Savior Ch. 32

As I watched, Vince was hurrying toward me, the starter in his hand. He plonked the starter on the table, glanced at the board and picked up his clipboard.

"Rand! You're pushing too hard!" Vince said an instant after Rand's time flashed on the timing board.

Moments later, a second set of numbers appeared below the first. "You need to back off a little or you're going to overcook your tires."

When the third set of numbers appeared, he looked at me, his worry clear on his face. "He's pushing too hard," he said softly, covering the mic with his hand.

I was told not to speak, but the look on Vince's face spoke volumes. "Rand... Vince said you're pushing too hard. Please... come back to me."

"Copy."

Another time went up, and I glanced at Vince. He said nothing but shook his head. I pursed my lips, my heart thudding in my chest. I wrapped my free hand around the mic, as I'd seen him do.

"Please," I whispered to whatever god watched over racers.

The final time appeared. I could hear the scream of his motorcycle approaching rapidly, the sound like a tortured soul wandering in the darkness of the forest. I again looked at Vince, Garrett's weight forgotten in my anxiety. He smiled at me and covered his mic.

"He's out of the worst of it and on pace to set a new track record."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Come on," he muttered, his hand still over his mic. "Come on!"

I looked toward the finish line, Rand's screaming, shrieking machine charging toward us like an enraged beast, the machine's jittering headlamp flashing in the darkness, glowing like a single malevolent eye. Suddenly the wailing machine fell nearly silent, the engine revving and falling, revving and falling as Rand burned off speed at a furious rate. I glanced at the time displayed on the leader board. 11:02:581.

"Time?" Rand asked.

"Eleven..." Vince said, then paused just to torment his friend.

I had a feeling there was some significance to Rand's time.

"I figured that much," Rand replied.

"Oh-two point five eight one," he finished. "A new track record. Congratulations, man."

"Thanks, Vince."

"I'll meet you at the truck."

"Everyone!" Doug's voice rang over his bullhorn, causing Garrett to start awake.

"It's okay, Punkin," I murmured, rubbing his back.

"Rider number one in the unlimited class has just set a new track record of eleven minutes, two point five eight one seconds, bettering his previous track record of 11:03:012 by nearly a half second."

An appreciative murmur rolled through the pits, along with more than a few people clapping. If I weren't holding Garrett I'd have been leaping for joy. Take that, you fucking bastard! I snarled to myself, wishing I could see Carl's face at this moment.