Chapter 4 - The RaceA Chapter by Ryan YatesChapter 4 " The Race
The orange haze of sunset had descended on the plain just
outside town, bringing with it a congregation of racers, spectators and
gamblers. Many people had ventured out
to witness the race up close with many more spectating from a nearby ridge
overlooking the whole track. Darkness
would soon blanket the land and provide a cover for men and women of all ages
to race. The night was the refuge from
the blistering heat of the day and above all the best time to push engines to
their limit. Having failed to take a short nap Scott was making his way
to the race track just outside of town.
The thoughts that had kept sleep away were still bouncing around inside
his helmet. If he did not win this race
he would lose everything he had worked for and would be almost back to where he
started when he was dumped into that town.
He was struggling to set his mind on the twists and turns of the track
that he would have to perfectly navigate to win. His mind continually tore him away from the present, showing
him a series of abstract potential futures.
He strained at the thought of any one of them coming true. The contraption he was sitting on would be a
hugely deciding factor in what his future would be. Each pop, whizz and shudder chipped away a
little more of his already crumbling confidence. His mind darted between his past mistakes and
the potential dark future he could face if he did not win tonight. As Scott approached the track, the late evening shadow was
already creeping across the large dusty plain signalling the coming night. He was as usual, late, and was riding at
speed to reach the start in time. Now
adding the prospect of missing the race altogether to the already swelling
collection of prospective futures. His felt
like his head was about to burst open releasing every proposed timeline in one
reality splitting cataclysmic event. His helmet somehow managed to beat the strain and kept those
thoughts from escaping while he rode to the start-line. He soon reached the waiting pack of riders,
and race officials. Beyond them there
was a small crowd placing bets with the bookies who stood infront of a large
board displaying odds for different riders. He made it in time erasing the
potential timelines he had imagined into existence. The only timeline that mattered now was one
where he crossed the finish line first.
Scott removed his helmet to acknowledge one of the ragtag race officials
who shot him a look filled with annoyance.
‘You’re just in time’ the official shouted trying to compete
with a dozen engines and gestured him forward. Although officials and bookies tried to appear separate they
were really the same people, the same gang.
Felix, the head of the gang was conducting proceedings from a box in the
centre of the board. He was busy
whipping the crowd up into an excited mass all staking their little money on
their chosen champion. That was how the
race was funded, a small portion would go to the winner of the race just enough
to make it interesting. Scott headed for the start line now he had gotten approval
from the official. The start line was
literally a line drawn in the sand marked by two poles stuck in the
ground. An unholy chorus of growling
engines and screams paid tribute to the setting sun on the horizon. The deafening tones grated on each other,
vibrating the air in a terrible disjointed cacophony. Fingers filled ears to escape from the
ferocious snarls of these mechanical beasts. Even through all this noise he could still pick out the
sound and then sight of Dennis. He was
berating riders either side of him flailing his arms and legs in anger towards
them creating more space for himself on the starting line. Dennis had won more times than Scott cared to
or dared to remember. Usually there was
some dispute over the victory with accusations flying faster than the
bikes. The post-race enquiry usually
involved Dennis intimidating the officials in to taking his side and him
emerging with the cash in his hand. Scott joined the melee of the racing line-up and moved into
position alongside his competitors. His
bike chugged and whirred erratically as he pulled forward. The headlight dimmed with each twist of the
throttle. The rest of the line-up was
filled with a range of decrepit old rattling motorcycles that had been heavily
modified and tinkered with one sole intention.
More speed! None of these however
were more decrepit or more modified than Scott’s beat-up Frankenstein’s monster
of a motorcycle. Even with little money motorcycles were pretty easy to come
by or at least the carcass of one. The
Junk yard just outside town had a sea of spare parts. A treasure trove for anyone needing to fix up
a clapped out ride. That’s where this
line up of misfits had come from; junk.
This is where these people had come from; junk. None the less the junk was here and the junk
was ready to race. Now finally on the starting line Scott meticulously adjusted
his goggles making sure they were tight against his face. He took a glance at the odds on the board, his
name was so low he looked away not wanting to consider not winning. Taking his position in readiness of the
starting pistols blast along with the line of other competitors and his friends. His ash blonde hair quivered in the breeze as
he placed his black open face helmet back on his head. A waving hand stood out in the melee Karla waving at him wearing
her usual white gloves and helmet combination.
He looked over to see her mouth the words ‘good luck.’ He snapped his head back to the track choosing
to ignore her. Almost pretending to not
see her, no one ever wished each other luck before a race. Carlos was gearing up on his prised possession a medium sized
dark purple motorcycle with only a slightly rusted chrome finish. This very average bike was definitely one of
the best on show in this town and quite how he obtained it was a mystery to
most. Carlos was hugely proud of this
machine and paid in constant attention with maintenance and cleaning but of
course nothing could be kept clean in this dust. Mike had a garish bright yellow dirt bike that was pretty
much like the original apart from the electrically upgraded engines that each
bike shared. It was a good bike really
and he had won a couple of races before.
Finally and who had little chance of winning was Puerco. His bike as underpowered and small as he
was. Still he raced though and still he
had hope. There was no sign of fear as
Scott caught his eye even with Dennis flailing around close to him. Scott pulled his oil stained blue scarf over his mouth and
nose and looked down the track. His heart quickened and adrenaline flooded into
his bloodstream in anticipation of the starting blast. A nervous tension
gripped him as engines fired and smoke bellowed from exhausts. The spectator’s screams and cheers grew louder
as the time to race approached. The rising dust and smoke danced together closely in the air
like lovers. The soundtrack of roaring
engines and raised voices becoming a slow passionate waltz. The pair moved gracefully, Illuminated under
the spotlights of a dozen bike headlamps.
They moved in and stole one last kiss as a gust of wind tore them apart. The start of the race would be signalled by the bang of a
flare gun, fired the very instant the orange ball of fire vanished from
view. With all the noise around him
Scott fell in to a world of perfect silence.
He was busy playing the start over and over in his mind. The right amount of throttle, the perfect
release of the clutch along with starting exactly on the “B” of “Bang.” The crowd calmed and fell quiet as all watched the sun
slowly melt into the ground. All united
in an overwhelming anticipation. The
race official raised his starting pistol in to the air. The engine noise seemed to fade as reds and
pinks took over the blue sky while white clouds brewed into dark orange shadowy
puffs. The shadows of rocks stretched
long across the ground until they themselves fell into the sleeping darkness. People now stood silent with their excited
faces bathing in the fading soft orange light.
Gradually the final speck of the now deep red sun faded from sight
disappearing into the ground. Bang! The pistol fired and the calm vanished like the setting sun with
bikes exploding into movement in a furious cacophony. A bright white flare streaked across the sky,
the race was underway. Dust bellowed
into the air hiding any trace of the competitors from view. One by one each rider emerged from the dust firing
down the course as fast as their rundown motorcycles could take them. As they headed for the first corner the usual competitors
were leading the way. In the lead, Karla
followed by Mike, and then Dennis. Three
or four riders were either side of Scott as he did his best to accelerate
away. A flash of Purple caught his eye,
maybe it was Carlos but it didn’t matter here.
There were no friends in this race.
He could not care where Carlos or Puerco where now. His one aim was to finish in first
place. The chasing pack was close but Scott
fixed his concentration forward to the riders ahead. His bike rattled furiously as it soared down the dirt track. Truly an awkward mishmash of borrowed parts
strapped together with spit and tape. The
riders either side seemed to want to keep away in fear of its loose parts
flying off and into their path. Scott
was gripping hard just to stay on the bounding bike. His face filled with concentration. The first corner would define his race and the
worthiness of his creation. The three riders ahead rounded the corner without incident in
rapid succession. Scott approached,
simultaneously tightening his grip on bike and mind. Other riders were still beside him as he
prepared to manoeuvre. Red dust filled
the air. He leaned into the sharp left
hand corner with perfect balance and poise sliding round maintaining as much
speed as possible. He rose again, upright,
opened the throttle and began picking up speed with every bumpy metre. The riders at his side now gone from sight. He didn’t care where just as long as they were
behind him. His target now was Dennis who had already gained ground on
Mike heading in to the second corner. They both rounded it in perfect order and
carried on down the next straight.
Dennis now close, moved around the rear of Mike looking for a chance to
pass. Mike battled back closing every
avenue that appeared, before Dennis could take advantage. This battle allowed Scott to catch up significantly as he
rounded another corner perfectly. He powered down the straight and suddenly his
headlamp flickered on and off and the bikes power fluctuated. His nerves rattled as loudly as the
bike. It was almost immediately back to
normal though and he didn’t lose much time over the minor incident. Ahead, Dennis pulled to the right of Mike to take the inside
line for the next corner. Both headed
into the sharp right turn. Side by side
they leaned in and rounded it closely almost grazing each other. Again side my side they headed down the
straight as fast as their bikes would take them. Dennis pulled slightly ahead as the two pushed
their bikes to the limit. The next long sweeping left curve gave Mike back the inside
line and the impetus to quash the gap Dennis had created. Suddenly an arm swung out. Dennis threw the limb out towards Mike in an
angry gesture of frustration but failed to make any meaningful contact. Mike turned to him exasperated but the two
continued to fire down the track side by side.
Racing to the next left hand corner it was a battle of who would brake
first. Deciding who would emerge out of
the next corner ahead of the other. Mike broke hard slowing down rapidly before the sharp right
hander which allowed Dennis to fire past him.
Dennis slammed on the brakes the instant after Mike but it was already too
late. His heavier machine ran wide
creating a cloud of dust fogging the track in front of Scott. Mike with ease pulled around the corner
passing Dennis and headed down the next corner. Karla’s lead was growing all the time as she
skirted around the next series of turns with ease. Scott had gained ground on the battling pair with every moment
they were in conflict. He was now as
close to Dennis as he was to Mike as all headed down the long back straight. The more powerful bike of Dennis allowed him to snatch back
ground lost to Mike and he was getting incrementally closer with every
second. Scott did his best to match this
raw speed but Dennis had the most powerful bike in the race. Dennis was bearing down upon his prey but the
corner was approaching all too fast. He
slowed matching Mikes speed as they headed in to the left hand corner. Both going at full pelt dust flew into the air obscuring the
view of the two riders. However only one
rider emerged from the dust; Dennis, who forged ahead down the next straight. Mike rolled along the ground coming to rest
outside the edge of the race track with his bike skidding along the surface. Scott knew what had happened, it had happened so many times
before it was almost to be expected.
Although it was impossible to see, he sure that Dennis had hit Mike
during the turn or caused him to fall by some other devious means. Mike would not just fall off. None of this mattered now though, it was one less person to
pass. He was closer than ever to Dennis
and had to keep making ground. Even Karla
had been dragged back into the race during the long straight. Dennis had her in his sights having not
noticed Scott gaining on him. Another loose corner allowed Dennis to use his additional
speed to draw Karla deeper into his clutches.
Dennis could now easily pass Karla on the next straight but just slowed
and matched her speed. Scott was
astonished as to why Dennis didn’t move ahead.
Either way it allowed him to make up vital ground on the two
leaders. Scott’s concentration gave way
to illation for a moment. Ahead there
was sharp left turn then a series of S bends.
This is where Dennis would struggle and this is where Scott would take
control of the race. Dennis was now glued to Karla’s side as they went in to the
sharp corner again with dust filling the air.
This time Scott could see what was happening. Dennis placed a deliberate kick against
Karla’s bike firing it back upright and aiming off the track. With speed she flew up the banked corner,
jumping off the course and onto the plains. Upon landing she was thrown from the bike and
rolled on the ground alongside. Both bike
and rider strayed over the yellow line. The Kill line. She came to a stunted stop as the bike rolled
on. ‘F**k, come back’ she shouted after the bike rising to her
feet. The Realisation where of where she was hit and panic pulled
her body into motion. She instantly
turned and began to sprint as fast as she could from the wall. The bike continued to hurtle towards the
colossal structure. Red lights began to
flash and a deafening siren wailed. A
large compartment opened on the upper echelons of the wall revealing a huge
machine gun array emerged with four long barrels protruding from the structure. They seemed to instantly lock on to the wandering bike and
with a short burst of fire, rounds were sent hurtling through the air. They cut through the metal exterior of the
bike puncturing tyres, breaking glass and finally rupturing the fuel tank. The bike erupted into a ball of flames flinging high into
the air continuing to snap and crackle violently as it summersaulted across the
night sky. The inferno came crashing
down to earth with a thunderous smash scraping along the ground in an
amalgamation of dust and flame. It
finally came to rest a few yards later. The wreckage twisted and black smouldering in
the sand. Thick black smoke filled the
already dark sky and blanked out the moon. Scott’s heart fluttered as he continued on past Karla and
the wreckage. Even though Scott was
desperate win he would never stoop to such tactics. At least she was alive and now Dennis was in
his sights. Scott swept through the
series of S bends effortlessly closing in on Dennis. The bucking bronco was now under his spell and responded to
every command his body gave. Gaining on Dennis
all the time the sweat built on his brow within his him helmet. Only two corners remained and that was enough
to grab the lead and cross the line first. Scott rounded the next corner with ease reaching the rear
wheel on the now leading Dennis. He was
slowing creeping past Dennis having managed to accelerate out of the corner
quicker. Without warning his headlamp
began to flicker more and more frequently. ‘No, No, No, what the f**k,’ Scott
exclaimed, the light dimmed to a soft amber glow. He could barely see the ground in front of
him but still he pressed on maintaining his speed. Dennis skidded into the sharp left final turn creating a
cloud of dust making it impossible for Scott to see the track ahead. Unflinching he leaned in where he imagined the
track would be. The Bike jolted up and
down along the ground and as he emerged from the cloud he realised had strayed
outside the bounds of the track. A hose
sprang from its clamp firing steam out into the air, instantly the bike lost
power slowing to a limp. Scott looked ahead to see Dennis pulling away and heading
for the line, his heart collapsed. He
along with his chances of winning were left behind in the dirt. He limped back on to that track hanging his
head low. Dennis crossed the line with his fist in the air ‘Yes!!!!’
he screamed ‘woooooooo,’ © 2016 Ryan YatesFeatured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
272 Views
5 Reviews Added on January 21, 2016 Last Updated on January 21, 2016 AuthorRyan YatesUnited KingdomAboutWriting is a joy for me. Ultimately I am telling myself a story and I invite you to listen in. I am from England but live my life on the road at the moment. Luckily I have the ability to write ev.. more..Writing
|