AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, but you might have to be strong. You’ve got to remember that things aren’t always as they seem. Something so obvious might mean something completely different. I learned that lesson, and it was a painful one. I thought I knew something; in fact, I was so sure of it, and I realized I was wrong. If I can give you one piece of advice, it would be to use your head and listen to your intuition. If something doesn’t make sense, investigate it. Don’t do something blindly.”
“Why so philosophical all of the sudden?”
“I don’t know. My old age perhaps.”
* * *
Race day was no less hectic than any other day. After pre-race interviews, I went in search of Carlos to watch the race. I found him in front of the monitors, and he looked more tired than usual, and I had no idea why. Nothing seemed amiss.
“What’s wrong, Carlos?” I asked, putting my arm around his shoulder.
“I’m not fond of this track.”
“No one is.”
“It’s too dangerous. Your brother has been commenting all morning that the car has no grip. I find it astounding that he can keep the damn thing on the track.”
Last year there had been an uproar about this track. Some drivers had refused to race until safety measures had been added. Small modifications had been made, but Devin had told me that not nearly enough had been done. Of all the tracks on the circuit, Devin hated this one the most, and it wasn’t even close.
Carlos sighed. “I hate to say it, but I haven’t felt this way about a race since the day your father died.”
My stomach churned. That was not what I wanted to hear, and I trusted Carlos’s instincts.
The race began with a few cars spinning out on the first corner, not a good sign. Not ten laps later, a spectacular crash involving both of the Merrick drivers and Devin left the track littered with debris. I felt as though my heart stopped and didn’t start beating again until I saw Devin fling the steering wheel from his car and slowly climb out. Although he appeared only shaken, the medical personnel were quickly on the scene to survey the damage.
“By the time this race is over, there won’t be enough cars on the grid to score points,” Carlos said with disgust.
Thankfully, all three drivers involved in the crash were uninjured, and the race was halted so the track could be cleared. Bits and pieces of three cars were scattered all around. Reporters hovered around the Russo and Merrick pits. It had been a blow for Merrick to lose both of their cars, and there were whispers that Devin had purposely taken them out to clear the way for Erich to win. I knew that he would never sink that low. Besides, he owed Erich no favors, and Devin knew how dangerous this track was. He would never try anything like that.
The race was halted for over twenty minutes. The track was an oil slick as the three cars had all but shattered. Every piece had to be removed before the race could begin again. The two Perez cars returned to the pits and awaited the restart of the race. Carlos left his post to confer with Rafe on track conditions. I chatted with the mechanics until the race was close to beginning again. I was pleasantly surprised when Devin appeared in our pit. He was already dressed in his street clothes.
“Russo let you leave?”
“When you inadvertently help the cause of your teammate, you are rewarded.”
“And my crew let you in? You could be stealing vital secrets.”
“A comedian, you are not.”
Carlos returned to his seat as the cars made their way back onto the track. He gave Devin a strange look before sitting next to me. Devin put on his sunglasses and watched the monitors with me, an arm loosely draped over my shoulder.
“This is one shitty track,” he commented. “I think all the drivers should petition the federation about this place.”
“I agree,” Carlos said solemnly. “There are too many dangerous corners and not enough places to pass. I’m not even sure the course condition is that great.”
“It’s not,” Devin said.
When the race restarted and the pace car had disappeared, Blake Carlton was in front, Rafe in fourth place, Pedro in seventh. A driver named Harris was a close second and was gaining ground on Blake. There was little room to pass, and Harris was biding his time. He was challenging Blake to make a mistake. Four laps later, in the exact corner where Devin and the Merrick cars had collided, Blake’s Roche car slid off the track and seemed to launch itself into the air before turning on its side and slamming into the barely padded concrete barrier. Chunks of his car went flying, including a tire that gingerly wobbled back onto the track. What remained of his car proceeded to roll over several times before resting gently on its side. Other cars had to maneuver quickly to get out of the way of the flying and scattered debris.
A hush fell over the thousands and thousands who had come to see the race. It was eerie. I felt Devin’s arm tighten around my shoulders as we all watched for movement, waiting for any kind of movement to let us know he was all right. Any second, I expected Blake to jump out of his car, but nothing happened. Blake Carlton’s body was limp and motionless, hunched over the side of his car. My heart seized. I waited for him to snap out of it, to climb out, but by the angle of his body and the way he was slumped awkwardly, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Surely, he was only unconscious.
Field stewards were quickly on the scene as was the medical team once again. The race was halted. My body began to shake. I turned away from the monitor and from the track. I covered my face with my hands. All the Perez mechanics and technicians watched with anticipation and dismay as an ambulance rushed to the scene. You could hear a pin drop, an amazing feat at a race.
Devin had been staring at the monitor in a state of shock. It took him several moments to absorb what he’d just seen. He put his arms around me as I stifled a sob. I knew that if he wasn’t dead, he wished he would be.
I clutched my stomach as I turned back to the monitors. Medical personnel carefully lifted him from his car. People had begun to gather around pit lane in hopes that Blake Carlton was all right. They waited anxiously for any sign that he’d be okay. There was activity on the radio as all the teams tried to ascertain the graveness of Blake’s condition.
Rafe was hysterical when he returned to the garage. He leapt out of the car and immediately went to Carlos. Carlos was shaking his head, and throughout the Perez garage Rafe could be heard say the word “no” over and over again. A helicopter had been called in. Blake was being taken to a hospital in Budapest. There was still no news on his exact condition, but whispers were racing through pit lane that he hadn’t been moving or breathing.
I was feeling sick and dizzy. I covered my head with my hands and tried to block out Rafe’s cries of anguish.
“Not Blake,” he shouted. “No, not you, Blake.”
Rafe was sobbing and being comforted by Carlos, who took him into one of the offices. I felt my feet give way and fell to my knees before Devin could catch me. He held me tightly as I cried. Minutes passed, or maybe it was an hour. I couldn’t keep track any longer. Official word from Gregory Brown came through to all teams, although the crowd hadn’t yet been told.
Blake Carlton wasn’t going to make it.
And if I’d thought Blake Carlton in life would strain my relationship with Devin, his death would have an even bigger impact.
