For a second he just kept looking at her, as if debating telling her.
Finally, he spoke. “My guess is eventually Enforcers will come looking for me. They will ask questions. Clayton says-”
“You can’t believe everything that liar says. In fact, I wouldn’t believe much of it. Especially when it comes to the damn Authority.”
Careful there, she told herself. She looked around the bar. One had to watch to whom one expressed anything other than perfect loyalty in regards to the Authority.
“But he’s not lying about the races, right?” Raine said. “Lots of strangers come into the city to race, no?”
“Yeah. He has that right. You’d stick out less as a hungry racer than wandering around the city looking for work and a place to sleep.”
“Do-” he said, now with a smile-“you see my problem?”
And she did. Though she wasn’t sure how that made it her problem. She wanted no more to do with the Authority than she did with the races. She had enough trouble. Yet, something made her want to help this man. Instinct, she thought. Bartenders had to have good instincts.
She wanted to trust this man. So she did.
What did she have to lose?
“Sit down with me,” she said. “I have something to tell you. And then-we’ll see.”
And she ducked under the bar and led Raine to a table near the back of her dimly lit place.
Before she could even begin, two more customers came in. Somebody from Mick’s shop, all greased up from working under a buggy, and one of Black’s deputies.
She hurried back to the bar to get them drinks, and then returned to Raine.
She kept her voice low.
“People are starting to come in. So, we’ll talk quietly. Got it?”
He nodded.
“I sponsored someone. Named Jack. Good driver. Had a custom Cup.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, confused.
“A Cuprino. Fast, best armor, great steering system-most of it made by Jack himself. Sometimes he won, sometimes he came real close.” She looked away, then back. “We were together. Y’know.”
“Got it.”
“But I guess he started to win too much. Most of it went into his vehicle… but he also bought me things. We even talked of getting away from Wellspring.”
“That even possible?”
“People talk of places. Beyond the Wasteland. But because he was winning a lot, someone who was used to winning started to come in second. Someone named Starky.”
The man took a last sip of his drink, killing it.
“Want another?”
He shook his head.
“Starky had been the champ. Everyone loved him. Had a fleet of Cuprinos. Trained other drivers. King of the goddamned races. Then, about two months ago, they announced a Dusty 8.”
“Dusty 8?”
“Part road rally, part lap race. Part of the circuit in the city, part of it outside. Kind of race where anything can happen. Some action took place in the stadium, but most of it was out on the road. Things could happen out there that people couldn’t see.”
She stopped. She’d never told anyone what she felt, what she really believed about that race. No, she told herself, it’s not about belief. She knew what had happened.
“After a run outside, and when the cars came back into the stadium, it was just Starky and Jack, nearly neck and neck. I was in the stadium, watching them roar in…”
“Go on.”
She tilted her head and looked right at the man. “I could see that something was wrong. Jack looked hurt. I mean, there are no real weapons in the races-but everything else goes. And his Cuprino had a big gash on the right side. Smoke coming out, black oil hitting the track.”
“You think Starky did something?”
“Yeah. I think he did something when they were out on the dirt. The damn hole looked like someone had shot it. But Jack, he had been hurt, too. He was fighting to keep the car rolling forward, to sit up. He had only a few laps to go.”
“No one stopped the race?”
Sally laughed. Where the hell did this guy come from?
“They don’t stop races. And as they hit those last laps, I watched Starky begin to maneuver his Cuprino so that one of its extenders-”
“And that is-”
“Something that sticks out and damages another vehicle. Jesus, and you want to race?” She shook her head, but he just sat there, determined. So she went on. “I saw then he was positioning it to cut right into the smoky opening of Jack’s car. Jack was too hurt, too unsteady to see it. Just holding onto the wheel was about all he could do.”
Now Sally stopped. She felt the tears. She hated the goddamn tears. This was no place for tears. Not when it was anger she wanted to hold on to. Anger. Even hate.
Raine didn’t push her to go on.
They sat in silence for what felt like a long time but was only a few seconds. She wiped away the unwanted tears and looked back.
“Starky made his Cup slide into Jack’s, just at the right point. I saw Jack turn, his face bloody, his eyes probably barely able to take in what was happening, The jagged metal of Starky’s cutter sliced open that hole more, and then pulled away. In seconds it was over.”
“What happened?”
“The engine must have seized. Everyone in the stadium could hear the noise, most of these bastards hoping something like this would happen. Jack’s car seemed to stop dead even as its momentum made it fly end over end. I closed my eyes. I didn’t watch. God, I couldn’t watch.”
The tears came this time. Shit. She didn’t give a damn.
“But I heard it, Raine. I heard it as Jack’s car spun around and smashed on the stadium track. The fuel erupting. An explosion. When I opened my eyes, all I could see was the fire, the great black clouds of smoke streaming up. The only good thing for Jack… it had been fast.”
She stopped. Had she kept her voice down enough? People would talk. Word would get out that she had bad-mouthed the races. Not supposed to do that, nosiree, not in the good city of Wellspring. She wasn’t sure she cared anymore.
“Starky had done that. They let him do that.” A deep breath. “That’s why-I don’t sponsor racers.”
“I understand,” Raine said. But he didn’t make a move toward the door. Instead, he waited as if knowing she had one more thing to say.
A smart guy, this Raine.
“But I see you need help. And I’m… willing to help. A deal. I will sponsor you-for one race. That’s it. But only if you promise to take out Starky.”
Now it was the man’s turn to look around the room, keeping his voice to a whisper.
“Kill him?”
“If that happens, fine. But make sure that it’s a long time before Starky and his car ever race again.”
“My car is a piece of-”
“That’s the deal, Raine. You want it?”
Now he hesitated. But only for a second.
He nodded. “Okay. You got a driver.”
The door to the bar opened. Getting closer to quitting time for the workers. It would get busy now.
“Good. Tell Jackie Weeks. He’ll get you set up and put the bar’s name on your buggy. And look-you got no place to stay?”
“Yeah. There is that problem, too.”
“When I close, later tonight, come by, help clean up. There’s a storeroom in back. As long as no one comes around asking questions about you… you can stay there.”
“Thanks.”
“Okay, Raine. Now I got a bar to run.”
And Sally got up and left the table.
THIRTY-ONE
Raine awoke at midday, the darkness of the storeroom hiding the afternoon light.
He had helped pick up when the bar closed last night, pulling chairs back into place, cleaning the floor, taking out the trash.
Sally didn’t have much to say after he came out of his room. They both watched the hours run down and race time draw close, lost in their own thoughts.
Eventually, though, she looked at him. “You better go,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said, and he walked out of the bar and headed back to where he left his buggy. • • •