Monday came, and my family and I spent the day mainly dealing with the consequences of the fire.
Dad left home that morning in search of new job opportunities. Later, he would reunite with Mr. Vinton and the other mechanics to see what route the men would take. All of them would have to seek new employment. Still, he and Mr. Vinton were going to see if they could take Pedro under their wing, as he was the less experienced one, and worked on the Thunderbird with him when it finally returned.
Mom drove me to school as always. After dropping me off at school, she drove to her job, intending to explain our situation to her boss and ask for a raise. If that didn't work, she would at least try to get some extra hours to make more money and keep things afloat while Dad searched for a new job.
Most of the morning at school was spent attending class and discussing what had happened to the shop, with Lola and Camilla praising Zack's bravery in the face of the disaster. Then, at lunch, I began talking to them about the idea I had recently concocted.
"But wouldn't that be dangerous?" Lucy asked as she ate her burger. "I mean, he's killed people, hasn't he? Racing against him sounds insane."
"I know," I told her. "That's why I need practice. To know the road like the back of my hand."
Lola and Camilla just stared at me while eating their food, but I could see how afraid they were of the idea. I truly appreciated their concern for me, but the more I discussed it with people, the more definitive the idea became.
"How are you even going to practice?" Camilla asked, her fork rolling up the spaghetti she had brought.
"I asked Zack if he could talk with Mike, the older brother of one of his friends. He has a car," I said and pointed my finger at Lola, who was just about to take a bite out of her salad. "You saw them, Lola, that day at your house."
"Oh, those boys who were with him, yeah," She said, nodding. "That's a cool car."
"I know," I said. "That's why I thought about it when it came to the plan."
"And he's going to lend it to you for free?" Lucy asked.
"No, I'm going to have to pay for everything," I said, biting my lower lip. "But I'm willing to do it. For Zack and for Dad."
"How much?"
"20 bucks for each day of practice and how much it costs if it gets damaged," I said, then chuckled bitterly. "If it ends up being a suicide mission, then I might not have to pay for anything."
Lola hit me with her hand and looked at me, upset. "Don't say that! Don't call on bad luck!"
Camilla placed her fork down and took my hand.
"You know what would happen if you fail?" She asked, worried. "Our lives and your parents' lives will fall apart."
"I know that," I said. "I know it is risky, but leaving that boy to drive around the city is more dangerous."
Someone had to stop this seemingly interminable cycle, and I didn't think the police could do it. So I had to.
"That's why it's so crucial for me to practice behind the wheel," I thought. "The more I do it, the more I get a chance to survive against Delaney."
"I'm just worried," Camilla said. "I don't want you to die."
"I know," I said, pulling back my hand. "I don't want to die either, but I don't see it any other way around it. We are the only ones who can stop this. Nobody wants to see the truth except us."
Zack and I had tried everything.
We tried checking for suspects, sneaking in the garage while the supposed thief was there, telling our parents and the cops, and even attempting to put some salt to protect the place. And nothing worked as we wanted it to.
"I'm done," I told them. "I'm done watching everybody run in circles. This stops now."
Later that afternoon, while I was at Grandma's, she and I began taking several boxes out of the garage and into her house to make some space for the Hot Rods that Dad and Mr. Vinton were bringing. She seemed excited by the prospect of keeping the vehicles, as she had never seen those types of cars up close, only in old movies she had been shown when she was young at school.
"Those movies about rebellious youth, you know? About girls smoking cigarettes and boys committing crimes," she had told me.
"Did they really show you movies like those?" I asked.
"Yeah, those films and films about the bomb. Pretty scary stuff," She said, then began laughing. "But I never cared for them as I was sure I would end up marrying Alain Delon and moving to Paris."
"Who's Alain Delon?" I asked, curious.
Grandma just laughed and shook her head, telling me to forget about it, and I just smiled and continued moving boxes.
A few minutes later, Dad and Mr. Vinton finally arrived in the pickup truck.
Behind them came the big truck, very similar to the one that had carried the Thunderbird, with the two burned Hot Rods on top.
They looked like black statues with wheels, but according to Dad, nothing couldn't be scraped, repainted, or repaired. As the Hot Rods had been placed on the corner of the garage, they had been protected from the fire by other things that had melted before them, mostly suffering from the collapse of the building.
Grandma and I walked to meet the two men. As Mr. Vinton walked out of the passenger seat, I could see he was still in a state of depression but looked a bit better, with his face clean-shaven and new clothes on his body. Dad greeted Grandma with a kiss and introduced Mr. Vinton to her, who shook her hand.
After the truck dropped the Hot Rods, the two men dragged them to the garage and, after moving a few more things, began analyzing them with their tools to see which parts needed to be changed and which were salvageable. After an hour or so of looking, testing, and writing down in a small notebook, they finished their labor for the day. Grandma and I then served them tea and snacks on Grandma's cute metal table in the garden.
The tea was hot, and the cake that Grandma and I had made was fluffy like a sponge. It was quite a nice experience, and I cherished it even more, knowing that the next afternoon would begin my training.
That night, Zack sent me the address and time when Mike and Andy, his brother, would be waiting. I had told him to get me a lonely streak of the city, where no patrol car would show up, and Zack, clever as he was, said to me that wouldn't be a problem, as we would be using an app to avoid cops that Mike and his friends used.
The next day, I began to mentally prepare myself for practice. My friends and I decided to eat outside, so I enjoyed the fresh air and the sunshine. The only thing that interrupted my day of relaxation was the sudden news that arrived after lunch.
For days, it had been rumored that the disease spreading throughout the world would make the school district suspend classes for an undetermined amount of time, and around two o'clock that day, it was confirmed. After that week, school would be suspended for a few weeks to prepare the school system for a possible crisis.
That Friday, there would be an emergency parent-teacher conference where our parents, the teachers, and the school staff would gather to discuss what to expect for the upcoming weeks and what steps would be taken if things went from bad to worse.
If there was any moment to execute the plan, that was it. It would keep my parents away for over an hour and give me at least a few days of practice. So that day, while Grandma prepared our meal, I texted Zack to inform him of the event.
"Are you sure?" He texted me.
"Yes. If not, we might not get another chance," I texted back.
After arriving home and changing, I biked my way up to the place the guys had set up to meet, which was the same McDonald's Zack and I had eaten at weeks before.
Mike and Andy were waiting inside the car, an old Dodge Challenger, while Zack was waiting for me, leaning against it. I waved at them, and Zack came to greet me. I smiled and asked him how he was doing. He didn't look that great, but he said that he was beginning to feel better about things since Sunday, especially after talking to him about my plan.
"You know you don't need to be with me when I do it, right?" I told him, placing my hand on his shoulder.
"But I want to," he said. "It's what's keeping me going."
I then leaned on the car to greet the other two boys, and Mike quickly took his hand off the steering wheel and out of the car, extending it to me.
"The twenty, please," he said.
It was quite abrupt, but I nodded and took the twenty bucks out of my pocket, giving it to him. He counted the money and nodded. Then he asked me to step away, and as I did, he opened his car door.
"Come on. Let's get something to eat before we go," Mike told me, and then slapped his brother on the shoulder, who looked distracted.
"Andy! Come on, man, move!" Mike said.
Zack smiled and shrugged, telling me Mike was a bit rude, but I should not worry; he would lend me the car with no problem. Although he had a condition.
"I got to be in the back," he said. "I'm not lending you my car and letting you drive all wild like that with no insurance. And that insurance is me, watching you."
"I don't mind," I said, shaking my head. But then I looked at my bike and pointed at it. "I'm just worried about who will look over my bike while I practice."
Mike looked at my bike, eyes narrowing like he was making up a plan. Then, he quickly pointed at his brother, telling me Andy would be the designated watcher.
The frumpy, shorter boy, wearing a yellow shirt, looked at his brother and frowned.
"Hey!" He exclaimed. "I wanna be in the car too!"
"But you won't! It's my car!" Mike shouted at his brother, his voice turning deep and firm. "You are staying here looking at this girl's bike!"
"But that's not fair!" Andy whined. "I wanted to enjoy the ride, too!"
"It's not really a joy ride, Andy," Zack tried to cool down the situation. "Tammy's practicing, and it might be a bit dangerous."
"What's not fair is that I'm going to have to share my money with you, dummy!" Mike shouted. "Now get inside the building to pick your food!"
The short boy cursed under his breath and kicked the air, but listened to his older brother and walked into the building to see the menu.
Mike told us to come closer. Then, he established the rules for the practice. He had been looking at the app, and it seemed that East 26th Street was empty of cop activity, so the idea would be to drive up to the intersection of East 26th and South Santa Fe, and that's where the practice would start.
"You'll have East 26th Street mostly for yourself," he told me.
"So we go up East 26th Street, then what? Until we reach what street?"
"What if we just go the whole way?" Zack asked. "We'll end up on Bandini Boulevard again, and from there, we can just drive back here."
"Sure. That seems like a good idea," I said.
Zack was smart. Going all the way to Bandini Boulevard would give me the necessary time to do several things: go fast, go slow, and practice avoiding cars. Mike looked at the map and nodded at the idea.
"But remember, you break it, you pay it, you hear?" he told me.
"Sure," I said. "But about the day we face the dude, will you also be in the back looking at me? Because that will be kind of a nuisance."
"We'll see," he said, narrowing his eyes. He then began walking towards the fast-food joint. "Don't count your chickens yet, dig?"
As Mike walked away, I looked at Zack, frowning, mouthing, "Don't count your chickens yet," totally confused. Zack shrugged, baffled by the meaning of the expression. I then chuckled and placed my arm around him.
"Let's get some fries," I said.
After we ate, we left Andy to watch my bike while the three of us hopped on Mike's Dodge and drove to the intersection. The intersection leading to East 26th Street was pretty empty, mostly a few vehicles going up and down South Santa Fe. It was close to five o'clock, and people were still at work, so most of the cars were parked, mostly inside parking lots.
I took the gloves I'd been carrying on the edge of my shorts, then I dried my hands on my light sweater and put them on, which caused Mike to ask me what they were.
"Driver gloves. So I don't sweat as I drive," I said. "Zack bought them for me. Isn't it sweet?"
Zack scratched his face, blushing.
"Sounds like a pussy," Mike giggled, to which Zack turned, complaining indignantly.
Mike just laughed and leaned against the backseat.
"A pussy cat," I said, patting Zack on the leg. Zack then turned to me, embarrassed and upset, but tried to calm down by crossing his arms.
"Gentlemen, I guess it's time to remind you to put on your seatbelts," I said, pointing with my head at Zack, who obeyed quickly. I then focused on the rearview mirror to look at Mike and stared at him, my eyebrows high, making gestures so he would put on his seatbelt.
"I'm not wearing a seatbelt!" He exclaimed. "This is my damn car!"
"Do you want to go through the windshield if we stop too fast?" I told him, this time in a motherly voice. "Well, be my guest. But I won't be paying for that."
After waiting a few seconds, Mike finally sighed and proceeded to put on his seatbelt.
"Okay!" I then exclaimed, starting the engine and warming it up a little as I began to drive through East 26th Street with the two boys.
After passing a train crossing, more acclimated to the car and the road, I changed gears and slowly pressed the accelerator, reaching faster and faster velocities. When we reached the bridge over the L. A river, I was sure that I was doing a good job, so I began to push the clutch pedal down to go into the final gear.
I looked at Zack, who seemed pretty elated about the driving, and then I took a peek at the rearview mirror to see how Mike was dealing with it. He looked rather bored. The Dodge was pretty fast and smooth, unlike Mr. Vinton's sedan, which told me that Mike and his friends were probably used to driving fast.
The car felt great in my control, and I began to feel like the plan I had created might run as smoothly as I wanted it to, which was great news. I then started thinking of doing a few tricks, but I knew I had to wait. After several parking lots and some trucks I had to avoid, I finally arrived at a new intersection and saw the long, empty road in front of my eyes, all for me.
So, I looked for the closest space I could use to turn around.
That ended up being an open parking lot close to the next train crossing.
I pushed into the parking lot without telling the boys, and both Zack and Mike shouted in confusion as I did a relatively slow one-eighty with the car. I was sure I could do that much quicker, but I was not going to risk damaging the car yet. Then, I drove out in the opposite direction and abruptly stopped back at the train crossing.
"What the hell, man?" Mike shouted at me, smacking the back of the driver's seat. "Why the hell are you turning around?"
"Yeah, weren't we supposed to drive to Bandini Boulevard?" Zack asked me as I fixed the rearview mirror for a better look.
"We are," I said and gave them a quick smile before turning the engine on again and pressing the accelerator. While looking in the rearview mirror, I began to drive backward on the road.
"Wait, wait," Mike said, suddenly nervous.
Zack gasped in delight as he realized what I was doing and began to clap softly. I laughed and began to change gears and press the gas.
"Woman, are you crazy?!" Mike exclaimed, his hand grabbing the back of my seat for dear life.
"The road is empty, look," I said, turning around and pointing at the road.
It was an empty road, as we had arrived at the most desolate part of the city. Mike really had nothing to fear.
"It's going to be fine," said Zack. "You can trust her. She wouldn't do it if she didn't have some practice."
I knew several streets connected to it, so I still had to be careful, but I could feel the momentum in the car as it raced backward through the street. There was nothing to avoid, nothing to stop me.
So I just turned my eyes again to the rearview mirror and focused on the gravel ahead of me, not listening to anything or anyone. And there was a lot to listen to as Mike kept constantly complaining about my use of his "goddam car."
"Don't worry, Mike. I'll turn around again in the last street before the turn and go back to normal as we reach Bandini Boulevard, okay?" I said, still concentrating on the road.
I then looked at Mike for a second, and he was now crossing his arms, just reluctantly accepting his fate. On the other hand, Zack had lowered the window and popped up most of his upper half out, like a dog, occasionally woo-hooing as we went along.
As we finally reached Bonnie Beach, the same street where the parking lot stood that Zack and I used days ago, I decided it was time to return to a regular position and speed.
So I began to slow down as I crossed the street, stopped, and let a car go past us. After a few seconds, I started the engine again and drove into Bonnie Lane. Then I stopped and backed up again until I placed the car back at 26th Street, now in the proper position and in the correct lane.
Then, I began driving at a normal speed until we went through the underpass and arrived at the turn that morphed East 26th Street into Pennington Way.
The drive back was alright.
Mike took his seatbelt off and told me that if it wasn't for the twenty bucks and because it was pretty cool what I just did, he would totally not let me borrow his car ever again.
"I'm sorry," I said, trying to sound sincere.
"I don't care if you are sorry," Mike said. "Next time, you and Zack better tell me what bullcrap you are going to pull before doing it."
"Sure," I said. "It's your car, it's your rules."
Zack shrugged and nodded.
"Damn right, it is! About to give me a heart attack thinking my car can moonwalk like Michael Jackson, girl!" he said, shaking his head.
Zack chuckled and covered his mouth with his hand. I shook my head as he looked at me, trying to avoid giving any opinions about that silly but creative statement.
We arrived back at McDonald's to see Andy sitting on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, eating the ice of his drink, with my bike next to him. We parked nearby, and I walked to him, thanking him for keeping my bike safe. Andy shrugged as he got up, telling me it was no problem, and then strode to the Dodge, opening the side door. Mike returned to the driver's seat, and they waited for Zack as he stood next to me for a few moments.
"Maybe next time I'll take the bus," I told Zack, picking up my bike.
"Why?" He asked. "Your bike is fine."
"I know," I told him. "But it's so Andy can join us. He seemed pretty bored sitting here while we had fun in his brother's car."
"Sure, that'll be nice," Zack said, putting his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "But I must warn you, Andy is kind of a screamer."
I leaned over to look at the two brothers inside the car, again fighting each other over the pettiest of things. I laughed and turned to Zack.
"Even better," I laughed. "It will feel like a rollercoaster ride with him on board."
"Sure!" Zack said, smiling. "So tomorrow at the same hour?"
I nodded and told him that would be cool. I then touched his hair, caressing his soft curls. Zack placed my hand against his cheek, closing his eyes and smiling.
"We will beat him," I told Zack, who opened his eyes and stared at me. "So, take care, okay? Drink some water, eat some food. Don't let this thing bring you down, okay?"
"I will," Zack said. "Thank you."
I then leaned in and kissed his cheek.
That evening at dinner, Dad revealed that according to the inventory done on the Hot Rods, they wouldn't need as much money to fix them, which was excellent news. Afterward, I went to my room while my parents watched TV on the couch. I leaned on my bed and began reading a book our teacher had given us to read while we were on our two-week break.
It was not a bad read, but the adrenaline rush of that afternoon made me doze off after a few pages. But before I could fall completely asleep, my mother interrupted me by calling my name from the couch.
So, still sleepy, I got up from my bed and slowly walked to the living room to find out what my mother wanted to tell me.
"What's up?" I groaned at her, but she was too concentrated on what she was watching.
"Mom, what?" I asked again.
That's when Dad turned to me, pulled on my sweater a little, and pointed at the screen. I could see they were watching the nightly news as the blond newscaster was there. After yawning and rubbing my eyes to see better, I looked at the screen for a minute to see what was up.
Then I froze.
The footage showed the morning news crew walking around the scene of an incident. There had been another crash, this time through the industrial parts of Vernon on 38th Street.
It had been a police car; it had crashed into a wall, and the whole side of the driver was destroyed. The reporter was talking about how the police had been chasing the so-called "Serial Driver" through the parking lots and streets of Vernon during the early morning hours, ending in the tragic scene before our eyes.
Then, the footage gave way to the image of the studio again, and the lady began to provide more details of the incident.
She said that, sadly, only a few hours ago, it had been reported by the official authorities that the officer who had been the driver of the police car had passed away. She said his name was Clive Davies, as the image of a tanned blonde with a lovely smile appeared on screen. He had been a rookie cop in the Vernon Police Department.
Mom gasped and covered her mouth in horror. Dad cursed under his breath, lit another cigarette from his almost empty pack, and lit it up.
Four.
Corky now had four deaths under his belt.
I sighed, crossed my arms as the report finished, and then went back to my room with more determination and drive. That douchebag was not going to escape me.
I was going to stop him once and for all.