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  Liz was nearing the end of the straightaway just as the Dodge driven by Ralph Lawson spun out. Ralph had been passing a beat-up orange car, but the driver of the Whitney wasn’t having it, and had executed a violent pit maneuver that sent Ralph spinning.

  Liz dodged to the right, but not fast enough. Her car’s left stabilizer snagged the Dodge and tore off. Her POD spun, its nose digging into the ground. It flipped and came crashing down on its roof, punching straight through the force wall with an electric flash. Even after being slowed by the semi-flexible barrier, Liz’s car slid thirty feet before flattening a cactus and coming to a stop.

  Morgan hit the brakes, dodged the Dodge, and pushed through the weakened force wall. He forgot to downshift as he stopped, and the engine stalled.

  “Field off!”

  The restraining field around his body fizzled out. He shoved his door up and ran to the smoking POD. At the edge of his vision, the Dodge turned around and resumed the race. The orange Whitney that had caused the wreck was nowhere in sight. What an asshole.

  Chapter 3

  Morgan wrenched open the POD’s mangled door, releasing a plume of smoke and the stench of burning electronics. Static danced across the dash. Liz was upside-down, glued to the seat by a shimmering restraining field.

  “Are you alright?” His voice was shaking. He tried again, louder. “Liz, are you alright!”

  She didn’t answer. Something dribbled down Morgan’s chin. He wiped his mouth. Blood. He’d bitten his lip. Get yourself together, she’s only unconscious.

  Why hadn’t anyone else stopped? Stooping, he placed a trembling hand on the edge of the door and stuck his head inside. It was hard to see in the haze, but he found the switch to the restraining field. He flicked it.

  The field winked out, and Liz dropped from her seat to the roof of the car. Morgan recoiled. As if the crash wasn’t enough, he had to go and drop her on her face. “Sorry,” he stammered. He got an arm under her and half dragged, half scooped her out.

  He laid her on the ground. Thank God, she’s breathing. She had a nasty cut on her forehead. Her hair was matted with blood. A few drops dribbled down her cheek. Morgan pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “Lutstone,” he yelled.

  A moment later, Marc Lutstone’s chubby face filled the phone’s display. Sweat glistened on his pale forehead. “How bad is it?” he said.

  “Bad,” said Morgan. “Liz is hurt.” He flipped the phone around to point the camera at Liz. The phone automatically translated Lutstone’s image to the rear panel.

  The track owner’s face was grim. His eyes flashed with faint colors as he manipulated some control screen that only he could see. “Don’t move her. Help is coming.” His image blinked out.

  Morgan scanned the sky, but all he saw was a tiny camera drone. Its ocular lens was darting between Liz and her wrecked car.

  “Stupid thing,” he grumbled, turning so the camera couldn’t see his face. He sucked on his bleeding lip. Who was driving that Whitney? Was it Victor? He’d never seen the car before. If only he’d been able to pay more attention at the start of the race, instead of fixing his own car. I bet it was Victor. I’m going to kill him!

  Liz whimpered. He spun around. “Hey, can you hear me?” She moaned. He knelt beside her, trembling. She smelled like flowers and sweat. “Liz? Can you hear me?”

  Her eyelids fluttered, then flew open.

  “What?” she stuttered, jerking upright. “Ow!” She fell back, her palms pressed against her temples.

  Morgan hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder. “You probably shouldn’t move.”

  “Good idea,” she mumbled, wiping blood out of her eyes. “Feels like a troop transport landed on my head. What the hell happened?”

  He pulled his hand back. “Some guys up front got a little rough. One of them crashed and took you out.”

  Liz focused her eyes on him. “Morgan, right? Why?”

  “Why what?”

  She groaned. “Why’d you stop? You could have won.”

  He looked back at his car and shrugged. “I just, you know, thought it was the right thing to do.” Wasn’t it?

  She rolled her eyes. “But now Victor’s going to win.”

  Morgan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Who cares! You could have been dying or something.”

  “I would have been fine. The track computer is bonded to all the cars, and my car is bonded to me.” She rolled up her left sleeve and tapped the inside of her wrist, where a thin blue-green interface shifted out of screensaver mode. The artistic bracelet dissolved, replaced by a display of her pulse and body temperature.

  “Ah, right,” said Morgan. “Of course you’d have one. It’s linked to your car?”

  Liz eyed him strangely. “Obviously. They know I’m not dead.” She pointed at something behind him. “Plus, there are those things. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to move someone after a car crash unless the car is on fire?”

  Morgan looked over his shoulder at the camera drone bobbling above his head. He didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s in case of a spinal injury,” continued Liz. “You could have paralyzed me!”

  “I know that,” said Morgan. “I mean, I remember hearing that, but I forgot. I didn’t mean to—sorry.” He stopped talking. Arg, the universe does hate me after all.

  “You could have won,” said Liz. “I saw how you drive. You were catching everyone.”

  He looked down. It doesn’t matter. Stopping was the right thing to do.

  There was a rushing noise like the roar of a distant waterfall. A small craft was descending from one of the flight lanes, its silver hull sparkling in the sunlight. As the ambulance neared them, its stabilizer wings folded into its hull and its thrusters switched off, replaced by a shimmering repulsor field. Three landing struts unfolded from the ship’s belly. The ambulance bounced slightly on the struts as it landed, its repulsion field kicking out a ring of sand.

  The ship had barely stabilized when the aft doors burst open. A man and a woman jumped out with a floating stretcher. Morgan ran to meet them.

  “Is she conscious?” said the female paramedic.

  “Yeah,” said Morgan. “Although something hit her on the head. There’s lots of blood.”

  Morgan sucked nervously at his lip as they helped Liz sit up. The man waved a scanner over her and asked her questions. The woman pressed her own scanner against Liz’s bio implant. There was a beep as something synced, and the woman nodded, apparently satisfied.

  “Looks like you’ve been through quite the ride,” said the man, pocketing his scanner. “But it’s just a minor concussion and some contusions, nothing broken.”

  “Does she need to go to the hospital?” said Morgan.

  The man shook his head. “We can treat her in the shuttle. She’ll be fine, assuming she takes a few days off from this, uh, sport.” He paused, considering Liz. “What’s a girl like you doing out here anyway?”

  Liz rolled her eyes but said nothing. Morgan grimaced. Even I know not to say that.

  “Clamp it Jim,” said the female paramedic, bringing the stretcher closer. “Sorry,” she said to Liz. “He’s an idiot. Here, I’ll help you get on.”

  Liz shook her head. “I think I can walk, if you wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”

  The woman took Liz’s left hand. Morgan, not wanting the other medic anywhere near Liz, jumped forward and took her right.

  “Up you go,” said the woman.

  They started towards the shuttle. Well, at least if I have a heart attack, I’m in an ambulance, thought Morgan, as Liz leaned against him. She seemed to regain some of her strength when they reached the shuttle. She let go of his hand and allowed the paramedics to help her up onto one of the beds, which they locked in a semi-upright position.

  “We’ll take you back to the parking lot,” said the woman. “Can you get a ride home from someone there?”

  Liz glanced at Morgan. “Could you?”

  “
Yes!” he said, perhaps a touch over-eagerly. “I mean, if you need one. I don’t mind.” He shut his mouth before he made it worse.

  “You riding with us?” asked the male paramedic.

  Morgan looked around and realized the man was addressing him. “Uh, I guess,” he said. He looked out the shuttle’s side window at his car. It should be safe where it was. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do was leave Liz. “Yeah, I’ll ride with you guys.”

  “Cool,” said the man. “Just sit anywhere you like.” He ducked through a small arch that led to the cockpit while the woman strapped Liz in. Morgan sat down on a narrow metal bench protruding from the hull.

  “We’ll win next time,” he whispered, looking out at his car.

  The compartment doors folded inward and locked shut. The woman was waving a sterilizer over Liz’s forehead. Most of the blood was already gone.

  There was a surge of power and a plume of sand as the shuttle lifted. Below, a few cars were rounding the final corner. Morgan pressed his cheek against the glass. The beat-up orange Whitney in front was the car that had caused the crash.

  “Liz, do you know what Victor drives?”

  She nodded. “Unfortunately yes. It’s a Whitney MC2.”

  Morgan remembered Liz’s first words to him, when she had told him Victor was mean to everybody. I wonder how she knows him.

  Craig Marston was on Victor’s tail. Come on Craig, get him! But Craig wasn’t good enough. Victor kept darting left and right, making it impossible to pass.

  “Shit,” said Morgan, as Victor crossed the finish line.

  “He won?” said Liz.

  “Yep.”

  Liz groaned. “Figures. He just had to beat me again. My life sucks.”

  She pulled her knees up to her chin and was staring blankly into the space between her feet. There was definitely something going on between her and Victor, some sort of rivalry. Morgan wanted to know more, but wasn’t sure how to ask.

  They touched down in the parking area by the stands. People were rushing down to swarm around the winner. Nobody took notice of the shuttle. Morgan turned his head away from the window. Liz looked much better. They’d given her water, and the medic had used an autosuture on her forehead. There was no blood to be seen, only a thin glistening red line.

  “There you go,” said the female paramedic, removing the lap belt. “You can get up.”

  “That’s it?” said Liz.

  “Yep,” said the woman. “Shouldn’t even leave a scar. Just give it a week to heal. Oh, we will of course need a beam of your ID and insurance.”

  “Right,” said Liz. Liz looked at the woman and tapped something on her temple. The next instant, a flash of light lanced between Liz’s left eye and the woman’s. Even though he’d never experienced such a thing himself, Morgan knew a line of sight hololink when he saw one.

  “Everything checks out,” said the woman. “You’re good to go.”

  Liz got up off the bed as the paramedic tapped the door controls, releasing the shuttle’s internal pressure seal. The doors folded outward, and the warm Arizona air rushed in to meet them.

  “Take it easy,” said the woman.

  “I will,” she said. “Thanks for your help.”

  Morgan followed Liz out into the hot desert. The ambulance lifted off behind them, its silver hull shimmering in the warm light. Liz found a spot on the wooden fence next to the parking lot to lean against.

  “Feeling better?” he said.

  She nodded. “A little, although I wish I had my sunglasses.”

  Apparently she doesn’t have external emitters, thought Morgan. Those were all the rage these days.

  Liz paused, kicking at the ground. “Look, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just that Victor always gets me so pissed off. He’s such an arrogant pig! When he followed me out here I was so angry, but I figured I might as well go along with the race and beat him. But now, he freaking won, and he’s going to rub it in my face.”

  “You know him?” said Morgan.

  She nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it. Look, thank you for stopping.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “No really, I mean it.” She looked towards the finish line. “You stopped, and you don’t even know me.”

  Morgan followed her gaze. Victor was holding the first-place medal over his head. It was just a lame 3D-printed piece of plastic with the Blairsford town logo on it, but still. That should be mine. A couple other guys, probably Victor’s buddies, were throwing fists in the air and shouting. Victor looked over and caught Liz’s eye. He waved at her.

  She gave him the finger. “I can’t believe Mr. Lutstone let him get away with that. He should be banned.”

  Morgan agreed whole-heartedly. “There’s Lutstone now,” he said, pointing. “He’s seen us.”

  “Good,” said Liz. She straightened up and pushed off from the fence. “Let’s go get this sorted out.”

  Lutstone was running out to meet them with a small group of followers. He was out of breath when he reached them, his brow beaded with sweat. “Are you alright Elizabeth?”

  “Yeah, just a little sore.” She pointed at her forehead. “The medics did a good job.”

  Lutstone looked relieved. He tapped his ear. “I just got off the phone with the medevac AI. Bloody thing is less than useless, but at least it confirmed you weren’t dead. Your heart rate had us all a bit worried.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, I was pretty pissed off when I woke up.”

  “I’m just glad you’re all right,” said Lutstone. “When I saw the wreck, it reminded me of, well…” He fell silent, but the lines on his face deepened as he looked off into the distance. A few of the people behind Lutstone shifted uneasily. Morgan recognized most of them as regulars at the track. Like him, they were probably all thinking of what had happened to Danny Lutstone, Mr. Lutstone’s son.

  “None of this would have happened, except for that new guy Victor,” said Morgan. “He’s the one who caused this whole mess.”

  “He could have killed someone,” said Liz. “He spun that guy out on purpose.”

  “We all saw,” said Lutstone. “Ralph’s alright, but he’s pissed.”

  “I’ll second that,” said Liz.

  “Me three,” said Morgan. “That guy has no place here. He should be booted from the track for life.”

  There were grumblings of agreement from the crowd behind Lutstone, who held up his hands. “Yes, yes, we will take care of all of it. That kind of aggression doesn’t belong on our track.”

  “You should take away his win,” said Morgan.

  “We’ll see,” said Mr. Lutstone, running a hand through his thinning hair.

  Morgan glared at the track owner. We’ll see? What kind of answer is that?

  Lutstone coughed. “How bad is your car, Liz?”

  She scowled. “It’s toast. It’ll need a flatbed to get home.”

  “Elizabeth,” said Mr. Lutstone carefully. “The car was a gift from your father, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, he’s going to go ballistic on me. But I don’t care. Screw him. He doesn’t care about me, only his stupid cars and his dealership.”

  Morgan didn’t know what to say. Liz’s eyes met his, and the intensity of her stare was too much. He looked away.

  Lutstone nodded. “I’m sure your dad will understand. He loves you.”

  “No he doesn’t,” said Liz. “He tried to buy me off with that car. It was a birthday present, but he wasn’t even there. A vehicle is no substitute for a father.”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” said Mr. Lutstone, looking stunned. “About everything. I’m going to go talk with Victor. Don’t worry about the POD, I’ll call for a tow.”

  “Thanks,” said Liz. “But I don’t have any money to pay.”

  “I’ll cover it,” said Morgan.

  Liz frowned. “Morgan, thanks, but you’ve already helped me enough. I don’t need charity.”

  Chari
ty? Is that all I have to offer?

  Lutstone cut in. “Don’t worry, I’ll cover it. I promised your father I would never let you race on this track, and I broke that promise today. So, it’s the least I can do.”

  “You promised him that?”

  Lutstone fidgeted with his hands. “Yeah. Long story, but suffice it to say that Ed Fowler’s daughter would find a way to race whether or not it was on a track. Am I right?”

  Liz said nothing. She glanced over at the finish line where Victor was still celebrating.

  “I didn’t think anything like this would happen,” said Mr. Lutstone. “So please, Elizabeth, at least let me take care of the car.”

  “Ok,” she said. “Just tow it to our house. I’ll call my dad and explain so he doesn’t freak out. But, I’ll need a minute.” She turned to Morgan. “Ok with you if I take a walk? I just need to cool down. I won’t be long.”

  “Sure, take all the time you need.”

  “Thanks.”

  She smiled gratefully, then walked off, following the edge of the track away from the action. Morgan stared after her. Of course I’ll wait.

  “So I see you’ve met Elizabeth,” said Mr. Lutstone.

  Morgan nodded. “You know her dad?”

  “Ed and I go way back, but their family moved away before Elizabeth was born. He bought a POD dealership in Tucson twenty years ago and did pretty well for himself. His wife was some sort of brilliant engineer.”

  Mr. Lutstone paused, looking like he wanted to say more. He shook his head. “Some bad stuff happened with his wife. I don’t know the details. A few months ago, Ed wrote to me and said he was moving his business to Blairsford. I guess you’ll probably see Elizabeth at the high school next year. She’ll be a junior, just like you.”

  “Ah,” said Morgan. A POD dealership, here? Well, at least that explains how she got her car.

  “The Fowlers have racing in their blood, although Ed’s given it up I think. He must have known his daughter might show up looking to race with her birthday present. He called me out of the blue when they moved back to town, told me I wasn’t to let her anywhere near the track. He said something about it being too dangerous.”