call_me_chas (call_me_chas) wrote in morningstar_mnr, @ 2009-06-21 13:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | car, chas, deacon, npc |
Not far from Yuma, early
Midsummer's Day and, as usual, Charlie was awake well before dawn. Only this year instead of being out in the cool misty greeness of home he was in the starkly lit aridity of western Arizona. The previous day they had driven well over a thousand miles and Car, while mechanically sound, had developed an odd sounding rattle in the last hundred miles. So they had decided she needed a service. Obviously Deacon needed some sleep in order to be fit for the last push to LA, so Charlie stayed up and did what was necessary.
He wasn't the only one. The Newman boys had arrived JUST in time to check in, their Nissan overheating and spewing steam. The BMW didn't arrive at all but the Lamborghini had been there, gleaming, when they had arrived. The four cars in the other group, they heard later, had all been stopped and impounded by the police, having gone through a county that had been on the lookout for them and had enough men to devote to spoiling the fun.
Charlie changed oil and topped up water, checked oil and air filters and checked brakes and tires while the Nissan cooled, its driver and co-driver eyeing it with concern.
Charlie suspected that a gasket had blown and, if that was the case, they'd be working all night.
With so many people roaming around he didn't feel he could leave Car unattended so dawdled over doing the jobs. Then one of the officials came and asked if he had a torque wrench of a particular size that he would be prepared to lend, and he ended up, inevitably, helping.
By the time the sky began to pale both Car and the Nissan were gleaming and appeared to be back in good condition and Charlie sat in the passenger's seat, patted the dashboard and wondered if being helpful hadn't been a bit stupid.
Deacon emerged from their hotel room rested and ready to go. That Charlie hadn't come in during the night hadn't escaped him but a few times he'd woken up and gone to check on him only to find him working on the cars. Much as he'd wanted to tell Charlie to come to bed it was probably for the best so Deacon had gone on back to sleep himself.
And it was probably a good thing he had. If he hadn't, if he'd stayed up late, he might not have been fully awake and so might have missed the wrench that was suddenly being swung at his face as soon as he cleared the doorway.
Deacon ducked and dodged and swung a fist towards the belly of his attacker without even thinking. The wrench thunked into the door, making a sizeable dent, and then fell to the ground as his attacker gasped when Deacon's punch hit home.
Taken under the ribs by a punch far more powerful than he would have believed possible, Davis staggered back from the fury in Ferrell's face. It had seemed like an easy thing to do - lay out the driver and leave the co-driver to flounder. But that punch! He could barely breathe.
He clawed at his belt, reaching to the small of his back, and his gun settled into his palm, warm and weighty. He was a good shot - didn't need to breathe or even think for that.
But one had to be able to point the gun to shoot it and Deacon was already moving, recognizing the reach for what it was. As Davis brought his hand up Deacon grabbed the wrist and slammed Davis back against the nearest wall. One fore arm pressed hard against Davis's throat Deacon repeatedly slammed the hand holding the gun against the wall until it fell from limp fingers then spun Davis around, wrenching his arm up behind his back and this time slamming him face first into the wall and using his own body weight to keep him there.
"Now see that just ain't sportin'," he said, pulling a little harder on the twisted arm. "Can't beat me in your car so gonna shoot me instead. Bet you're the fucker that went after Freddie too."
Davis didn't try to answer. He set his teeth and jerked back, roaring as his shoulder dislocated with a sucking pop. He turned and slammed his elbow back as hard as he could, jerked back with his head and kicked. Riding the pain, he used it to focus on hurting the other man as much as he was being hurt.
Deacon moved with him, catching only a glancing blow from the elbow. Releasing his wrist Deacon kicked him hard in the back of the knee, making it buckle and sending him down. At that point it was easy to bring his knee up sharply and catch Davis in the face, his noise breaking with a snap and gushing blood.
By then of course there had been shouts and race officials were rushing towards them and Deacon stepped back, kicking the gun out of reach just to be safe.
"He came at me with a wrench and a gun," he said, holding his hands up as he moved back and the officials moved in. "Just defendin' myself."
"Gun?" The two men stared at each other then one pointed to the weapon and nodded.
"Right," he said, picking it up and popping out the magazine with easy familiarity. "We'd better speak to Langham. See if he was in on this. Dirty tricks while driving is one thing. Dirty tricks off the road is something else. You," he gave Davis a prod with his foot, "are out of the race at least. You," he looked at Deacon, "had better get to your vehicle. This is the last day and you got a hella miles to go to LA."
"You got it, boss," Deacon said with a grin, gave Davis a smug look, and hurried to Car and Charlie.
As he slid into the driver's seat he shook his head. "Well that's one hell of a way to start the day."
"Hmm?" Charlie's eyes opened and he yawned. "What way - FUCK, D - your knuckles! Who've you been punching?"
By the Nissan the two brothers were poring over a map but the driver of the
Lamborghini was glaring at them as the senior race official spoke to him, pinch lipped.
"No!" Charlie said.
Deacon leaned a bit to give Langham a little wave then pulled out their own map. "Langham's partner, Davis," he said. "Came at me with a wrench. Then a gun. Dislocated his shoulder and broke his nose."
"Wow," Charlie said and gave Deacon's thigh a loving squeeze. "What a man!" He waved at Langham too and flinched at the venomous look that the man gave him. "Hmm, looks like he's the one to beat. The Nissan has had engine problems. Think it's fixed, but if it over heats again they'll be out."
The officials were giving the signs to start engines and Langham got into his car and slammed the door.
"Ready?" Charlie asked.
"You bet," Deacon said, and started Car's engine, which caught immediately. "Let's get this thing finished so we can go home."
"Oh please," Charlie said and sighed as they began to pull level with the other two cars. Today was a very simple test of speed and skill. No tricks or riddles, just a race, and Charlie would have backed Deacon against either of the two remaining contenders. The boys in the Nissan were no problem - but Langham was blatting his engine and looking pure poison at them.
Deacon looked at Langham then focused back on the road. The first leg of the race wouldn't be to bad - rural highways until they got into city limits. But then it would get tricky. Once in the suburbs they'd be facing more police and of course other drivers who had no idea what was going on. That's where the maps came in - finding the shortest distance to the finish line.
Of course it helped if you had a phone with GPS that showed traffic flow as well. And Deacon did. Having the water from the sprinklers kill his old phone had turned out good. He'd found the first store he could and bought an iPhone and the GPS on it would replace what had been lost with the laptop.
All three cars revved their engines and the second the flag was dropped flew off the starting line.