Trackside

Stormy Weather

There's a reason the Piston Cup doesn't race in the rain.

___

"Alright Cruz, ten laps to go. Pace yourself, you've got this." he said as she passed over the finish line in front of him.

"Got it." her voice echoed through the headset.

She was leading the field for the first time that season, but Storm was still hot on her tail. Lightning kept a close eye on him, wary of his intentions. If Jackson played it clean, Cruz had a good shot at keeping her lead and winning. If not, well, they'd seen it before.

Lightning glanced up at the sky from his pedestal in pit row. Dark clouds were rolling in and the wind was starting to pick up. The race officials had already made the decision to keep the race going, with hopes that it would finish before the rain set in. McQueen doubted their judgement, but held his peace.

Eight laps later, Jackson still hadn't made a move, and the rest of the racers were starting to gain on the leaders, ready to end the race with everything they had. The pressure was on.

"Alright Cruz, watch yourself. Stay aware of your surroundings. Jackson is going to try and overtake you any moment now." Lightning told her. "And keep an eye out if it starts to rain. The weather's changing quick."

"Yes, sir." she focused on the track and took a moment to read the racers behind her. She was confident.

The last lap came up fast, each racer straining to move up the ranks. Still, it looked like Cruz had this race in the bag. If she didn't screw up, there was no way Jackson would get around her in time.

Then the rain started. Just a few drops as they rounded turn one, but by the time the racers had come out of turn two, it was a steady downpour of stinging, windblown droplets. The track was steaming from the heat of the day and the racers' tires.

It was too late to stop the race. Mere seconds were left. Cruz slowed down ever so hesitantly and took to the inside on turn three. Jackson saw his chance, and in desperation, swung to the outside to overtake her.

It worked until his tires lost all grip in the middle of turn four. Cruz pulled ahead and shot out of the turn and across the finish line as she heard a cacophony explode behind her. Her victorious smile quickly left her face as she turned towards pit row and looked back at the track behind her.

Lightning watched the entire thing play out in what seemed like slow motion. Jackson lost all control in the turn and plowed straight into the wall, just as he himself had not too long ago. There were several other racers behind Storm that likewise lost control and slid into the wall, and those that didn't slide crashed into them. Jackson took a hard hit in the side that flipped him over and sent him flying back into the outside wall before he could roll down onto the apron. A few collisions later, he came to a rest on the lower edge of the track, still upside down.

He wasn't moving. The paramedics rushed out towards the field and quickly checked everyone. Lighting saw Cruz bolt back towards the injured racers - her friends - to see if they were okay. He made no move to stop her. The stadium sat in near silence as the rain poured on, growing heavier.

The top half of the pack got the worst of the damage. A few of them were able to hobble across the finish line after they'd been assessed by the medical personnel, but half a dozen of them looked like they'd be out for a couple races. And Jackson looked worse than all of them.

Lightning felt a twinge of some uncomfortable emotion as he watched the paramedics flip Storm over to reveal the extent of the damage. Was it guilt? Fear? Empathy? He didn't know, but even cars like Storm didn't deserve to be hurt this bad. He cringed as he looked closer, and started to feel a bit sick.

Half of Jackson's fiberglass body shell was flat out gone, pulled to shreds from contact with the wall and the track. His driveshaft was broken, twisted in two and laying out from under him at an odd angle that seemed to emphasize his bent front axle. His mouth was slightly agape, slack from lack of consciousness. Somewhere in the distance, Lightning heard someone over a radio tell the cameramen to avoid pointing their cameras toward Storm. It might be too graphic to air on television.

"Mr. McQueen!" a voice jolted him out of his trance. He glanced down to see Cruz looking up at him with worry.

"Huh?" he came back to his senses, surprised to see her back already. "Cruz? Wait, I thought you were out there - I thought -"

"What should I do?" she asked. "I need to so something, I can't just sit here while everyone else is hurt."

Lightning looked back towards the track. They were towing some of the other racers off the track towards the onsite clinic. However, Jackson was being loaded directly into the back of an ambulance for transport to the nearest city hospital. They wouldn't be seeing him around for some time to come, if ever at all. Despite all the grievances Lightning had against him, he found himself hoping the best for Cruz's rival.

"Cruz, sometimes there's not anything you can do." Lightning said quietly, watching the ambulance disappear into the driving rain. "Just wait until they've cleared the other racers, and go visit them to see how they're doing. Take care of the press for them, if you can. A couple of these guys might even need a prayer or two."

Cruz didn't respond right away. She'd never heard her crew chief talk like that. This wreck was bad, but she slowly began to realize that it just might have been one of the worse pileups ever in the history of the sport. She counted her lucky stars that she wasn't a part of it, and nodded in agreement.

"I'll do that. I'll make sure I can do whatever I can for them, the first chance I get." she mumbled out loud, not talking to anyone in particular.

Lightning watched her drive off to talk to a few racers taking refuge in pit row. He looked up at the sky again through the rain and took a moment to quietly regard how quickly and drastically things can change.