Titans (28 page)

Metal sheets cover the walls, ceiling, and floor of the tunnel. Bouncing around in their own cage are more throwing stars than anyone could safely pass through. Every few seconds there’s a pause—the stars sticking to the metal sheets, tempting the jockeys forward—before being released again to spin about the area.

I watch for a pattern, but just as before, the lights flip off. Now there is only the metal clang of the stars. I could listen for a pattern, but math is always something I’ve studied in my mind’s eye, and if I can’t see it, I can’t figure it out. I do my best to listen, but all I hear is the sound of Skeet screeching as she chances rushing through. From what little I saw, the distance to cross didn’t seem that great. So maybe the answer is simply to dash straight through.

But what if one of those stars strikes my throat, or my head? Couldn’t the small blades be enough to kill me if they hit the right spot?

I can just make out Batter’s shape to my left, and Penelope’s to my right. Penelope releases a grunt of determination, and then takes action. Soon it’s only Batter and me remaining behind. I can feel him watching. Waiting to see what I’ll do.

Like my trainer suggested, I focus my attention on what it is I need to do. Instead of listening to the sound of the stars clashing, I scrutinize my surroundings. Besides the faint glitter of the stars, and Batter’s pacing, I see only one other thing. At first, I’m certain it’s my imagination. But as I move closer, and run my hand along the wall, I find I’m right.

There’s an opening here.

It’s hardly two Titans wide, but when I squint my eyes, I see a glow in the distance. The oxygen solidifies in my lungs and my hands begin to shake.

The tunnel splits.

The question is whether to take the split. If I’m wrong, I’ll never make it back in time to regain the ground that I lost. But if I’m right …

Bringing my heels into Padlock’s sides and jamming his gas bar upward, we take off through the narrow space.

What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?

Just when I’m sure I’ve made the wrong choice, I make out even more light. My scalp starts tingling. A slow smile grows upon my face. The light blooms brighter, and I race Padlock faster toward it. Soon, I’m certain I am right—the end of the mine shaft is near. I can see it sloping upward, a line of dangling bulbs lighting the way.

As the tunnel is illuminated, I can’t help but roar with excitement. I may really make it. I may really win!

I can barely contain my exhilaration, until two things happen—

One—I hear Batter racing toward me with a vengeance.

Two—I see smoke swirling out of Padlock’s nostrils.

I ease off Padlock’s gas bar immediately, my head fuzzy with fear, but then Batter is able to eat up the stretch between us too quickly. I reapply gas and Padlock takes off again, but now more smoke pours out and up. Screaming with frustration, I navigate Padlock faster toward the incline that will take us out of the shaft. I need to get him across that finish line. Then Rags and Barney can repair him for real.

I only hope he can make it that far.

Whispering a silent prayer, I take liberties with Padlock’s engine, forcing him well into the caution area on the performance gauge. When I glance back, I see that Batter is still firmly in second place, assuming Skeet and Penelope are still behind us in the other tunnel.

Padlock and I hit the incline and race uphill, me leaning my body forward to take stress off his flight, and him grunting from the exertion. The smoke streams out steadily, but it still isn’t nearly as bad as it was the day we fell, so I push onward, cringing when one of Padlock’s red eyes flickers in and out against the last of the mine shaft.

As we exit the underground track, I spot a camera mounted on the roof. A green light flicks on, telling me the camera picked up our appearance. At the exact same time that the green light turns on, I hear the unmistakable sound of a crowd roaring with approval.

I hadn’t heard them before this very moment. It sounds like they aren’t too far away. It sounds like they just saw me appear and have waited a very long time to make any noise at all.

Which means I am most likely the first to appear from that mine shaft.

Which means I am first.

I release a wild cry of triumph as I shoot out onto the last stretch of the track that will wind through the forest and end at the final finish line of the Titan season. Behind that line is a two-million-dollar check.

Behind that line is a different life than one I’ve ever known.

I grip the joysticks firmly and curl my shoulders toward my Titan. I set my gaze ahead toward the end. I set my gaze so that I don’t see when Batter blasts out of the mine shaft. I don’t see when the final jam is detonated and a blade descends from above and comes crashing down on my Titan, barely missing my head.

The blade, sensing impact, pulls back up. But it’s too late. The damage is done. Padlock skids along the ground, and I fly from my place in the saddle, small rocks digging into my palms. My Titan lies motionless on the ground as I clutch my injured ankle and scream. Batter races past, his own Titan clanking and clattering from the jams.

All my life, people told me I was good at math.
Gifted with numbers
, they said.
A mathlete
, they said. But why, then, did I miss the obvious?

Three circuit races.

One of fire, one of water, one of blades.

One Titan Derby.

Two jams with fire, two with water, two with blades.

I didn’t notice the pattern.

And now I’ve lost the race.

I am broken heart and broken spirit and broken mind. Don’t want to watch as I’m left in Batter’s dust. Don’t want to see the disappointment on my father’s face after he worked so hard to put me in this derby.

A noise reaches me. Screeching, rattling, grinding.

The sound of a machine in need of oiled parts.

I raise my head.

Padlock is pulling himself upright. He staggers and falls. Pulls himself up a second time and remains standing. His head whips in the direction of Batter’s fleeing Titan, and then he rushes over, nudges me—
hard
—with his muzzle. His one red eye blazes with such intensity that goose bumps rise along my skin.

Padlock stomps his front foot.

He stomps it again, his hoof dangerously close to my hand.

Then he does something that steals the breath from my lungs. He rises up on his back legs, his front hooves swiping the air as he releases a bone-rattling neigh and puffs black soot into the night.

When he comes down on all fours, I’m driven to action. Padlock is right. We’re not out of this race yet.

I swing myself into the saddle as Padlock prances, anxious to be released.

My hands flutter to the control panel, ready to kick Padlock’s racing gear back into action and work the joysticks. But I freeze. Look at the smoke rising from my Titan. Watch him throw his head and snort and stomp.

Who’s to say I can finish this race better than he can?

This is the last race. The last stretch. The last shot.

And Padlock needs this as much as I do.

I don’t hesitate.

Autopilot:
ON

Padlock rises into the air again and I fumble for the handlebars and hang on, my knuckles whitening as he tears a hole through the sky and the moon. When he comes down, he swings his head around to look at me. His one good eye ignites with passion. But there’s something else there too. Love, maybe. Affection, for sure.

His red eye glitters. He’s fury and rage and retribution. He’s fire and wrath. And I’ve just released those things onto the track.

Heaven help the Titans who stand in his way.

He’s off!

Padlock runs and the world trembles. He runs and the entire universe tilts to get a better look. Smoke puffs from his nostrils and his eye cuts a crimson path and his body parts clash, steel on steel.

In seconds, we’re on Batter’s tail. A moment later, we’re catching up. When Batter hears the sound of our approach, he looks over his shoulder. The shock on his face is worth all the prize money in the world.

He grabs the gas bar and shoves it halfway to the top.

No matter.

Padlock is on him.

Trees whip by and soon a crowd of race-goers appear on either side of us. Padlock blasts by all of it, eating up the ground, blazing past turns. He puts himself beside Batter’s horse, and I see fear in Batter’s eyes.

I see it.

No matter how far Batter pushes his horse, Padlock matches his speed. He’s never been good at straight dashes, but tonight he’s untouchable.

I used to race Padlock like I wanted to place well.

But Padlock races like he’s already won.

In the distance, my eyes make out something that causes my entire body to turn inside out—the finish line. Padlock and I see it at the same time, and energy fires across both our backs.

I dare to hope we still have a chance, until I notice that the smoke pouring from Padlock’s nose is now
billowing
—great, heaping clouds of the stuff shooting out his nose and eyes and ears. I cry out and start to reach for the autopilot button.

But Padlock won’t be stopped.

Not tonight.

The button is jammed. I pull on the brake bar, turn the key in the ignition, but nothing moves. I try everything to stop him, to keep him from blowing his engine. But nothing works. As my mind buzzes, I recall the way my Titan looked at me in the stable an hour earlier. As if he wouldn’t allow me to lose. And that if it came down to it, he’d sacrifice himself to protect my future.

Padlock’s one good eye flickers, and now smoke whiffs out of that too.

“I don’t want this!” I scream. “Stop, Padlock.
Stop!
”

Tears streak my face as his insides begin to rattle and crash. A bolt tears apart from his body and nearly hits me as it flies into the forest. My Titan is a machine, born to compete and that’s all. But he’s become so much more than that. He’s made me stronger, braver. He’s given me confidence I never could have found elsewhere. He’s given me a friend.

And he’s made me trust again.

Remembering this last part, I tighten my hold on the saddle horn and lean over.

Okay, Padlock
, I think.
Let’s do this, then
.

“Go, Padlock!” I scream, barely able to hear my own voice. “Go, go, go!”

Batter’s horse stays with us around every turn, up every straightaway, past every flash of the cameras. Our horses are nostril-to-nostril, body-to-body, tail-to-tail. My competitor doesn’t chance slamming into me. It’s too risky. Not at this speed. Not this close to the end.

The finish line closes in so quickly it’s as if it’s racing toward us instead of the other way around. I cry out from pride and joy and madness. My blood pumps and my heart pounds and my pulse screams.

The finish line is upon us.

It’s right there.

And so is Batter.

And so is a crevice.

An enormous break in the ground like the one I stopped at during our race against Hart. But this time, there’s no stopping.

Batter stops short.

Padlock does not.

He soars over the crevice, and for an instant we are suspended, looking down at the crowd of screaming faces. Looking down at the world from our place in the sky. There is no sound here in the stars. There is only peace and happiness and a sublime moment I’ll hold inside me until the day I die.

Then we are crashing down. We are rolling over the finish line. Noise slams into me like a tidal wave. Cheering and booing and my last name shouted over and over.

Sull-i-van!

Sull-i-van!

Sull-i-van!

But what about my horse’s name? What about my Titan? Theo races out onto the track wearing a smile much warmer than his brother’s, holding a trophy, golden and glistening. But I don’t care about that. I care about my Padlock.

I was thrown from his back when we came down, and now I hobble toward him. I’m bruised and in pain, but I’m okay. Padlock, however, is barely moving. He lies on his side and kicks at the ground with his front hooves. I throw myself over his body as more smoke blasts out. Someone is there, trying to pull me off my Titan, but I won’t let go of my horse. Padlock turns his head back to look at me, and I move my mouth to his ear.

“You are a good horse,” I whisper to him, emotion making my words thick. “You are the very best horse. I love you, Padlock.”

His eye flickers and I swear it, I’ll forever swear it, I see amusement in that eye. And triumph. And love.

I embrace him tightly, crying into his steel-threaded mane, my tears sizzling against his neck. The camera flashes snap, and tickets fly, and a tall man with a notepad in his hand looks down upon it all, a grimace on his face.

When I’m lifted into the air, I fight against the person who holds me. I don’t want to leave my Titan. But when I look down at my horse’s face, I see it’s him who has left me. I moan with sorrow and cling to Rags’s chest, cry into his warmth for what feels like an eternity. Finally, finally, I am able to lift my head, and when I do, I find it’s not Rags who carries me far from the crowd and the cameras.

It is my father.