Page 116 of Hyperspeed
Rock crashed down behind me, swallowing Cass’s vehicle in a deafening roar.
I slammed on the brakes. My seat caught my spine like a punch, but I didn’t feel it. Couldn’t. I stumbled out of the vehicle, ripped off my helmet, and let it hit the ground.
Air.
I needed air.
But no matter how hard I sucked it in, my lungs stayed hollow. My head spun, ears ringing with phantom brakes and the crunch of metal.
My brain was still trapped inside that collapsing cave.
The radio hissed in my helmet, Kileen and Tavoris firing questions I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t ready to relive it. I’d seen crashes before; they were a dime a dozen in the underground circuit.
But never a death, never up close.
Tears blurred my vision, sliding down my cheeks in silent streams. I didn’t lift a finger to stop them.
Didn’t think I deserved to, because I was alive and Cass was dead.
So I let them fall.
The camera drones closed in, circling me like hawks ready to strike. I should have wanted to hide my face, to mask the raw emotion written there plainly for all to see.
But I didn’t care.
Let them film it.
Let them broadcast me dropping to my knees on the frozen ground, eyes fixed on the mountain of rock sealing the cave shut.
Let them capture every sob that racked my chest as I knelt there, alone in the ice and silence.
For the first time since I was a kid, I let the world see me break.
Don't Go Brakin' My Heart
Kai
The officials called a red flag, bringing the race to a complete halt. Drivers were directed back to the pit lane with no explanation, only instructions to wait for further information.
There’d been an incident, that much was certain, and given the history of past seasons, it had only been a matter of time before something went wrong on the track. Finishing a race with just two minor incidents at Eclipse Spire was unheard of.
I was the first back to the pit lane, followed by Jax and Zylo soon after.
“Any idea what’s happened?” Jax asked.
I tossed my helmet onto my empty seat. “Nope. Must be bad, though.”
Crew members hurried up and down the pit lane, readying for the drivers’ return. But the team principals clustered around a CRF official, their grim expressions doing little to ease my anxiety.
One by one, drivers returned to the pit, pulling in from both ends rather than just the usual entrance.
“Must be a blockage on the track,” Jax observed.
“Rockslide maybe?” Zylo added.
“A rockslide wouldn’t cause this level of pandemonium.”
“It would if someone was hurt,” I muttered.
