Chapter 8 #2
Thankfully the crash happened in a place where his car can be easily removed, so this won’t turn into a red-flagged race.
It’s early to pit for new tires, but a few drivers dove into the pit lane as we passed it for a cheap stop, hoping the benefit of less time lost will aid in their plight.
But Axel stayed out, and so did Reid, and so have I, which means this restart is going to be interesting.
Four laps later and it’s happening. When the safety car heads back in, it’s up to Axel to get things going again.
He weaves on the track, both to get heat back in his tires for better grip and to keep me from picking up a tow that could help me pass him.
It’s a shame for him that I still get the slipstream as he takes off down the straight, sticking close to him.
I dart to the inside at the next corner, forcing Axel wide and leaving us wheel to wheel, but he cuts me off in the exit and keeps the lead.
‘Oh, get fucked,’ I grumble, sweeping across the track again, coming too close to touching his back left tire and nearly sending us both off into space.
But Axel evades my bullying and then we’re back to the ever-so-familiar dance we do weekend after weekend.
‘Dev is now in P7,’ my engineer reports. ‘Gained some places on the restart.’
Dev’s higher position will help our plight in the Constructors’ Championship. But it won’t do much since Raphael Marchand, Specter Energy’s second driver, is now in third, somehow having passed Reid.
I’ve fallen an uncomfortable three seconds behind Axel, but he’s starting to struggle, our gap slowly getting smaller. Just as I expect, he pits on lap twenty-five, leaving me as the race leader. It’s not long before my engineer comes back on the radio to update me.
‘Bergmüller had a slow stop,’ he says, and there’s a note of glee in his usually level voice. ‘He’ll be coming out behind Marchand.’
I’ll have to pit soon as well, though thankfully my tires still have enough grip that it’s not a desperate need.
It’s a few more laps before I get the order to box, and while my stop isn’t the quickest we’ve ever done, it’s not bad by any means.
I come out a few seconds after Raphael and Axel pass the pit exit, and slot in narrowly in front of Reid.
‘Marchand is keeping Bergmüller behind him,’ my engineer says. ‘Appears there are no orders to let Bergmüller through. The teammates are free to race each other.’
That’s surprising news from Specter Energy, since Raphael isn’t a top contender in the Drivers’ Championship, and most teams would prioritize the driver who is – aka their number-one driver – even if they’d never openly admit it.
Axel should be getting the red carpet rolled out for him instead of being told to battle his teammate for the lead of the race.
But this all works to my advantage. Let the boys fight. They can leave me out of it.
‘Stay focused,’ my engineer instructs once I’ve reduced what started as a ten-second gap between Axel and me down to five after a handful of laps.
‘Leave me alone,’ I snap at him. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
I need to get past Axel, who’s fallen back some from Raphael, likely to preserve his tires. There are only fifteen laps left, and if I don’t overtake him soon, I’ll have no chance of catching his teammate.
But there’s a reason our title fights have always been so close – Axel is a master of defense, keeping me stuck behind him lap after lap after lap. I simmer and curse, not caring that my scornful comments might be broadcast on live television.
Ten laps to go, and no matter how hard I try, I still can’t get around him.
The only positive is that Raphael is losing pace, having pushed his tires too hard too early, and now he’s paying the price.
There’s a one-and-a-half-second gap between him and Axel – four seconds between Raphael and me.
If Axel passes his teammate – or if their team finally tells Raphael to let Axel around him – I’m going to have to fight like hell to pass Raphael too.
If I don’t, a third-place finish will set me back in the points, something I’ll have to scramble to make up in future races while simultaneously praying that Axel has a DNF or two.
I should know better than to even think that, because the universe has a way of listening and answering in turn, not always in the way I want.
I watch it play out when Axel makes a move on his teammate, nearly the same one he made on Reid earlier in the race, diving down the inside of the hairpin turn. This time, though, it doesn’t go as smoothly.
Tire degradation means he doesn’t have the grip he needs to keep from swinging the car too wide, and Raphael must be asleep, because he reacts a split second too late, tagging Axel’s back wheel as he turns in and sending them both spinning.
And I have nowhere to go but straight into their tangled web.
Unlike in Singapore, I have enough time and foresight to take my hands off the wheel before impact.
I couldn’t begin to say which Specter Energy car I hit, but whichever it is has me skidding across the track for what feels like an eternity.
In truth, it can’t be more than a second or two before my journey ends in the barriers, colliding with enough force that it shudders through every bone in my body, rattles my teeth, and leaves my ears ringing.
I’ve been involved in enough incidents over my career that this one doesn’t come close to ranking in the top ten of the worst. The car is mostly intact, nothing’s on fire, and I have a clear path out and away from the scene. It’s minor enough in the grand scheme of things.
And yet I can’t draw in a breath or lift my hands or form the words to tell my panicked engineer that I’m fine, because I’m back in Singapore, trapped in a burning car, wrists shattered, head spinning.
I can’t tell up from down, can’t smell anything but smoke, can’t see anything but floodlights on dark pavement and the flicker of flames.
When I blink, Axel is hanging over my halo, his visor open, leaning closer and closer until he can get a hand on my shoulder. There’s a fear in his gaze that I’m sure he’d find reflected back in my eyes if he could see them.
‘You’re okay,’ he says to me. It’s a statement, not a question. He’s telling me that I am – telling us both that we are – and pulling me off the edge of the cliff before I slip further. ‘You’re okay, Zaid.’
He’s right. I’m okay. Once again, I’ve survived. I’ve made it through.
But I don’t know if I can do this any more.
——
‘Are you really okay?’