Salt Lake City, Deseret

  Two police cars met them at the city limits and escorted them to the stadium. Compared to the reception at Gunnison, it was a little underwhelming. On the other hand, compared to Grand Junction it’s downright friendly. Dillon waved at the officers when they pulled away, and the wide doors to the stadium underground garage opened. Eric waited for them at the bottom of the ramp, the pit crew behind him.

  "No problems with the wheel. Everything’s working fine," Dillon said, sliding out of the car. Kayla followed, holding a data drive with her results. The older man waved at her to hold on to it.

  "No time for anything else right now. They’ve been waiting for you to arrive to announce tomorrow’s event." He turned and led them into the garage, while the pit crew took over the car. "As you can imagine, some of the others aren’t too happy with the delay. Be prepared and don’t react. I need you clear-headed to plan our strategy."

  Kayla held up the data disk. "Dillon and I figured out things on the drive. Our data’s all on here. I just need access to the public AADA databases to confirm my analyses."

  "Later, Kayla. Either of you need a bathroom break before we head in?"

  The rest of the crews were sitting at a large oval table, drinks in front of them while they chatted. The two AADA representatives, in perfectly tailored suits stood at the far end, having their own private conference in front of the wall-mounted screen. Conversation stopped when Eric led them into the room.

  Gabe turned to Jaslyn and handed her a ten-dollar bill. "You win. They didn’t get blown up. They’re just slow."

  She pocketed the money with a smug smile. "Never ascribe to malice that which is adequately explained by incompetence. Learned that one long ago."

  The two broke up laughing, while the rest just looked uncomfortable. The female rep cleared her throat loudly, and said in that same, superior tone, "If we could have your attention, please."

  Gabe waved his hands in an expansive manner, indicating she could go on. Dillon and Kayla took the two remaining seats quietly, while Eric moved to stand at the back of the room.

  "Congratulations to those of you who survived to this point in the Dead Man’s Run." A slight grimace told her audience what she thought of the name. "This being the end point for the first leg of the rally, you shall now compete in an AADA-sanctioned event, designed to showcase your skills before a live audience."

  The screen behind her came to life, while her compatriot worked his tablet. Her position blocked part of their view, and the image of the Seagull Stadium was unmistakable.

  "This event will complete your scoring for this leg, and the results will be used to determine the starting positions for the second leg. As such, the importance of a good competition cannot be overstressed." She looked around the table at each crew, like she was assuring herself they would indeed provide a good show.

  "The AADA selected the specific type of competition to showcase your abilities while preserving you for the main event, the rally. We wanted to remind the viewers of the entertainment value they’ve come to expect from us, and to touch on a bit of nostalgia. To that end," and she stepped aside while the image on the screen changed to a car. "You will be driving Killer Karts tomorrow."

  The room erupted in shouts, the loudest from Gabe. Several of the drivers pushed their chairs back and stood, pointing fingers at the car on the screen while they voiced their displeasure. Dillon and Kayla remained seated, and he looked over at her. She didn’t seem disappointed or upset, just puzzled.

  He tapped her hand and when she looked at him, he said in a voice pitched to carry through the tumult, "You don’t get it, do you?"

  She shrugged. "What’s the big deal? We compete in a basic car. Why is everyone getting all upset?"

  "Killer Karts are… they’re not just basic cars, Kayla. They’re THE basic car and only found on Amateur Night. The only ones who compete in these are just starting out or anyone who can’t afford better. Everyone moves on from a Kart as soon as they can." He motioned with his head at the two suits, trying to restore order in the room. "The Association thinks they’re tapping into some kind of sentimental feelings in the viewers, but they’re wrong. People don’t watch amateur night to see good fights. They watch for the mistakes and the bad driving. It’s like the opposite of a good duel."

  ***

  "La cui brillante idea è stata questo evento? Quale idiota pensava che questo sarebbe stato una buona televisione?"

  Eric sat off to the side, chin resting on one hand while he watched Nico rant. His boss flew in that morning, looking forward to seeing Kayla and making sure she was okay. Once Eric showed him the plan for the event, all the fatherly concern drained away. Now that he’d transitioned to Italian, there’s no telling how long it would continue. The growled words trailed him like smoke rising from an old-fashioned locomotive while he paced around the room, hands waving in the air. Occasionally, he reached out like he was going to throttle someone. His boss didn’t explode like this very often, so when he did, Eric paused to watch. It was a thing of beauty. That Latin blood rose to the surface like a vengeful kraken, and the only saving grace was that he only used words, not his fists.

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  Still, there was work to be done, as much fun as this was. Eric stood and cleared his throat loudly. Basher stopped in mid-pace, breathing heavily.

  "What?"

  The lanky man tapped his wrist, where a watch would sit. "Wrap it up, Nico. We have work to do. Time to get the kids up here and start planning."

  "It’s Killer Karts, Eric. There’s no planning needed."

  Waving his tablet, Eric shook his head. "Wrong. If you’d bothered to read the rest of the event set up, you’d see why."

  The big man snatched the tablet out of his director’s hands and scanned the text. "Pedestrians. They’re putting pedestrians in there too!"

  Before he could launch into another full-throated tirade, Eric grabbed the tablet back and waved it at the door. "Yes, pedestrians. So, let’s get Dillon and Kayla up here and start hashing things out. Neither one of them has fought that type of event before, and it’s been years since you faced a dual threat like this. Tactics and equipment have changed since then."

  ***

  They were all settled around a small table, with Eric driving a laptop connected to the wall-mounted screen. It showed the interior of Seagull Stadium, configured into a double oval course. Multiple points along the interior oval were marked with big red 'X’s.

  Eric led off the conversation, not trusting Nico to stay on track. "All right. The essential element is that this is a lap-counted race. Each crew has a Kart and a fixed position, and it’s up to us to decide who’s in each one. I’m figuring that everyone will put their driver in the Kart and the gunner on the field. There will be one opposing Kart for each of ours, and one pedestrian gunner for each of ours. Just to make things even more interesting, the rules in effect are that the Karts can only shoot at each other, while the pedestrians can shoot at anything. You have to complete six laps around the track, with the winner getting the starting position for the next leg of the rally. Anyone who doesn’t complete the course starts last and has a five-hundred-point deduction. On the other hand, if all crews cross the finish line, we all get a five-thousand-dollar bonus."

  "Pretty strong incentive to finish," Kayla noted. "Also notice there’s no points for taking out the opposition."

  "That’s right. This event is all about finishing. Taking out your opponents helps, since they’re going to be doing everything they can to keep you from finishing. For every tire they take out, the shooter earns five hundred dollars. Whoever takes out the last tire on a car gets a thousand-dollar bonus. Finally, anyone who fires the disabling shot on a powerplant gets two hundred fifty dollars."

  Nico shook his head. "The Association needs a counterbalance to the road portion. Most of that part is uneventful, so they have to have something to reward the viewers with at the end. You can’t run a rally if your competitors die off the course."

  Dillon got up and walked over to the screen. He traced the course with his finger, while his mind began to calculate angles and timing. "A fight on the road is fun to watch, but it’s not what the viewers are used to seeing. The arena event will satisfy that itch, which means we have to give them a good fight. Something that will keep them on the edge of their seats. That’s why the Association picked Karts. It’ll make the fight more interesting in the hands of experienced drivers, and the pedestrians will provide plenty of shooting. What’s our strategy, then?"

  Eric shrugged. "Play the game they want us to play. Finish the race and avoid getting our tires shot out. The event is designed to punish anyone who slows down. Those Xs mark the fixed positions for the pedestrians and our gunners. Each position will be protected by sandbags, and they’ll have body armor."

  Kayla got up to stand next to Dillon. "It’s a two-part strategy. Will we be able to talk to one another?"

  Eric nodded, the crew looking at each other. "What are you thinking, Kayla?"

  "I can’t cover you from my position for the whole race. That means you have to have one strategy when you’re in my field of fire, and another when you’re not. Same for me. I’m not just going to be sitting and waiting for you to come around again. We need to communicate and designate targets." Her fingers traced arcs of fire across the track. She turned to Eric. "Have they assigned positions yet?"

  He looked back down at his screen and used his finger to trace a circle around one of the positions. "That’s ours. Here are the rest of the rally crew positions."

  The track itself was an oval, a quarter mile in total length, running east-west. The cars would start on the northeast end, called the front stretch, while the gunners were positioned on the south side, or the back stretch. They were on the inside of the track while their opposite numbers were positioned across from them, on the outside of the track. This turned most of the back stretch into a huge crossfire zone. They were all spread out, with no two positions adjacent to each other, and each able to fire at two different parts of the track, or one another. A tall berm blocked direct fire from the inner loop to the outer loop on the other side.

  Kayla turned to look at her driver. "This is it. The biggest test of our ability to be a team. Of everyone’s ability to work together."

  He smiled tiredly. "Of course, this is also your chance to get rid of me and get a real driver."

  She punched his chest. "Keep talking like that and I will. I’m not losing this event. That means you have to drive your ass off out there. And five thousand dollars is no joking matter, either."

  Sobering quickly, he nodded. "You don’t have to worry about me. I’m with you on this."

  ***

  The sun had long since set when Jerrod Baker’s team parked their delivery van in the loading dock. The guard on duty barely glanced at the paperwork they’d showed him and waved them through, turning back to his sports feed and dinner.

  They quickly unloaded their cargo using the arena’s own pallet jacks. Wheeling them inside, the small team quickly made their way to the arena floor. Once inside, box cutters made quick work of the wrapping material. Meanwhile, Jerrod took a paper map of the course out and oriented himself.

  "Okay. These are our positions. Each one gets an assault rifle and either a rocket launcher or a grenade launcher. Make sure to conceal them with the tarps." He grinned. "We don’t want our surprises revealed too early."

  Several members of the crew headed to plant their weaponry, and he motioned to the last few while he picked up a roll of bright yellow duct tape. "Grab a bandolier of grenades and follow me. Our brothers and sisters driving the Karts get some hidden surprises too."