Mack doubled down, tried to settle her mind into the very bones of the car itself. Each lap took less than forty seconds to complete but each fraction of a second expanded, each movement exacerbated as finally, finally her mind dialed in as she held the car on the knife edge of control. Her arms went numb as she rounded the final pass through the short chute and into turn two for her final lap. Just as she began to steer into the sharp left-hander, the world began to spin a moment before she heard a loudpop. Vibrant, violent bands of color chased before her eyes and she barely registered the white wall closing in on her before the colors sharply ended and the world went dark.
Indianapolis Courier-Journal
May 16
A Sprint to the Scene: The AMR Safety Team Won’t Settle For Anything Less Than Perfection
IndyCar’s safety team has a reputation for being the best in the business, arriving at accident sites mere seconds after a crash. Anything other than a virtually simultaneous response is seen as a failure, says team boss Dante Sabourian.
The AMR Safety Team has traveled from race to race with IndyCar since 1996, the first dedicated safety team for any racing series. Often called “The Gold Standard of Motorsports Safety,” the AMR Safety Team includes over forty doctors, nurses, paramedics, EMTs, and firefighters, all of whom participate in frequent training for IndyCar-specific incidents. The team has their own fleet of trucks and tools, many of which are custom made for safely extracting drivers after an accident.
“Everyone on the team knows driver extrication is a ticking clock, so we practice over and over until we can do it in under two minutes,” says Sabourian.
Approximately eighteen safety team members are present at each race, spread out in three separate response units across the track. Because the AMR Safety Team travels to each race, team members are familiar with the individual drivers.
“We never, ever want to see someone hurt because these are our friends and colleagues,” remarks Sabourian. “That means we will bust our butts to respond to our friends quickly and get them to safety as fast as possible.”
Chapter 28
8 days until the Indianapolis 500
“Mack, are you okay?”
“Repeat, are you okay?”
“Mack!”
Empty silence surrounded Mack. Her body was both floating and compressed, like she was asleep under a weighted blanket. Shapes and colors clouded her vision, creating an opaque veil. She tried to think but her mind only swirled in and out of sensations—the eerie, hollow silence, the pressure on her chest, the fog in her mind. Finally, a sound registered but she couldn’t place the low, dull roar around her. Then another sound:crunch, pound, clang, crunch, pound, clang,followed by a metallic slam. Behind them all, an odd whine needled in the deepest core of her ears, causing cringing pain inside her head.
What happened?
Her brain blared a warning signal, and Mack slowly realized she felt a paralytic tightness in her chest. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to gasp but her lungs felt concave and empty. Desperate for air, she smacked her lips like a fish, caught on a hook and desperate for the comfort of the water.
The veil before her eyes lifted and a large man in a bright orange suit appeared inches from her face. His voice was loud and solid, but unhurried and smooth.
“Mack Williams, can you hear me?”
Frantic for a breath, she waved her hands in front of her face. The movement caused a jarring pain in her hand and shoulder but it felt unimportant next to her desperate need for oxygen. Tiny wisps of air seeped through her mouth and into her chest, but they brought no relief.
“She’s moving, eyes are open.”
Her surroundings faded for a moment as a loud whooshing sound filled her ears and cold, crisp oxygen filled her chest. She made loud, embarrassing, gasping sounds but she couldn’t remember why she should care.
The large man lightly tapped her helmet. “Got the wind knocked out of you, huh? Do you feel pain in any other area?”
Mack blinked up at the large man. His eyes matched the dark shade of his skin and he looked familiar, but not someone she immediately recognized. He asked her a question, but what was it?
“Focus on my voice. Do you feel any pain?”
She looked around, gaining awareness of the tight seat belt straps against her chest and the steering wheel in front of her. Her hands in gloves, her face constricted by a helmet.
She was in a race car.
An IndyCar.
An IndyCar that was facing the wrong direction on the track.
Shit shit shit.She’d done the thing Janet warned her not to do. She’d wrecked the car.
