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Danny had been flying through the Ghost Zone, trying to pick his way through the ever-changing landscape to Long Now when he was hit.
The force was like that of a truck, ramming into him violently at high speed. It sent him careening head over feet in the cavernous green mists of the Zone, somersaulting the poor boy until he was beyond dizzy.
“What the heck man, you need to stay out of the lane!” Someone shouted, and Danny took a moment to stabilize before blinking, trying to get the multiple figures in his vision to turn back into one. With a wobble, they did so to reveal a stereotypical greaser, right out of a movie from the ‘50s. The ghost was sweeping his hair out of his eyes, looking pretty angry.
“Lane? What lane?” Danny asked, looking around the area. There was nothing he could see that would mark something like a road. Just the typical floating rocks and doors that characterized this corner of the Zone.
“The drag lane, ya cube!” The ghost spit, gesturing to the empty space. As he did so, another ghost flew by at breakneck speed. “And now I’ve lost my lead! I’m really gonna have to goose it to catch up to Skeets, so you stay out my way, ya dig?” With a pointed look, the ghost took off once more, leaving Danny confused.
“Goose it?” He questioned, watching as more ghosts in various styles flew by. “What the heck is going on?”
Long Now and Clockwork forgotten for the moment, Danny decided to follow the speeding ghosts to wherever they were flying. He still couldn’t see any prominent markers for a path, but the ghosts were as good as any to follow.
Flying for a good few minutes, he followed a toga-clad ghost around the bend of a craggy purple island, and came upon what Danny could only call a finish line. Two small blobs held a striped banner as ghosts flew overtop it, with a girl sporting a 1920s dress and haircut waving a bright pink flag.
Danny decided to wander off the course, squeezing into the crowd of ghosts waiting along the sides of the banner. It seemed spirits of every era were gathered around, cheering on the racers in various languages.
“Uh, hey, what kind of race is this?” He decided to ask the most friendly looking ghost near him, a man fiddling with his rather impressive handlebar mustache.
“Hm?” The man looked down at him in surprise. “Oh, are you a first timer lad?” He gave a toothy smile, and swept off his cog-laden bowler cap in greeting. “The name’s Gearsworth, young man. Trainer for the one and only Doohickey!”
“Uhh, cool? I guess?” Danny said, trying not to insult the ghost,” Gearsworth chuckled. “Doohickey is a racer in this meet. It may be one of the more rinky-dink tracks, but the Barrens do produce a fine obstacle course, I’ll say.”
“So, all you guys just race here?” Danny watched as another pack of ghosts barreled towards the finish line, the crowd growing in volume as they grew closer.
“Here, in the Frozen Wastes, across the Drowned Quarter, yes,” the ghost said, keeping a close eye on the racers as they jockeyed for position. “Of course, this is just a flying race. The carriage and automobile courses tend to be done at the hippodrome, or around Herculaneum in general. Rather old fashioned though, if you ask me.” He hummed, and opened his pocket watch to check the time.
“So, is this like an official annual thing or something?” Danny asked. He hadn’t seen any numbers worn by the racers.
“Oh no, that would be quite boring, wouldn’t you think? No this is, oh how did that one jazz man put it? On the down low?”
“So, this is basically an illegal ghost street race?” That made everything make so much more sense now. No wonder there were no actual street markers.
“Precisely!” Gearsworth said, snapping closed his pocket watch with gusto. “Now, if you’d like to stay, Doohickey’s heat should be making the bend rather soon. It should be quite a show to watch, if you ask me.”
“Why not?” Danny shrugged. It certainly beat going back home to his chemistry homework.
The two shouldered their way back towards the front of the crowd, and within minutes Gearsworth shouted in excitement as some racers came around the island.
“There they are!”
Danny craned his head out to see for himself, and could easily guess which ghost was Doohickey, at least based on Gearsworth’s appearance. The ghost was wearing a white button up smeared with grease and a set of brass goggles. Behind him, his wispy tail was also brass-colored, with different gears and rivers easily spotted through the ether.
“Set it into third man, third!” Gearsworth practically screamed to his trainee, who was currently at the back of the pack. Doohickey seemed to hear him, and yanked at a lever jutting out of his side.
With the screeching sound of metal-on-metal, and a puff of steam, Doohickey sped forward, beginning to make ground on the leader of the heat.
The finish line was only twenty yards out, and as Doohickey passed racers, the crowd grew more excited. Cheers, shouts, and jeers all blended together into a cacophony of sound with every upset to the order of contestants, and quickly Doohickey was at pace with the leader.
Danny smiled, finding himself swept up with the crowd’s fervor.
“Come on Doohickey, you've got this!” He cheered, pumping his fist in the air.
At the final stretch, the two racers were neck in neck. The two were pushing themselves to the limit, bound and determined to win.
The crowd's roar grew deafening, apparently this had been the closest race of the day. Closer and closer they came, leaving their opponents in their wake. At the last second, each stretched towards the finish line, each trying to out reach the other.
It was close, too close as the pair sailed across the finish. The crowd held their breath as the 20s ghost waved her flag.
“The winner is…” Danny grabbed Gearsworth's arm, the anticipation palpable in the air.
“Doohickey, by a finger!”
The crowd went wild. Cheering and screaming, and someone began shooting off ectoblasts like fireworks. Ghosts hugged, piled on Doohickey, or danced in their spot. Gearsworth pumped his fist and cheered as he watched his trainee be dogpiled.
Then, with a shriek, a new voice entered the fray.
“Goons are coming, everybody SCATTER!”
The crowd fell silent for one short moment, then chaos ensued. The finish line was rolled up, blobs hopping on the shoulders of fleeing passersby.
“What's going on?” Danny watched the ghosts scatter with wide eyes.
“Coppers boy, they're showing up to roost us!” Gearsworth exclaimed. “Come on!” He took Danny's hand and flew off toward Doohickey, the racer joining them as they flew off in a seemingly random direction.
Behind them, ghosts Danny could identify as Walker's men began to raid the area, and Danny couldn't help but give a glee-filled laugh as he was pulled along.
“This is so cool!” He'd have to ask Gearsworth when the next race was. There was no way he was missing it!