The Race

Galthranor led us down a flight of stairs through a hidden door. We passed many levels brimming with a multitude of relics and artifacts of many dimensions. Eyeballs the size of silverback gorillas sat next to piles of weapons of various states of antiquity, ranging from simple stone clubs to weapons so futuristic I couldn’t divine their function. Layers upon layers of ephemeral objects too numerous to mention passed us by. In the corner of one particularly noxious room, I spied what appeared to be a massive mech suit, half hidden beneath an oversized soviet flag.

Eventually, we reached a level defined by the smells of motor oil and gasoline. The wizard’s garage was extensive, his collection of automobiles from earth’s history more robust than even his collections of powerful weapons. Between the ancient motor carriages and the collection of WW2 era military vehicles sat a venerable cornucopia of sports cars. Galthranor led us in that direction.

“Behold!” He shouted, pointing to one vehicle in particular, “This is a 2007 Lamborghini Gallardo Superleggera. It’s powered by the mighty 5-liter V10. Over 500 Italian horsepower lies beneath this hood. Can you believe that? How mighty the Italians must have been to have condensed half a thousand horses into this one glorioso machine? My own blood magic pales in comparison.”

“This guy knows cars better than you do.” Atlas grumbled.

“He thinks horses are in the car.” I whispered back, “He’s probably just reading off the owner’s manual.”

I glanced over at my companions. Imalor was gazing up at a lifted F-150 with spinning rims, wonder clear in his eyes.

“Look, Dale!” He said, “It’s like yours, but infinitely better!”

“You can’t even reach the door handle.” I responded.

Imalor huffed, “It could use a ladder, sure, but put me in command of a vessel like that and no demon could stand in my way!”

“There’s a body in this one.” Lynessa said, tapping on the windshield of a sonic gray Honda HRV.

When I walked over to look in the car, the eyes of a bearded man in his mid-thirties popped open. They widened when he realized where he was, glancing left and right, though the rest of the man remained perfectly still.

“Oops,” Said Galthranor, “Haven’t managed to rid all of these things of their infestations yet. I’ve got a Peterbilt in the corner that still smells like the last buffoon who was driving it. Heavens save me, I could have sworn the man lived in the damnable thing for how long it’s taken to wash out.” He crossed to the side door and pulled it open, extracted the man, then opened a rift with the Duskknife and tossed him in. “There.” he said, “Annoyance taken care of.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” Lynessa asked quietly.

“Oh, I’ll find a bar to dump him at.” Galthranor replied, “After I wipe about half of his recent memory. Everyone will think he was drunk, and he’ll spend years questioning if any of this really happened!” He laughed heartily.

“Oh, but we’ve wasted enough time!” Galthranor said. He waved the Duskknife through the air, creating a human-sized portal.

“Oh, you want me to just step through?” I asked. “How are we getting the truck there?”

“Just step through the damnable portal and you’ll find out!” Galthranor said impatiently. I sucked in a deep breath and stepped through.

The blinding light hit me as I stepped out the other side. The air was clear, the sky blue, and the temperature stinging hot. I raised a hand to shield my eyes, slowly adjusting after the roughly fourteen hours or so I had spent in a musty, underground system of tunnels.

I looked around, realizing that we were in a desert. My truck sat nearby, next to Galthranor’s yellow Lamborghini. Red rocks adorned a dusty dirt trail that led off into the distance, and then I saw something that made my heart stop.

A paved road. An honest-to-god actual asphalt road. I turned around to see an orange sign bearing words in massive lettering: GRAND CANYON NATIONAL PARK.

“I’m home.” I whispered.

“We’re back.” Screamed Atlas, lifting his head to the sky and releasing a yowl of triumph. I heard a scream. Nearby tourists looked on, terrified to see a 600 pound bengal tiger roaring at the top of his lungs in the middle of one of the nation’s most popular tourist destinations. People scattered left and right, climbing over each other in a frantic attempt to escape. All, save for two, who looked oddly familiar.

Lynessa wore an oversized ‘I <3 New York’ t-shirt and a pair of cheap plastic sunglasses, while Imalor was the textbook definition of a metalhead, except that he stood around four foot four. He looked down at his shirt in confusion.

“I do believe someone has misspelled Megadeath” He shrugged, “Of course, it doesn’t surprise me that you people can’t spell.”

“Dale.” Atlas said seriously, “We need to go. Now. This is it, this is our chance to return home.”

“Not so fast!” Said Galthranor, “I’ve rigged this particular area of land with a very special barrier, which will keep all of you trapped within a 20 mile radius until the race is concluded.”

“But after we defeat you–” I began.

“You will be given the Duskknife.” Galthranor finished, “Now get in your truck and start your engine! We haven’t got all day! Actually we’d better get started soon before the cops try to interfere!”

I quickly climbed into my truck. Atlas hopped up into the passenger seat and put his paws up on the dashboard. The absurdity of the situation finally caught up with me as I heard the Lamborghini’s engine roar to life. We were so close, yet impossibly far. I couldn’t even outrun a police cruiser in this thing, how was I going to beat a Lamborghini?

“Three!” Galthranor shouted, and I floored it.

All one hundred horsepower of my Ranger’s two liter, four banger revved to hell and I was off the line before I heard ‘two’. Galthranor wasn’t far behind, and he was closing fast.

“We need a plan!” Atlas shouted.

“We need a route!” I shouted back, “I don’t even know where I’m going!”

“Look! Dirt road!” Atlas pointed out the window with his tail. I swerved hard to the left, tires screeching on the pavement before a sudden jolt informed me we had hit dirt. A massive cloud of dust clogged my rearview mirror just long enough for Galthranor to catch up.

He pulled alongside me, window rolled down. “You’re a cheeky one, eh?” He chuckled, “I respect it, but there’s no way you can defeat my 500 Italian horses!” He roared past, leaving me in a cloud of dust and launching gravel into my windshield.

At least now I had a route. I tried to follow Galthranor as best I could as we came upon the first corner. I watched as Galthranor did a perfect four-wheel drift, taking the corner at high speed.

“Oh, he is way better than you.” Atlas said.

“You’ve never seen me really drive.” I shouted back, tapping the clutch and shifting down. I certainly wasn’t as fast as the wizard, but my angle was just as perfect.

Galthranor seemed to be surprised by the next corner, which came right on the heels of the first. He overcooked it and slammed on the brakes. So did I, though mine weren’t as good. As the front end of my truck impacted with the bumper of his Lamborghini, the Demonlord’s horns punctured one of his tail lights. I could have sworn I saw them glow for a second, siphoning energy from his car, but soon enough Galthranor had pulled away, using his superior acceleration to reestablish the lead.

I slammed on the gas in an effort to chase him, gravel bouncing through the cab. I reached down to wipe it off the radio, and suddenly remembered where I was. I flipped it on, and was immediately greeted by Mötley Crüe’s 1989 hit Kickstart My Heart.

“Oh hell yeah!” I said, “If I’m gonna die, at least it’ll be to some good music!”

“Let’s just try not to die.” Atlas said, ducking lower in his seat, “Were we always going this fast?”

“It’s just the music,” I said, “The right music will make any car feel like you’re on the last lap of the Indy 500 in first place with nothin’ to lose!”

The music indeed made me feel like I was going faster. In fact, it looked like we were almost catching Galthranor on the straightaway. The engine roared, and we somehow pulled up alongside the wizard. He looked out the window and his eyes nearly flew out of his head.

“Are you slowing down just to mess with us?” I asked.

“I wish I was!” He replied, “How many modifications have you made to that thing?”

“Absolutely none!” I shouted back, “Just built Ford tough! You want a racing car, Galthranor, you buy American!”

I cackled maniacally as I shifted down, inching forward ahead of Galthranor. The truck screamed at max whack as the next corner appeared ahead of us. I could hear the Lamborghini behind me roaring as its engine was pushed to the limit. Somehow, against all odds, this was now a race.

The corner came and went, both vehicles taking the corner in tandem drift, bumpers only inches apart. I came off the corner screaming at ninety miles an hour as the gap between our bumpers slightly increased.

Atlas looked over at me, pure horror written plainly across his face. “You’re insane!” He shouted, paws pressed against every possible surface in a desperate attempt to stay in place as the truck rolled, nearly tipping, from the sheer angle of the drift.

“This is why I had you sedated last time we did some dangerous driving!” I shouted back, “You’re too goddamn skittish!”

“I’m alive!” Atlas screamed back.

“So am I, pussycat!” I screamed back, adrenaline pounding through my veins, “Yeehaw!”

Was this actually fun? Maybe. It could have been the adrenaline, mixed with the ever growing hope that this would be the day I finally got to return home. The red rocks streaked by outside the windows and suddenly the asphalt reappeared.

With the new boost of traction, Galthranor took the lead, swerving to avoid a police cruiser in the oncoming lane. After the first spun out, three more appeared moving in the same direction. Galthranor cackled as he pulled out a china lake from his glove box and fired out the window into the hood of the first cruiser which promptly exploded into a ball of flame, the others crashing into it. This only served me as a distraction as I gained ground, sliding easily into the Lamborghini’s shadow.

As the Demonlord’s horns scraped against the bumper of the Lamborghini once more, I felt another surge of power. I retook the lead confidently, passing out of the wizard’s draft and into open road. More lights came over the horizon. A helicopter zoomed by overhead.

I suddenly became aware that we were bound directly for the edge of the canyon. I started to slow down, but slammed my foot back on the gas when I saw that Galthranor was still flooring it. The wizard likely had some kind of grand finale planned, and I wasn’t about to lose right at the finish line. As Atlas knew far too well, Dale Gilman did not fear death. He embraced it.

“Yeehaw!” I shouted as we flew out over the canyon’s edge. I screamed, Atlas screamed, I could even hear Galthranor screaming as both vehicles plummeted down towards the Colorado River down below.

The portal appeared suddenly, and before I knew what was happening we were back in the roots of the mountain. I could see in the distance a checkered flag. One final push.

It wasn’t even close. I blew by at over two hundred. I couldn’t tell you exactly how fast I was going. My speedometer stopped at 85. I slammed on the brakes, Galthranor trailing a solid second and a half behind.

My truck skidded to a stop. I felt the suspension drop, engine hissing and tires boiling. I emerged from the driver’s seat like an astronaut crawling out of the landing capsule after a successful trip back from the moon. I was victorious.