Right on cue, a man in a white coat arrives. He jolts, taking in how many people are in the small room, but quickly recovers. “Thomas, do you mind following me? We can do the CT scan here, but we’ll need to transport you to the hospital for an MRI.”
That sounds serious.
Thomas hops off the tall exam table and answers,“Oui.”
“Oh, and do any of you speak French?”
“Oui?”Julien and Jean-Luc answer in unison.
“He seems to understand basic English, but his brain has been through a lot. Processing a secondary language can be more difficult after?—”
Wait, Thomas can’t speak English? Thomas has enough brain damage to forget alanguage?!How is that possible?!
“It’s not that bad,”Thomas says.“I can speak English just fine. See?”
He thinks he’s speaking English.
Jean-Luc grasps Thomas’s arm and nods. “I will translate for him. Yes.”
When the three men leave, Julien is left alone with Lorenzo. What happens next? How long does a CT scan take? Julien should call his family—they’ll want to know about the hospital.
“I know this is a difficult time,” Lorenzo says, his voice like gravel. “But I need you to get back to the garage and suit up.”
“What?!”Julien yelps. “You want me to drive?! But Thomas doesn’t know what country we’re in.”
“At the minimum, drivers need to speak English on the radio. It’s a rule.”
A rule?! Who gives a flying fuck about the rules? “Thomas has abrain injury. He can’t get back in that car!”
Julien can tell he’s hysterical, but this has never happened before. Thomas has never gotteninjuredwhile driving. He’s always been this big presence—an unstoppable force. Thomas isn’t weak. He doesn’t get hurt.
The image of him emerging from the car with vomit down the front of his suit will haunt Julien forever.
“That’s why we need someone else in the car.” Lorenzo dials a number and puts his phone up to his ear. “You either drive this afternoon or I fire you and find someone else. Which would you prefer?”
“Me,” Julien answers without hesitation. He can’t imagine driving Thomas’s car, but it would be so much worse if it was someone else in his place. “I can do it.”
“Thought so. Head back to the garage. Your brother’s fine here.”
By the time Julien exits the building, the crowd of vulture reporters has doubled. He stares at them as cameras point to his face, their voices overlapping when they call out his name.
Thomas doesn’t know what country he’s in.
A woman in the Ferraro team kit elbows her way past the swarm, and yanks Julien forward. “No comment!” she yells, trying to hurry Julien along. “Leave him alone. We’ll release an official statement in the paddock.”
Julien is racing today. He’ll be racing in his brother’s car.
Thomas has a brain injury. It’s a significant brain injury.
His car was in pieces all over the road. The car will be remade in a couple of hours.
How can Julien stop himself from crashing if Thomas couldn’t? What will be waiting for him out on that track?
Julien is knocked off-kilter when a heavy weight barrels into his shoulder. He vaguely registers it as human, but the figure is gone before he can see a face.
The clamor of reporters grows and Julien turns to watch the man in a Red Boar race suit claw through the crowd as he sprints towards Medical.
The mechanics in Thomas’s garage surround the remains of his car. Its body seems to be relatively okay considering the condition the driver is currently in.
