Chapter Text
"Copy," Lightning said, adjusting his grip on the wheel and sticking to the line on the next turn.
"Lookin' good, kid," Doc said approvingly.
"Thanks, Doc. How's 38's gap?" Lightning asked, his eyes briefly flashing to his mirror.
"closing in to 2-car lengths."
"Copy."
Lightning locked in his focus. This was the last stretch of the race. Doc's consistent information on what was going on around him was in his ear. He tuned into the car.
He was one with the car.
Speed.
He was speed.
"15 to go, kid. Just stay in your groove and watch for 38 on your bumper."
"Got it."
Coming around turn 3 in lap 255 is when he noticed something was off. No lights were going off. No warnings on the dash. But when he inhaled, the air tasted acrid, and his throat faintly burned. It wasn't uncommon on the race track to smell carbon monoxide fumes. 43 cars were racing at 200mph for 4 hours. It was expected to a degree. But this was off. It smelled unfamiliar and chemical.
He let his eyes steal a quick glance at the cars around him and in his mirror. He didn't see smoke from anyone. He was just about to call it in when the floor under his feet ramped up from the usual uncomfortable amount of heat that was normal, to ok on an especially hot day, to feeling like his feet were burning.
"Doc," Lightning choked out, caught off guard by the sudden heat beneath his feet and the fumes giving him an instant headache. "Something's wrong."
"What is it, kid?" Doc asked calmly, but Lightning could tell that he was sitting up straighter.
"I'm getting fumes and the underside of the car is really hot-"
"Woah, kid, you're smoking," Doc cut him off.
Lightning stole a glance at his mirror and spotted a black billowing smoke trail behind his car.
"Flames?" He asked, already switching to the brakes.
"Not yet. Bring it down to the apron and slow to a stop. No one's on your left," Doc tells him steadily.
It takes more than a few seconds to slow a car from 200 mph to a safe stop. And the longer it took him, the more mephitic fumes entered his airways.
He'd have to trust Doc that he wasn't about to hit anyone or the wall, because before his car had even come to a stop, his visibility was down to zero due to the thick black smoke quickly filling the cockpit.
"Right a bit. Don't hit the wall. Bring her to a stop," came Doc's clipped, clear directions.
He slammed the brakes a little too hard for the last several yards, and his feet burned as the pedal hit the molten floor. He feels the car skid and tilt before falling back onto all four wheels
His sharp intake of breath at the sudden stop cost him the last of his clean air. His next breath was filled with noxious smoke that left him gagging and coughing hard.
"Get out of there, kid. Turn it off and get out," Doc said urgently, but just as calmly as before. He heard Doc's voice crackling through his headset, but the thumping of his heart in his ears made it hard to concentrate. The only words that stuck were "Get out-"
Get out.
His head buzzed from the force of his coughs, and his eyes burned with tears from the smoke.
Get out. Get out. Get out.
Right.
He tries to remove the steering wheel, but it's jammed as if it's welded into place. His next inhale sent his head reeling and coated his mouth and throat with the foul-tasting smoke. His chest hurt, and the fumes left him feeling light-headed. He fumbled with the net, but it came down after an extra second.
Then he caught sight of the bright orange flame flickering in his mirror.
"You've got flames, kid. Turn it off and get out of there."
Get out! Get out! Get out!
"Doc," Lightning wheezed, as he shut off the engine and power with one hand and continued to fumble with the steering release with the other. "Steering's stuck!"
"Forget the wheel. Hit the suppression. Get your belts off and get out," came Doc's even, but urgent response.
His hands shook with adrenaline as his right hand blindly flailed for the fire suppression system pin while his left fumbled with the safety harness, abandoning his efforts to dislodge the wheel.
Getting out of the six-point harness system quickly is a motion he's practiced thousands of times. But every time before now, he's had oxygen in his lungs, which made a bigger difference than he could have anticipated. The chemicals from the fire suppression system mix with the acrid smoke to create a fog of things that he definitely shouldn't be inhaling, and for a minute, he couldn't breathe.
He coughed and hacked, gagging on the smoke, almost throwing up in his helmet, which would not help the situation. He still couldn't undo the restraints as his ears rang and his head spun.
"They just dropped the yellow. Emergency crew is heading to you," Doc said, sounding breathless as if he'd run a mile. Lightning didn't have time to dwell on why he sounded so out of breath when Lightning was the one who didn't have any air.
15 seconds. That's how quickly they're supposed to get out of the car and undo the restraints. He's done it in 12 before. Now, all he knew was he must be way past that time frame. The steering wheel wouldn't come off, he couldn't breathe, his head was pounding, his hands were shaking, his feet were burning, and he couldn't get the stupid six-point harness to release-
Click.
He gasped a shaky breath as the safety restraints around his chest and legs finally loosened, and he freed himself from them while fighting to get to the window past his steering wheel and battling for oxygen in his lungs at the same time.
His next coughing fit sent the world tilting, and his hand burned as he gripped the melting ledge of the car window. He abruptly met resistance and grunted as he fell back into his seat. He frantically untangled himself with uncoordinated hands from the radio that was caught on his helmet, and yanked the air hose off from where it was still attached.
One hand gripped the window ledge again, and the other gripped the steering wheel, as he tried to maneuver himself out of the tight space. His head was pounding, and his chest felt tight as he got his head out of the window. But instead of being met with clean, fresh air, he inhaled even more black smoke, sending him into another outburst of violent coughs.
He felt familiar hands reach around him, grasp under his arms, and physically haul his body out of the car. He felt suspended for a moment, and he was not sure which way was up or down. Like he was floating, and he couldn't feel anything except for the hot, smoky air around him.
Then his back hit the ground, and it knocked what little air was left out of his lungs. Everything went black for a few seconds.
Then, multiple pairs of hands were all over his body. They dragged him across the ground and only stopped when the air no longer felt so hot and stifling, and there was no longer smoke billowing in his eyes.
Some of the hands undid the clasps on his fire suit and unstrapped his HANS device, while others undid his shoes and poured ice water on his still socked feet. It sent a shiver up his spine, and when he finally managed another breath of the fumes still trapped in his helmet, it sent him into another coughing fit that had him nearly doubled over on himself. The world spun, and he felt more hands grab his arms to keep him upright. A paroxysm of harsh, violent coughs left his body sagging and his chest heaving.
He never realized how much he had taken the ability to breathe for granted until now.
His visor was flipped up, and he saw a blur of colors around him as tears ran freely down his face, skewing his vision in an attempt to clear the smoke from his eyes. But even through blurry vision and amid the chaos, he recognized the navy and yellow 'Fabulous Hudson Hornet' jacket that Doc always wore to races. And if he really focused, he could make out Doc's concerned frown and see his mouth moving. But his ears were ringing so loudly that he couldn't make out the words, and his brain was too tired to even try.
His body slumped to the side as his brain tried to make sense of the jumbled words through the white noise and the chaos around him. He felt his back hit the ground once more as the world continued to tilt and spin like an amusement park ride.
He felt hands at his neck, someone checking his pulse while another hand unfastened the clasps holding his helmet in place. At last, someone yanked the suffocating thing off his head, and he finally got one full breath of blessedly clean air.
Someone pressed an ice-cold water bottle to his lips and helped him sit up a little to drink it. The first precious swig of water was cool and soothing to his dry, burning throat.
Then he swallowed. And his throat felt like it was being shredded and set on fire simultaneously. He choked and coughed, water spilling from his lips and dribbling down his chin.
"Easy, rookie," He heard Doc say as the water bottle was removed. "Just breathe."
Easy for you to say! Lightning thought fleetingly as his breath was stolen from him once again due to the need to just cough and expel whatever toxic smoke was still coating his throat and lungs.
His chest tightened from the force of his coughs, and his stomach clenched as bile burned his throat. He choked and gagged, vision darkening again before he heard a medic shout, "Turn him over!" and he found himself on his side, no longer choking on vomit as the little water that he had managed down ended up on the asphalt.
"Breathe, kid." He felt Doc's hand running up and down his back. "They're getting the ambulance over here now," He heard Doc's voice. He did. But it sounded far away, and it was hard to focus on.
He doubled over himself, coughing, as several pairs of hands pulled him to his feet. The world tilted, and vertigo hit him hard. He was lifted onto a stretcher, and he closed his eyes against the rising nausea as they transported the stretcher to the back of the ambulance.
"We need to stop that cough, and he needs oxygen and fluids." That sounded like Doc again, but Lightning was too light-headed and nauseous to open his eyes and confirm that theory.
All he knew was that he couldn't stop coughing.
"Undo the top restraints so he can sit up and breathe easier." That also kinda sounded like Doc.
"Easy, rookie." Lightning felt a hand on his shoulder, easing him into a more upright position. He immediately leaned into it. He must have had less control over his body than he thought, though. Because the next thing he was aware of was that he'd practically fallen sideways into Doc's chest. His head lolled forward as his lungs fought for air after another outburst of coughs.
"Woah," He heard Doc say as his vision darkened around the edges with the force of his coughs. Keeping his head supported on his own felt like an impossible feat as it spun with the lack of oxygen, and his hands started feeling numb as he choked on air that refused to reach his lungs. "Easy. Try to take shallow breaths. That's it, hot rod," Doc said, one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other squeezing his tingling hand.
Foreign hands place an oxygen mask over his mouth, and Lightning thought he'd try to do what Doc asked. All he knew was he could actually breathe now without feeling like he was going to cough up a lung or throw up again.
He leaned his head back onto Doc's shoulder, greedily taking in gulps of air while trying to keep his breaths shallow.
He felt Doc rest a hand on his forehead. "That's it, kiddo. Just breathe."
And Lightning does just that for the rest of the ambulance ride. He let the medics' chatter become distant, and willed his mind to focus solely on breathing and Doc's hand resting on his head, his fingers tangled through his hair providing a grounding presence for his scattered thoughts.
At some point through the ringing in his ears, he heard the ambulance siren die, and he was briefly blinded as they opened the doors and unloaded him on the stretcher.
"Doc-" He cut himself off with a harsh series of coughs. He tries again but gets as far as inhaling and choking on air before he's blacking out momentarily from the force of the coughs.
What did Doc say to do again? Deep breaths or shallow breaths? Lightning doesn't really remember or care at this point. He'll take whatever kind of breaths he can get.
He felt Doc's hand on his wrist and heard, "I'm right here, rookie."
"Don't tear yourself up, kid."
Lightning wasn't sure if Doc actually said that or if he was just mixing up the past and present now.
He didn't have time to dwell on it, though, as another coughing fit seized his airways and darkened his vision once again. This time, he couldn't seem to stop coughing, though. And the last thing he heard is a voice saying, "Sir, you'll have to wait out here-" before the darkness finally takes him.