Racing the Sky Page 7

  It was Vic’s turn to grin. “I’d like that.”

  They talked about trails on the way to the race—ones they’d been out on and ones they wanted to try. It helped keep Nicky calm until he got there. Once they arrived, however, the nerves faded and Nicky was all business. He slipped into his gear and went over the bike with the mechanics, tweaking things here and there.

  The thrill of winning the second qualifier left Nicky feeling confident and excited to race again. It gave him some breathing room to sit back and see who else would race in the finals. Terry made it, strutting like a peacock after he came in third in the last qualifying race. His suit was open and Nicky could see the rune he wore at his throat. It gave Nicky a twinge of wistfulness to see it, but the real pain hit when Dirk congratulated Terry and Nicky caught a glimpse of him wearing the matching rune.

  Nicky’s rune.

  Vic saw it too and clasped a hand on Nicky’s shoulder. “Don’t let it bother you. Focus on the race. It’s yours to win.”

  Nicky nodded, but couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from them.

  “Hey!” Vic said sharply, drawing Nicky’s attention to him. “He’s an asshole. Forget him. You don’t need a necklace to win a race. He, on the other hand, might want to hang a horseshoe around his neck if he hopes to place.”

  The corner of Nicky’s eyes crinkled before his face split into a grin. He laughed, and the tension seemed to melt away as they fist bumped and leaned back against the fence.

  “Thanks, Vic.”

  “No problem.”

  Nicky’s eyes swept over the dirt track, then out beyond it, letting the noise of the restless crowd fade a little, grateful for Vic’s silent company. Like it had for so many years, the nagging mournfulness crept in a little bit as he wished he still had family left to come and see him race. With a sigh, he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the jumps and turns that made up the track.

  It wasn’t long before they were calling the racers to bring their bikes to the start.

  “You’ve got this,” Vic said as Nicky pushed away from the fence.

  Nicky just grinned and ran off, eager for the race to begin.

  As soon as he felt his bike rumbling beneath him, every stray thought and lingering doubt fled. It was just him and the machine and the track stretched out in front of him. Let the others race for second. He felt the vibrations run through him and then the gate dropped and he gunned the bike and fought for the lead.

  The first jump was always the most exhilarating. There were moments, alone on a practice track, when he just threw his arms out and yelled as he soared over it. Today, however, he focused on landing and getting the best angle into the turn, heart hammering in his chest as he felt the closeness of the other riders.

  It took him most of the first lap to gain the lead and keep it, and even then he knew the other bikes were close. He occasionally caught sight of one to his right, creeping up. Each time he’d lean lower, gun the bike faster, hit that next jump looking for bigger air, all the while thinking, Come on, come on.

  He almost went down in the second lap. He leaned a little too much on a turn, quickly corrected, wobbled, lost the lead, and had to fight to get it back. So stupid; he knew better. He got a good series of jumps and a great turn to take it back, but now he had riders just behind him on both sides.

  The third lap a bike went flying by him on a jump. A flash of numbers told Nicky it was one of the Runnell twins. He caught him on the triple and they ended up neck to neck, with another bike creeping up on his left as they went into the forth lap. Every jump was a fight, one bike passing the other, trading the lead, until Nicky finally caught a huge jump and surged ahead. He could see the finish, went through the rockers, and headed for the last big leap with the throttle wide open. The next thing he knew something slammed into his rear tire and he was air-born, careening wildly above the track before smashing down into the dirt. He was conscious when another bike hit him, its rider thrown on impact. Nicky screamed, pain ripping through him as he tried to curl into a ball.

  ***

  In the stands, Vic watched in horror as Terry’s bike slammed into Nicky’s at the end of a jump, sending Nicky flying. The awful way he thudded to the ground became even more horrifying when another bike hit Nicky. Vic choked down the urge to vomit. His fingers, tight on the railing, refused to unfurl at his command. It was as if they were frozen there as the noise around him dulled until everything sounded like he was underwater.

  Vic tore himself away from the railing and slammed into the man beside him, beer from a red solo cup splattering Vic’s shirt. He ignored the man’s cursed complaints and shouldered his way past a couple chicks with too-wide eyes and their hands covering their mouths. All around him people were either staring at the wreckage or cringing and turning away, and not a single one of them seemed to get out of his way fast enough. An overweight man and his equally fat wife had the ends of the stands blocked, and Vic shoved the man hard, only to find that he couldn’t move him.

  “God damn it, fucker, move!” Vic snarled, shoving again.

  The guy just shoved him right back and Vic went off, screaming as he tried to force his way around them until at last he was able to shoulder her into him and their combined weights sent them off balance and crashing onto the bleachers. He didn’t spare them a thought as he continued his path toward Nicky.

  ***

  When Terry won the race moments later, few people were even paying attention to who had crossed the finish line. They were all watching the rider writhing on the track and the blood flowing between the rips in his race leathers.

  Celebrating, Terry was shocked to discover that the people were silent. He looked behind him and saw the wreckage on the track. Standing still, he waited for the medics to help Nicky up and for the people to cheer as they walked him off the track; but that didn’t happen. Instead, EMTs rushed the track as the other riders stopped, a hush having fallen over the entire arena. Then Terry heard a scream of pain and he knew that it was Nicky. His blood ran cold and his heart began to pound like war drums in his chest.

  He’d meant to teach Nicky a lesson, but he’d never meant to hurt him. Terry started walking back toward the wreckage when he saw Vic jump the barricade and hit the ground at a run. Nicky screamed again, and what Terry saw when he got there froze him in his tracks.

  ***

  In the stands, River gripped the railing and stared down at the track, alongside hundreds of other shocked spectators. He was close enough to see that Nicky was bleeding and knew there would be no walking away from this one. When Nicky screamed, River had to choke down the urge to vault the railing and rush to his side. The only thing that kept him in place was the knowledge that there was nothing he could do beside get in the way.

  There was blood everywhere and two EMTs were holding Nicky down while another tried to control the bleeding coming from his left arm. His left leg looked mangled, bone sticking through his suit. Nicky’s face shield was shattered and his face a mask of crimson. River saw track officials try and back Vic away, but nobody stopped Terry from rushing to Nicky’s side and dropping down by his head.

  River’s fists clenched as he ground his teeth, anger making his vision turn a hazy red as he listened to Terry begging Nicky to forgive him. Son of a bitch had hit him on purpose, River knew it in his soul, and when he got his hands on Terry…

  River reached out and gripped the fence, shaking it and wishing he could rip it down.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Terry cried, and River wanted to reach through the fence and choke him. What fucking good was sorry when Nicky was lying there in pain?

  “Nicky, I’m sorry!” Terry yelled again.

  Yeah, like Nicky could hear him, like Nicky cared at the moment when he was thrashing around in agony. Never had River felt hatred the way he did as he watched Terry pleading.

  They began packaging Nicky onto a backboard and gurney for the ride to the hospital. River kept hoping he’d at least give
the crowd a thumbs up, but he was so still.

  The next thing River knew, Terry was flat on his back in the dirt, with Vic looming over him.

  “You son of a bitch!” Vic snarled.

  “I didn’t mean for him to get hurt,” Terry pleaded.

  “Yeah, ’cause you haven’t been ripping him to pieces for weeks! Well, good job, Terry. Congratulations, you won!”

  With that, Vic joined Nicky and the EMTs in the back of the ambulance.

  ***

  Terry picked himself up off the ground and walked past his bike, determined to get to the hospital as well. Dirk caught up with him at the gate and grabbed his arm. “Awesome race. You won. I knew you’d win.”

  Terry looked down at him, catching sight of the rune he’d given to Dirk just that morning in the hope that Nicky would see it. Terry cringed, remembering the moment he’d put the necklace on Nicky and kissed him to follow it up. “For luck,” he whispered, kissing Nicky again. “For love,” Nicky whispered softly, kissing him in return.

  Terry hung his head at the memory. He’d never expected his jealousy to go this far. All he’d wanted was that sponsorship. Nicky had known how much it meant to him. If Nicky had cleared the lane and let him have it, none of this would have happened. Though deep down Terry knew that Nicky never would have just let him win. He was always trying to prove something...just like Terry.

  “Ter, you okay?” Dirk asked, shaking him from his thoughts.

  “No. We have to go to the hospital. Nicky’s hurt bad.”

  Dirk frowned, but didn’t argue as he followed Terry to the car.

  ***

  By the time Terry and Dirk arrived at the hospital, Vic was already pacing the waiting room.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Vic demanded.

  Terry shot him a look of stubborn defiance. “I came to make sure that he was okay.”

  “Well he’s not!” Vic snapped, his fists clenched. “So fuck off!”

  “I have as much right to be here as you do.”

  “No, you don’t,” Vic growled. “You gave up that right when you broke up with him and went out of your way to make his life a living hell.”

  “You gentlemen will need to keep it down; this is a hospital,” a nurse informed them both.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” Vic sat, but refused to look at Terry.

  A few minutes later, Vic glanced over the top of the magazine he wasn’t truly reading, to see River rushing in. As soon as River spotted him, he headed Vic’s way, dropping into the seat beside him.

  “How’s he doing?”

  Vic sighed and shook his head. “They’re having X-rays done, and he needs an MRI. That’s all they’ve told me. I hate waiting.”

  “Not a fan of it either, but I’ll wait with you.”

  “Yeah, sure. Crappy coffee is that way,” Vic pointed off to the left, at a coffee cart near where Terry and Dirk sat.

  “Yeah, I’ll pass on that. Might be too tempting to empty the pot over Terry’s head.”

  Vic shot him a look that was half anger and half confusion.

  River shrugged. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Just trying to wrap my mind around why you’re here after the shitty way you guys treated Nicky at work.”

  “Hey, that wasn’t me. That garbage was all Terry, Chris, and Jason. I was towing a piece of crap BMW when all that bullshit happened with the transmission, and by the time I got back, Nicky was gone. You’d better believe I tore them all a new one for being dicks.”

  Vic deflated then, shoulders slumping as he put his head in his hands.

  “How bad did it look?” River asked hesitantly. “I could see blood, but it was hard to tell where it was coming from.”

  “It would be easier to tell you where it wasn’t coming from. His visor got smashed, his face was cut, his leg was broken so bad there was bone sticking out, and his arm….” Vic paused and shook his head. “It just looked mangled.”

  “Fuck.”

  Neither had much to say to each other, so they sat in silence, eventually receiving word that Nicky was in surgery. Vic lifted his eyes when the hospital doors opened, and watched as Nicky’s mechanics took up seats in the waiting room. They were quickly followed by his sponsor, who went straight to the admissions desk and inquired how he was. After being updated on Nicky’s condition, he directed them to send all of Nicky’s bills to him. The solemn man took a seat beside his mechanics and picked up a magazine. The speed that he thumbed through it suggested he wasn’t reading a thing. Vic knew the feeling; he couldn’t focus on anything either. Every time he tried, he saw the horrible moment when the bike struck Nicky. No, it was best just to sit there and not think.

  By the time the sun went down, Vic was sick of cold coffee and watching Terry and Dirk huddled together in a corner. He wished they’d fucking leave. He could feel himself getting tense, his hands clenching, his heart rate picking up. Images flooded his mind of grabbing a chair and smashing it over Terry’s head, wailing on him with it until he was bleeding out on the floor the same way Nicky had been bleeding on the track. Snarling out a curse, Vic came half out of his seat, fully prepared to stalk over to Terry.

  “The family of Nicholas Erikson, please?” the doctor said.

  Vic froze, blinking as River stood and moved toward the doctor, along with the mechanics and sponsor.

  “Here,” the group said as Vic hurried to join them.

  “Here,” Terry also announced; but Vic was too concerned about what the doctor had to say to grab him by the collar and toss him out.

  The doctor pulled off his surgery hood and looked at them all.

  “Nicholas suffered several severe lacerations to his left arm which needed to be repaired, his left leg was broken in three places and partially severed, and there were some fairly deep facial lacerations. We’ll be moving him up to the ICU unit as soon as they’re finished with him in post-op.”

  “Is he going to be okay?” Terry asked.

  “It’s going to take time and some extensive physical therapy. We had to use pins, screws, and plates in order to fix the damage to his leg, and a tendon in his arm had to be repaired. He’s got a long road ahead, and I would strongly suggest that he never race again.”

  Terry’s jaw dropped, while Vic’s mouth was set in a firm line.

  “How long before he’s healed enough to go home?” Vic asked.

  “Now that I can’t tell you,” the doctor said.

  “When can we see him?” River wanted to know.

  “Not until he’s up in the ICU, and then it’s only one at a time for ten minutes each. I’ll have a nurse let you know when he’s been moved.”

  “Thanks, doc,” Terry said as he moved with Dirk to sit back down.

  “Yes, thank you,” Vic said as he turned to walk away.

  Nicky’s sponsor stood with the doctor a little while longer, both men speaking low. A part of Vic wanted to rush over and demand they tell him what they were talking about, but the other part of him didn’t want to know, especially not if it was worse than what they’d already heard. With a groan, Vic shoved his fingers though his hair as he sat back down to wait. River didn’t sit; he paced, and then finally got some coffee. Sometimes they’d hear snippets of conversation between the mechanics and the sponsor, but for the most part, they kept to themselves. Vic was mentally going over all the things he needed to do when he left the hospital, like go back to the track for Nicky’s truck and figure out how to turn the downstairs into a bedroom, because he doubted that Nicky would be climbing stairs for a while.

  Slumped against the wall, Vic glared at the news station on the television as the same story went by for the seventh time. People blowing up other people, prosecutions withholding evidence, a transgendered ex-soldier publically coming out, and children needing transplants, but being denied a place on the list played over and over and over again.

  “Excuse me, sir, but were you waiting to see Nicholas Erikson?” The nurse’s vo
ice cut through Vic’s thoughts.

  Vic jumped to his feet in an instant. “Yes.”

  “Fifth floor. The ICU desk nurse will direct you.”

  “Thank you.”

  The nurse showed him to Nicky and, at first, there was nothing Vic could do to make himself close the distance between where he stood and the bed where Nicky lay. It wasn’t until he realized that Nicky’s one uncovered green eye was half-open and watching him that he stepped forward.

  “Hey,” Vic said.

  “Hey,” Nicky rasped.

  Vic sat in the chair beside the bed and put a hand on Nicky’s arm.

  “I crashed good, huh?” Nicky asked.

  “You have no idea.”

  “Was I winning before it happened?”

  “Yeah. You almost had it won...would have if Terry hadn’t crashed into you.”

  “Terry hit me?”

  “Yeah. Then he won.”

  Nicky closed his eyes, and Vic saw a few tears streak down his cheek. He could have kicked himself for being so damned insensitive; there was no reason that Nicky had to know what had happened so soon.

  “How bad am I fucked up?” Nicky finally asked.

  “Pretty bad. You’re going to be out of action for a while.”

  “Damn,” Nicky muttered softly, clearly getting tired. Vic was glad that he hadn’t told him the doctors didn’t think he should ever be allowed to race again.

  “Guess I lost my sponsor then, huh?” Nicky asked.

  “He’s gonna cover your medical bills,” Vic said helpfully.

  Nicky just turned his head away and closed his eye.

  “Hey, don’t think about that shit right now. You just gotta work on getting better.”

  “Whatever,” Nicky croaked.

  “They say I can only stay ten minutes, but I’ll be back tomorrow; okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  Vic touched Nicky’s hair and brushed it back. “It’s going to be okay, Nicky.”

  “Maybe,” Nicky said. “Hey, Vic, could you, umm, find my phone and call Gray. I was supposed to meet him for dinner. Tell him what happened and that I’m sorry I didn’t show up.”