Titans

  I sidle up next to the other Titans and take my place behind a yellow line. Batter, Skeet, and Penelope look at me and scowl. They are competitors tonight, but where Padlock and I are concerned, they are united. I dismiss their looks of disapproval and instead study my surroundings, the chalk line drawn crudely along the ground and the lightbulbs hanging five feet apart and stretching into the cavern.

  “Welcome to the Titan Derby, my friends,” Arvin booms. “This year, we will not be announcing the exact race length. Rest assured your fans will see the race from the use of small cameras mounted throughout the track. I wish you the best of luck. Please wait for the starting flag to fall before beginning.” Arvin picks up a flag from the ground, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise. This doesn’t feel right. It’s too dangerous down here. How would the medics get to us if something tragic happened? And what about the mine itself? How long has it lain dormant? Could the ceiling cave in?

  The Titans push closer, and one by one their eyes blaze to life. I touch Padlock’s small black button and, thank goodness, his racing engine kicks on, his ruby irises burning along the walls and ceiling and floor. With all four Titans’ eyes glowing red, it looks as though we’ll charge through the gates of hell when that flag drops.

  “Arvin,” Theo says, his voice holding a note of hesitation.

  But it doesn’t matter.

  Arvin only smiles.

  And lets the flag fall.

  There’s no time to think. No time to strategize. We’re off, the sound of Arvin’s mad laughter filling the space behind us as Titan hooves beat the ground. I notice almost immediately white dashes chalked into the ground, much like the marks on a road. We follow the marks instinctually, Batter taking the lead, and Penelope falling into place behind him.

  Our first jam comes after only a few seconds. A swinging lightbulb overhead casts an eerie glow onto our obstacle—rolling balls sliding back and forth along the ground. They span from one side of the wall to the other, and go on for twenty feet. I don’t know what’s inside them, and I don’t have time to care.

  I drive Padlock down the middle, only a fraction behind my competitors. As always, I search for a pattern to the dark metal balls. There must be a way to predict the time it takes them to roll between the two panels placed low on the ground. But as my mind spins through the possibilities, and Padlock grows closer, the light shuts off.

  Penelope releases a scream as we’re thrown into total darkness. In the distance is another light, but it’s evident we’ll have to pass this jam blindly. I clench my jaw and push onward, but slow Padlock when something explodes, throwing flames into the air.

  “What the—?” Batter yells.

  Another fireball detonates, and Skeet hollers.

  I understand at once what’s happening. The balls detonate when they hit the Titans’ legs. This time, I don’t try to find a solution, because quite frankly, I don’t believe there is one. While other jockeys stand still, attempting to solve the problem, I rush forward.

  The first ball hits Padlock’s hooves and fire burns up his leg, almost searing my injured ankle. I jerk my legs up and cross them in Padlock’s saddle. My Titan is made of steel, and so there’s no danger of him burning unless the heat is over a thousand degrees Fahrenheit, in which case the heat would be too great to survive at all. That means these fireballs are here only to slow us down, but I won’t let that happen. Not when there’s this much at stake.

  Four more balls explode beneath Padlock’s belly, and it isn’t until we’ve passed the jam that I wonder about my horse’s engine. His steel body is intact, but what about the fragile part connected to his engine? Has that overheated?

  I don’t have time to ponder more over this, because before I know it, we’re closing in on the second jam.

  In the light’s reappearance, I’m able to see that I’m in third place. Batter is gaining on me, while Penelope and Skeet race a few yards ahead. I try not to dwell on this, for the track could go on for miles, and any jam could put me in a different position.

  Scanning the walls, I notice orange nozzles hung at sporadic intervals. A silver box sits to one side—no telling what it holds. Penelope and Skeet race toward the jam, but right as they reach the perimeter, the lights switch off once again.

  The sound of hooves moving reaches my ears, and a moment later a gust of fire shoots from the walls. Skeet screams, and in the fire’s glow I see her pull her horse to the right and out of harm’s way. But as soon as she reaches the other side, another flame shooter kicks on. As she navigates through, I notice the fire forms a zigzag pattern. So with sweat forming at my temples, I close my eyes and punch him through the labyrinth of fire.

  Without my eyesight, I can’t properly predict where the next gas spout lies, only that my best bet is to keep weaving left and then right. When we reach the other side, I notice I’m side by side with Penelope, Skeet still in the lead. Batter has fallen back again, but I know he’s close behind.

  The lightbulbs reappear as we shoot onward, following the uneven terrain up and down and around corners. When the ground takes on a strange appearance, I know we’ve reached the third jam.

  I do my best to make out what it is. But then the lights snuff out.

  And Padlock and I fall forward.

  We plunge downward and stick in place. What should make a splash instead makes a spongy, goopy sound. Unsure of what to do, I attempt to navigate Padlock forward with the gas bar and joysticks, but something about the substance he’s swimming in confuses his system. When the sound of three other Titans wading through the tacky liquid reaches me, my pulse picks up its pace.

  I push Padlock’s gas bar farther and hear an unmistakable grinding noise. Remembering Padlock’s delicate engine, I ease off the bar and think. Pushing him harder is no use. In fact, I think we’re wading in circles. I don’t know how to get him to swim straight, but I have to figure it out.

  I rack my brain until finally, I have it. The answer isn’t in the control panel. It’s not even in the saddle at all.

  Quietly, I dismount. My heart sledgehammers in my chest when I slide into the muddy mass. My arms and legs feel as though they weigh a thousand pounds, and I can hardly keep my head above the surface no matter how hard I kick. But when I grab on to Padlock’s neck, I’m able to calm myself enough to strategize.

  Putting my hands on either side of Padlock’s muzzle, I move backward, in the direction of where I believe the wall lies. With the gas bar still engaged, my Titan follows. I release a sigh of relief, because I wasn’t sure whether the Titan would swim along with me without my palms on the joysticks.

  When I reach the wall, I feel my way along and guide my horse. He’s strong enough to power through the substance, and with me showing the way, we’re quickly making it to what I hope is the other side. Eventually, my feet touch the bottom and excitement rushes through me in waves.

  I limp backward out of the substance, putting most of my weight on my good ankle, until Padlock is far enough out that I can remount him. I push his gas bar back into a racing speed, and we’re off. When the lights flip on, I glance around. Not a single Titan races ahead of us. Somehow, someway—we’ve taken first.

  I revel in this realization for all of sixty seconds—Padlock and me flying through the shadowy tunnel—until we’re slammed from behind. My Titan stumbles to the right as Batter pulls to my left, a sneer spread across his ruby-cheeked face.

  “You’re going to fall again, trash,” he yells.

  His words echo through the tunnel, and when I listen hard enough, I also hear the sounds of Penelope and Skeet closing our lead. I don’t respond to Batter’s taunts, only navigate Padlock toward a tight turn and prepare to take it. Batter cuts me off, though, his Titan slamming into mine a second time. Sparks fly as their steel bodies grind against each other.

  Padlock slams his head into Batter’s Titan and the two of them collide into the opposite wall from the impact. Despite my nerves, I release a laugh, because I certainly
didn’t make Padlock do that. More and more, my Titan is working on his own. I’m not sure if it’s the EvoBox that makes him do such things, but I don’t chastise him for it one bit.

  Soon, our four horses are growling toward the fourth jam.

  Water shoots down from ceiling sprinklers. The temporary lights illuminate a wall of water so dense I can’t see through to the other side. It pounds the earth with such force that bits of rock dance at its feet. Batter bangs into me once again and takes the lead. But the moment he hits the water, he screams in pain. The intensity of the stream must be like getting hit with a fireman’s hose.

  I ease off Padlock’s gas bar, and instead lean on his brake. Then, without slowing to a complete stop or hesitating, I swing my legs over the side and leap off, leaving the gas bar engaged. My ankle screams when I come down on it, but I bite down and tell myself the injury doesn’t exist. Then I curl myself under Padlock’s stomach, his steel body protecting me, and the two of us head straight through the destructive water jets. When we appear on the other side, the lights flicking back on, I see that Padlock’s steel has tiny pockmarks in it from the jets—and that Skeet is in the lead. What’s more, there’s a good fifty feet between her and us. So I pull myself back into my saddle and bear down.

  I don’t manage to catch up to Skeet, but I do get close. Already, purple bruises blossom on the back of her neck. She must have ridden straight through the engineered waterfall without stopping. My focus turns from beating out Batter, to beating Skeet, the girl who’s deaf to pain.

  Skeet pummels forward, turning around each bend with her uncle’s legacy for speed, but I stay with her, hoof for hoof. The two of us sail through the tunnel like two characters in a video game, the cling-clang of our steel horses the rat-tat of an arcade parlor.

  Skeet begins to slow at last, and I wonder if her Titan has malfunctioned. But no, I see what’s stopped her now. It’s the fifth jam, lying straight ahead.

  Just looking at it sends a chill down my spine.

  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.