Fuel, first chapters

                                                                Fuel by Aiden Rosenberg

FUEL
Chapter 1. Fuel to the Fire


“Where is he? Where has he taken the money?” I shouted. I was confused, I was angry. My name is Macallister Austin, but Macallister doesn’t fit on my door, so I’m called Mace. My close friend Jake Ingham and I started this business eight years ago. Never even dreaming we would ever own a company this extraordinarily huge. The company is worth a hundred and twenty million dollars, but our profit has been a bit low. Since Jake and I started the company, we have each shared in the 6 million dollars profit. But for some reason, Jake has taken my share, and the company is heading downhill. After a market crash, we’ve had to lay off staff, and we’ve gone into debt. I planned to use my three million dollars to make sure I was safe, you know, buy a house, a nice car. That’s my real passion. Cars. Jake loves them too.
As kids we both used to spend our free time thinking about what cars we would own if we were ever rich. But lately we haven’t had the time to buy our metallic dreams, and we decided not to spend our money, in case we needed to spend it on the company. That time has come, but Jake has fled with our profits, and I have nothing. I knew Jake had some high gambling debts, but it can’t be as much as six million dollars. I have no idea why he would do this.
“I shouldn’t have given him access to my personal account! I trusted him!” I exclaimed again to my assistant. “Where is he? Where has he gone?” I questioned her. Alice had been a good assistant for five years, but she knew she would be laid off.
“No-one knows where he has gone sir, he’s disappeared,” she said.
“I’ll find him, I’ll find him and I will kill him,”
“Don’t forget, you are a man of business sir, you always said anger meant poor judgement, you need to think about what you are going to do for the business, for your employees,”
“There is no hope for the company, Austham has not got a chance without the six million,” I felt tired and out of energy. I stood looking out the window, peering over Sydney. I watched the hundreds of people and cars bustling in the streets below. I hit the window with the side of my fist, as a gesture of anger. A cheap gesture. “I’m going to find him, I need to know why he took the money, I need to get it back,” I said to the window, I could hear my voice echo throughout the empty office. Alice stood there, silent.
I turned away from the window, and walked out the door. I knew I would probably never see my loyal assistant again. I began walking through the cubicles, then I broke out into a jog. Walking was too slow, jogging felt right. I slammed the small button for the elevator. I found it hard to breathe. Not finding Jake, meant going back. Back to the lousy job, and lousy house, and lousy life I was living before we started the business. The elevator let out a ding, and I stepped inside. Down to the floor below. The doors opened, and I could see across the dimly lit office floor Hemingway, I had always had Hemingway in mind if something ever happened to both Jake and I, and someone needed to look after the business. “Belkin, Belkin!” I yelled across the floor, as I strained to take another breath, leaning over the freshly vacuumed carpet.
He ran over, looking confused. “Mace, Mace what’s happened?” I asked.
“It’s Jake, Jake’s taken all our profits and fled,”
“What?! Why, why would he do that?”
“He had debts Hemingway, I knew they were big, but” Hemingway stopped me.
“Where has he gone?” He questioned. I was still struggling to breathe.
“Macallister, where has he gone?” He was yelling now.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find him. Belkin, I need you to keep the company alive while I get the money back. I know we’re going downhill and fast, but do what you have to do to keep the company going. Layoffs, cancel shipments, cancel orders, do what you have to, and just keep it discreet.” I was standing now, starting to think straight. Hemingway nodded, and I stepped back into the still open elevator. The elevator began its journey to the garage.
I jogged out through the doors and over to my car. It was just a family sedan, I had dreams of something better, but things had been very risky, and Jake and I had agreed not to spend much of our money till the company was on solid ground. I pushed the car to it’s limits just getting out of the garage. I flew out of the driveway and skidded onto the road, attracting a lot of attention. I stopped the car, to stop myself, then I accelerated. I grabbed my cell phone from it’s car holder, and began dialling.
“Fred, it’s me Mace”
“Ah, hello Mace, how are you today, need some more business advice?
“Not right now, I need to talk to you about that man you told me about,”
“Man?” He questioned. “What’s wrong Mace, you’re not making sense,”
“You told me about a person you hired when you’re Ferrari was stolen,”
“Ah yes, Oz. The little bastard who stole my car didn’t know what hit him,” I could visualize Fred’s grin, sitting at his desk.
“Yes, Oz. I need his details,”
I powered my Camry through the streets, I didn’t even know where I was going. But I felt like I had to move quickly. Fred gave me the details of this ‘Oz’ character. I dialled, and waited for the voice.
“Hello.” The voice was almost like stone.
“Is this” I paused for a moment, thinking about what exactly I was doing. “Is this ‘Oz’?”
“This is him,” replied the voice.
“I need to track down someone, they have ran away with a lot of money, and I need that money back,”
“How much has been stolen?” he asked
“Around three million dollars,”
“My fee will be…two hundred thousand, plus thirty thousand for each week I work with you,” his Italian accent was very thick in parts.
I stopped for a minute. I knew I would have to use some money I had saved. Now before I tell you how much I had stashed away, I want you to know I didn’t plan to touch that money till my retirement. I had made it from some side-deals Jake didn’t know about. I had it tucked away and almost had it entirely out of my mind. But the four million I had saved would have to be brought back into my life.
“I can do that, but I also need you to find this person,
“Name?” Oz asked.
“His name is Jake Ingham, he works for Austham computers, he has taken my money, and no-one knows where he is,” I explained.
“I will find him,”
“He is not an idiot, he’s smart” I tried to explain, but Oz assertively spoke over me.
“I will find him. Meet me at the Portachelli restaurant, in West Ryde, at 7 pm,” he hung up. I threw the phone onto the floor of the car and rubbed my eyes. I was stopped at traffic lights, so I threw my head back and let out a slow breath. This was no longer just about the money, or the company. This was about finding Jake, finding out why he took the money, and…retrieving the money.
It had come to 7 o’clock, and I was standing outside the restaurant, I saw a figure coming towards me through the dark. The traffic roared past beside me. But the street felt deadly quiet. I knew something life changing was going to happen to me, and there was no way I could stop it. I wasn’t just going to watch my company fall to the ground, and let Jake run away with my money. We were good friends, but I’ve always valued money over everything. This was business, and we were no longer friends.
I watched the figure come into the light outside the restaurant. He was huge. He had tanned, hard chiselled face, that looked rock hard. But I could also see in his eyes, that he was no dumb fool. He had jet black hair, long and in a pony tail. He must have been about 6 feet tall, huge, just muscle. He stopped a couple of feet away from me, and stared deep into my eyes. I could see the rage, tucked away in his eyes.
“Oz?” I asked. He nodded. This looked like a man who prefers silence. He gestured for me to sit down. Of course I did, there’s no way I’m going to deny anything this man asks of me.
“I forgot to say, my name is Macallister Austin, and you? Is Oz short for something?” I asked, but cautiously.
“My name is not important. Oz will be fine.” He said bluntly, I won’t make that mistake again. “Your man has gone to burning island,” he said.
“God, how did you find that out?” I asked, but he just glared at me. “Um, ok, well how do I get my money back? Where exactly is this ‘Burning Island’?”
“Do you know what Burning Island is?” he replied.
“No, I haven’t heard of it,” But I had seen an advertisement for it on Jake’s desk late last night.
“Burning Island is island dedicated to racing. Only the most rich and famous are allowed there. It is somewhere in the Pacific, but you only find out location when you are allowed in,” he explained to me.
“So who owns this ‘Burning Island’?” I asked. Oz took out a cigarette, lit it and breathed in deep. Then let it blow out into the still cold air of the street.
“Max Hollister. He is trillionaire who owns Holls Motors. The richest man in the world,”
“Yes, I’ve heard of him, so what do you mean ‘dedicated to racing’?” I asked, watching the cars pass through the street.
“20 years ago, he bought island in the Pacific, it’s about the same size as Hawaii, but is kept very secret.” He took another deep puff on his cigarette, then let out a cough as he breathed out. “He spent the last 20 years developing the island, using technology that is still not even harnessed by military organisations. The island is covered with thousands and thousands of kilometres of roads, aswell as hundreds of houses. Everything on the island is worthy of millionaires, and based around luxury cars. Millionaires go there to race, and make money from racing with other millionaires. Hollister makes his money from the fee everyone is charged to go to the island, but he makes so much money from Holls motors that he could never run out of money,” I tapped the plastic table with my nails. “Chances are your man has gone there to make a new life with your money.” He stopped, and looked at me.
“So we need to talk to Hollister?” I asked
“Yes, but he will be very reluctant to let us go there unless he knows we’re real deal,” he replied. “Find a way for us to get residence on the island, speak with Hollister. Call me when you are ready to leave, here is a number that will let you speak with him directly,” he threw down a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it. He walked off breathing out more smoke, and pulling a coat over his shoulders. I stared at the paper, it moved and turned on the table, blown by the wind. Getting to Jake was going to cost me more than Jake is worth to me.
I snatched the paper between my fingers and held it up to my eyes. Hollister – 98 24 5888. Now I had to make the final decision. I could throw this incredibly important piece of paper into the trash. Then use what I have saved to keep myself going, maybe start a new company, and just hope I will not need the money later in my life. Or I ring this ‘Hollister’, go to Burning Island and find Jake, save the company and possibly save my future.
I grasped the paper in between my fingers and then shoved it into my pocket. I feel like adventure.
****************
I sat in my apartment, over looking the lights of Sydney. I put my glass of scotch onto the table next to me. Then I brought the cell phone up to my ear.
“Hollister here, what can you do for me?” answered Hollister. I paused for a second, and laughed in my mind. This man was above all men. I found it hard to believe Oz had found a way to have me speak directly to the richest man in the world.
“Yes, Max Hollister, I need to speak to you about a matter. My name is Macallister Austin. My business partner has stolen a large amount of money, large to me anyway, and fled to your island, his name is Jake Ingham,”
“Ah yes, I spoke with that man several days ago, said he wanted to start a new life here,”
“Yes, well the money is important to me and my company, and I must retrieve it, an associate and I need to come to your island to get this money back,” there was a pause over the line.
“How much are we talking here? Billions?” he asked
“Not exactly, he has taken 3 million dollars, which was my share of our company’s net profit,”
“3 million dollars is pocket change to me Macallister, I could give you 50 million dollars, wouldn’t matter to me at all,”
“Could?” I questioned him.
“Look Macallister,”
“Mace.”
“Mace, you are aware of my riches, are you not?” he asked. I think everyone in the world knows about Max Hollister.
“Of course,” I replied.
“Well when you have an almost infinite amount of money, you get bored, easily. Now what is more important to me than money, is entertainment. I love a bit of fun Mace. Now I could give you some money, but where’s the fun in that,” As he got deeper into his speech, I realised he had quite an Irish accent, and sounded very young. I could see where this conversation was going. “So this is what I’m going to do, I will allow you and you’re ‘associate’ to take residence here, I will even wave the housing fee. But you both need to have your own car, and it needs to be bloody expensive, and it will be beneficial to you if it’s bloody fast. Once you both have your cars, call the number on the e-mail I am sending you, speak with the man on the line, and he will arrange things from there, I will see you on my island Mr Austin,” then he hung up.
E-mail? How did he get my e-mail address, he must be mistaken. I threw the phone onto the bed, and then sure enough, my laptop let out a ring. I ran my eyes through the e-mail, it was littered with luxurious cars, and views of pacific oceans and mountains. I rang the number at the end of the e-mail, not bothering to read the information.
I spoke with a man, he told me to leave both cars with keys inside outside a building in the city in 3 days, and to then catch a taxi and meet a pilot at Sydney airport, who would take us to burning island.
“Oz, Hollister has allowed us to go to Burning Island, but we each need our own cars, good ones.” I told Oz over the phone.
“Should be fun, I will meet you at this building, at the requested time, I will purchase my own car and write off as tax deduction, I will see you there,” hung up on again. I sat back into my chair, grabbed my scotch and went back to looking over the city. As I sipped the scotch, I became utterly confused by what Oz had just said about the car, was he serious? I don’t even know what he officially does.
The next day I arrived at the dealership. A business man I had dealed with told me about this place, and how it was not knowledge to the general public. I stepped out of my Camry and took a look at the building. It was like a black box. The windows were tinted black, there was one small door, and a garage door beside it. I opened the door and stepped inside. My breath was taken away as I stared at the cars. Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Mustangs, Aston Martins, all sorts of cars, each one perfectly clean and reflecting the show room floor.
A man came over to me, wearing a polo shirt, and looking like he might aswell have been at home watching the television. His face was unshaven and his hair was ruffled. “What can I do for ye mate?” he asked me. I forced myself to assume this man owned the show room.
“I need a car.” Doh, I looked away from the man and thought ‘you stupid idiot’.
“Ha, ya might have to be more specific mate, we got plenty of cars. Tell ye what, you look around, and tell me when you’ve found one you like,” he said. Before walking off back to his office.
I spent about an hour looking at all the cars. But I just could not take my eyes off the Aston Martin DB9. I loved the look, and it had the power. It was a dark grey with black and silver graphics along the sides. I gave the man details of my account, and sold him my Camry for a cheap price. I spent the next couple of days getting acquainted with this stunning machine. It turned heads, and I finally realised why most rich people drove, sailed, and flew around in these sort of machines. It felt great.
Three days after the call to Hollister, I arrived at the building I was told to go to. I spent a few minutes looking around, it was a back alley and looked completely deserted. I wasn’t too sure about leaving my new pride and joy here. Suddenly I heard a roar from behind the buildings, a roar that touched me to the bones. The roar stopped, and the squealing of tires came to my ears. A bright red Ferrari skidded around the corner, and it suddenly accelerated at full power towards me. It was a Ferrari Marinello. Typical of an Italian. Oz stopped the car, and peered at me through the open window. He was smiling, but the smile did not suit the rest of him. “This trip looks like will be a lot of fun,” he said through his smile.
We left the cars there, both reluctant to leave them alone, but certain we were doing what we were supposed to. Before we left the alley, I turned around and the cars were gone. We caught a taxi to the airport, and we journeyed to where I had been told to go. There was a jet black leer jet on the edge of a private run-way. A man in a black tuxedo walked towards us, as we walked towards the plane.
“Your cars?” he asked us.
“A grey DB9, and a red Ferrari Marinello,” I replied. The man looked at his electronic note book, then nodded and gestured for us to follow him onto the plane. Then he left, leaving just Oz, two pilots and myself. The pilot was holding a plastic cup of coffee; he threw it out the door which he then closed. He turned to us, and said “Just wait till you see this place, just wait…”
The plane spent about 10 hours flying across the ocean, Oz and I spent our time watching movies on the television system.
“There she is boys, Burning Island” one of the pilots said through the cockpit door. Oz and I looked out the window. The island was huge. Most of it was road. Even through the mountains you could faintly see well paved roads. The island was covered in them. As well as houses, there were huge mansions everywhere. The island itself was stunning, and the ocean that surrounded it sparkled in the sunlight.
“How is this place kept hidden from the public?” I asked the pilots. One turned around to me and looked through the open doorway.
“It’s classified as a military base. We’re currently in restricted airspace, and restricted waters. The island has it’s own defense system, which instantly disables the electronics of any ships or airplanes that are not authorized to enter within 20 kilometres. Generally only this plane, and the ship with your cars on it are allowed in the zone. Aswell as Mister Hollister’s own private boats and planes.”
The plane touched down on the run way. After it came to a stop, and we were out. Another man in a black tuxedo walked over to us, he was bald and his face was clean, almost crisp. “You the boys from Sydney?” he was british.
“Yes we are,” I answered.
“Good, Mister Hollister has been expecting you, but he says you each need to win a few races until he’ll speak with you,”
“what?”
“Mister Hollister wants you to win $50,000 dollars in races each. Once you both have, he will call you and arrange a meeting. Now this taxi will take you to your estate. We both looked at the black and yellow striped ford GT. There was a man sitting inside, who beckoned us to come inside. I crawled inside and managed to fit into the back seat. Oz sat down in the passenger seat after me. “Some taxi,” he said. The Ford GT roared away from the airport, the driver obviously knew how to control it well. I looked at the center console. There was a small screen, it looked like a very advanced GPS system. It showed a view of our car from about 50 metres above, driving through the streets. As we came up to an intersection. The GPS’ camera zoomed away from our car, to show two flashing red dots approaching us along the streets at a tremendous speed. *Wait at this intersection please, for 40 seconds.* exclaimed the system in a smooth flowing female voice. I was intrigued at how the system was getting this real life view of our car and the island from above, in real time. I then realised the two flashing dots were cars, coming at us from the right. All of us peered down along the road. I could distinctly see two cars coming along the road. Each doing well over 200 km/h.
One was a Dodge Viper, dark blue with white lines. Parallel to it was a white Lotus Elise, doing about the same speed. The only cars on the road were the taxi, and these two racers.
“My god,” said Oz, as the cars came closer, going at an extreme speed. Suddenly the Dodge’s engine blew, expelling thick black smoke into the air. The Lotus broke ahead, and zoomed passed us at an incredible speed. The dodge now rolled to a stop just a few metres away from us. The man got out of the car, looked at us all staring at him, then looked back at his car. He was wearing a grey business suit, and had short black hair, he looked very fine cut. His face showed a look of frustration, but you could easily tell he was still having fun. *CAR IMMOBILE, TAXI CALLED* said the Dodge’s own system, in the same female voice. The man rested up against his car, and took a cigar out from his pocket, lit it and started taking puffs.
The taxi pulled away into the street and began accelerating to a high speed. I peered out the window and saw the white Lotus going the opposite way down the road, at a slower speed. The driver obviously intended on speaking with the man.
“How does this GPS work?” I asked the driver as we sped along the road.
“There is an unmanned solar powered glider constantly flying around the island at a very high altitude. The glider has the ability to show footage of all cars on the entire island in real time.”
“That’s amazing,” I said
“Yes, Mister Hollister has spared no expense to have the latest technology on the island,” replied the driver. As we drove around the island towards our ‘estate’, we had to stop for many other races, and saw many extravagant houses and even more extravagant cars, and even motor bikes. But no traffic.
The taxi stopped outside a huge house on top of a very green and smooth hill.
“This is your house,” said the driver. “Your cars will be in the driveway tomorrow morning, for now, get some rest and be ready for a week of racing,”
We got out of the car and took our luggage from the luggage space of the car. Just our two suitcases barely fit into the space. The taxi roared off, and we were left with a key to the mansion. Oz and I explored the house. It had a pool, spa, kitchen, three floors, five bathrooms, everything you could want in a house. Including a huge garage. The house over looked the beautiful island, back in Sydney, a house like this would cost around ten million dollars.
“I’m starting to hope people steal from me more often,” I said, and Oz laughed.


                                                             Chapter 2: Melissa                  

As Oz was still sleeping, I pried open the doors of the huge house. I could see the daylight blasting through the stained glass of the massive oak door. I opened it and stepped outside, the bright pacific sunlight burnt my eyes, I stood looking out across the island for a moment. Letting my eyes settle to the brightness. As my eyes adjusted, I could easily see the two shapes in the driveway. Our cars were looking better than ever, bathing in the warm sunlight of the morning.
“How they get here so quick?” asked Oz, who had appeared behind me. I spun around to face him, slightly startled.
“Uh, well you’ve seen the technology on this island, Hollister probably has some sort of high-powered boat,” We both began walking down the steps to our cars. On each roof was a cushion with Burning Island embroidered onto it, with a set of keys on each cushion. I took my set and opened the driver side door. ‘I missed you baby,’ I thought to myself. I sat in the seat, inserted and turned the key, suddenly the GPS system was brought to my attention. An entirely new electronics system had been installed in the car. The GPS system rang out with a tutorial message.
*Welcome to Burning island. The island of millionaires and exotic cars. This is the Holls Racing GPS system. You can use this system to organise races with other people, and to navigate to dealerships, repair shops, fuel stations and of course, you’re home. This GPS system is designed to inform you depending on new situations you find yourself in. So simply drive around the island, and you will eventually be informed on how to use your new electronics system.* I stared at the island on the screen, and fiddled around with some of the buttons. Zooming in on our house and cars. The technology was amazing. Suddenly a different voice was produced from the system. “Macallister, this is Max. I hope you enjoy your new electronics system. As you were told, I want you to win $50,000 in race money. I know that may not seem like much, but it will take a long time until you are making real money. You’re friend also needs to make the money,” I looked over at Oz from the back of his car. He was also staring at the screen.
“Once you have both made the money, I will contact you,” The screen returned to the default view of the island. I stepped out of the car, and walked around to Oz’s open door. I could see him struggling to use the compact sleek buttons with his large muscly hands. He was zooming in and out from the house.
“It is like a video game,” said Oz. I nodded.
“Ok Oz, we’ve got to get the fifty K if we’re going to find our man. So we’ll go our separate ways and get the money,” I could hear the faint roar of cars in the distance. I looked out to the mountain, then back at Oz. He was peering back at me with a serious face. “So let’s get to it,” I shut the door on Oz and jogged back to my car. Jumping in the seat.
Oz paused for a moment, with discontent in his heart. “I have not even had breakfast,” he said to himself, then looking to the screen. *Burning island contains fifty unmanned restaurants, each worthy of a five star rating in America. Plus all food is free, just speak with the order module in the restaurant to decide what you want.* “Oh, thank you lord,” said Oz as he shifted into reverse, and I sped away down the hill.
I had the car at about 50 miles an hour. Still unsure about what I was supposed to be doing. Suddenly a roar erupted behind me, forcing me to look into the rear vision mirror. I could see a blue Lamborghini Gallardo approaching me from behind. The car stopped a distance behind me, and flashed it’s lights. *Driver – Melissa, has challenged you. You can either accept the challenge and work out details, or decline, and keep moving.* I wasn’t going to get anywhere going slow. “I’ll Accept” I told the system. *You’re opponent is now selecting a route and wager, please wait………..you’re opponent has chosen a point 142 metres ahead as a starting point, and a point 3000 metres ahead as a finishing point* I could easily see both locations on the map. I studied the streets still unsure about what exactly I was doing. *Do you accept?* “I accept,” I replied. *Excellent, please bring your car to the start line up ahead* I used the map to find the start line, which was shown on the system. I brought my car to a crawl, resting on the line I could see from the view above my car. The line went from red to green. I could then see the Gallardo next to me coming onto the line, I turned away from the screen and looked next to me. A gorgeous tanned face was looking at me.
“Hi, you new around here?” she asked. She had brown hair and dark tanned skin, and obviously knew what she was doing.
“As a matter of fact I am, but don’t go easy on me,” I replied. *Your opponent has chosen a wager of $500. Your current balance is $1000. Do you Accept?* “Yes,” I replied. *Excellent, please be ready to race* I took a moment to look down the road, we both revved the engines of our sleek machines.
“Have any questions friend?” she asked me. *THREE* exclaimed the machine.
“Yes, just one,” *TWO*
“What would that be?”
“What happens if I crash?” *ONE*
“You die,” *GO!* said a much more manly voice from the system.
“What!?” I shouted. But she was already spinning the wheels and roaring off to a start and an early win. I punched the accelerator of the Aston, instantly pushing the side out like a bull, bucking to remove it’s rider. The machine screamed as I took off from the start line. I could see on my windshield an arrow pointing to Melissa’s car, with the numbers 94, then 90, then 86. They were dropping. I was already catching up. I shifted into third gear, and the DB9 dropped it’s nose, then reared up again as I accelerated. This felt great. I didn’t care whether I won or lost, this was unbelievable. The road ahead of me was clear, open, flat well paved road, and I could go as fast as I wanted. The numbers being projected onto my wind screen were still dropping. 30. 32. 28. I could distinctly see the ocean blue Lamborghini along the road. I gained more speed on this Melissa woman, until finally flying past her. I looked back to see her smirking at me through the windscreen. *At the next intersection, turn right* “oh SHIT,” I yelled. I pushed on the brakes, locking up the tires and missing the turn. I changed into second gear and accelerated hard, moving the back of the car through a perfect arc, ending with me watching Melissa drift through the turn that I missed. This was turning out to be a great first race.
I came into the turn, and began my journey down the streets, this time playing close attention to the GPS system. Melissa had gained 800 metres on me, and I couldn’t see her anymore without the heads up display. A voice came out of the system “Sometimes, ‘Mace’, you have to turn when you are racing, it can be hard, but you’ll get used to it eventually,” she laughed and the sound of her voice left my car. I smiled to myself, and then put pressure on the accelerator again. I followed the planned track until we came to a mountain, I had caught up to Melissa, and we were having a great race. The finish line was coming ever closer, and I could see where exactly it was. I came up next to Melissa when we got to a straight. We were both doing about 220km/h, I looked out my window to see her looking back at me, she laughed and smiled at me. I laughed to, suddenly Melissa looked forward, she ran into a road sign that indicated a sharp turn up ahead. It smashed her wind screen, and she screamed. I looked forward, and slammed on my brakes. Melissa had gone onto a gravel section of the mountain without noticing, she locked her brakes, and the car was thrown into a violent spin. I began to slow down approaching the turn, but Melissa continued at the high speed she was moving at. The ocean blue Gallardo was now a vision of terror, as it broke through the guard rail, and off the edge of the cliff face we were racing along. The noise of my tyres and engine were all I could actually hear, but in my mind I could hear her screaming as the Gallardo plummeted to the ground, followed by a trail of wispy brown dirt. I brought my car to a stop, and threw open the door in a panic.
I ran to the edge of the cliff, and peered over the broken guard rail. The Gallardo lay upside down, crushed, and burning in flames. This skilled racer, who was having an enjoyable time and had a lapse of concentration, was now dead.
*Your opponent has forfeit…you win*
“What?” I turned away from the cliff, letting out a cough as the thick black smoke choked my lungs. “Forfeit!?” I took a sharp breath, and yelled at the front of the car, as if it was the source of my anger. “Forfeit!? She is dead!” I walked over to the door and threw it open, then I stared at the system, almost in disbelief. This now felt like a dream, a dream that was turning into a nightmare. The numbers on the screen rolled from $1000 to $1500.
I heard a car behind me, struggling to climb the road behind me, I brought my head out of the car and used the roof to keep myself standing, I was out of breath. A black tow truck was steadily making it’s way up the mountain towards me. The tow truck was spotless and clean, and jet black. It looked like a million dollars, but sounded like twenty bucks.
The truck drove straight past me, and to the edge of the cliff. Two men stepped out, both wearing the black tuxedo’s I had seen earlier, it must be burning island’s uniform. I wondered how they could stand the heat of the day. One man wearing a red baseball cap (contrasting well with the black) looked over at me, almost with a cheery face. I felt myself still breathing heavily. I stared at him, then I stared at the edge of the cliff.
“Go look for another race, this one’s finished,” said the man with a blunt tone. He grabbed a towline from the front of the truck, and tossed it over the cliff. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes and looked towards the sun. It warmed me, I was feeling cold. I caught my breath and tilted my face back down. I could hear the wreck being pulled up the cliff face.
“We’ll need a trailer for this one Ed,” I heard the same man say. I opened my eyes, just to see blood dripping from the red soaked seat of the Lamborghini. “Oof,” exclaimed the man, turning away. I could see Melissa’s face in the wind screen. I turned away from the wreck, and vomited.
I could feel the sadness and confusion in my heart as I drove down the mountain. I felt the sun warming my soul, which felt icy cold. I decided to try and forget the images of Melissa, but I knew from now on I would have to take this island more seriously.
I heard the system ring out with another warning message, so I turned off the road just as two racers broke out onto the road ahead of me. I didn’t feel like watching. But then I remembered Jake, Oz, Austham computers and the reason why I was here. With a determined heart I accelerated and spun the tires for a moment, the roar of the engine washed the images of Melissa out of my mind. I kept accelerating, trying to catch up to the Ferrari that had exited onto the road shortly ahead of me.
“How was your racing?” asked Oz as I stepped in through the huge doors. He had a huge feast layed out on the table, and was quickly going through it.
“Much more serious than I had expected,” I said, still remembering what felt like a dream.
“You know I killed a man?” replied Oz, as if it was a cheerful question. He had a small smile on his face. He wiped some sauce off his mouth with a napkin, put down his cutlery and turned himself to face me. “The system fined me twenty thousand dollars, but at least I got his car,” I paused, looking at Oz for a moment, trying to understand what he was saying. I turned to the window looking out onto the drive-way. Sure enough there was a white Mustang GT parked neatly next to Oz’s Ferrari.
“Well that’s good,” I pushed the unhappy thoughts out of my head, “I guess,” I came around to face him, he was back into his meal. “How much money have you made so far my friend?”
“Eighty thousand dollars,” he explained, staring at a fresh leg of chicken.
“What? How did you get that much?!” I had only scraped five-thousand out of my day’s racing.
“I am already racing very experienced people, they bet a lot of money,”
“I’ve been going terrible, I’m too slow around corners. I’m scared of dieing Oz,” my tone reflected my feelings on the morning. Oz put down his cutlery again, and once more wiped his mouth. I looked into his eyes, waiting for this brutish, large Italian man to give me advice on my life.
“This is something you remember whenever you race. You must believe in yourself, believe you are immortal. You must also believe in your car, believe it is also immortal. But at the same time, you always must know your limits, and your car’s limits. If you never push past those limits, you are immortal,”
There was a silence as I thought about what Oz said. He went back to his chicken, and I stared out the window over the island. Oz knew I wanted to thank him for the advice, but we were both more happy with silence. Like tiny insects, the island was now riddled with racers, trying to finish their day while the day was still there.
I sat down next to Oz, and grabbed a fork. He stopped eating in the middle of chewing a mouth full of potato salad, then he stared at me. I put down the fork. “I’ll just go out for dinner then,” I said as I briskly walked towards the door. Oz returned to devouring his table full of food.


The rest is in progress, slow progress...