Motorhead

by Kate Gilead

  She scoots ahead, putting herself in second place.

  Fuck!

  But wait…hang on…hang on…okay, go!

  There’s just enough of an interval between cars to take a chance, and….vvvvrrraaoooooowwww….accelerating out of the turn, somehow by the grace of God––and Freddy’s fuel-mixing skill––I scream into place beside her, bank it, bank it, and hold on to that outside position on the chute.

  The crowd is going wild. The announcer is freaking out, his voice getting hoarse from screaming.

  Lap twenty-three and we’re still behind the car in first place. It’s a fire-engine red Mustang, sporting a herd of galloping black ponies with fiery red eyes on each side.

  A beautiful car, whose driver is a guy from Akron, I believe. He drew a good starting slot and has hung unto the lead it gave him.

  Good show buddy, but your part is over now.

  Because it’s time for me to take the lead…and I’m getting in front….now!

  Marie

  Getting down to the nitty gritty. Still no red flags.

  Even for a short one, this race has gone extraordinarily well.

  I’m acutely aware of Mark’s presence beside me. Risking a glance at him, I see that his lips are drawn back from his teeth…what the…is he…laughing?

  It looks like he’s laughing his ass off!

  No time to think about that…gotta worry about the red Mustang just ahead.

  It’s large in my vision, seeming to fill every inch of it. Entry number seventeen.

  Slowly, unbelievably, he starts drifting to the right and outside, just as we’re rounding into lap twenty-four.

  Did he fall asleep or something?

  Naturally, Mark and I swerve towards the inside.

  Time to battle it out between us.

  But number seventeen corrects himself, pulling directly in front of me at the last possible second.

  Shit! I have to decrease the pressure on the throttle to avoid touching him, and for the remainder of the twenty-fourth lap, he manages to keep me in check while Mark slowly pulls ahead of him on the inside.

  White flag! Here’s the white flag now, last lap, last lap…I have to do this, I have to find a way around the Mustang and Mark’s burgundy Chevrolet.

  For a moment, I wanna cry.

  Never have I missed the guidance of my dad or my brothers so bad.

  I swerve right…fuck it, I’ll just fly past the Stang on the outside…and I make it, just barely.

  Jesus! That was close! My car rocks wildly for a second, trying to fly away, but I get it back.

  I get it back, thank you God.

  Come on come on just a little longer.

  Twitching the wheel to the left now, I slide in front of number seventeen and block his ass, my lips set in a grim line, sweat pouring down my neck into my suit.

  Now it’s just Mark ahead.

  If I just stay right behind him until the first turn, I can draft for a bit…ride his slipstream and maybe gain a valuable half-second that way.

  Then, I can get past him on the inside on the very next chute.

  And take first position on the home stretch…I know I can do it!

  I know I can do it if I stay…just for a minute…in his slipstream.

  Maneuvering my vehicle carefully, Mark and I both accelerate into the turn…and I manage to get directly behind him.

  If I draft behind him, just another few seconds…just follow closely behind him and then I can fly past like a heron.

  A heron? No, a rocket. Fly past like a rocket is what I mean.

  My mind empties once again, and my world shrinks down to my car, Mark’s car, and the wheel in my hand.

  All goes quiet and still…and I swerve minutely in my position behind Mark.

  In the silence, Kazuko’s dream-voice speaks in my head:

  Don’t follow, Cricket! Don’t follow!

  What? Don’t follow?

  Follow? Don’t…draft?

  Is that what that means?

  With no more time for thought, my hands simply…obey the voice, twitching the wheel to the left, as my foot presses down on the throttle to provide enough thrust to get out from behind Mark’s car.

  But Mark twitches left too, blocking me.

  Instantly, I twitch my wheel to the right. I’m firmly in second place on the outside now. It’s hard to pass on the outside but…shit! I gotta try…just try!

  I give the engine all the throttle there is to give, standing on the accelerator and gripping the wheel so hard I’m sure my palms will be bruised come morning.

  Here I go…standing on it…push…push…!!!

  It’s not enough.

  Everything slows down into super-slow-motion now.

  Mark flashes across the finish line, checkered flag waving, with me just slightly behind.

  And–POW!–his car blows a tire.

  He spins frantically out of control, tires screeching on the track.

  Mark’s car spinning, checkered flag waving, and I’m too close to his car…too close.

  So close to the spinning vehicle that our bumpers make the slightest contact––tiiiinnnngggg––– and it sends my car out of control, careening to the right…straight towards the tall green safety barrier wall.

  Slower now, everything happens even sloowwweerrrr now.

  All I see now is greeeeen, the green of the safety wall, looming large in my vision, filling it as the wall approaches in sickening and unstoppable slow-motion.

  THUH-DOOM!!!!

  My car bounces off the wall, jarring me so hard that my ears ring…not just ring but shriek….shriek in a pitch so high it’s eye-watering.

  The concussive force creates a shock-wave so hard, it makes my whole body go numb.

  I can’t feel my hands or my legs or my ass in the seat.

  Numb.

  And that’s the last thing I feel.

  My consciousness shrinks almost all the way down now to nothing now, and the numbness spreads to my emotions.

  Calm.

  I become calm, super-calm and peaceful….more peaceful than I can remember ever feeling before in my life.

  It’s quite nice. I like it.

  And at the same time, my field of vision begins doing a nauseating, slow-motion kind of flipping. I notice, calmly and peacefully, that my vision is flipping because my car is actually flipping, and I also notice also how strange it is…how strange that it’s flipping so slowly, I actually have time to observe how strange it is.

  Check it out…over and over we go…yes, how strange, I calmly observe.

  I see the green wall…then sky…then the blackness of the track…then sky again…then track…then sky again.

  Then…a far-away crunch, and the far-away sound of screaming metal.

  And then…

  Nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Marie

  Voices.

  Fading in and out.

  Men’s voices…my brothers…are they arguing? No…no. Not really. It’s just their version of a discussion.

  Dad! Dad…the sound of his voice makes my heart hurt.

  He sounds tired, but his voice is steady and reassuring.

  Fading in, and then fading out.

  Mom’s voice, too. Worried.

  Dad’s steady voice, reassuring.

  Am I missing a family meeting?

  I try to swim up out of the darkness that I find myself in. But…I can’t, something’s holding me back.

  Dimly, I remember wearing my racing suit. Maybe my racing suit is dragging me down in this deep, black water I’m in.

  Half-heartedly, I struggle once more to swim upwards… but my body is so tired.

  So tired.

  It’s warm here. And somehow, I can breathe.

  I’m not afraid. I can just let myself drift…drift, not draft…and I sink back downwards until sleep wraps its arms around me again.


  From far off, comes Kazuko’s voice.

  “Good girl, my Suzumushi! Sleep now…sleep.”

  When I open my eyes again, I’m gazing up at a field of speckled ceiling tiles.

  The low murmur of voices again, rising and falling.

  Beeps. Coughing coming from a ways off somewhere.

  A tinny voice on an announcement system, quietly saying “Dr. Berg, please call the nursing station. Dr. Berg, call the nursing station.”

  I’m in the hospital.

  I…Mark!

  Something happened to Mark…and me.

  I lay still, for a moment, and it slowly comes back.

  The race…shit!

  I crashed. Memories of the big THUD followed by the rapidly-flipping visuals flit through my mind.

  “Damn,” I say, and my voice comes out as a croak.

  Clearing my throat, I try again.

  “Hello,” I say, and it comes out fine.

  Alright. Voice works. Now, I start experimentally moving my limbs.

  Arms: A bit achey, but not too bad. Definitely not broken.

  My right arm has an IV line inserted, but when I check out the bag, I can see that it’s just a saline solution.

  Standard procedure, no indication of anything drastically wrong.

  Legs: Also achey, but not horribly so.

  Bend knees, flex ankles and toes. They’re fine.

  Hmmm.

  The palms of my hands hurt some. I hold them in front of my face. They’re sore, with some bruising where my fingers join my palms.

  Steering wheel death-grip, I guess.

  But something else happened too…something good.

  Didn’t it?

  I can’t quite pull it out…I kind-of groggily remember that sometimes, having an accident makes you lose your memory.

  Maybe it will come back.

  I test my head by turning and tilting it, this way and that. Yep. It’s a bit achey-and fuzzy, but obviously still attached to my perfectly functional neck.

  So far, so good.

  Now, to sit up.

  Oh…okay. Yep, there’s where it hurts.

  My stomach feels like I did about eight thousand sit-ups.

  Geez!

  I suppose this is the result of being immobilized by the safety harness in my car. Nothing broken, but my guts got a stirring, for sure. And maybe…

  I lift the sheets and look under my hospital gown.

  Yup. A little bruising there from the harness straps, probably.

  But I think…I think other than bruises…I’m fine.

  And since there are no weeping family members standing around, telling me how much they love me and will miss me when I’m gone…it’s a good bet that I’m gonna live.

  Pushing the bedclothes all the way off, I swing my legs off the bed, taking my time.

  I don’t feel all that bad, actually.

  Brain fog, yeah…bit achey and sore, yeah. Groggy, like I slept too much and can’t quite wake up.

  Yawning, I sit still, trying to remember…something good…something exciting…reaching for it…reaching…

  Yeah…oh, no!

  I remember!

  Mark blew a tire and spun out. I saw it, I was right behind him.

  A big boom. A jarring thud.

  Then…nothing.

  Shit! I must’ve crashed into Mark! I hope he’s okay!

  Oh God, please let him be okay.

  But that feeling of something good comes back, giving the lie to my anxiety. I sit still, holding my breath, trying to remember.

  Something exciting.

  But I can’t quite dig it out.

  But, at least it’s over…thank God the race is over!

  Right now, my bladder tells me that I have to pee really bad.

  Carefully, I stand up. I feel a bit dizzy but I just hold onto the bed rail and it passes quickly. Taking a deep breath, I go to the bathroom, bringing the IV stand with me. On the counter in there, I find my pink Hello Kitty tote bag with some clothes and toiletries.

  Using my toothbrush, I check my reflection out in the mirror.

  I don’t look too bad for someone who was in a racing accident.

  Like, not bad at all.

  Hmmm.

  But I can’t quite remember what happened after Mark spun out.

  I need to find out if he’s okay.

  Holding my hospital gown shut behind me, I trundle my IV stand to the nurse’s station to see what’s going on. A nurse in bright pink scrubs sees me and bustles over, insisting that I get back into bed until the doctor says otherwise.

  “Your family’s been here for half an hour. You were still sleeping, so they went to the cafeteria for breakfast.”

  “Do you know anything about my boyfriend, Mark Mollenkamp? Is he in this hospital too?”

  “I don’t think so,” she says as she escorts me back to my room. “But I just came on shift, it’s been busy. I’ll check and let you know, but right now, it’s best if you wait in your room until the doc sees you.”

  I climb back into the bed and she helps me settle under the covers. She takes my blood pressure and temperature and pronounces them normal, and then asks me a bunch of questions.

  “The doc will be along shortly,” she says as she makes notations on my chart.

  Behind her, a big form looms in the doorway before strolling all the way into the room.

  Mark!

  He’s carrying a styrofoam take-out container in one hand and a large take-out cup in the other.

  Tied to his wrist are some foil, helium-filled balloons. They all say Get Well Soon or some variant of that.

  But one says Happy Birthday.

  That’s right! Today’s my birthday!

  “Someone need a doctor? Doctor Feelgood in da house,” Mark says, smiling.

  My stomach un-clenches as relief fills me. “Mark! I was worried about you!” I sit up as if to get out of bed again.

  “No, stay put, stay put. I’m fine. We were worried about you,” he says. “Happy Birthday, baby!”

  Putting the food down on the bedside table, he nods to the nurse before leaning down for a smooch.

  “How are you feeling?” He smooths my hair back and gives me a smile, then ties the balloons to my bed rail.

  “Fine, I think,” I answer, smiling back. “This is my boyfriend!” I say to the nurse. She nods and smiles, busy with her notations.

  “Hi,” he says to her. “Is it okay for her to have cafeteria food? I saw what they’re feeding the other patients and took pity on her.”

  Only now that I know Mark’s okay do I realize how hungry I am.

  “Sure,” the nurse says. “She’s likely being discharged today anyway.” Turning to leave, she says, “She was worried about you. Glad to see you’re okay. Good luck!”

  Mark and I thank her, then he pulls the portable table over to my bed and opens the container. Scrambled eggs, sausages and pancakes with syrup on the side, garnished with orange slices. He pulls up a chair and sits down, watching as I spear a sausage round and eat it in two bites.

  He laughs. “I see your appetite’s not affected!”

  “Starffink,” I mumble, mouth full. I swallow. “What happened?”

  “Oh, you don’t remember? The doc said you might have some memory loss. You crashed, sweetie. You’re fine though. Your safety harness, the safety barrier…everything worked as it should.”

  “Crashed?”

  I reach for it…yes, it’s there.

  Thud-doom, and then numbness, silence.

  “I feel fine, just a bit sore. I do remember the crash…but nothing after that. Who won? What happened, Mark? Don’t keep me in suspense!”

  “Well…there’s good news and bad. Let’s start with the good. After you got settled and were sleeping peacefully last night, your parents insisted that I go home with them.” he says, eyes twinkling.

  I pause, mi
d-chew, and stare at him.

  He chuckles. “It was good. Your mom and dad were both awesome. They said I belonged with the family and wouldn’t hear of me staying here in the hospital, or in my apartment, alone.” He smiles. “Your dad apologized. More than once. He said he’s stressed, Marie. Very stressed.”

  “What about?”

  “He said he had to make a decision and we’ll all find out soon. He wouldn’t tell Tommy anything either.”

  “Shit. I wonder what it is?”

  “I don’t know. He’s tired, though. We’re all tired. Nobody I slept much. We came back here first thing and had breakfast together, too. These are his clothes!” He chuckles. “They’re giving us a moment to be alone before they come up.”

  “I…wow.” I feel stupid and slow, like I’m still a little out of focus. “That’s…I’m so happy to hear that. My dad’s not mad at anyone? Not mad at me?”

  “Nope.” He sits forward in the chair and puts a big warm hand on my leg over the covers. “So you remember the whole thing now, sweetie?”

  “I remember the crash.” A green wall looms in my memory. “Yeah, more or less. I think.”

  I eat another forkful of eggs, chewing thoughtfully. It seems like it was someone else involved in the crash, and not me. “I remember Kazuko. She…she…”

  “Kazuko?” He tilts his head curiously. “What about her?”

  Her voice, telling me not to follow. I open my mouth to tell Mark, but then I shut it again.

  No, it’s too crazy. It was just a dream.

  And besides, it feels…well, private.

  I’ll leave that between me and her for now. But I can tell Mark part of the truth, at least.

  “I remember I had a dream about her before the race.”

  “Huh.” He narrows his eyes but lets it go. “Okay. Well, the doc said that you do have a concussion and some internal bruising. Nothing too serious. You walked away from the crash but you kept talking about Kazuko. You got a little combative with the infield paramedics, so they had to sedate you. They kept you lightly sedated all night to help you sleep and recover. You’re okay, but, we were worried for a bit.”

  I stuff a huge bite of pancake into my mouth, chew, swallow, and then say, “I remember that you spun out…I was worried about you. But you’re obviously okay.”

  “Yes. I’m fine. You remember anything else?”

  “Yeah…not exactly. I mean, kind of. Something’s there…feels like, something good?”