Chapter 2: Head Hunt

Jock’s Garage was located right in the heart of the ghetto district of Midfeld. It was just about the only garage in town that was owned by a black. The other garage was owned by Sam, a rowdy white guy complete with a beer belly and disgust for blacks. So what does one do to get back at a redneck like that? Set up one that also secretly modifies cars as a plus factor. Sam didn’t modify cars. He was too thick for that. He prided himself for being legit.

Jock was only eighteen when he set up shop in the garage of his mom’s house. He had an uncle who taught him everything there was to know in modifying a car. Jock then passed his knowledge on to a select few friends who now gave him a helping hand for free in the new garage lot, a former warehouse that had caught fire some years ago. Kieran had been one of them and when he left for college; and Kate took his place. Jock, coincidentally, could also use an extra hand.

The gang had never considered it work, because it didn’t feel like work at all. After all, what kind of boss sponsors his crew’s lunch and dinner and gave them free upgrades for their babies? So far Stew had taken some, so did Vince and Jem; Kate was the only one left to modify her Charade. But Stew and Vince and Jem were in on the street racing scene; she was not. So Kate had never seen the need to. She parked her car by the sidewalk, between Stew’s slick new Nissan Skyline and Jem’s obnoxious Jetta. Beside those cars, her Charade was nothing.

Just as she had slammed the door shut, Stew came out, wiping his hands on his cargo pants and grinning. “What do you think, eh, Kate? Tribal vinyl – just arrived this morning!” He went to his car and ran his hands all along its body. He laughed. “Ah, Kate, the sight of a new vinyl, on a new car . . .” he grinned at her. “Time you upgraded.”

She shrugged. “Sure. I’ll put it on your tab.”

“Hey, hey, just joking, all right?” He followed her into the garage.

Jem slid out from underneath the open hood of a Civic EK and said to her, “Hey, Kate, how’s it going?”

“Here you go,” she threw him the wrench from the old yellow toolbox. He caught it. “Wow, Kate Mindmaster, not bad.”

“Finally, Kit,” said Jock, emerging from the backroom with Vince in tow. “Five minutes late.” He and Vince were the only ones who called her Kit.

She rolled her eyes. “I was at school, man. I can definitely use a time-out.” She sauntered into the backroom and dropped onto a couch and winced when her back hit the wooden backrest. The cushion had been ripped off years ago by its previous owner.

“Aw, poor Kitty,” said Vince, grabbing a bag of chips from Jock’s desk and offered it to her as if she was a stray cat. She grunted and grabbed a handful of chips and sat up straight on the couch as she devoured them. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Days like these were unavoidable ever since she started saving up for college two weeks ago.

Jock laughed. They heard a raucous vroom from outside as a car thundered into the garage. Its boomboxes went at full volume on a rock-cum-techno song that Kate had never heard of before, and she never wanted to hear it again.

“Wannabe,” Vince announced tonelessly, earning a snigger from her.

“Jem can handle him,” said Jock. “Hey Vince, you going to the drag on the New Road tonight?”

“What? Aw, hell yeah, I won’t miss that for the world; not after I installed double tanks of NOS – ”

“Jock!” Jem burst through the door with sweat on his face and panting.

“Whoa, Jem! You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” remarked Kate.

“It’s him!” said Jem hoarsely. “Him! And Jock, he doesn’t look happy.”

“Who is it?”

Jem’s lips trembled as they waited for a reply. Finally: “Spike.”

Their eyes widened at once and Kate lost interest in the chips. She had heard the name a thousand times before: the terror of the streets; the merciless crusher: Spike. Every street racer in the Midfeld-Gosford arena wanted to be like him. At night, he ruled the streets. His word was authority and he had a wad of cash to back it up too. And he never played nice. Jock had learnt it the hard way.

“Holy crap,” muttered Vince.

“His turf’s Gosford. What the hell is he doing here?” said Jock, standing up and moving towards the door. Jem shrugged and stepped back. Kate and Vince exchanged curious looks and followed him out of the backroom.

A muscular cobalt-blue beauty stood in the garage next to the Civic EK Jem was working on, and instantly everything else paled in comparison. Although the name ‘Spike’ was very familiar to her, she had yet to see his ride. She felt a bit thrilled at the opportunity. She sized up the car, but the more she looked at it, the weirder she felt. She had seen it before . . .

. . . this morning.

“Yo, Spike,” said Jock but his voice lacked a certain enthusiasm.

Spike grinned. “Hey, Jock. How’s it goin’?”

Jock wasn’t about to buy it. “What do you want? Do I owe you anything?”

“Owe me?” Spike laughed but it sent chills up her spine. She stood nervously beside Vince, who looked at him warily. “Nah, Jock, no.”

“Then what’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Spike ran a hand over his spiky hair and laughed that creepy laugh again. “My problem, Jock? Other than collecting overdue money from perks and jerks I haven’t got a problem in the world. But guess what, Jock?” His jaw tightened. “This morning I was doing a run on the Old Road, with not a problem in the world – but then somebody else decided that he wanted to have a problem with it. You know what that bastard did? He thought he would get in my way. And get in my way he did. And you know how I run, Jock.” He grinned. “I don’t let anybody get in my way.”

“It’s good to hear that you’re still friendly. Now if you don’t mind – ”

“You know what that son of a bitch was drivin’?” he hollered so that his voice bounced off the garage walls. “A damn, frickin’ Charade that’s parked outside your garage at this damn, frickin’ second!”

Jock fell unnaturally silent. Jem blinked, Stew swallowed, and Vince looked slowly at Kate, whose eyes immediately dropped to the ground. Spike glared at Jock as if he wanted to swallow him whole there and then.

Finally, Jock had the astonishing nerve to say, “So?”

“SO?” Spike exploded. “Who else has the nerve to take me out like that? Who else has the guts but YOU?”

“Look here, I ain’t been in the business for years!”

“Then I guess you’re back now, aren’t ya, huh, buddy?”

“I told you I’m not – suck it up like a man!”

“Oh you’re tellin’ me to suck it up now? Well guess what? Okay, I believe you. So it wasn’t you. I tell ya, Jock: I’ll hunt him down – right to the very writhing molecule of his blasted body, and when I do, there ain’t a scrap of that Charade left.” Kate gulped. Spike looked hard at each of them, then back at Jock. “This Saturday night at the Old Road. I’ll be waiting for the kill.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” said Vince contemptuously. Spike came up to him so close so that their noses were almost touching; and so fast so that Vince nearly took a step backwards, but he held his ground.

“Look who you’re talking to, bub,” hissed Spike. “You’re not even a ranked driver.”

“I don’t need to be one,” replied Vince coolly. Spike snorted at him and stalked off into his Supra. Then with a squeal of tires and excessive rev, the enemy left.

Jock let out a sigh of relief. “Whew! That was close!” said Jem.

Stew dropped a spanner into the toolbox. “Talk about scary.” He glanced at Kate. “You’re in big trouble, girl.”

Kate had just opened her mouth when Spike changed his mind and sprinted back to the garage and stopped outside of it.

“What’s he want now?” muttered Vince.

His question was answered in good time as Spike took something out of his car and ran it against the body of her Charade, the ‘thing’ screeching worse than a banshee as he did so. “No!” she rushed out to save it but Vince held her back just in time. “Kitty – no! Just let him be!”

Spike grinned back at them and held up his chin in a challenge. Kate summoned all of her willpower not to charge at him and give him a well-deserved kick in the ass. She glared at him, her breath short and heavy, both angry and thankful at Vince for his strong arms stopping her from throwing herself at him. Spike spat at the hood and got into his car. In a cloud of dust, he was gone. For good.

Vince released her. Kate ran out of the garage to inspect the damage he had done. She sniffed and ran her hands along the ugly scratch on its body. Jock appeared at her side. He gave her a grim look, which she didn’t dare meet until a minute later, when her pulse had slowed down and her soul felt calmer.

“We need to talk,” he said quietly.