Clang. The bell sounded signaling the end of Red Team’s training run. That was it. No time left to figure it out.

  “Off the track, reddie.” Creed’s voice startled him. Black Team was never late to their training runs. “We have the track now.”

  “Just leaving, Creed.” He sighed, not looking at them.

  Willis pushed himself up off the track with his hands, the zipper of his jacket tugging gently as he did. He glanced down and noticed that the bottom of his jacket was stuck to the floor.

  “Hey, are you deaf? I said off the track.” Creed growled.

  With his back to Black Team, he knew they hadn’t seen. Willis smiled to himself. The lines are magnetic.

  “All yours, Creed,” he said, trying not to sound too cheerful.

  “All runners, check in at your starting gates!” Blacc’s voice blared over the speakers. He’d given the teams his usual verbal thrashing, but Willis didn’t care. The other teams were still talking furiously over breakfast, so there was a good chance that they hadn’t figured it out until Blacc revealed it to all moments earlier.

  Each team had to declare who was running each section, and then those running the first three sections were presented special shoes. The bottom of each was equipped with similar magnets to the ones in the floor. Willis stood in gate four alongside Walker, Dex, Nico, and Starr. He couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone else on the team to anchor the race. He was glad to see Creed was starting his team. Willis didn’t trust him, either, after his threats earlier.

  Perhaps he’d hoped I would start my team off, so he could do something way up at the top of the sphere. Either way, he was glad he wouldn’t have to race with him.

  From gate four, he could watch the center of the spiral and had a perfect vantage point to view gates two and three. He recognized the exchange at the gates would be critical to getting an advantage in this race.

  “Tone in five seconds,” came the familiar voice. Willis tuned out the rest. He didn’t have to start at the tone, and he wasn’t interested in Blacc’s usual “make the Alliance proud” speech. He tried to picture the starting gate. Guessing at the nature of the opening section, Willis had put Kane at the front. He imagined Kane’s snarl as he awaited the tone, his strong grip strangling the baton he was to pass to Jez. Toad would handle the craziness of section three. His smaller size was a perfect fit for the spinning track.

  The tone sounded. Immediately the sound of heavy footfalls echoed through the sphere. Kane raced ahead of the pack, his powerful legs fighting the magnetic pull that made their feet stick to the floor. Willis could see him churning his steps and coming short of a run. The others, while working hard, could not keep up with him. Joanne grunted with each step trying not to lose too much ground to Creed. Her eyes widened as Perryn overtook her, the grimace on her face one of determination rather than defeat. Once again, Green Team was in last.

  “Not again,” Nico whispered to himself, though loud enough for Willis to hear.

  Blam. Blam. Blam. Kane’s pounding feet marched him around three levels of the spiral track. Each time he came into Willis’s view, his lead had lengthened. We have this one. Willis dared to believe.

  “Come on, Kane,” Jez screeched. Anyone could see that Red Team had a commanding lead and might obliterate the others with ease today. Jez contorted her body, reaching behind her starting gate. Her hand twitched, ready to receive the baton. Kane came crashing through his gate, the laser turning from red to green. Snatching the baton, Jez launched herself through the gate.

  A scream was the next thing Willis heard, followed by a thud.

  Willis could see Jez holding her head completely dazed. She must have assumed the magnets on her track were the same. In fact, they’d been reversed so the floor repelled the runner’s feet. The effect was that the runner’s steps were far more productive than usual. Wanting to compensate for the assumed extra force needed to move, Jez had pushed off too hard and instead shot herself into the air striking the level above with her head.

  “Nice move, Jez,” Creed called from the gate having passed the baton to Stone.

  “Shut up, Creed,” Jez spoke through clenched teeth as she tried to stand, her pale skin flushed with anger. Stone launched by her, having seen her mistake, followed by Jaden.

  “Get moving, Jez!” Willis cupped his hands around his mouth while shouting. Their early lead was suddenly gone. A greenie was leaving the second gate. Willis was relieved to see her get moving again in step with Lacey from Gold Team.

  Within two of the up and down stairs, the runners had all figured out a rhythm. Most realized they could simply launch themselves over each set of steps or to the top of the higher ones.

  “Waa-haa-haa!” came a voice, almost laughing.

  “Who is that?” Walker questioned, searching for the voice.

  Willis let himself smile. Jaden was bounding up one side of each staircase and using his momentum to handspring over the top step. He almost appeared like he was having fun, and he was gaining ground—now even with Stone. Lacey and Jez were right behind. Jez wore a spitting-mad expression as she launched up one stair and down the next.

  “Double time, Stone!” Creed hollered.

  “You got this, girl!” Starr encouraged.

  Nico looked like he was going to be sick watching his team lose again.

  Gate three. Jaden and Stone found their teammates together and collapsed breathless. Amber and Stone-zee stepped through their gate reluctantly, appearing unsure what their shoes would do after Jez’s mistake. In seconds they realized their feet would hold enough to the track to allow them to run even the upside-down portions of the corkscrew, but it was all the time needed for Jez and Lacey to catch up. Their gates side by side, they were locked at the shoulder as they ran, their black and blonde ponytails almost synchronous in their back and forth motion.

  “Cleo, reach!” Lacey cried as she lifted her baton. So close to Jez, her left hand momentarily hooked Jez’s right forearm, who reacted with a jerk of her arm. Willis watched Lacey
’s jaw crunch under Jez’s elbow. The grunt was loud enough for Willis to hear, even two floors down. Stone-zee, Amber, and Toad were careening through the corkscrew trusting every step to the shoes, but everyone in gate four hardly noticed.

  Lacey’s feet tangled, throwing her to the side, her hand barely grabbing the edge of the track as she fell off the side. Why aren’t the protective walls on? Willis instinctively reached out a hand and stared, unable to peel his eyes from the scene above.

  “Somebody help me!” Lacey half squealed, half screamed. She was holding on by one hand and quickly losing her grip. “Somebody!” Somewhere below, the gold team baton clattered as it hit the floor below.

  Starr gasped as Lacey’s hand let go of the track. An eternal breathless moment passed as Willis saw Lacey free fall, destined to land horribly at the bottom of the sphere, but she didn’t fall. Willis shook his head to clear the images of his mind’s eye. Lacey was dangling mid-air. Willis followed her hand to the two hands clasping it, followed by two forearms, to the red-faced Jaden trying his best not to get pulled over the side.

  “Serves you right, you little princess!” Jez taunted trackside. She glowered down at Lacey, offering no help. “Go ahead and fall.”

  “Please don’t drop me,” Lacey pled, her face streaked with tears and mascara.

  “A little help here,” Jaden grunted, slipping slowly forward.

  Willis stood in disbelief as Jez continued her insults as the others rushed to grab Jaden.

  “Hello? Anyone paying attention?” Amber’s voice broke the silent tension. The runners in gate four snapped their faces in her direction. The race is still on! Willis screamed in his head. Wake up, Willis!

  Toad had nearly caught Amber as the two emerged from the last upside-down portion of their track. Stone-zee was right behind.

  Crashing through the gate, the three passed off their batons. Blue—Red—Black, all neck and neck. Dex took off, his blazing speed showing its colors. Willis’s legs burned as he tried to keep up. He knew that Walker couldn’t beat him, but Dex had a second’s lead.