cHApTEr 10. finAl lAp (2 of 3)

Once Terry's car had driven through and Natalie had been pushed safely aside by Mioray, she quickly ran back towards the car she'd commandeered. Mioray reeled his arm back in and hurried inside the vehicle too.

"What were you thinking?" he yelled as soon as Natalie got inside and started the engine.

"I took my chance," she answered firmly. "I failed."

"You could have died!"

"I suppose I have you to thank for still being alive." She pressed the pedal, and the car, hovering just above the ground, accelerated in pursuit of Terry. "So you really can detach your arm? Back at the factory, I thought I was seeing things. I guess I'll have to admit now it was real."

"Of course it was real! I told you all about it!"

"Well, I'm sorry I have a hard time accepting undead people with surreal powers exist!" Natalie took a short pause. “Is it possible Herman Clopton was part of your group?”

“What?” Mioray turned to her, startled. “No! Why would he be?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, glancing at him. “I haven’t seen many undead around, and he’s clearly interested in you. You said it yourself. What if he was once part of your group, but left or went rogue before you joined?”

“No!” Mioray snapped, his voice rising. The suggestion stung. He shook his head furiously, remembering how he watched the movie with Erinel earlier. She was so sincere, unaware how movies worked. And the others? Mioray couldn’t imagine them deceiving him. “That’s impossible! They wouldn’t! Neither they nor I have anything to do with Impact Corpse! We’re just trying to stop him from causing more destruction. You can’t handle him. Look what he did at the factory. He’s undead. You can’t capture him without more people dying. At least we come back.”

He swallowed hard, a flicker of doubt worming its way into his thoughts. He had to believe in the others. The alternative that Mia or Kevin might truly be gone forever was too much to bear. But it should be fine. Mioray himself had been torn apart back at the university. Nearly half his body was destroyed, and yet his injuries had healed completely. He had no wounds, no scars. And after the confrontation with the Soul Collective, both Terry and Farah had returned from their injuries unscathed.

As if reading his hesitation, Natalie said evenly, “You really trust them.”

“Of course I do,” Mioray replied. “They’re the same as me.”

Natalie gave him a long, incredulous look but didn’t say anything. He could sense her judgment, though she didn't need to voice it. It was subtle, but Mioray realized what she must be thinking, how he was beginning to separate people into two groups: the living and the undead. He hadn’t done that before, but now… now he felt the divide so clearly. It marked a new stage in his existence, as if the reality of what he’d become had finally sunk in. He was dead. Undead. Different.

That difference was only going to widen, slowly carving a gulf between him and the living world. Erinel struggled to relate to the present day. That gap would grow within him too.

While he was reflecting on that, Natalie remained focused on the road, determined not to lose sight of Terry. The race appeared to have started already, though it remained unclear whether Terry was even timing himself or how exactly he'd register his win. With no other competitors except perhaps Natalie – and it was doubtful he knew she was after him – it hardly qualified as a formal race. Terry hadn’t even paused at the starting line. He simply drove to the location and continued onward without stopping. Nobody spectating could tell whether he was beginning the race or merely driving erratically around the streets as though he owned them.

"So what’s our next move?" Mioray asked anxiously. "You’re not planning to outrace him, are you?"

"We don’t have a choice. We need to stop him before he hurts anyone else."

"Easier said than done. How are we even supposed to catch up? I mean, racing is his specialty."

"Don’t worry," Natalie said with determination, stretching her neck lightly, "I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

Indeed, slowly but steadily, Natalie was beginning to close the gap between their vehicle and Terry’s. She navigated sharply through honking traffic, taking tight corners without losing significant speed. The dizzying number of turns was enough to make anyone’s head spin. Terry's car squealed from frequent drifting, leaving trails of smoke behind him.

"Terry knew all too well that hover cars outrun wheeled ones, sports cars or not," Natalie explained, executing another sharp turn. This time, she had to slow down slightly just to slip between two large trucks. "He deliberately chose routes requiring sharp turns. Other racers, unused to these driving conditions, would involuntarily slow down, negating some of his disadvantage.

"That’s what finished him," Natalie continued, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "City roads aren’t meant for racing, especially not with wheels. There was a pothole on the road. Who knows how long it had been neglected? Why bother patching it when hover cars float right over without noticing? But it was there. I don’t really know what exactly happened. Maybe Terry didn’t notice it, maybe he was exhausted by all these turns, maybe he just thought it wouldn’t matter. But it did. His tires accumulated too much heat from drifting, and when he hit that pothole, one tire exploded. He lost control of his car. That’s how the accident happened. Terry died, along with two other victims, including a child. We're about to pass the spot where it all occurred."

Mioray peered silently at the road ahead. Nothing indicated that less than a year ago, tragedy had unfolded here. Yet he noticed one patch of pavement subtly darker than its surroundings, presumably where the pothole had once been, now repaired. But it could never reverse the past. Terry’s negligence had claimed his own life and two innocent ones. Did the racer feel any remorse about it? Mioray wanted to believe he did, but now, seeing Terry driving recklessly at deadly speed, the opposite seemed more likely.

This time nothing interrupted Terry’s run. It was as though the driver and vehicle had merged into one; his handling was flawless as he floated side to side, dodging every obstacle. He made no mistakes. All his mistakes have been left behind in a life cut short.

Natalie, still alive, mirrored Terry’s performance and avoided mistakes as well. Maybe driving hover cars really was easier as she claimed – Mioray had little personal experience to judge – but even so, the car Natalie was piloting was no racing vehicle, yet she manipulated the steering wheel like she was playing a musical instrument. She kept her speed steady, switching lanes and seizing every opportunity to close in on Terry. It was almost as if she had competed in street races in the past.

“I did participate in a few races, not that I’m proud of it,” Natalie admitted reluctantly. “Terry sweet-talked me into it.”

“You? Racing?” Mioray stared at Natalie with disbelief. “I'm having a hard time picturing you, a detective, breaking the law.”

Natalie frowned.

“Well, what do you expect me to say? I was young.”

“If Terry could sweet-talk you into it, you two must have been close.”

Mioray immediately regretted mentioning it, noticing a shadow darkening Natalie’s face. “You don’t have to answer that,” he added hastily.

“It’s fine,” Natalie responded dully. “I suppose he didn’t talk much about us? We were engaged. Set to be married next year.”

“Oh.”

Even though that answer was somewhat what Mioray had anticipated, it hurt deeply to actually hear it. He winced inwardly, failing to hide his discomfort. What was he supposed to say at a time like this? “That…really sucks. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” Natalie said quietly. “Haytham was right. I never got over it. Seeing Terry again today alive made me wonder, maybe this is our second chance? Maybe I can somehow bring him back to his senses? But then I think about the innocent lives already lost because of him, and I… I don’t know. I’m not sure what the right thing to do is.”

"You said it yourself. We need to stop him first," Mioray reminded her gently. "We'll figure out the rest later."

Natalie scoffed bitterly, shaking her head.

“I can’t let Terry kill anyone else.”

Mioray quietly agreed, stamping his foot in frustration at being unable to do anything more than watch the blue flame decals emblazoned on Terry’s car disappear at the turn.

Natalie and Mioray followed him only to find the road ahead blocked by cars lined up at a traffic light. A group of pedestrians waited patiently on the sidewalk for the light to change. Terry’s car screamed forward at full speed, showing no intention of stopping. Worse, he swerved onto the sidewalk, aiming to plow through the pedestrians instead of colliding with the stopped vehicles and risking his momentum.

The people turned, alarmed by the sound of the approaching car engine. But instead of panic or terror, they hesitated, looking confused. The idea that someone might intentionally run them down didn’t seem to register in their minds.

Mioray lowered his window and leaned out. Their car wasn't far behind Terry. He had a chance to intervene. His mind raced. There was only one thing he could do to prevent a disaster.

“What are you doing?” Natalie shouted.

“Just keep driving!” Mioray shot back, raising his arm. “I’ll pull him back onto the road.”

He had to act fast. With a focused flick of his wrist, Mioray shot his arm forward.

Black threads snaked out, extending the arm before it latched onto the spoiler of Terry's car.

Mioray exhaled sharply. He directed the threads with sheer force of will, pulling against Terry’s car to guide it back onto the road. The strain was incredible. He wasn’t just trying to manipulate his detached arm; he was trying to shift the weight of an entire car. The threads stretched dangerously, threatening to snap. Even so, he gritted his teeth and pushed on, unwilling to fail.

Natalie helped by maneuvering their car to add more force to Mioray’s pull. She sharply steered away from the pedestrian path, balancing the pull of Mioray’s threads. The threads strained further under the pressure, but they held. Slowly, Mioray reeled his arm back, bringing their car closer to Terry’s and dragging him off the sidewalk.

They succeeded. Just before reaching the crowd, Terry’s car swerved back onto the road and crashed into two vehicles at the intersection. The impact was thunderous, sending a reverberating roar of twisted metal through the air as the glass of Terry's car's windows shattered. The two vehicles Terry hit ricocheted into others, causing a chain reaction of collisions. The chaos opened up a narrow path through the intersection. Without hesitation, Terry’s damaged car pushed forward. He didn’t stop, though the crash had forced him to slow enough for Natalie to close the gap.

Mioray reeled his arm back in and collapsed into his seat. As Natalie lined up beside Terry’s battered car, they caught a clear view of the racer through the shattered window. It was unmistakably him. Terry’s profile stood out sharply against the chaos he'd caused. His expression, however, was disturbingly empty. His black eyes, burning with eerie red dots, fixated on the road without so much as a glance at the destruction around him. He showed no remorse. No awareness.

“Terry…” Mioray muttered, staring at the figure in disbelief. Natalie narrowed her eyes.

Terry either didn’t notice their car alongside his or simply didn’t care. If he was aware of his surroundings, he gave no indication. He seemed consumed by his need to race, though he wasn’t competing against anyone in particular. He was alone, locked in a maddening personal pursuit. The front of his car was mangled, twisted into a grotesque wreckage, almost like an accordion crumpled by some invisible hand, but it still somehow roared forward, defying expectation.

Ahead, the road began descending into a slope. At the bottom, it twisted sharply to the right, leading into a series of narrow streets. The time they could match Terry’s speed and stay level with him was quickly running out.

“Move aside,” Natalie barked. Mioray turned to see her gripping a gun. She fired. The gunshot rattled the cabin, deafening inside the enclosed space. The bullet punched through the Terry’s shattered window, passed harmlessly through the cabin, and exited from the passenger’s side without hitting him.

“Terry!” Natalie shouted again, but the racer didn’t flinch. His black eyes stayed locked on the twisting road ahead, the red flares within them burning brighter.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Mioray snapped.

“I thought maybe it’d get his attention!” she growled, lowering the gun. “We’re running out of time. I’d shoot his tires, but at this speed, it’s too risky. Let me try cutting him off. If we get in front and hit the brakes, maybe we can force him to stop.”

Mioray opened his mouth to argue but stopped. Natalie had already pushed the hover car forward, barreling into position in front of Terry’s vehicle.

But it was too late.

The road had already become a steep, downhill slope. Natalie hit the brakes, but hover cars didn’t rely on gravity in the same way traditional vehicles did; they maintained a steady altitude no matter their speed or the incline. Terry’s wheeled car, by contrast, behaved differently. Because of the sudden slope and how fast the car was going, it soared into the air in a wide arc, flying over Natalie’s car before landing with a heavy crash. The impact dislodged the rear bumper, which clattered noisily onto the road, but the car pressed forward without pause. At the base of the slope, Terry executed a reckless drift into the right turn, disappearing into a narrow side street.

Natalie cursed under her breath. She slammed her foot on the pedal, forcing her car to accelerate again, but the gap between them was now too wide to close. The momentum they'd worked so hard to build was gone.

“We won’t catch up to him now,” she muttered, gripping the wheel tighter. Her face was taut, her jaw clenched in frustration.

For a moment, the car was filled with uneasy silence.

They could only pray now that Terry wouldn’t endanger anyone’s life like he did before. Natalie mentioned she knew where the race’s finish line was, but there was no guarantee that Terry wouldn’t drive away somewhere else after finishing the race. Unrestrained, unstable like Impact Corpse, he could bring more chaos into Reques city.

Tonight would definitely leave a toll on it.

“Where are we heading now?” Mioray took out Farah’s phone, planning to send the location to Matt.

“Ephemera Shopping Center. The old race’s finish line was there.”

It made sense. Mioray quickly sent the location to Matt. The shopping center was perfect. A spacious parking lot on the edge of the city, a hotspot for car enthusiasts. It was exactly the type of place Terry would go, even in this state. Natalie explained that when the original race took place, a crowd had waited there for the champion, but after the tragedy that killed Terry and others, the event had been canceled.

“This thing happening to Terry…” Natalie said slowly as they drove on, her voice quieter now. "Could it happen to you? To any of you?”

Mioray hesitated. The question unsettled him. When he finally answered, his tone was grim.

“I think so. There’s too much we don’t know. I never considered that Impact Corpse might be the way he is because of turning undead. Maybe it’s triggered by something. Trauma, perhaps? For Terry, it happened after we crashed. I believe he was forced to remember what he did and he just couldn’t handle it. Even so, it doesn’t make sense. Out of all of us, Terry always seemed the most composed, like he could take on anything life threw at him.”

“He always hid his demons well,” Natalie murmured. “It's something you learn to do when everyone’s watching you. Even I couldn’t always tell what he was really thinking.”

The road to the shopping center was empty, making navigation easier. The night was drawing in, and after all the damage Impact Corpse had done to the city, it made sense that most citizens would hurry home rather than venture outside. Terry didn’t cause further chaos along the way either. Mioray noticed the glow of lights in the distance as the neon sign atop the shopping center illuminated its name. The dark parking lot below was faintly dotted with pools of light from scattered street lamps. As expected, the lot was mostly empty this late at night, save for a small group of young people gathered near a lineup of racing cars. It looked like they'd planned their own challenges tonight.

Not far from them was Terry’s car, the engine now silent. The racer stepped out slowly, moving with an unsettling calm. Natalie brought her car to a stop near Terry’s. The racer made no effort to flee or lash out. Instead, he paced slowly around his car, his head held high and his expression oddly content. Mioray frowned as Terry waved to someone – someone only he could see.

The group of racing enthusiasts nearby whistled and cheered sarcastically, clearly amused by Terry’s strange behavior. They probably assumed he was drunk or high.

But Mioray could see the truth.

In his mind, Terry had finished the race. To him, it was a triumphant moment, his glorious return. He hallucinated cheers and applause, the adoration of a crowd that wasn’t there, and he waved to his imaginary fans in victory.

Mioray clenched his jaw, watching this disturbing scene. If this was what Terry wanted – to be celebrated, to be admired for his skills – would that be enough to heal him? Could this dream, no matter how delusional, help him make peace with the pain he’d hidden so deeply?

A horrible mistake loomed over Terry’s memory, one he couldn’t undo. He’d caused a tragedy, killed innocent people, and that couldn’t be forgiven so easily. Yet, despite the weight of his actions, Terry now looked happy. As if, in his fractured psyche, the race had erased his regret.

Mioray pitied him. This wasn’t the way to redemption. If there was hope for Terry, it would only come from facing the truth, not burying it in delusions. But first, they needed to pull him back to reality.

“Terry, it’s me,” Natalie stepped out of the car and approached cautiously. “Do you recognize me?”

Terry turned toward her, his blackened eyes flickering with red flames. They seemed to glimmer with delight as he smiled faintly.

“I’m glad you cheered for me,” he said, snapping his fingers. His voice was distant, dreamlike. “Are you here to get my autograph?”

Natalie faltered, stunned. He didn’t recognize her. To him, she was just another adoring fan in his imaginary crowd.

“Terry,” she tried again, her voice softer now. “It’s me, Natalie. We lived together. I was your fiancée.”

His smile faded slightly. His eyes twitched as if the name triggered something buried deep in his mind.

“Natalie…” he murmured. “Natalie… Why does that sound so familiar?” His voice grew louder, repeating her name as if searching for meaning. “Natalie. Natalie. Natalie… Natalie, Natalie, Natalie!”

A crack of pain flashed across his face, and he clutched his head, groaning. Something was wrong.

“Not enough!” he roared suddenly. The hollow satisfaction he wore only moments ago was replaced by rage. “Not fast enough! I have to try again. I need to be faster. I need to be better!”

He spun on his heel, storming back toward his car. He was lost, trapped in his madness.

Mioray was ready to stop Terry before he could destroy himself further. What was the point of racing again? What would happen if he succeeded? Would he endlessly chase a record, looping forever in a meaningless pursuit? Mioray clenched his fist. He wouldn’t let Terry become a mindless racer, stuck forever on this one, cursed path.

But before he could act, two gunshots echoed across the parking lot.

The nearby group of racers screamed, scrambled into their cars, and sped off. Terry’s car tilted as its tires hissed, deflating from Natalie’s bullets.

“No!” Terry’s voice shattered the air. He screamed louder than the gunfire, his anguish cutting through the night. “What have you done? What have you done?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

He stumbled back, screaming, writhing, as his arms and legs began to twist unnaturally. Bones snapped audibly, echoing like breaking timber. His limbs stretched and bent outward, the flesh at their ends merging back into his torso. Terry’s clothes tore under the strain. What used to be arms and legs curled into circular shapes, thin bones slicing through his skin like spokes, connecting at the center.

His skin peeled away, revealing bulging, inflating red muscle. With every grotesque shift, Terry resembled a human less and less. And he kept screaming. But the words lost all meaning, devolving into something more like the shriek of a car alarm triggered by a desperate thief. Just as madness had stolen Terry, so too did his voice lose its humanity.

The circular limbs turned into bone wheels. The muscle tissue expanded, forming a grotesque replacement for tires. Terry tried to stand, but he could no longer hold himself upright. Instead, he teetered forward, balancing on his obscene, wheel-like limbs.

Mioray and Natalie watched in horror as fat drooled from Terry’s exposed muscle tires. With that final, horrific transformation, Terry had become something else entirely.

“Though, I used to wonder what it’d be like to reincarnate as a car,” Terry had once joked on the bus to Mioray’s home. “I guess this is as close as it gets.”

Mioray shuddered. Terry had been wrong that day. He wasn’t close to it before. Now, he was the nightmare he once laughed about. There was no need to wonder about it anymore.