The Race Begins

Mason

My teeth were clenched, and I was white-knuckling the steering wheel when we took the first corner after we went beneath the overpass. I’d been a tad bit trigger happy watching Laina, and as soon as that flag went down, I was ready. The damn car in front of me had held me up a quarter of a second. He was weaving across the road and leading the pack, being an ass and not letting any of us past him.

            I guess that was the name of the game.

            But I was itching to get around him to really see how this car of mine could perform. I knew there was a hell of a lot of power in her than what I was currently riding her at, and the only way I could let her fly was to get out in front.

            The car in front was a yellow Mitsubishi Lancer. A typical ride for this scene. The paint was broken up by a royal blue stripe from the front of the hood down to the rear bumper. As it swerved from left to right, another car pulled up beside me. A red Nissan. Low to the ground with wide set tires, it was built to corner and eat up the pavement. The windows were blacked out like all the other cars on the road, and it was impossible to tell who was behind the wheel.

            It didn’t matter.

            They were all just cones on the road put there for me to weave around and leave in my rearview mirror.

            We emerged from the lower dock road and pulled out onto one of the main lower roads where other traffic was stopped at a red light. Good old Harley. She knew the traffic light schedules and mapped out routes to minimize risk. All twenty cars came pouring out into the intersection and took the corner, launching off down the road and spreading out now that we had three lanes to play with.

            The yellow boy in front would have a hard time maintaining his lead now.

            I smirked as he wandered to the right side of the road to block another driver who was trying to creep up the side. I let him go and maintained my speed. I waited. It was not easy. The yellow car kept drifting closer to the right, and I made a move to the outside left, creating more distance between the two of us.

            The red Nissan beside me must have figured out what I was doing. He swerved left, cutting into my lane, and kept creeping in on me to try to force me to slow down or be driven into.

            I wasn’t the sort to slow down.

            I dropped a gear and put my foot down hard on the gas. The car lurched forward, slamming me back in the seat as I pulled away from the Nissan.

            The yellow car was drawing back to the middle of the road, but he’d made his mistake. My opening was there, and I was taking it.

            I sped out in front of him, and he cut in behind me. Just like riding a fucking bicycle, I thought smugly.

We followed the track through another intersection. The light turned yellow as I raced through, and I checked my mirrors as other cars at the back of the pack didn’t make it before opposite traffic filled the intersection. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw Benji’s coupe make it through. The squeal of brakes rang in my ears, and I hooked a right, my back end sliding out behind me, and got my car back in line.

            The yellow car was still on my ass. The driver’s headlights filled up my cab as he jerked from side to side, nearly fishtailing behind me like a fucking psychopath. The pavement was wet, and he was risking losing all his traction by being an asshole.

            Then he drove into my back end.

            I was rocked forward and had to make some quick adjustments as my car tried to turn sideways. I pulled it back into line as the yellow car came up beside me.

            The driver’s window rolled down.

            Sid Paul. Of course. I should have known.

            Did he know it was me in the Mustang?

            It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the course narrowed into a single lane road between two buildings. It was hard to tell from this distance, but it looked like the narrow lane was at least four blocks long. Only one of us was going in.

            Sid tried to ram me again, and I had to swerve to the right. I checked my mirrors. No other cars were even close to overtaking us. For now, Sid and I were the only ones in this race.

            I gripped the steering wheel and floored it. Sid opened his car up too, and we both sped toward the narrow opening. The pavement seemed to pass underneath me at a frightening speed, and we were still neck and neck.

            I knew one thing without a doubt. If I didn’t get in front of him, Sid would not back off. He would drive into the side of the building to stop me from getting through.

            At the very last second, I jerked the wheel to the left and diverted from the course. I drove over a section of sidewalk and nearly lost control of the car as Sid disappeared into the narrow lane. It might have been my imagination, but I was sure I heard him let out a victory whoop.

            I pushed the Mustang hard to make up for lost time. I drove down a side street that was not sectioned off for the race. I was risking getting spotted by a cop or being reported by a citizen. I was driving with no plates, and my engine was roaring as I blew a red light and took a sharp right turn to get back on track. We were on the final stretch of the race, and I came out about ten feet behind Sid’s car.