Collateral

Casey kicks the swivel. Activating the ship’s directional thrusters as he hits 1,114 km. His ship shudders beneath the G's pushing on the chassis. The mask attached to his helmet pumps a cocktail of O2 and other chemicals called mist, keeping him conscious.

“Catching up to Raule in third place as he blazes into his second lap, Casey punches it, blasting into the tunnel at record speeds.” The announcer, Misha, cheers from the safety of his booth, clutching the mic like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “Leaving Raule in the dust, taking third without a single shot fired.”

“Hey, slow down,” Diego’s deep voice crackles through the static.

“No.” Casey inhales sharply and shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“My gods, can his engine take that?” Misha echoes throughout the stadium while flashing a charming smile for the television show. “He’s got me worried.”

“Dang it, Casey. You can’t handle the G’s.” Chief Mechanic Edgar chimes in.

“Watch me.” Casey pushes the throttle, vision blurring as he hits the straight to the end of the tunnel.

“Are you seeing this? Casey is pushing the boundaries of modern racing, hitting the flip, flying to the opposite side of the course at an astonishing 1,652 kilometers per hour!” Misha cheers, holding his head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Lidia rises from her seat as Casey launches from the track. Mr. Rolands claps his hands together, yellow teeth shining beneath the fake lights of the spectator’s booth. “Is it set?”

“It’s handled.” Mr. Kim replies, hands tucked behind his back as he stands in the corner.

“Perfect, thank you, Mr. Kim.”

Hanging in the air meters above, Casey holds the controls through white knuckles. He screams with excitement as he diverts power to the mag-plate. It’s the only thing keeping him in line as his ship scratches the track with a loud bang, knocking a drag wing loose before flying away.

Edgar checks the map with his datapad and exhales sharply. “Casey, if you’re gonna do this, do it right. Stop at the corner, then max out before the apex.”

“Before?” Casey asks, holding speed at a little over Mach 1 as he closes the gap between death and survival. “Screw it—I’m winning this.”

“You have to win,” Mr. Rolands says over Lidia’s sobbing in the background. “That’s the deal.”

“Fine.” Tied to a chair in the center of the empty warehouse floor, Casey spits blood onto the pool growing beneath his nose. “Whatever it takes.”

“So easy, is it?” He asks, lighting a cigar pulled from his jacket pocket.

“Hell no. I’m terrible.” Casey says, tugging at his bindings. “But I’ll do it.”

“Good. Your wife owes a lot. Unpaid bets.” Mr. Rolands chuckles at the word investments while blowing smoke around him. “How much does she owe again, Mr. Kim?”

Mr. Kim stretches his neck, chest muscles twitching beneath his shirt. “Too much, sir.” Mr. Kim curtly replies.

“Right you are, Mr. Kim. And that race. How much can he win?” Mr. Rolands asks, tapping ash onto Casey’s head.

“Two million credits, Mr. Rolands.”

“Right again. That extra? Call it interest.” Mr. Rolands says menacingly while exchanging a glance with Mr. Kim, who strikes Casey across the nose, spraying blood across the concrete. “I do spoil my pets, don’t I?”

“You do, thank you, sir.” Mr. Kim replies, wiping the blood from his leather gloves.

Rocking his jaw, stretching his neck. “Come on, man.” Casey eyes Mr. Kim. “You’ll get your money.”

“That’s if you win. Now, I do appreciate your bravado, but. How do I say this? I don’t trust you.” Mr. Rolands says, putting his cigar out on Casey’s hand. “What’s your collateral?”

“I don’t,” Casey mumbles, blood dripping from his face. “I don’t know.”

Mr. Rolands nods to Mr. Kim, who punches Casey in the stomach, then knocks him to the ground in the chair. Placing his heel into Casey’s temple, Mr. Kim presses in. “We already took it.”

“No. Don’t,” Casey screams as Mr. Rolands runs a finger down Lidia’s rosy cheek. “Don’t you dare.”

“Yes. She’ll make fine collateral and stay with us till the day of the race. She’s the one with the debt anyway.” Mr. Rolands mutters, pouring a drink with his back turned.

“Anything but that, don’t take her. Don’t take my Lidia away.” Casey begs, writhing on the floor against his restraints and Mr. Kim’s boot. “Please.”

“Oh no. She’s coming with me. You hear me, now, cause I’m only going to say this once.” Mr. Rolands leans down, close enough for Casey to smell the scotch on his breath. “You try anything, I mean it. Anything, before that race ends. She dies. Slow, screaming your name. Nod if you understand me.”

Casey doesn’t answer, he simply stares past Rolands. “It’s going to be okay… Lidia, hey. I’ve got you.”

“Casey…” Lidia mumbles through chattering teeth, eyes red with tears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t. I never…”

“He understands. Mr. Kim?” Mr. Rolands asks while brushing himself off.

“I’ll win…” Casey whispers, his voice cracking in duress.

“My pleasure.” Mr. Kim replies, stomping on Casey’s temple, knocking him out cold.

“Mowing Gerard down, hellbent on victory, Casey takes second,” Misha shouts into the mic against the clacking Gatling guns rattling across the instant replay in the corner of the screen.

Edgar squints as he focuses on tracking Casey on the map. “He’ll be back. Watch your rear next turn. Six seconds.”

“Copy, four.” Casey adjusts his three remaining drag wings for optimal aerodynamics. “Three.”

“Uh oh. Gerard is back and breathing down Casey’s neck. I can hardly watch.” Misha cheerfully describes as he fakes peeping between closed fingers.

Casey cuts speed, jerking his brain inside his skull, vision fading for a beat as he stops before the turn’s peak. Flashing by, Gerard’s ship catches a volley of bullets across the passenger side, sending it into the ocean beyond the track's edge, slowly sinking among a pool of blood and oil.

“You hate to see it. Don’t worry, medical staff is standing by to send the body to the next of kin.” Misha claps his hands together as the camera zooms in on Gerard’s sinking ship.

Lidia runs her hands through her hair as Gerard’s body floats halfway out of the escape hatch in the roof of his ship, smoke rising around him.

Maxing out the throttle, Casey’s brain snaps as he rounds the corner to the vertical straight leading to the inverted section of the course.

“You good, kid?” Diego asks, his eyes glued to Casey’s vitals.

“Peachy,” Casey slurs. “Wait—I felt that one.”

Diego sighs. “Keep this up and you risk stroking out.”

“Diego, I can do this.”

“If you say so, Casey,” Diego replies, his tone wavering at the end.

“Edgar? Where’s Raule?” Casey asks, altering the mag-plate’s electric connection to bring the ship closer to the track and create more downward force.

“Close,” Edgar replies, pacing the length of the pit. “Vel should be in sight. Focus on her.”

“Copy, I see her.” Casey rounds the ramp, drifting above the waves below. Nearly hypnotic with the track built out of a combination of reflective and translucent materials.

Bullets whiz by as Rauel approaches from behind. His guns light up the track on the vertical straight as he keeps Casey from swerving free.

“Things don’t look good for Casey as he hits the inverted stretch… Will this be his end?” Misha asks the crowd, fake biting his teeth as he rallies the track horns, pumping energy across the stadium and track.

Clicking his tongue. Casey flips the ship’s polarity. The maglocks release with a violent crackle, and he drops like a stone toward the ocean below. Reengaging them in the nick of time, yanks his ship toward the track like a slingshot as the G’s punch his spine.

Misha runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Oh, my gods, have you ever seen a stunt like that in mag-racing before?”

Bashing into the track, Casey speeds behind Raule, firing every bullet he’s got as he rear-ends him.

“Casey… Slow down,” Lidia mutters, watching from the spectator's box. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

“You always bet on him; real shame he never wins.” Mr. Rolands nonchalantly replies behind a cloud of smoke, eyes glued to the monitors. “Still, can’t believe he’s trying to beat Vel.”

“It’s a long shot, Sir. She’s the best in the game.” Mr. Kim says, eyes glued on the feed.

“Care for a bet?” Mr. Rolands asks through a hearty chuckle.

“No.” Shaking her head in disgust, Lidia tears up. “Screw you.”

Edgar and Diego exchange a nervous glance as they watch the live feed. Diego shakes his head at Casey’s vitals. “We should pull him.”

“No,” Edgar replies softly. “We can’t, and you know why.”

“But, look at him. There must be some other…”

Edgar cuts Diego off before he can finish, grabbing him by the collar. “Be here for him. Watch him, Casey, you hear me? Win. You can do it.”

Casey stretches his neck, pupils thin as cortisol floods his system, blood dripping from his nose and ears. The crowd cheers as Raule’s shouts for the gods' help, his ship tumbling off the track, falling hundreds of kilometers to the ocean below.

Catching up to Vel, Casey stays on his warpath. Unloading rounds toward the serpentine vixen, as she weaves around the course and bullets with the grace of a ballerina. She rips her face mask off, sneering at the crowd in her cockpit feed and flipping Casey off.

“Good luck, chump,” Vel mutters to the camera with a wink. “You’re out of your league.”

He tries every move, every angle, and trick he can, but Vel always seems one step ahead. Hitting the controls, he crosses into the final lap, heading into the tunnel. Casey shunts his guns, diverting power across all driving systems.

He disengages the safety protocols on the engine, stretching the limit as he hits eighth gear. The ship lurches beneath him, groaning in protest as another drag wing rips free, cracking the side window along the way.

“Nanoseconds from Vel, Casey’s eyeing victory. He’s already set the record, but he’s trying to beat it. He hit the tunnel at… Mach 1.” Misha screams in excitement.

Edgar watches with awe, his eyes filled with pride, as Diego steps away from his station. The screen shows Casey’s brain activity fluttering under the strain of the race, his body temperature well over one hundred degrees.

“Kid… I. I can’t—I won’t watch this.” Diego says through the comms, walking into the shop. “You’re a damn good racer.”

“Yeah, I’ll miss you, too, old man.” Casey softly replies, adjusting the last two drag wings.

Casey clings closely to the track, gaining more acceleration than expected, and he fires across the course past Vel like a bullet flying over Mach 2.

Vel swerves, drifting into the way, trying to cut him off, but misses Casey by a few hundred km as the shockwave rocks her ship to the barrier's edge. Steadily decreasing the throttle. Casey kicks the swivel, his brain taking another beating around the snake's bend in the track.

Coughing blood behind his mask, Casey blinks away the blur as he hits the U-turn. Wheezing into the straightaway, he tightens his connection to the track, accelerating through.

Vel catches up in a hail of bullets. Her ship rattles, barely holding it together as the two move faster than the sound of her gunfire or the cheering crowd. Closing the gap, Vel demolishes Casey’s rear as they become inverted, racing over the track below.

Alarms flash crimson inside the cockpit, sparks raining from a terminal built into the ceiling. Casey lets out a broken laugh as he turns up the mist pumping through his mask. Pulling the pistol mounted beneath his chair, standard for all racers. He spins his ship and rams into her.

Handing him the pistol, Casey feels its weight in his hands as Lidia lets him go. “In case you need it.”

“Haven’t yet.” Casey kisses Lidia, shutting the door to his ship with a wink. “See you soon.”

Kissing the side windshield, she leaves a lip mark on the tempered glass. “Do what you do best.”

“Lose?” Casey chuckles lightly, his tone uneasy as he pulls his helmet on.

“Love it. Love the race and come home to me.” Lidia whispers through the comms static as Mr. Kim rips her away minutes before the race starts.

Shooting the lip mark breaks the cracked windshield, twice cracks Vel’s, sending her swearing into the barrier. Spitting into his mask. He rips it off with a gasp as he spins back around, just in time for the last major turn. Blood oozing from multiple gunshots in the chest.

“Edgar…” Casey's chest rattles with his ship. “Edgar—you there?”

“I’m here. What’d you need?” Edgar asks quietly.

“I never…” Casey swerves, keeping control as best he can against the heat wracking his body. He shakes his head clear. “Never was good for her.”

“Yes, you were.” Edgar stutters, wiping tears from his old eyes. “You were good for all of us.”

“I made a bet in your name. Cash in, make sure she gets it.” Casey takes a deep breath of mist while hitting the swivel, but it breaks beneath the Gs. “Tell her, I won.”

He slams into the barrier faster than Mach 1 as a shockwave follows suit. He scrapes to the finish line, stopping a few hundred km down the road, a smoldering wreck.

“I will,” Edgar mutters into the comms, hoping Casey can hear. “I will…”

All cameras on Casey’s ship show as the engine blows the hood. “This. This—This is mag-racing people. Can you believe it? Underdog, Casey, just took the golden cup. Death? Not a disqualifier. Proceeds always go to the next of kin.” Misha winks at the studio camera as the remaining racers cross the finish line.

The med-vac drops from the sky within minutes, landing directly on the track next to Casey’s ship. An emergency worker sprays an expanding foam around the fire, dousing it in seconds. Connecting a maglock to the door, the crew rip it off like butter and pull Casey into a hovering gurney, his burnt body limp against their movements.

“No…” Like clockwork, the med-vac lifts off, flying into the fading light of the day. Lidia holds her heart as the physical pain of grief takes her. “My Casey. No.”

“Tsk. Tsk.” Mr. Kim exaggerates the sound while clicking his tongue. “Looks like you’re ours now.”

“What? No.” Lidia stammers, stepping away from him despite the cuffs around her wrists and tracker on her ankle. “You—you can’t keep me…”

“Stand down, Mr. Kim.” Mr. Rolands says slowly, puffing smoke around the room. “A deal is a deal. Right, darling?”

“Yes, of course,” Lidia shakes her head while staring at Mr. Rolands, ignoring Mr. Kim. “I’ll see to it you get paid. You’ll get paid.”

“Good, then there’s no problem between us. Excuse my associate, he gets excited.” Mr. Rolands replies coldly. “Mr. Kim. Please release our guest.”

Without words, Mr. Kim kneels and removes her bindings, tucking everything inside his leather jacket. The towering man walks away, leaving the two alone in the spectator's box.

“I’m not so bad, Casey knew that. Had terrible luck though.” Mr. Rolands ruminates softly, sipping on brandy over ice. “I do wish this never happened. But business is business.”

“You’ll be paid.”

“Be seeing you, Lidia.”

Mr. Rolands leaves Lidia, but she stays in the box for far too long. She stays long after the race ends, long after the awards are given out, and even after the lights dim into low-power mode. Edgar tried to get her to leave, but she refused, leaving her only with the cleaning bots buzzing around to keep her company.

“Miss—excuse me, miss?” The security guard asks, repeating himself, before clearing his throat.

“Hmm—yes?” Lidia jumps, thinking Mr. Kim had come to get her, the new boogeyman in her nightmares.

“Are you okay? The show’s over. It’s time to go home.”

“Yes… of course. S-sorry.” She nods, leaves the booth, and, following the guard’s words, heads straight home.

After a long night, Lidia stretches her weary muscles and yawns loudly to herself as she enters their apartment. Closing the door with her back, she slides to the floor, letting out a soft whimper. Looking around at everything that is—was Casey, she lands on his jacket.

Crawling to it, she wraps herself inside. His scent hits her like an old hug, and she breaks. Sobbing until she physically can’t, until she drifts asleep somewhere between coughing fits and lying on the couch.

Lidia wakes with a jolt as someone bangs loudly on her door. Rubbing her red, weary eyes, she stumbles over and checks the security feed. “Edgar? What is it?”

“I’ve got something for you. Can I come in?”

“Come in,” Lidia opens the door, waving an arm inward. “What’s this about? I—leave me alone. Give me time to grieve.”

“I know. I will. It’s about Casey,” Edgar says, pulling out a credit-chit from his pocket. “He bet it all to win. His savings, the shop, it’s yours now. He did good. Goodbye, Lidia.”

Speechless, Lidia takes the stick and lets Edgar leave without a word. She stares at the chit for minutes before gaining the courage to plug it into her cufflink.

//Accessible funds: 10,000,000 credits. Transfer to the bank account on file?

Sobbing, Lidia clutches her chest, searching for something—anything—anything at all to ground herself. She grabs a photo from the counter—the two of them standing on the track years before. Casey, mid-laugh, happier than she can remember. “You did it. Casey.” She mumbles through the tears. “You won.”