Dead and Gone by Jack Patterson (universal ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Debris flew everywhere as the crunch of metal and squeal of tires echoed throughout Texas Motor Speedway. That was followed by a collective gasp from the crowd—and then an explosion.

Safety and rescue crews sped toward the accident as the trailing drivers navigated the pieces strewn across the track.

Everyone watched and waited for Tanner to emerge from the car.

They waited and waited and waited.

Then another explosion.

The rescue team hosed down the flaming car, extinguishing the flames, and began to cut open the crumpled driver’s side. An ambulance pulled in front, blocking the view of most spectators and crew members. Only grainy shots from a helicopter overhead kept fans and race teams apprised of what was happening.

NASCAR officials declared the race over and Cashman the winner.

With Tanner’s status unknown, Cashman refused to miss his chance to celebrate, burning out his tires near the finish line under a deafening chorus of boos.

“Give me somethin’,” Burns said to NASCAR officials. “We gotta know what’s going on.”

Several moments of silence followed. Then a NASCAR official answered him.

“He’s gone.”

CHAPTER 2

CAL MURPHY RUSHED out of the pit area to view the action on Big Hoss, the enormous HD screen that sprawled along the infield of the track opposite the grandstands by the finish line. He tuned in on his headset to find out what was happening. With the flashing lights of emergency vehicles on one end of the track, Cashman burning out at the other, and a disapproving crowd in between, Cal tried to piece things together.

He took his headphones off and asked one of the men standing next to him, “What happened?”

“Tanner had it won but crashed on turn three,” the man replied. “And Cashman is just being a jerk—like always.”

Cal slipped his headphones back on and tried to find out the status of Tanner. Nothing but concern and questions. No answers from any of the official channels.

Once Cashman’s car wobbled off the track, silence fell on the crowd as they all stood up and stared at the activity near turn number three.

Cal hustled inside the media center, the only semi-quiet place near the track where reporters could escape. He watched on the monitors as they ripped off the door to Tanner’s car and prepared to move his body.

“That doesn’t look good,” one of the reporters quipped.

Everyone froze and looked at the screens. Cal noticed several reporters wince at the sight of Tanner’s limp body as medical workers hoisted him onto a stretcher.

Cal’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and saw it was Max Folsom, his editor from the Charlotte Observer.

“Are you watching this?” Cal said as he answered.

“I think he’s dead, Cal,” Folsom said.

“Are you serious?”

“I haven’t seen anybody hit the wall that hard since Jimmy Gillespie smashed into Turn 3 at Talladega. And you know what happened to him.”

“I’ve only seen the replays so far in slow motion, but it looked bad.”

“Where were you?”

“In the pits, trying to interview Buzz Goff.”

“Cal, that close to the end of the race? I know he’s Charlotte’s favorite son, but nothing trumps the finale. He wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Just trying to get you the story early.”

“I appreciate the effort, but you shouldn’t have been stuck in the pits when the most important part of the race was occurring—I don’t care how many television angles you’ll be able to see the replays from. Got it?”

Cal nodded. “Roger that. Still just getting used to this beat.”

“It ain’t football, that’s for sure.”

“I’m starting to get it. I know that rubbin’, son, is racin’.”

“I hope you haven’t quoted Days of Thunder to anyone at the track. Real NASCAR people hate that movie.”

“Are you droppin’ the hammer on me?”

“Please stop with those quotes. Now, go get me a prize-winning story and don’t make me regret subbing you in for Thompson.”

Cal hung up and stared at the images filling the screens around the room. He’d covered plenty of marquee sporting events, but NASCAR still felt foreign to him. The sport opened its doors wide for fans and media alike, and it took Cal some time to get used to it. Open pits during the race was a new concept to him as well. There wasn’t another sport where he could wander into a team’s locker room and interview a player before the game was over. But he could in NASCAR. The minute a driver spun out and ended his day, it wasn’t just the television reporters who could grab him for a few quotes—it was anyone with a proper pit pass.

If Cal had his druthers, he would’ve been in Atlanta this weekend, helping the Observer’s coverage of the Carolina Panthers against the Falcons. But the paper’s NASCAR beat writer, Hal Thompson, suffered a massive heart attack the month before and Cal drew the assignment of freshly minted auto racing scribe. Making things even more challenging for him was the fact that he’d never once attended a race before he started, much less covered one.

NFL scores crawled on the bottom of the screen. Falcons 45, Panthers 6.

I definitely got the better assignment today.

But it wasn’t an easy one, not with Goff wrecking and eliminating himself from the championship chase—and now Charlotte-native Carson Tanner smashing into the wall on Turn 3 on the final lap.

At least I’ll have plenty to write about.

Then the announcement came; Tanner was gone.

Several people in the media room groaned while others shouted “No!” Cal walked outside and listened as the moans of the crowd spread like a wave through the stands.

Tanner was easily one of the most popular drivers on the tour. Fans loved him, the media adored him, sponsors fought over him. And in an instant, Carson Tanner was dead.

Cal walked along pit road toward Tanner’s crew and saw Tanner’s wife, Jessica, retch. She pulled at her hair and doubled over, screaming and yelling.

Maybe I got the worst assignment today.

Any attempts to capture the raw emotion of the scene would leave him open to criticism, the kind Cal didn’t like. Local sports talk