Queen of the track

XXIV

Chapter 24.

Raven

          It takes around two hours to drive to the old airbase outside of town that now serves as the dirt track. If I were going alone, I could probably make the drive in just under and hour. Instead, I ride at a sensible speed in line with my brother and friends.

The area itself is down a dirt track, far from the highway and any nearby towns, which is perfect for what it now serves as. Cars line the end of the track, just outside a gated area manned by a few guys that look like body builders. A queue of people line up to pay the entry fee, but I drive past them and around the parked cars, AJ behind me.

Behind the gates is also a huge building, now pretty run down with boarded up doors and smashed windows. We drive around the back to the other side, where a new queue lines up, this time bikes and cars served for racing.

This line moves pretty fast, and when it's my turn to pull up to the new set of body building guys, I flick my visor up so they see some of my face.

"Mitchell." One of the guys nods, then glances behind me to see AJ through his windscreen. "Both Mitchell's, we're in for a treat."

"Glad to be of service." I say loudly so he can hear me.

He nods to his colleagues, indicating to allow us through. I nod at him and flick my visor back down, revving as I speed through the gate. I follow the dirt track down past the building, and towards the number of cars and even larger crowd of people further out in the field.
The entire space stretches for miles, a large portion of it a tar runway.

I pull up in a vacant space and turn off my engine, my brother pulling up beside me and doing the same, getting out of his car. I leave my helmet on the passenger seat of AJ's car before he locks it, and I zip my keys into my jacket pocket.

Connor and the others have to park out front with the other bystanders and make this journey on foot. The only cars and bikes allowed through the back gates are those who are racing, and though it isn't on my agenda tonight, they know it's still a possibility.

The setting sun peeking out just over the horizon casts an orange glow over the vast area, giving us visibility of the cheering crowd and in the distance, two cars are speeding over the dirt, clouds of dust following in their wake.

AJ and I silently make our way through the hyped up crowd, some teens I recognise either from here or school, others are up to twenty years older than us, still looking for a kick. There's a van parked near the starting line—in the midst of the crowd—and there's where we head towards.

Harley and his crew occupy the van as their headquarters for registering drivers and pairing races, and the other side is for placing bets. It also serves as a quick get-away if the cops show up unexpectedly. Which has happened in the past.

What most people don't know, is that a few of the older guys here are actually cops—not undercover, just looking for a quick way to make cash. Bent cops will do just about anything these days.

"Harley." AJ calls as we near, gaining the burley riders attention.

Harley was his nickname, due to the Harley Davidson bike he owns. That, and he probably doesn't want anyone here to know his actual name.