TG Race Week 3 Day 3
“Bugged”

Doc wakes out of his slumber to the sounds of banging in the back. Curious and half groggy, he wanders over and turns the knob to the safe room. A blue blur knocks him down and backwards. The sunroof pops off and clangs against Big Betty as the blue thing rushes away. As Doc stands, a drop of something hits his head.

He rushes to the door concerned for his fellow driver and what that blue monstrosity did to her. “Tracey? Tracey?” He opens the door to find she isn’t there. “So,” his mind tries to analyze, “that was her?”

With a step and a bound he is up out of the newly opened sunroof and flying toward her blueness. However just as he does, she disappears into the storm clouds. Crushed, he lowers to the ground. The drip slides down his cheek and he catches it with a finger. Out of habit, he puts it to his mouth. “It has a saltine taste. How could the sea spray this far?”

His eyes see for the first time the disaster on the sea. Out of the whirlpool he spots the ends of tentacles waving about. Several lightning strikes flash in succession. Some even bounce back up through the clouds. “I hope I don’t have to go through that.”

After rereading all that Tracey had, “Blast it all!” He pauses a moment to strategize, but something starts to wane in him. “I could try flying through the clouds, but with all of the electricity flowing through my vehicle, I’ll be a target for sure. If I try to travel under the water, I will heavily affected by the current and likely draw closer to that.” He doesn’t even name it. “So, the only possible solution is to sail on the water while not using electricity. Is that possible in this?”

He turns to look over the machine he has been with for the last two races and the time in between anew. “Well, the pontoons should keep me afloat. The hamster powered propeller could move us forward.” He feels a breeze. “And the sail might speed us a bit.” But he finds no pleasure in finding a solution. Something is missing, and he bets that it is blue.

He shuffles back to the van and moves it into position on the beach. He extends the TRS-8000 and then carefully cuts the wire that controls the telescoping part leaving the turning gyro intact. Stripping the ends of the wire, he welds one end to the base of the mast and lets the other dangle into the water as a makeshift lightning rod. Then to be sure, he cuts nearly all the wires as a backup in case of a surge.

He rattles off the disabled systems as checklist. “No hover pads. No rudder. No ailerons. No rockets. Engine that’s off.” He slips the key into a pocket. Upon entering the van, he sees the new hole in the roof and gathers another vial of metal bots. He is struck afresh by his missing partner as he fixes the sunroof.

He cringes slightly at the two hamsters that are snuggling closely, “Alright, Hamlet and whoever you are, we are in need of your assistance like never before. Please proceed to turn our propeller.” The two furry beasts look at each other and then one, he’s not sure which, hops on the wheel and begins to turn it. Doc uses the knob to turn the sail into the wind. The van slides forward into the water.

Adjusting the sail again, he tries to sail to the edge of the swirling water. “Maybe I can skirt the whole mess and use its energy to increase my own. Avoiding those appendages would be advisable.” Lightning flashes all around him.

Mid edge a monstrous flexible leg attaches to a wing and wraps around it. “Blast it all! I should have used some Rocket Rejecter as a backup for this case. I suppose it’s not too late.” He stumbles his way to the back as the tentacle beast draws them up and above the center of its home. Doc slams two vials, one on either side of the outside of the sunroof, releasing their contents. “Hopefully that will be enough.”

Then a most fortunate event happens. KA-CRACK! Doc barely has time to see that lightning has struck  the elevated wing. The capturing appendage twitches but does not release until the four rockets under the wings ignite two of them burning it. Suddenly Doc and the van are flying forward at an alarming rate.

Gravity takes over and the bus slowly descends to the salty water below. The vehicle skips a few times off of the pontoons, each time with a more disturbing creak than the last. Finally equilibrium is reached as the pontoons rest on the sea.

The rockets empty and die. The wind from the sail drives them on. Doc takes this opportunity to glance back and see the other furry rodent running while the first pants. Before long, he sees the shapeshifter guy with the mines up in the sky ahead. Doc just shakes his head. Then mournfully to himself, “I no longer have the desire nor the partner to attack. Fly in peace.”

After another hour or two a white column rises off the horizon and then lowers. As he approaches, he discovers it a tiny island with a geyser and a dark blue shiny spot. He turns the sail and slows as he approaches. “Is that her?”

It seems to be lying on its belly if such a creature has one. He “docks” the van near it certain it is what attacked him earlier. He slips out of the door and draws closer. He notices that the thing isn’t completely blue. It has light yellow wings with a rubbery sheen lying limp over its enlarged chest, waspish waist, and expanded rear. In a spread eagle position, he notices the four limbs and how they all narrow down to pointy tips. Finally he reaches the insectoid shaped face with a proboscis mouth. Then he sees the teeny stream that flows from her eyes down the beach to the ocean beyond. He is not sure how the tears are leaking from her as that is not a bug feature.

“Tracey,” he ventures.

It doesn’t move or stop, but replies in a hollow version of her voice, “Doc. Stay. Back.”

A very small portion of happiness returns since he has found her. “Why?”

“It. May. Not. Be. Done. I. Dough.” She pauses while she grimaces slightly. “Do. Not. Want. It. To. Get. You. Too.”

Doc stops his advance at this point to look over her again. Nothing seems to be moving or changing except for the slight rise and fall of her chest. He takes the risk to be near his teammate and partner. “No! Get. Away. I.” She growls slightly. “Am. A. Freak.”

He takes her into his arms. She resists weakly. “You are Tracey, my lab assistant. The one who thinks of things I don’t. It doesn’t matter to me your shape so long as I haven’t lost you.” The tears begin again flowing over his arm to the sand. “Now, why don’t you tell me what happened.”

“It. Was. Hore.” He feels her body tighten briefly. “Bad. Some. Thing. Got. Me. And. Spread. Over. Me. And. Went. Into. Me. Make.” She regroups. “Change.” She tries again. “Like. This. I. Could. Not Stand. I. Could. Not. Get. Out. I. Could. Not. Get. You. I. Could. Only. Fly.”

“But why did you fly away?”

“I. Would. Not. Be. Able. To. Help. You. In. This. Use.” She flinches. “Less. Body. I. Did. Not. Want. To. Hurt. You. Too.”

“It’s ok. We are together again. That’s all that matters.”

She turns her head to look him in the eye. Her proboscis nearly hits him in the face. It’s then that he sees that her mouth is on the end of the tube.  “Doc. I. Dough.” The mouth grimaces. “Do. Not. Want. To. Race. Any. More.”

“Neither do I, but we have promised to try. Besides this is no worse than Oklahoma City and we got through that. Together.”

She nods her assent. “But. I. Wone.” Pause. “Will. Not. Be. Able. To. Help.”

“You will be with me. That will be help enough. And you still have your voice and mind and you can help that way. Besides, if I remember correctly, we don’t leave any of the team behind, Right?”

“Right.”

“Good. Then let’s get this van in shipshape.” He scoops her in his arms and heads back to the van. When he reaches there, his adrenaline slows and he realizes how tired he is. He slides up onto the nearest wing and leans back against the welded door.

Her head leans on his shoulder. He looks down to see her asleep. He smiles and quickly joins her.